Note: I wrote this column in August of 2003 almost three of years after it happened.

You don't need a get a visa for Egypt before you arrive.  You can buy one after you land.  I was told that Egypt uses American dollars but since I'm flying in from England I don't have any.  I do get some Egyptian Pounds but either I got the exchange rate wrong or they won't accept Egyptian money for the visa.  I put down a 100  Pound Egyptian note and wait.  The man behind the counter grows impatient and tells me "15 American Dollars"  I explain that although I have an American passport I live in England so don't have any dollars.  He understands immediately and says "15 British Pounds."  I can't make sense of the exchange rate since a hundred Egyptian Pounds should have covered the $15 tourist visa  fee and 15 British Pounds is a lot more that $15.  I drop a twenty pound British note down and he gives me a fifty Pound Egyptian note back in change, plus my original 100 Pound Egyptian note.  I really don't care at this point and don't figure I'll debate about it while I'm still in the "waiting to see if we will let you in our country" line.   

I head over to pick up my bags and I am met by a guy with a sign that has my name scrawled across it .  I love guys holding a sign with my name on it, especially when I just got screwed on my tourist visa.  The guy picks up my bags slips some money to the guy holding an AK47 and we cut past a bunch of confused and slightly angry British Tourists.   I am not sure what is happening but it is the first time I every got through customs with out feeling like I was a criminal.  I know every time I fly back into the UK I feel like I must look like some kind of terrorist.   In Egypt I slip through customs like a rock star and the additional fee paid to the rather stern looking man with the automatic weapon was much less than my slightly inflated tourist visa fee.

My expediter drops me off at a waiting van and disappears into the night.   I didn't tip him, in fact I didn't even repay him the "fee" he paid to get me out of the terminal.  He was helping me and then he was gone.

I get into the white van that my expediter put my luggage in since I would like to go to wherever it is going.  The driver gives me a quick tour of the city but it is late and I disappoint him with my lack of understanding of football.  I prove this to him by calling it soccer.   I also am a bit concerned because he is driving all over the road.  The three white lines on the roadway seem to draw him like a magnet.   He is in the far right lane and then moves across the middle lane to the far left lane.   We are all alone on the road and he doesn't seem to be "cutting a line" not that he would have to since we are not really speeding down this deserted three lane highway.

We get off the highway and head over to the Marriott.  It is on an island in the middle of the Nile, on Saraya Al Gezira Street which luckily he knows since I would not have been able to pronounce it.  The Hotel was built around a royal residence which means that the lobby and central building is very nice and of course the rooms are in a couple of towers which are, well a Marriott.

I try and check in, but there is some confusion about how I should pay.  I want to give them my credit card and Marriott number but the local travel agent has marked the reservation as to be paid for by a voucher.   I don't have this AWOL voucher so I offer to pay by credit card again but the clerk explains that my travel agent would be upset with me since they get a commission when I pay using their voucher.   I don't care but I don't want to make any trouble so we decide I will go to my room and check with them again when I check out.    I will be in Cairo for a couple of days then over to Alexandria for a night and then back to Cairo for one night before I leave for home.

The room is not very nice. I travel a lot and most of the time the Marriott takes care of me, but I assume that this is the "voucher" room.    They didn't take my Marriott number and I don't have access to the lounge.   It is late and I get picked up early the next day so I am not too upset.

I meet the Country manager in the morning in his nice, but rather beat up car.  Looking around I notice that all of the cars are kind of beat up.  We pull into traffic and I realize why all the cars are so beat up.  We are on a four lane road, two lanes going east and two lanes going west. The problem is that instead of two cars traveling east, there are four cars going east and an additional four cars going west.   When we get to the intersection and the west lane empties at the red light, two more cars pull out of line and pull up beside us. That makes six cars in four lanes trying to drive in one direction and after the light changes six cars in the same four lanes trying to drive in the other direction.    The drivers are courteous but they have to be very aggressive.  I joke with the country manager that I should have rented a car.  He looks at me funny like I might be complaining about his driving, until I explain that I was kidding.  If I did rent a car,  I would have been standing on the side of the road crying like a little girl in this traffic.

