February 2, 2011: What I did on my Christmas vacation

Note:  I originally wrote this entry over two weeks ago but I had to clear it with the subject (Rosa).  I thought I might need to obtain written clearance but after discussions with my attorney, he felt that a verbal approval from the subject was sufficient ... I hope you enjoy this entry!



My favorite picture of Rosa - she's the one smiling!  :-)



Location Notes:  Swanage, Dorset, United Kingdom



First of all, Happy New Year to all of my friends and followers!  I wish you all a happy, healthy and successful 2011!  Second, I must once again apologize for the long break between my last entry and this one.  The last few months of 2010 involved an unusual amount of travel for me; work was hectic and there seemed to be no time for my blog or other literary efforts.  This was especially true until my last trip on December 24-25 when I had to distribute toys and gifts to good little boys and girls around the world ... OK, maybe I’m not really Santa Claus but I did spread as much vice to needy friends as I could running up to the end of the year...

 

I have made a New Year’s resolution (one of many, in fact) to write more regularly since there are so many places about which I wish to write.  With this entry, however, I answer the old school assignment question, “What I did on my Christmas Vacation”.

This blog entry is also dedicated to Rosa, the love of my life and wife.  My Dad used to say, “You will one day meet the love of your life and you will know that she is the one ... Just pray that your wife doesn’t know her!”  Actually, that is not strictly true... my Dad never said that.  He was devoted to my mother and, in fact, many of my marital values are the same values that my father showed to my mother.  Rosa celebrated her mumble-mumble-mumble birthday this on January 15 and we relaxed together before heading our separate ways – me to the USA and her to England.  While I toiled to earn a crust of bread, Rosa was laying on the beach in Barbados.



Rosa in a typical Barbados-like pose


 

Rosa is very independent.  She is used to “getting on with it”.  She travels at least once or twice per month and only rarely with me.  We meet up in various locations around the world and always enjoy these intersections in space and time.  Today is the 33rd day of 2011 and Rosa has already been in six different countries.  I am pleased that she is independent and also that she finds time in her busy schedule to spend time with me!

I once read a genetic study that indicated that people with the most opposite genetic codes find each other the most attractive.  This has something to do with evolution’s predilection to combine genes in new ways that sustain the species.  One of the stranger points of the article was that people that are most genetically diverse will find each other’s body smell the most attractive.  Rosa and I are about as genetically different as it is possible to be with very little ancestral overlap. I have to say, I find her smell to be perfect.  When she awakes in the morning and is warm and cuddly, I also find her to be incredibly beautiful... and I always tell her so.  She occasionally tells me that she sleeps in my t-shirts and on my pillow, which I find an endearing and reassuring detail.  Now, when she is asleep there is another matter that makes her less attractive as you will hopefully read below.  Meanwhile, I will veer away from Rosa for a second and into the narrative of our holiday vacation.

Something about the end of the year holiday season makes us both nostalgic and sentimental.  This was certainly the case with Rosa and I this past holiday season.  I knew that despite the fact that work would be hectic through the final days of the year, I needed a break and wanted a relaxing holiday.  Meanwhile, Rosa felt that we should spend more time with our young nephews and teenage niece who are in the important “formative” years of their lives.  Therefore, after some discussion and an incredible amount of research on Rosa’s part (more about this below), we decided to take a cottage on the coast in Dorset, England and spend the holidays with the kids.

As an aside, I am not sure which or what are the “formative” years of a child’s life.  I have always tended to think that my parents thought my “formative years” were the one’s when I needed a good smack – which probably meant from the time I was age 11 until I reached 35 or 40 years old – although I suspect my dear mother would still think I occasionally need “that smile swiped off your face”!  My dad only ever struck me once – an occasion that he greatly regretted as soon as it happened – but he would often say, “I’m going to slap you smart, dammit, because you are already silly!”  These days, however, we “reason” with children and give them “time outs” instead of spanking them.  Certainly this is a step forward in child rights and probably a sideways or backward step in child discipline, in my opinion.  By the way, I never had occasion to discipline Shazia (our adopted daughter) much; I just threatened her that I would “tell her mother” to discipline her and this scared the hell out of Shazia!  Shazia would cry, panic and spasm at the mere thought of Rosa’s displeasure.  Rosa is scary to children, small animals and grown men!  Especially during certain times of the month; this probably goes a long way to explain my frequent and “cyclical” trips away from home.  Anyway, as aforementioned, our nephews are in their “formative” years and Rosa thought that we should spend some times during the holidays reconnecting with the boys.

Rosa had some vague idea that we would play board games, cook hearty family meals, take country walks, enjoy each other’s company and generally relax.  I was willing to play along with this vision, of course, even though I was dying to stay home with my stereo, cigars, wine collection and watch the Discovery Channel.  I only slept in my own bed 29 nights last year and I miss being in my own space.  It is not that Rosa was trying to inflict something undesirable upon me, and I simply did not have the heart to express my true wishes (although she can read them now).  Rosa wanted me to “truly relax” after a difficult year and I know that she had my best interests at heart so I played along and hoped for the best.  In addition, I felt guilty because I had not taken her away on a vacation and so was willing to cater to her whims.  Of course, these things never quite work out as expected and certainly not as intended.

In my mind, I can hear Rosa saying, “your readers are going to think I’m some kind of bitch ...”  Rosa has a strong personality, but, then again, there are few people with as strong of a personality as me.  Rosa and I are evenly matched – except when it comes to pretty much any desire that she may have.  I love her – including all of her flaws, foibles and obsessions – so I simply cannot deny her anything.  One of my friends once commented in a manner that cut to the core of my relationship with Rosa, “she acts like the wife and spends like the girlfriend!”  So, when Rosa suggested a cottage on the coast in England for an “old fashioned relaxing holiday”, I mumbled my concurrence and silently wished for an act of God that would prevent her plans from coming to fruition.  As it was, the act of God came just a few days too late and, in fact, had the exact opposite effect of what I had hoped.  Rosa and I do like England.  We have a special affection for London but also a real love of the English countryside.  Throughout our time in England, we have always gone “castle hunting” when we pile into a car and venture out exploring the countryside.  We have seen some fantastic sites that few people have seen (even the English, unfortunately) and have enjoyed each other’s company in the process.  So, the thought of visiting a quiet country spot in England was alluring even if I wanted to spend time at home.

Rosa becomes obsessed rather easily, in my experience.  I don’t really believe that I have any obsessions (except maybe her), but Rosa openly admits and embraces hers.  When we first visited the USA together, Rosa was introduced to a sugar free gum called “Dentine”.  She liked it so much; she became obsessed and then perfected the world’s first “pure Dentine” diet.  After she lost a fairly alarming amount of weight, Shazia and I had to start hiding the Dentine packs.  Then, there was the obsession to play the cello.  Rosa decided that she must learn to play the cello.  I bought her a cello which she named “Delilah”, took about four lessons and that was pretty much the end of that particular obsession. We now have a beautiful (and highly expensive) cello shaped doorstop.  For a while, she was going to be a pop star with one of her friends (“Gina”) and formed a band called “R&G”.  They had several practice sessions, took fabulous publicity photos and planned to negotiate their own contract with a record label.  All of this effort occurred even though Rosa cannot carry a tune in a bag!  These are just a few examples of her more endearing obsessions.  One characteristic of Rosa’s obsessions is that they are (generally) not destructive or harmful ... although I have always known that the possibility lurks just below the surface of her personality!  This dark side to such a beautiful woman is, I am sure, what children and small animals instinctively understand and the reason that they find her scary.  I bring up this topic of Rosa’s obsessions because Rosa became obsessed with finding the “perfect cottage” for our winter holiday sojourn.

