This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Feb. 1, 2011 - Two weeks in a country doesn't make any tourist an expert. But such a visit can offer a glimpse into a nation's contradictions, challenges and strengths.
In the case of Egypt, we're talking about a country that long has celebrated its past -- even as its people question the direction of their political future.
Ten months ago, my husband and I traveled to Egypt to take in the standard tourist sights from the Pyramids and the Egyptian Museum, both based in Cairo, to the even-more breathtaking temples and tombs reached by traveling down the Nile River and along Lake Nassar.
The historic significance of Egypt cannot be overstated. Thanks to centuries of being buried in the sand, many of the resurrected temples and tombs are in pristine condition -- down to the paint used to adorn walls and ceilings. The gigantic, meticulously carved 3,200-year-old stone statues at Abu Simbel, in southern Egypt, stand as evidence of one of the world's earliest advanced civilizations.
Still, reports of weekend looting at the Egyptian Museum are sad, but perhaps not surprising. Thousands of priceless antiquities are largely packed into simple glass cases or stacked high on shelves. A typical small room in the museum is filled with more stunning exhibits than those contained in an entire wing at major museums in the United States. Other than a strictly enforced ban on cameras, security at the Cairo facility appeared to be far less than one would expect considering the priceless contents.
Yet, all that history -- and the tourism trade it attracts -- contrasts with the challenging lives of many Egyptians, especially those living outside of the cosmopolitan parts of Cairo or other major cities.
In Cairo, donkey carts share the roads with luxury cars. The Pyramids may look like they're in the middle of a desert. But photos taken from a different angle show they're also a few hundred yards from a shopping district. Many suburban apartment buildings, even if fully occupied, stand partially-finished (with rods sticking out their tops) because taxes are lower than if they are completed.
Evidence of potential unrest also couldn't be ignored. The more modern parts of Cairo, including the areas where the protests now are underway, often feature small huts along the sidewalks that are occupied by security police.
The better hotels, particularly those housing foreigners, have security procedures at the entrances that resemble the checkpoints at airports. And, indeed, armed guards were part of all our tours.
The protests in Cairo are particularly noteworthy, in part, because many of its middle-class and wealthier residents appear to embrace a more cosmopolitan, secular lifestyle than Egypt's rural population.
Women in Cairo go to school, hold jobs and often are seen in western dress, with brightly colored headscarves the most visible evidence of their Islamic faith.
But in rural parts of the country, even along the heavily traveled Nile, women are often unseen. And the few who are spotted are generally swathed in black robes, similar to their counterparts elsewhere in the Middle East.
Young men are everywhere, offering visible evidence of the nation's booming birthrates -- and employment problems. They man the market booths, the horse carts and operate seemingly ancient boats that shuttle passengers between the luxurious Nile cruise ships and the shore. But while wearing simple, traditional attire -- most also sported cell phones.
Those phones helped them coordinate commercial excursions of a rather unusual nature that once again underscore the contradictions of Egypt.
When the cruise ships slowed down to pass through locks along the Nile, bands of old boats would surround each vessel so young merchants could toss plastic bags filled with Egyptian clothing, tableclothes and other textiles onto the rooftops, where the travelers -- caught unawares -- would find themselves deluged by bags raining from above.
If one liked an item, an exchange of shouting ensued. A price would be reached, with the money placed in the bag -- which was then tossed back to the tiny boats. If an item wasn't wanted, it was to be tossed back as well. (The ability of these men to snag a flying garment while still keeping control of their small vessel was amazing.)
They kept count, with some climbing the locks to shout -- at this point, at eye-level -- that they were owed garments or cash.
The exchanges were friendly, with smiles all around; and the tourists are essential to these men's families. But an undercurrent of tension also was obvious. The marketing practice has apparently been a tradition for decades, honored by the ships and the locals.
But it also underscored the contradictions of Egypt -- and two time-honored principles of political negotiations: Trust, but verify.
Whatever happens in Egypt, those who love its ancient past hope such irreplaceable landmarks will continue to be protected and honored, even as the nation's 80 million residents (one quarter of the world's Arab population) forge a new future.