I understand now why the driver last night seemed to ignore the white lines, they are meaningless in Cairo. Traffic planning seems to be based on the theory that; one lane will fit two cars plus one more if it is turning,  two lanes will fit four to five cars, three lanes will fit seven, and four lanes will fit twelve cars plus two additional cars trying to turn in a street that already has twelve cars in four lanes.  I also am surprised when the country manager seems to be aiming at pedestrians.  I ask him about it and he tells me that, "You have to aim at them so they don't walk out in front of you."  I had to laugh because I heard the same thing from a cabbie in London.

The streets are crowded and the city is a lot dirtier than I would have guessed.  I also notice that the buildings are either falling down or were never fully completed.  You can see the rebar sticking out of the top floors.

We make a couple of calls and I am very impressed with the customers, every one of them has a doctorate and they know a lot about our technology and the industry.    They seem like guys who have to rollup their sleeves and make stuff work.

Everyone is extremely friendly and they seem more concerned with if I'll have time to shop and sightsee than if I can help them with our technology.  In fact on the last call of the day the Director in charge asked me if I'll get a chance to see any sights and I explain that I'll be meeting with customers all day, we have a dinner this evening and then we leave for Alexandria tomorrow. He tells the country manager that he won't buy any thing else from us unless he takes me sightseeing.  We laugh and he repeats it saying, "I will not buy anything from your company again, unless you take him to see the sights."

I am in wing tipped shoes, a light grey wool suit, IBM white shirt and a pretty expensive tie, but I am going to see the Sphinx and the three Pyramids at Giza.  We drive over to the Pyramids and are immediately accosted by the guys trying to sell us stuff or who want us to take a camel ride.    It is hot and getting late, we still have a dinner appointment and I am really not dressed for this.   The country manager does not want to do this either, but he also doesn't want to lose a customer so we decide to take a horse instead of a camel.  I'm not sure why, I assume because he doesn't want to fall so completely into the Arab stereotype. 

Our guide makes a living doing this and speaks five languages, at least well enough to get the tourist around the Pyramids and explain why a horse is better than a camel.  We don't ride directly to the Pyramids we head up through Mena village, a jumble of bazaars, shops and houses.   It is getting late and since we started off looking at the Sphinx and the Pyramids it is kind of strange to be traveling the back streets of an Egyptian village no longer able to see the Pyramids.   Our three horses are bunched up,  controlled more by the guide than by us.  My friend's horse stops so quickly a couple of times that I worry that I might lose a shoe up its behind. The shops are interesting small stores; selling produce, small engine repair, welding and metal working.  I assume that the villagers might live here their whole lives and never have or want to leave.  I don't see many cars and we are the only ones on horse back.

I start to wonder, about 45 minutes into the village, if this was a good idea.  I don't know the guide.  We are in a small village, I no longer see any other tourists and since I have come to see the Pyramids, I expected to see tourists.  We come out of the village and the guide points out the "City of the Dead." Tombs for people that couldn't afford to build a really big Pyramid.  It reminds me of a New Orleans cemetery not what I expected in Egypt. But  I am relieve that we can see the Pyramids again.

We are toward the top of this photo traveling across the sand.  I don't believe we are suppose to be here.  My suspicion is confirmed when two men in uniform riding horses come up to meet us.  They are caring AK47's and don't look happy to see us.   I can't make out the discussion between them and our guide but there seems to be some disagreement over the "commission" which he is willing to pay them so we can continue to ride in a restricted area.    I am a bit worried when he gives them some money then rides off with one of them still yelling and the other unslinging his AK47 from his back.    The guide motions for me to ride on.  I decide being in front of the guide with him between me and the guard holding a rifle at the ready is not the best place to be, but is better than any alternative I can think of.   I ride on.