Rosa’s obsessions generally start out fairly innocently.  She will set herself a task to do something – like find a cottage for two weeks at the end of the year.  Then, she will become frustrated because she cannot locate exactly the object of her search, so she will spend more and more time hunting.  Rosa is, by nature, a perfectionist and she has very detailed and strict criteria to govern her selection of pretty much anything.  I know that the search has turned into a hunt and the hunt into an obsession when she starts skipping meals and loses sleep in order to find the perfect manifestation of her obsession.  Rosa haunted cottage web-sites, sent me scores of emails, while I was away, asking “my opinion” – which she studiously ignored.  She contacted the American Express Centurion concierge and solicited their assistance in the search.  She sent out hundreds – maybe thousands – of emails to cottage owners and still could not make up her mind.  As the time for the holiday approached, she became even more obsessed and her mood shifted from frustration to anger.  Then, however, pretty much out of nowhere, she found the perfect cottage venue in Swanage in the county of Dorset in southern England.



Swanage Bay looking down on the village



Swanage is a lovely spot with fine sandy beaches nestled on a calm bay on the scenic “Jurassic Coast” about two hours south and west of London (under normal road conditions).  The three bedroom cottage is warm, cosy and well appointed.  There are plenty of local sites to occupy some relaxing time.  Basically, the Swanage cottage is the perfect manifestation of Rosa’s intentions for our festive season holidays.  I’ll write more about Swanage later in this blog entry, but I want to continue with the story of how nostalgia, sentimentality and best intentions can produce unexpected results...

As the observant reader will remember, I wanted an act of God to intervene in order to allow me to spend my end of year break at home.  Well, the act of God came, but just a little late.  I arrived at London Heathrow Airport on a freezing cold night on December 17.  During the week, I had flown the crazy itinerary of Beirut – Abu Dhabi – Johannesburg – Abu Dhabi – Dubai – Cyprus – London and I was exhausted.  I had only flown through Cyprus because I needed to change clothes and pick up another bag that Rosa had packed for me.  I was home for three hours – which turned out to be the sum total of time I spent at home the remainder of the year (in fact, until January 10).  During the week, I had spent more time in the air than on the ground and was not in good humour when we landed at 19:30 at Heathrow.  During that Friday there had been a dusting of snow – literally less than two millimetres but Heathrow Terminal 5 was already in turmoil.  We were parked on a taxiway at Heathrow for three hours because there was a shortage of parking stands.  Then, when we were rolled into our parking stand at 22:30, we had to wait for stairs which took another 90 minutes to arrive.  By midnight, I was highly irritated and standing in an immigration queue at Terminal 5.  The eight hundred people ahead of me were being processed by a total of three Immigration officers who seemed to take rather frequent tea breaks.  Two hours later – a full 6 ½ hours after landing I was wandering around a baggage hall that was stuffed with irate passengers and at least fifteen thousand unclaimed bags.  I walked the length of baggage claim but could not find my bag – or any other bag from my flight.  So, about 03:00 on Saturday morning, I abandoned the baggage search and walked the short distance to the Sofitel Hotel at Terminal 5.  Rosa had already checked in and had been asleep for some hours.  She answered the door to the hotel room half asleep and I gave her a hug before tucking her back into bed.  My troubles cleared away slightly because I was with my life’s true love.  Once in bed, however, I could not sleep wondering how and when I would retrieve my bag.

At 08:00 the following day, I asked Rosa to call a friend of hers that works for British Airways at Terminal 5.  Her friend was not working but gave the helpful information that the bags from Larnaca were not off-loaded from the aircraft until 06:00 but should be at carousel seven ... So, all the time that I was walking the baggage hall, the bags had not even arrived!  At 08:30, I walked back to the terminal and into a maelstrom of yelling, crying and aggressive passengers.  The British Airways staff expected the displaced passengers to react like Londoner’s during the Blitz: queue up serenely and await their turns with their ration cards in their hands.  Instead, a mixed mob of rioters fronted the few officials the sufficient temerity to face such a crowd.  A rather large woman wearing a tight BA uniform was yelling through a megaphone, “You must understand that this is beyond our control – aircraft and snow do not mix.  Nothing can be done ...” There were several aggressive comments from the crowd until one man yelled out, “There isn’t even any snow.  Just wait until it really snows!” After about an hour of trying to negotiate my way back into the baggage hall, I finally was able to gain entrance through the employee security point.  Once inside, I was amazed at the calm in the baggage hall.  The hall was quiet with just a few staff and passengers who were searching forlornly through the piles and piles of luggage.  Christmas music was playing over the loud speakers.  The contrast with the near riot conditions outside the baggage hall made me chuckle.  I found my bag after a quick search of carousel seven, threw the bag on a cart and whistled to the Christmas tunes as I walked toward the exit.  There is a simple joy in finding something that is lost.



Snow at Heathrow:  "Aircraft and sno do not mix!"



Once back in the terminal, I again made the short walk to the Sofitel.  This time, however, as I passed through the covered walkway, I noticed that the weather was indeed taking a turn for the worse.  Huge snowflakes were falling with a reasonable intensity and accumulation was already starting on the frozen ground.  Rosa had rented a Mercedes estate car (Americans would call it a “station wagon”) for the month that she expected to be in England.  She had also booked a hotel in the suburbs of West London for the few days that we would be around in the area before heading to Dorset.  So, we decided to quickly load the rental car and proceed with some dispatch to the hotel.  Within about ten seconds of the Mercedes slipping into the parking lot of the hotel, it was clear that this car would absolutely not work on snow.  The rear wheel drive car had insufficient weight in the back and the worst possible tires for snow.  We needed help from some of the hotel staff just to negotiate the small rise from the parking lot to the main road and I advised Rosa to drive immediately to the rental car company and return the Mercedes from something more suitable.  By this time, about fifteen centimetres of wet, slushy and super slick snow had fallen in the area of the airport.  The two kilometre drive from the hotel to the rental car company took twenty minutes of sliding during which I reminded Rosa about fifteen times, “Turn into the skid ... No!  Turn the wheel the other way!”  We replaced the Mercedes estate car for a Saab front wheel drive estate car and began our odyssey to the hotel at 11:00 that Saturday morning (December 18).

One of Rosa’s qualities that can be endearing (occasionally) but is mostly trying is the fact that she is stubborn.  Mules sign up for assertiveness training taught by Rosa!  So, despite my rather good advice on the route to take into the Midlands toward our country hotel in Gerrard’s Cross, Rosa not only ignored my advice but made almost the exactly wrong decisions regarding the route.  We were stuck in traffic jams for hours until Rosa would occasionally condescend to take my advice on alternate routes. While I continually offered helpful advice like “Turn into the skid ... No Rosa!  Turn the wheel the other way, dammit!”, Rosa became more and more irritated.  She nearly had an altercation with another driver whom had the temerity to express his dissatisfaction with her snow driving skills. She told the male driver to “Piss off back to your car if you know what is good for you!”  Suffice it to say that our relationship was saved by my fraying but still mostly intact patience and her final admission that my advice was the best (and indeed, the only) way to reach our destination.  I had to push the car up the hill with the help of kind strangers in a small village close to Gerrard’s Cross – during which I sprained my left ankle – but we finally slid into the hotel parking lot at 15:30 ... 4 ½ hours after leaving the car rental company.  By comparison, the trip would normally take a maximum of about twenty minutes without snow and traffic jams.  Once safely ensconced in the hotel we laughed about the experience and settled in for the weekend.

I had some end-of-year tasks to perform in my London office on Monday, by which time the roads were slightly better.  By Tuesday (December 21), however, the forecast called for more snow and Rosa and I decided that it was time to drive to Dorset before we became stranded.  On Tuesday evening about 17:00 we picked up my nephews and drove to Swanage.  The drive was uneventful even if the roads were occasionally slick and we arrived in Swanage about 21:00 mostly because we had stopped for a meal in route.  We were not taking possession of the cottage until the following day (Wednesday, December 22) so we needed to find a hotel.  After some searching, we finally found a hotel for the night and unpacked the car.  The next day, we awoke to a cloudy but snow-free day and a beautiful view over Swanage Bay.  After some careful review of the written instructions and a few passes through the area, we were able to find the cottage without a great deal of difficulty.  The owners had set up a small Christmas tree and the cottage even had a pleasant bay view.  We explored the village of Swanage, found lunch followed by a grocery store and stocked up on food.

I have to say that, all in all, the trip to Swanage lived up to expectations.  The area is very nice and relaxing.  We visited Corfe Castle with the boys even though it was freezing cold and I slipped and fell on the ice thus hurting my injured ankle even more.  The boys chased the wild-looking sheep across the castle grounds and we laughed when they climbed the walls of the castle just out of reach of the boys.  We had a relatively relaxing time when Shazia, Saffiyah (one of our nieces) and Bina (my mother-in-law) joined us on Christmas Eve for a few days. We cooked food, watched TV, chatted and avoided conflict despite the relatively limited space.  Rosa and I packed all of them (including the boys) in Shazia’s car and sent them back to London on December 27 and then settled in for a few days of togetherness.  We visited Maiden Castle close to Dorchester on December 31 – a site I had wanted to see for some time (see the Last Blast below), walked the entire three mile perimeter, and then stopped by a grocery store to obtain a meal for later in the evening.  We had a leisurely meal, two bottles of excellent champagne and watched videos to usher in 2011.  On Sunday, January 2, we climbed around on the Jurassic Coast between Durlston Head and Peveril Point where I further irritated my damaged ankle but all-in-all sentiment and nostalgia trumped my reticence and we had a wonderful time relaxing and laughing together. 



Peveril Point near Swanage on the Jurassic Coast



In the end, I have to admit that Rosa was right to insist upon the cottage in Dorset for the holidays.  The weather did not cooperate but that simply adds to the memories.  We had plenty of time to talk and I was reminded constantly why I love Rosa.  Of course, by January 3 I was ready to fly someplace ... pretty much any place.  I am not used to being in one place for very long and Rosa noticed the wandering look in my eyes.  I cherished the time with Rosa but, like Odysseus, I am born to wander.   

  

Where to Stay:

Number 1, Mount Scar – our rented cottage.  I was impressed by the layout and maintenance.  The cottage is warm, clean, comfortable and is well appointed.  The kitchen and bathrooms are pretty new and the little patio in the back of the cottage should be useful in the summer with its nice grill.  The cottage was also a great value – especially given the short lead time Rosa gave them from booking until occupancy.

Where to Eat:

I was not overly impressed by the dining options in Swanage.  The restaurants are pretty basic but are family oriented and good value.  The Brick Oven Pizza restaurant close to the waterfront is pretty good.  We had a few nice meals at the Old Ship Inn – a pub opened in 1753.  The crowd was lively and loud.  The Beaver cafe was also a nice surprise on the High Street.  Mostly, however, I enjoyed cooking for Rosa and her family.

Where to Shop:

If the restaurants are limited in Swanage, the shopping options are even more limited.  For example, Rosa and I had a small adventure trying to find real champagne glasses in the area.  My best purchase was two small ammonites that I purchased from the visitor’s centre at Durlston Park.  When I read the leaflet, however, I felt a little cheated to learn that the ammonites were from Argentina instead of the fossil rich Jurassic Coast.

Where to Party:

There were several bars on the waterfront in Swanage and I am sure that the nightlife is pretty good when the weather is warmer.  We never felt the need to visit these places and didn’t even visit the Black Swan pub near the cottage – even though we meant to do so a few times.

Rant:

As I repeated several times above, I love Rosa for all of her strengths, weaknesses, foibles, obsessions and enthusiasms.  I do have to remark, however, that one of her least attractive qualities is that she snores like a banshee!  I spend a lot of time sleeping on aircraft and have always been really annoyed by fellow passengers that snore, so I have trained myself to sleep very lightly and I seldom snore unless I am exceptionally tired.  Rosa, however, snores almost every night.  The Inuit people of Northern Canada supposedly have more than thirty different adjectives to describe snow because they need to describe so many different variations.  I have at least twenty adjectives to describe Rosa’s snoring!  Rosa’s snoring should not be measured in decibels – the Richter Scale is more appropriate.  On the light end she has the rather cute “purr” snore that is reasonably tolerable.  Her regular “every day” snore is the “bear” or the “chainsaw” which is much louder and disrupts the neighbours.  Her loudest variety, however, is the “bulldozer” (also known as the “JCB”) which frequently wakes her up with its volume!



Rosa's Snoring is very much like a fleet of these



Our bedroom in the cottage had a full-size bed which is smaller than we have in our homes but this generally posed only a little discomfort.  That is, there was little discomfort until the bedroom became a construction zone.  Thankfully, Rosa does not snore all night – just toward the morning.  I can normally convince her to roll over to obtain temporary relief from the sound but on days when heavy earthmoving construction is occurring, the workers rarely take a tea break.  About 04:30 one morning in the cottage I was awakened by the early arrival of the workers.  Chainsaws were deployed first – to clear the ground brush, I suppose.  Within a few minutes, however, the bulldozers were moving in for the heavy ground clearance.  Rosa was sleeping restlessly, so I knew that the sound was even bothering her!  I asked her to rollover a few times but within about fifteen seconds the workers would take up their tools again.  About 05:00 I slipped from bed to answer the call of nature.  Upon returning a few minutes later, I settled into my place and briefly sniffed to clear my sinuses.  It was not a long sniff or even loud ... it was just an ordinary brief sniff.

Suddenly, all work immediately stopped at the construction zone and Rosa’s eyes shot open.  She turned to me with a note of extreme irritation in her voice for being disturbed and said, “What’s with the sound effects?!”  I immediately began to laugh and then, after a brief time, she laughed as well.  Rosa is not the most cheerful person in the morning but I have to love her even when she snores and is grumpy...

Humour Section:



10 Foot Diameter Globe at Durlston Castle



When we were walking by Peveril Point on the Jurassic Coast we passed below Durlston Castle – a nineteenth century manor house that is under refurbishment by the National Trust.  On the slope below the castle is a ten foot diameter globe of the earth carved from a single piece of Portland Limestone quarried on the site.  The globe was carved in the last part of the nineteenth century and is a monument to the last glory years of the British Empire.  At the base of the globe is a carved stone that details the relative size of other planets in the solar system known at the time.  If the earth were ten feet in diameter, for example, the sun would be 4,300 feet in diameter.  Each planet was listed with its relative size from Mercury, Venus, and Mars followed by the gaseous giants.  As I read down the list, I saw that Jupiter would have a diameter of 1,200 feet and then at the bottom of the list I saw that Uranus would be 44 feet in diameter.

Rosa and I were surrounded by about fifteen people of various ages who were out for a stroll on this early day in January.  I turned to Rosa and said in a loud voice, “Well, I never would have expected that Uranus was that big!  I have always admired Uranus but I thought it was smaller.  I know I’ve only seen Uranus from a distance, but I’m surprised by that ...”  I continued in this strain for a few more seconds while several people in my makeshift audience began to snicker and giggle.  Rosa turned to a British matron who was frowning at my impromptu comedy routine and said, “Really, he doesn’t get out very often ...”

By the way, one of my recurring jokes is to make a farting sound whenever Rosa bends over to pick something up.  This always solicits a giggle of surprise from her and this encourages me to keep up the practice even though it is incredibly puerile.

Last Blast:



Maiden Castle near Dorchester



I noted above that Rosa and I visited Maiden Castle close to Dorchester on December 31.  Maiden Castle is the largest and most complex of the Iron Age hill forts in England.  I have loved the hill forts of England from the first one Rosa and I visited in 1995 shortly after moving to England.  We visited Banbury hill fort in Wiltshire and walked the perimeter.  I climbed down to the flint mine on the side of the hill fort and retrieved flint nodules that we took home to Shazia.  Then, before leaving, Rosa convinced me to roll down the side of the embankment.  We had such fun that day and since that warm summer afternoon, I have never passed up a chance to walk around a hill fort.

Maiden Castle, however, is special because this hill fort was considered impregnable by its owners and the surrounding tribes.  In 33 CE, however, Maiden Castle was taken in just four hours by the Roman Second Legion led by its Legate, Flavius Vespasian.  Vespasian was a brilliant military tactician and reportedly was as “hard as nails”.  He was of senatorial rank but his family had only held that status for two generations, so he was considered to be a “new man”.  From his remaining statues it is clear that Vespasian was a burly hard man – and not handsome.  Vespasian was only a legate (commander of a legion) in England in 33 CE and a subordinate of the Governor General of “Brittania”.  Later, Vespasian would become the emperor of Rome and would leave a lasting mark on Europe and the Middle East.  Vespasian was the “victor” of Judean War that culminated at Masada.  He was also the builder of the “Flavian Amphitheatre” in Rome, better known today as the Coliseum.