The guards grow tired of yelling at the guide.  The one guard slings his rifle back over his shoulder and they ride off.  We ride on, until my friend's horse decides that he has an itch, so rolls over on his back to scratch.  It doesn't seem to bother him that my friend was still on top of him.   I watch in amazement as my friend just barely gets off in time. The horse rolls around in the sand like a puppy dog.  Watching a 1,000 lbs horse act like a small puppy is amusing, but it wasn't all that amusing to my friend.  He decides that he wants to walk. 

I'm still a little shaken from the sound of the bolt of an AK47 chambering a round, we are in the middle of a huge sandy area at least 45 minutes from our starting point and I don't know how far away from the end of this ride.  It is getting dark, and last but not least, we have a dinner appointment with some local dealers.   I beg him to get back up on the horse.   He walks on, his dress shoes sinking embarrassingly into the sand.   He continues on for a couple of hundred yards until I point out that the guards are coming back toward us.  The guide sees them coming back as well and says something in Arabic which compels my friend back on the horse. 

We continue on, and honestly I don't remember much more about the Pyramids.   I do remember that the Great Sphinx is a lot smaller than you would think, but when the guide ask me if I wanted to dismount and take a closer look I decide against it.      We ride back to where we parked the car and the guide explains that I should not only tip him, but I should tip the horse.   I explain that I think he should share the tip with the horse, but he explains that since I am such a big guy the horse deserves his own tip.   I feel pretty foolish but I do slip a twenty quid note under the saddle.  The horse seems unimpressed.

My friend the Country Manager is very disappointed with the whole thing. He makes me promise not to tell anyone about the Pyramids.  He is terrified that the rest of the management team might want to come down to Egypt.   I kid him about telling Juan Carlos, our head of Europe, about my tour of the Pyramids, and recommending it as a Management team event.   He is unimpressed and in his version of the story I am sure he does not refer to me as his "friend"

We show up a little late for dinner but we laugh about the adventure, our dealers and I laugh, the country manager still doesn't find it all that funny.   He drops me off at the hotel still unamused.  We have a few more calls the next day and then we get on a mini-bus for a ride over to Alexandria.   The ride is uneventful except for some reason a lot of people drive at night without their lights on.    We talk about America which of course they like and hate.   We also talk about Ramadan which will start soon. I'm surprised to learn that a lot of people gain weight during Ramadan, which is a month of Fasting.  They have to refrain from food, drinks and sexual activity from dawn to sunset.   I ask, "Then how do you gain weight?"  It seems that they will get invited over to a friend's or brother's or in-law's house who will put together a wonderful late night supper.  Of course you have to invite them over to your house and put on an even better supper so for the entire month you go from one great dinner to the next.  The Clerics are not impressed with the idea that people gain weight during Ramadan

The meetings in Alexandria go well. We have to stop for prayers a couple of times and I feel a little self conscious walking the grounds while everyone else is praying.  We pack up the bus and head back to Cairo this time we travel in the early evening.  I enjoy spending time getting to know as many of the guys on the bus as possible and of course I have my Pyramid story in case things start to get a little slow.

I'm the last guy off the bus and when I check into the Cairo Marriott again I tell the front desk that I will not under any circumstances be using a voucher this time.  He smiles as if I have finally cracked the code.  He takes my credit card and Marriott number then immediately upgrades my room.  I notice that the rate for the night is less than I paid using the voucher and when I get to the room it is very nice overlooking a lush and tranquil garden.  My room before overlooked the Air Conditioning unit.

I have a car waiting for me in the morning and at the airport I am met by my "expediter" again.  He whisks me pass the lines and through security.  I'm on the other side so fast that I fail to tip him, again.  I look back and he is gone.   I'm off to the British Airways Lounge to wait for the flight and read the "Financial Times."  It was a very fast trip, in and out, but at least I saw the Pyramids.