Vespasian when he was a Legate in Britannia



The Emperor Vespasian - older but still tough



Vespasian must have stood about at the spot were Rosa and I stood looking up at the battlements of Maiden Castle.  The earthworks are very impressive today and would have been even more impressive in the time of Vespasian when they were in defensive order and were topped by three series of wooden palisades.  According to Vespasian’s battle reports, he had been chasing a tribe of warriors for some days when the warriors took refuge in Maiden Castle (he did not know the name, but his notes make it clear that it was Maiden Castle).  The British warriors manned the battlements with about eight thousand men which would have been roughly equivalent to the strength of the Roman legion combatants.  The British warriors, however, had an infinitely better battleground position.

Maiden Castle is still formidable

The warriors within the castle shouted their defiance.  Vespasian calmly surveyed the ground then called a meeting of his centurions.  When his officers had gathered, Vespasian pointed to Maiden Castle and said, “Right!  I want it taken before midday.”  It reportedly took the Second Legion just four hours to take the Castle and either kill or accept the surrender of all of the warriors within.  The legionnaires would have stormed the steep battlements carrying forty kilos of gear amidst arrows, slingshot, thrown rocks, javelin fire and other obstacles.  It is difficult today to climb up the sides of the battlements without the wooden palisades at the top.  Once the legion took the first battlement, they would have seen two more to climb to fight their way into the castle.  Rosa and I walked the uppermost battlement and gazed down the side at frequent intervals.  I cannot believe that Vespasian’s Second Legion could have taken this ground at all – especially not in just four hours!

I love touching history in this way.  In one lonely corner of the large castle grounds, Rosa and I happened upon the remains of a fourth century Romano-British temple to Minerva.  This temple would have been built just before the departure of the Roman Legions from the providence of Britannia and shortly before Christianity began to dominate southern England.  Maiden Castle is a special place now for Rosa and I. 



Rosa and I - she took the picture


 

I wish all of my readers the love of a good partner as I have found with Rosa.  Take care until we meet again...

On Cairo: Thursday, 28 October 2010 at 22:45

Location Notes:

A few days ago I wrote about flying between Athens and Cairo and my impressions at various altitudes as I flew across the Aegean.  I hope my readers enjoyed that entry as I was experimenting with a little “deep background” in my writing.  At the beginning of that entry, I promised to write about Cairo in a later blog.  Well, this entry will make good on that intent as I portray the complex, chaotic metropolis on the Nile River.

From the air it is very easy to understand the importance of the Nile to Egyptian culture.  Outside of the fairly narrow band surrounding the river, there is simply soft-brown dusty desert nothingness.  To be sure, when flying from Athens, the first part of Egypt that is over flown is the verdant Nile Delta.  Seemingly every square meter of the Nile Delta is under cultivation.  Villages cluster together in small groups of dirty sand-coloured buildings surrounded by neatly sectioned green fields bordered by date palm trees.  Every so often a larger town can be seen in the Delta but it is mostly made of non-descript, multi-story, shabby piles of concrete that would be at home in Baku, Novosibirsk, Havana or Tianjin... basically anywhere where the form of government feels obliged to provide simple and functional – if dilapidated – housing for the common workers.  The Nile delta is wide but it all needs to be cultivated in order to feed the multitudes in Cairo.

By the time that the aircraft approaches Cairo, the Sahara desert has encroached more on the river’s territory compared to the Delta.  From 35,000 feet, the narrow green strip around the Nile seems painfully small to support such a huge population and also to have sustained such a well-known and powerful early culture.  According to recent field research, the Sahara desert did not exist six thousand years ago.  The area of the current desert was a water-rich savannah full of lakes, large animals and supported a large hunter-gatherer tribal population.  Then, weather patterns altered and a drought began that would produce the Sahara – the largest desert in the world – in no more than one hundred years.  The hunter-gatherer populations of North Africa were forced to migrate to more inviting areas.  One of the last remaining oases of water in the desert was around the Nile.  Because land and water resources were very limited, however, a strong central government was required to ensure that the population could survive and thus the ancient Egyptian culture developed.  The government of Egypt is still a strong central government, but more about the current government below.

Cairo International Airport: New but looks old

Most of the latest development in Cairo, including the posh “New Cairo” area toward the northwest of the old city is built in the Sahara desert.  The new airport is architecturally interesting, but the ever-present dust covering each feature gives this new structure the unfortunate appearance of great age.  Cairo’s atmosphere is brown on the best air quality days with a mix of exhaust pollution and sand from the Sahara and, on bad days, the atmosphere is burnt orange and the sun blazes red through the thick soup that the visitor tastes more than smells.  Cairo has a very distinctive smell ... It smells of raw sewage, dry rot, perspiration and desperation.  On this most recent visit a colleague of mine who had not visited Cairo for more than 20 years – and then only briefly – commented, “This place is really crap, isn’t it?!”  I found myself defending Cairo because I hold great affection for the city but, in the final analysis, my colleague is correct; Cairo is one of the least comfortable and least pleasant large cities in the world.

My dad always used to say, “If you have fun the first time you go someplace, then you will always be anxious to return; even if the place is not very nice ... If Mother Theresa went to Hell and had a good time, she wouldn’t have been very enthusiastic about going to Heaven later!”  In this observation, as well as most others, my father was correct.  I first visited Cairo in 1991 at the request of the then-current CEO of Gulf Air. Even though I had no idea really what to expect, I had a great time there and since then I have always enjoyed returning.

I was just twenty-eight years old during my first visit to Cairo.  I had not left the United States until I was nearly twenty-six so I was not an experienced traveller as I am today.  I arrived at the “new terminal” in Cairo airport, which was completely rundown and trashed at that time, even though it would be continually used with only cosmetic upgrading until 2009.  I was met at the aircraft door by an official greeter who escorting me through Immigration and Customs formalities.  It is a damn good thing that he did, as well, because the lack of signage and the limited English of the officials meant that I would still be trying to figure out how to enter Egypt today!  Every three minutes in Cairo at that time – as well as today – there was someone trying to roll me for “baksheesh” which means alternatively “tip” and “bribe” – both words being exactly the same in Egypt in connotation.  I had to “tip” the man that sold me the visa, the official that stamped my passport, the agent that delivered my bag – and then I had to tip this agent again to let me carry my own bag, the guard at the door to the airport and finally (so I thought in my ignorance) the official greeter – who expected the biggest baksheesh of all.  Then, however, as we left the airport my driver demanded baksheesh for the guard at the gate to the airport (taking a cut for himself), the traffic police officer that stopped us for no apparent reason in route to the hotel (again taking a cut for himself), followed by the guard at the hotel entrance and the bellman that took my luggage to the room in Cairo.  Being new, I was “an easy mark” and everyone did his level best to empty my wallet.  The reader should remember that this was before ATMs were widespread out of the USA and Western Europe and by the time I was in the country for two hours, I was already dangerously low on cash. The reader may think that I had a terrible time in Cairo but this is absolutely not the case.

"You give me tip or I put you in jail!"

When I arrived in the Nile Sheraton, I was given an enormous suite on the 24^th floor over-looking the pyramids at nearby Giza.  At this time, I had never stayed in a larger or plusher room. On the dining table next to a huge bouquet of seasonal flowers, there was a note from the Gulf Air CEO stating that I was expected for dinner at 11:00pm and that I should “dress for dinner and later” since we were going to the casino afterwards.  Since I had arrived at the hotel by 4:00pm, I thought I had plenty of time to wash and prepare.  Shortly afterwards, however, there was a sharp knock on the door and a totally camp Egyptian tailor sauntered into the room.  He enquired solicitously if I had a “dinner suit”.  When I showed him my grey polyester-blend work suit, he clicked his tongue in disgust and said, “You know, darling, the note says ‘dress for dinner’ not for a church service.”  He then waved his hands flamboyantly and twittered, “Never mind, darling, that is the reason that Salim [the then-current CEO of the airline] sent me to service you...  My name is Habib.”  The “service you” portion of Habib’s statement worried me greatly as did his name, which – even I knew in my relative ignorance – means “lover” in Arabic.  At the time, I had only recently left Kansas where I could still imagine that I had never met a gay person – at least outwardly gay – and this one was already grabbing my belt to remove my trousers.  To this day, I am not sure why he had me disrobe to take my measurements, but I am convinced that he did this to torment me.  After a thirty minute “fitting”, Habib left my room promising to return in one hour.  Of course, one hour in Cairo is four hours in any other country.  In the interim, I had not left the room because I was afraid that Habib would return and find me absent, so by the time that Habib returned at 9:30pm I was irritable and hungry.  I mentioned my displeasure and discomfort to Habib who replied, “My dear, why didn’t you just call room service, silly?  Salim is paying for EVERYTHING...”  Again, Habib’s emphasis on the word “everything” increased my discomfort.  Habib placed a phone call by yelling in Arabic and then smiled sweetly as he hung up the phone and said, “All taken care of, my dear!  A big tray of sweets will be here in five minutes with mint tea.”  I quickly replied, “Habib, I’m having dinner in 90 minutes – I can’t eat sweets now!”  Habib gave me a wilting look and replied, “You only think that you will be eating in 90 minutes.  I predict that you won’t even see your friends for another three hours and then you’ll drink Arak before dinner.  Darling, this is Cairo – the night time is the only time to live in this city!”

Tuxedo Shirt... With Studs

Amazingly, an enormous tray of mixed baklava and super-sweet mint tea did arrive with fanfare only thirty minutes later.  By the time the refreshments arrived, Habib had me dressed in a jet black tropical-weight wool tuxedo with round silk lapels, a flat-pleated shirt with shirt studs (Habib had to show me how to wear the shirt studs without catching my chest hairs – over which he lingered a little too long for my comfort), a black satin cummerbund with elegant silk bowtie and matching trousers with a silk strip down the side of each leg.  Habib insisted that I used custom-made braces instead of a belt under the cummerbund.  He even had my black leather shoes polished and buffed to a bright sheen.  I had worn rented tuxedos several times to proms, homecoming dances and similar events in secondary school and university, but I had never had a tailored suit of any type – especially a tuxedo!  I looked in the mirror and thought, “This must be how James Bond feels!”  I turned with real pleasure to look at the simpering Habib who chuckled and said, “You look almost good enough to eat ... if you were on the top of a wedding cake!”  We then sat for another thirty minutes eating the sweets and chatting amiably during which time, Habib admonished me not to drop crumbs on my new suit.  Thinking myself used to the routine, I tried to tip Habib before he left the suite.  He looked me boldly in the eyes and said, “I saw you put them on, darling.  You haven’t enough in your trousers to please me!  Never mind, Salim has taken care of me and he will call you when you are ready for dinner.”  Habib did torment me greatly, but I found myself enjoying his humorous barbs and since that time, I have lost all discomfort when dealing with overtly gay men.  Habib had a good heart and he did me a great service by preparing me for that evening.  At the time, I thought his camp-act might be common in the region because of the “inscrutability of the east” but I now realize that Habib would have difficulties being so flamboyant in today’s more conservative Cairo. Just about the time that I wondered when I had to return the suit, Habib called up on the house phone from downstairs, “The suit is Salim’s gift to you – take it with you, even if I doubt you’ll ever have occasion to wear it in that cowboy country of yours!”  Habib was right ... I lost that dinner suit in “The Great War” and never had occasion to wear it again!

Baklava - not recommended before dinner

In retrospect, I wonder at the strangeness of that first visit to Cairo.  I had agreed to meet the CEO in Cairo because the air campaign portion of the Gulf War had turned Bahrain into a quasi-warzone.  The US Fifth Fleet was based in Bahrain and a few forlorn scud missiles were lobbed at the island where they landed harmlessly in the desert.  Salim, had mostly moved his airline administration to Cairo but only because he had such a great time there!  I, of course, was worried about being an American in the Middle East at the time.  I now realize that Cairo is to the Middle East as Mexico City is to the east coast of the USA – not completely foreign, but certainly not part of the region.  Americans have this mistaken idea that the citizens of Egypt and Iran – amongst other countries – are “Arabs”.  Most experienced travellers know that there is a big difference between speaking Arabic and being Arab.  The Egyptians and the Iranians may share most attributes of a common language and religion but culturally they are very different.  Anyway, back to Cairo in 1990...

Arak:  Quite Deadly

As Habib predicted, Salim called me rather late about 1:00am saying that he had just awoke and would I meet him in the lobby at 2:00am?  I duly met Salim and his friends in the lobby at the scheduled time – with the customary 20-minute wait for them to arrive.  Salim did not seem surprised to see my dinner-suited appearance and I remember thinking at the time, “These guys are filthy rich... they must do this ALL the time!”  Salim solicitously asked me, “Are you hungry?  Because I thought we might skip dinner and just head for the Baccarat tables...”  Salim didn’t wait for my answer before continuing,”... Anyway, you can have a snack at the gaming tables if you like.”  We swept into the casino in a pack (there is no other term for it) and a glass of Arak was thrust into my hands.  For those readers who are unfamiliar with Arak – it is the traditional alcoholic beverage of the region.  It is aniseed (liquorice) flavoured and incredibly strong.  It is consumed in little glasses where the liquor is ceremoniously poured in first, and then bottled water is added that instantly turns the solution white in some strange chemical reaction.  Finally, the preparer adds a single sparkling cube of ice before gingerly handing the glass to the drinker by holding the bottom of the glass in his fingertips.  Three small glasses of Arak later, I was half buzzed and beginning to relax.

Baccarat - Harder than it looks

Salim insisted on staking me for the game with plaques that totalled 40,000.  I had no idea if this represented 40,000 Egyptian Pounds (about US$5,000 at the time) or US$40,000.  The currency made little difference; it was more than I could afford.  Salim didn’t seem to care as he quickly explained the rules of Baccarat.  Like all young American adults, I had some experience on the blackjack tables of Vegas, but I soon found out that Baccarat is a much more subtle and difficult game to master.  Whether by beginner’s luck, by design, or by my innate mathematical abilities (I leave it to the reader to decide the most probably option), I won more than I lost that night and when we reckoned our results my plaques totalled 42,000.  Salim let me keep the 2,000 in winnings, which turned out to be British Pounds (about US$3,500 at the time).  I lavishly tipped the dealer and watched from the corner of my eye as Salim smiled his approval.  By the time we finished in the casino, it was about 6:00am and the sun was starting to arise.  I yawned and received a look of concern from my companions who were clearly set to continue their party.  Salim replied, “Of course, you just flew into Cairo from the USA... you must sleep.  We will have someone escort you to your room.”  I protested that I could find my own way but Salim would not hear of it and soon an extremely attractive 20-something Egyptian woman placed her warm hand in my chilled palm and led me smiling toward the elevators.  In retrospect, I cannot believe that I was ever so naïve, but we had ascended nearly to the top of the hotel before the “penny dropped” and I realised the true nature of my escort.

The reader who is expecting salacious details at this point should remember that my mother reads this blog.  The following details should suffice for my dear readers... First, the suite was sufficiently large to allow my escort and I to cohabitate for some hours without inconveniencing each other.  Second, a month or so after this event, I separated from my then-current wife for the first time and we never really lived together again for more than short periods before our eventual divorce.  I’m not saying the escort and my failed marriage were related, but they were not completely unrelated either...

Quite Similar to Jamellah - As I remember

Over a light lunch with my new companion on the balcony of the suite in the early afternoon, I looked admirably upon the pyramids and wondered out-loud what they were like at close proximity.  My seemingly ravenous companion didn’t bother to swallow her mouthful before saying the immortal words that are told to foreign visitors more than any other in Cairo, “I have an uncle who works there and can give you a private tour!”  Like Habib, my companion had seen the wad in my trousers (money dear readers, not what you were thinking), which was considerably larger in her company than in Habib’s!  Given my newfound gambling wealth, I promised to stay an extra day if I could to take her up on her offer.  My companion smiled and said, “Let’s make it today, call Salim and tell him that you are occupied for the day!”  When I declined, she excused herself for what I thought at the time was a “bio-break” and then returned smiling with a cordless phone from the living room of the suite.  Salim’s voice sounded jovial over the phone, “Jamellah tells me that you have a date with her this afternoon... this is fine.  We will discuss business tomorrow.”  I protested that business should take precedence over pleasure, but Salim silenced my concerns by saying, “I cannot meet today anyway, I have some rather important meetings that are taking longer than I expected.  I hope you can amuse yourself until tomorrow.” Then, Salim hung up without saying goodbye in order to stymie any further protest as Jamellah smiled sweetly looking over the tip of her coffee cup.

Pyramids of Giza - Use "Uncle Baksheesh" as a guide

Freed from work obligations for twenty-four hours, I embraced this little freedom and confirmed the trip to the pyramids with Jamellah’s “uncle”.  I had stacks of Egyptian Pounds (something like L.E. 30,000) from my gambling winnings and I was not particularly interested in saving them for some needed household expenditure.  I didn’t raise a fuss when the tour included several opportunities for “Uncle Baksheesh”, strange and wonderfully expensive souvenirs and then a stop for Jamellah to shop at Versace.  This was the first time I had even heard of Versace – who seems to hold a particular fascination for Egyptian women.  I must admit that Jamellah’s uncle was actually pretty knowledgeable and he included the trip to the pyramids with a stop at the Museum of Antiquities (more about this site below). By the end of the day, my stacks of Egyptian Pounds had dwindled to a single think pile but I do not regret a single expenditure of that day – nor a single moment.  Jamellah stayed into the late evening but after dinner and a few Arak’s at a local bar, my Egyptian Pounds were greatly depleted and quite unexpectedly (to me anyway), Jamellah’s interest in me began to wane.  I needed a long rest, anyway, so I returned to the hotel suite without my accustomed escort.

The following afternoon I finally found Salim to address business.  We agreed on the initial contract and the relationship between my company and Gulf Air has endured to this day.  I must have been sufficiently impressive to Salim because a little more than one year later, I found myself in post-Gulf War Bahrain working for American Airlines under a secondment agreement for Gulf Air, but that is a story for another blog entry.  In retrospect, I don’t know if Salim’s extraordinary generosity was related to his Bedouin cultural roots or whether he was just partying and didn’t mind an extra member of his entourage.  I suppose that it doesn’t make any difference at this point so I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that Salim was showing traditional hospitality where a visitor to a Bedouin tent will be entertained for three days without even asking his name.

I have visited Cairo dozens of times since that first time and have always been fond of the city – even when the experiences have occasionally been trying.  Misconnected flights, delayed and even cancelled appointments, excessive corruption and disappointing service have occasionally coloured my Cairo visits but my dad was right – I always enjoy returning after that first time.  Of course, I have experienced fabulous times in Cairo as well since this first time.  Rosa and I had an excellent vacation in Cairo in August 2007 that included relaxing sunbathing as well as a memorable camel ride to the pyramids (my camel protested its load while Rosa’s camel gloated at its companion’s misfortune).  In June 2009, I initiated my 20 year-old adopted brother and 21 year-old nephew into the mysteries of Cairo.  While there was a brief but ultimately innocent encounter with four lovely Egyptian escorts and their middle-aged “chaperon”, I did not encourage the same misbehaviour that I revelled in during my first visit – after all, I like to think that I have matured to a responsible adult.  Of course, that trip did include an experience with underage drinking, illicit (but not illegal) drug use and a few other interesting rites of passage for those boys... (Sorry mom!)

Memories of my first trip wafted through my head last week as I defended Cairo from my colleague’s claim to it being “crap”.  Yes, Cairo is a dusty, dirty, crowded nasty place, but I am fond of it none the less – in fact, very fond of it!

Where to Stay in Cairo:

Resident's Bar - Four Seasons First Residence

My favourite hotel is the Four Seasons Nile Plaza – which is fabulously located and great fun.  The Four Seasons First Residence is where Rosa and I stayed for eight wonderful days a few years ago.  The First Residence is not as bustling as the Nile Plaza but the service is impeccable.  We stayed with the boys at the Conrad, which is also very nice.  I once had the Africa Suite at the Nile Hilton, which included a stuffed lion and two life-sized statues of spear-clutching warriors... The reader might want to skip that experience.

Where to Eat in Cairo:

Aqua Restaurant - Excellent Food and View!

Aqua in the Four Seasons Nile Plaza is my favourite with a stunning view of the Nile through porthole shaped windows.  The Lebanese restaurant in the Cairo Intercontinental is excellent.  Tourists like the Abu Ramy in old Cairo.  Cairo has many excellent restaurants and the proximity of the Nile provides cool evenings for al fresco dining – even in the summer.  Tourists love the Nile dinner cruises but I like the riverside tent restaurants best.

Where to Party in Cairo:

Much like Beirut, every vice and every virtue can be experienced in Cairo.  Gambling, alcohol, shisha (I recommend the “Full Saudi”), music and dancing, temporary companionship – they all are readily found in Cairo.  I like the shisha in the riverside garden of the Nile Hyatt.  The Hardrock Café across the street from the Hyatt is more fun than any other establishment of that name in the world.  The resident’s bar at the Four Season Nile Plaza makes the best gin gimlet in the world... There are countless places to party in Cairo.

What about the sites?

Museum of Antiquities - Worst Museum, Best Collection

The pyramids at Giza are absolutely a must-see.  Believe it or not, I highly recommend a private tour; it is not very expensive but the visitor will see many things off the beaten path and the local guides have a great sense of humour.  The older step pyramids at Sakkara are very impressive.  My favourite must-see, however, has to be the Museum of Antiquities.  This 1930s style neo-classical pile is the worst and best museum in the world.  The museum structure is just awful – especially for one of the world’s most impressive collections of artefacts.  There is no air-conditioning in the building – except in the room where the mummies of pharaohs are maintained at a conducive temperature.  The reference tags on artefacts are yellowed, aging, typewritten (yes, typewritten not printed with a word processor), misspelled artefacts that are in their own right.  None the less, the collection is stunning and proximity to ancient history is nowhere closer in the world.

Where to Shop:

Papyrus Shop Owner - Must be smoking the Full Saudi!

The Nile Plaza Centre within the same structure as the Four Seasons Nile Plaza is a favourite shopping place for fashions in the city.  There are malls, but they are mostly for local patronage.  The perfume, papyrus, rug and cotton shops beside the pyramids are fun for souvenirs and the shop attendants put on quite a show.

Cairo is perhaps not easy to navigate for the uninitiated but, for me, it will always be one of the greatest cities of the world!

Travel Plans:

Thursday, 28 October 2010:  Taipei, Taiwan
Friday, 29 October 2010: Taipei – Bangkok
Saturday, 30 October 2010: Bangkok – Abu Dhabi
Sunday, 31 October 2010: Abu Dhabi – Chicago – Dallas
Monday, 1 November 2010: Dallas
Tuesday, 2 November 2010: Dallas – New York – Rome
Wednesday, 3 November 2010: Rome – Beirut
Thursday, 4 November 2010: Beirut
Friday, 5 November 2010: Beirut – London
Saturday, 6 November 2010: London
Sunday, 7 November 2010: London – Abu Dhabi
Monday, 8 November 2010: Abu Dhabi
Tuesday, 9 November 2010: Abu Dhabi – London
Wednesday, 10 November 2010: London

My schedule continues to be "fluid" - to say the least!

Rant:

I was going to rant about the confusing experience of Cairo airport.  When I started, however, it sounded to me a little petty and also mean-spirited.  Given that this entry is quite long anyway, I have decided to skip the Rant section for this posting.  The reader should not worry, however, there is no doubt that I’ll have something about which to rant next time!

Humour Section:

Two Cows - The best way to understand MENA Politics

The “Two Cows” approach to explaining international politics has become popular for describing the differences between countries.  I offer the following “Two Cows” explanation of Middle East and North Africa politics, which are my own observations.  Because some of the references may be obscure to some readers, I have provided notes at the bottom.  To prepare the reader for the idea of the “Two Cows”, I offer the following two examples:

France:  You have two cows, but you want three.  So, you go on strike until you are given a third cow from the government.

United States:  You have two cows.  The government takes one cow away from you in taxes and sells to cheaply to a meat packer.  Then, it uses the money from the meat to buy the milk of your second cow, which it pours down the drain.

Now that the reader understands the concept, I offer the following entries for the Middle East and North Africa region:

Abu Dhabi: You have millions and millions of cows, but you don’t like milk.  So, you pay the best scientists in the world billions of dollars to make milk taste like honey.

Dubai: You have two cows.  You incorporate the cows, sell their milk to the world market then use the cows as collateral for billions of dollars of loans to build the world’s largest barn.  Since you don’t have a bull, however, the big barn isn’t needed so you threaten bankruptcy unless Abu Dhabi bails you out.¹

Oman: you have two cows but you prefer bulls so you trade your two cows for two bulls and then buy milk from Dubai.²

Bahrain: You have two cows, but Qatar has three.  So, you drill a tunnel sideways from Bahrain to Qatar in order to steal their extra cow.³

Kuwait: You have two cows and Iraq has none.  So be it, this is Allah’s will!

Iraq: You have two cows but they are from different religious factions and therefore won’t stay in the same barn.  They stop giving milk so you call them “terrorists” and throw them into prison.

Libya: You have two cows, but one of them is sick in Scotland.  So, you make a huge order for aircraft from British Aerospace so that your sick cow is returned to Libya where it miraculously recovers.⁴

Saudi Arabia: You have four cows, so you give the US Government one of the cows if they will permanently station troops in your kingdom to protect your remaining herd.

Lebanon: You have two cows.  You sell one and force the other one to produce four times the amount of milk as before.  You keep the remaining cow out all night dancing.  You are surprised when the remaining cow dies.

Iran:  You have two cows and 100 people to milk each cow.  You claim full employment and arrest any dissidents who claim otherwise.

Egypt: You have two cows and both of them voted for Mubarak!⁵

Yemen: You have two cows and think the one on the right is cute. Both cows look VERY nervous

Israel: You have no cows so you take over Palestine, which has two cows and claim that God gave you the cows.

Palestine: You have no cows because of the blockade, so you dig a tunnel into Egypt, smuggle in three cows claiming they are building supplies.

Notes:

¹ This is a reference to Dubai World, the company that made the Burj Khalifa, currently the tallest building in the world.  Dubai World almost ran out of money in mid-2009 and was threatening to default on its loans.  Abu Dhabi “gifted” Dubai $40 Billion and , in return, the world’s tallest building was renamed “Burj Khalifa” [the family name of the royal family of Abu Dhabi] instead of “Burj Al Arabi”

² The Sultan of Oman is rumoured to be gay.  He has never married, producing rumours in this conservative country.  He once paid more than $2 Million to have the carpet, sheets and towels of his hotel in London replaced to his favourite colour: pink.

³ Bahrain was the first place that oil was discovered and extracted in the Middle East.  Unfortunately, Bahrain never had great reserves.  So, when the oil began to run out, Bahrain started drilling sideways into Qatari territory to extract oil.  This has caused great tension and occasionally outright fighting between the two countries.

⁴ Abdel Basset Ali al-Megrahi was the convicted terrorist responsible for the bombing of Pan-Am 101.  He was jailed for life in Scotland. In august 2009, al-Megrahi was released for compassionate reasons to return to Libya because doctors testified that he had only weeks to live from terminal cancer.  Al-Megrahi is still alive – although keeping a low profile in Libya.  Lately there have been questions about the alignment of the release with an order made by the government of Libya for aircraft from British Aerospace – a deal supported by Middle East envoy Tony Blair.

⁵ As noted in the Travel Notes, Egypt needs a strong leader. President Hosni Mubarak is nominally elected every five years.  He typically receives 99%+ of the popular vote during elections.  There has always been questions about the fairness of the elections and whether “dead Egyptians” vote for Mubarak.

Last Blast:

I’m always fascinated by the interesting ways that history intersects between different cultures and even different ages.  One of the advantages of having a wide-ranging ability to travel is to investigate some of these connections.  Every time possible, I spend time at the Museum of Antiquities in a small partitioned area on the far left side of the cavernous building.  The partitioned area is no more than six meters by 10 meters (18 feet x 30 feet) but contains a majority of physical artefacts for the reign of Amenhotep IV who later changed his name to “Akhenaton”.  Akhenaton who reigned between 1353-1336 BCE has recently become famous as the father of Pharaoh Tutankhamen (or at least brother) and the husband of the beautiful and enigmatic Nefertiti.  What interests me about Akhenaton, however, is slightly more obscure...

Akhenaton - aka Amenhotep IV

Akhenaton is linked through a strange set of circumstances to Herodotus, the father of History, Menelaus and Helen following the Trojan War, Moses who led the Israelites out of Egypt and the Gnostic heretics of the early Christian church.  I will need to recap briefly these different characters in order for their connections to make sense.

Akhenaton:  When Amenhotep IV became Pharaoh upon the death of his father (Amenhotep III) there was no indication that he would change the history of the world.  Amenhotep IV was the second son of Amenhotep III and his principal wife (and sister) Tiye.  His older brother Thutmose had died as a child but not until after Amenhotep IV had already begun his education as a priest – the usual vocation for a second son of a Pharaoh.  Because of a rather rigorous religious education, Amenhotep IV was both a mystic as well as having a profound dissatisfaction with the traditional priesthood.  In the fourth year of his reign he announced that there was only one true god, “Aton” (also known as “Ra”), a personification the sun, and changed his name to “Akhenaton” (which means “Spirit of Aton”).  This was a political as well as a religious pronouncement.  By declaring that Aton was the only god and Akhenaton was his “spirit”, Akhenaton was declaring that the powerful priesthood of Amun was invalid.  Akhenaton created a new capital city called Amarna and moved his administration to this new city.  In the seventeenth year of his reign he died.  It is quite possible that he was murdered by a coalition that included the priesthood of Amun, a leader of Akhenaton’s bodyguard and perhaps even Nefertiti, his wife.  The conspirators seemed to have been supported by foreign mercenaries that kept the peace after the removal of the Pharaoh.  After his death, the priesthood of Amun was restored to their previous stature, all statues and other symbols of Akhenaton were destroyed and Amarna was abandoned.  Amarna would be rediscovered in the Nineteenth Century and the very few pieces that are in my favourite room in the Museum of Antiquities are from those excavations.  Just three years ago, a mummy was found in the Valley of the Kings that is believed to be Akhenaton.

Helen and Menelaus - Fled from Agamemnon

Menelaus and Helen: For those readers that may have forgotten, Menelaus was the king of Sparta at the time of the Trojan War and husband of Helen.  Helen had run away with Paris, a prince of Troy, and this was the pretext that Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and Menelaus’ brother, had used as an excuse for attacking Troy.  Thus, Helen “had a face that launched a thousand ships.”  Agamemnon had demanded that all of his subordinate kings of Greece take part in the war against the Trojans.  Odysseus (my special hero of the war) was not a client king of Agamemnon but he was tricked by an oath to join the war on the side of the Greeks.

Moses: Hopefully, all of my readers are familiar with the story of Moses, an Israelite child that was raised as a prince of the royal house of Egypt.  Moses eventually led his people out of Egypt against the wishes of the Pharaoh.   

Herodotus - Father of History

Herodotus: For those readers unfamiliar with this great personage, Herodotus is known simply as “The Father of History” because he is the first true historian who systematically attempted to find sources and verify them for his histories.  Before Herodotus there was only legend – after Herodotus there is history.  He was born in Halicarnassus in 484 BCE and spent the greater portion of his fifty-nine years travelling around the Mediterranean basin collecting information for his “Histories”.  He spent some years performing research amongst the priests of Amun in Egypt.  Until the recent past, Herodotus was also known as “The Father of Lies” because he apparently mixed legends and rumour with facts when writing his Histories.  Archaeological excavations in the past two hundred years, however, have shown Herodotus to be correct more often than not – at least in outline.

Cathars - Gnostic Brethren wiped out by a Crusade

Gnostics: The Gnostics were a set of loosely tied Christian religious groups that claimed to have a special hidden knowledge.  The name “Gnostic” comes from the word “Gnosis” which is the Greek word for “knowledge”.  Several different groups held Gnostic beliefs but the most famous were the Cathars who were wiped out in a crusade in southern France in the thirteenth century.  Similarly, the Knights Templar were accused of Gnostic beliefs and were eventually outlawed and eradicated by the French Crown.  Gnosticism is at the root of the story that is fictionalised in Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code”.  Recently, lost Gnostic Gospels were unearthed in Egypt and Libya that include the Apocryphal “Gospel of Mary” and “Gospel of Judas”.

How They Tie Together:

The story of how these different characters tie together is part history and part conjecture.  Although the conjecture portion is based on known facts and plausible...

After Akhenaton had built Amarna and moved the seat of government to his new capital, he decided to break the power of the priesthood of Amun once and for all.  So, he proceeded to declare the other gods as falsehoods and increasingly directed the common people to worship only Aton.  In retaliation, the priests of Amun started a conspiracy to remove Akhenaton.  Akhenaton was protected by a large contingent of loyal bodyguards, so it would be difficult for the priests to have him removed.  Therefore, they decided to bribe the Captain of Akhenaton’s bodyguard to gain his support.  They needed someone, however, with close proximity to the Pharaoh.  So, in an unprecedented move, they offered to put Nefertiti on the throne as the new Pharaoh to rule until their infant son, Tutankhamen, was old enough to become Pharaoh.  At the time, Nefertiti had been worried because her increasingly erratic husband had been showing favour to another of his wives and a different son to Tutankhamen.  Nefertiti, however, did not completely trust the priests of Amun either, so she decided to hire mercenaries to back up her claim to the throne after the demise of Akhenaton.

Meanwhile, at the end of the Trojan War, Menelaus reclaimed Helen as his wife.  Despite the urging of Agamemnon to put her to death, Menelaus could not bring himself to kill Helen even though she had been unfaithful and had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of brave men.  Afraid of his brother’s wrath, Menelaus escaped with Helen and his ships before the final splitting of the spoils of the Trojan War.  Agamemnon might have chased them to exact revenge upon Helen and punish his brother’s insubordination but he was reticent to leave the splitting of the spoils of Troy to others who would not give the high king his due as the leader of the war host.  So, Menelaus, Helen and their fifty ships of warriors were able to escape any pursuit by the vengeful Agamemnon.  While Menelaus’ warriors were loyal, they wanted their own riches and they were none too pleased to leave their share of the spoils of Troy behind.  So, Menelaus decided that he needed to find them treasure and quickly.  At the time, the Hittite Empire was the largest in the region but it was also very militaristic and strong from its base in the Eastern Mediterranean.  Having heard of the troubles in Egypt, however, Menelaus decided that rich Egypt should be his target to obtain the treasure that his crew needed to remain loyal.  When he attacked one of the Delta cities in Egypt he found gold greater than he expected and prepared to sail away.  Nefertiti, however, heard about the warlike band and offered to employ them as mercenaries to protect her so that she could agree with the priests of Amun to remove Akhenaton.  Menelaus accepted Nefertiti’s generous offer.

The priests of Amun duly convinced Nefertiti to poison her husband who was then dispatched by the Captain of his bodyguard.  The priests then tried to depose Nefertiti because they had double-dealt her with the Captain of the bodyguard that they had also promised to put on the throne.  So, Nefertiti called upon her Greek mercenaries to eliminate the bodyguards, which was quickly implemented and Nefertiti changed her name to the masculine “Neferneferuaten” and assumed the throne.  She then increased the pressure on the priests of Amun by continuing the policies of her deposed husband.

The Greeks, however, had brought more with them from Troy than warriors.  They also inadvertently introduced a plague, probably influenza, into a population of Egyptians that had never encountered the pathogen before since their strong central government had kept them isolated for centuries.  Influenza quickly spread through the population of Amarna.  Nefertiti, in fact, probably died from influenza.  About 80% of the population of Amarna died in the first year of the epidemic.  With the death of Nefertiti, Menelaus and his warriors lost their employer and they already had amassed riches beyond their greatest expectations.  So, they left Egypt and returned to Sparta.  This left the priests of Amun to raise the young Tutankhamen and govern from their traditional stronghold of Thebes through a series of regents until he came of age.  The priests blamed the plague on Akhenaton because he had turned away from the rightful gods and therefore had his image destroyed and all records of his reign erased including abandoning the nearly desolate Amarna.  Interestingly, there is evidence that the priests had no intention of relinquishing power again when the young Pharaoh came of age and had him summarily killed when he reached his fourteenth birthday.  This is the reason that Tutankhamen is known as “the Boy King” and why his reign was forgotten and his tomb was undiscovered until the 1920s when Howard Carter unearthed it in the Valley of the Kings.

Tutankhamen - Died the "Boy King"

For some years, there has been the conjecture that the monotheism of Moses was derived from the monotheism of Akhenaton.  Before the time of Moses, the Jewish religion was very different to the monotheistic religion that is widely believed.  Before the time of Moses, the Israelites were polytheistic and worshipped several different gods including two competing primary gods, El and Yahweh.  Some historians now believe that the traditional period of Moses, which would have occurred within a century of the time of Akhenaton, might have – in fact – been just a short period after the fatal reign of the monotheistic Pharaoh and that the plagues immortalized in the Bible might be related to the influenza epidemic that is historically based at the end of the reign of Akhenaton and during the short reign of Neferneferuaten (the masculine name of Nefertiti).

This ties the principle characters together who were roughly contemporaries: Akhenaton, Nefertiti, Tutankhamen, Menelaus, Helen and Moses.  There other characters, however, that are also involved in this story...

Nearly one thousand years later, Herodotus happened across the story of the forgotten monotheistic ruler, Akhenaton, when he visited the ancient archives at Abu Simbel.  Herodotus developed a relationship with a talkative priest who explained the story of the lost Pharaoh and taught Herodotus to decipher ancient hieroglyphics (a Greek word, by the way).  When the part of the story concerning Nefertiti and her mercenaries was mentioned, Herodotus drew the link between the mercenary warriors of the priest’s tale and Menelaus’ band.  Herodotus also mentioned that this particular priest was also the leader of a small band of individuals with special enlightenment about the one true god... they held Gnostic beliefs!  Herodotus mentioned several tenants of their religious practices and they involved sacred vessels and tributes to the Divine Feminine.

The Gnostic tradition mentioned by Herodotus is now believed related to the Gnostic Christians of Egypt shortly after the birth of Christianity.  This Gnostic tradition in turn permeates the religion of the later Cathars, the Knights Templar, the Spiritual Franciscans and other heretical groups.

I want to relate two more interesting “sidebars” about this story.  First, inbreeding associated with Pharaohs always marrying their sisters may have given Akhenaton a genetic disease known as Marfan’s Syndrome.  This would have accounted for the Pharaoh’s elongated features and feminine physical attributes in his statues and also might add credence to why Nefertiti might have conspired against him.  Sufferers of Marfan’s Syndrome are almost always sterile and therefore Nefertiti’s conspiracy to put her son, Tutankhamen, on the throne might be understood because King Tut might not have been the son of Akhenaton.  As my dad used to say, “Momma’s baby ... Daddy’s maybe”!  Second, a lot of the above story is conjecture, but it was plausible enough to convince Adolf Hitler who famously dispatched agents to steal related artefacts.  In fact, the widely known image of Nefertiti from Amarna is still in the Museum of Berlin.

Akhenaton - Showed signs of Marfan's Syndrome

I relate this story to my dear readers with a little bit of concern.  I have been thinking about this as a plot for a novel for some years.  I hope I don’t find that one of my readers has decided to write a novel about this subject before I have an opportunity to write my “bestseller”!

I hope you all enjoyed this blog entry.  Please let me know if you did and remember me fondly with a smile until we meet again...