I counted a solid four times today. The first time I was on my way to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities (I'm not so into antiquities but it's just one of those "must-see" places in Cairo) and this guy caught me as I was about to cross the street. I must admit I did kind of stick out today with my Boston Red Sox t-shirt. Anyway, he goes, "Oh, you're going to the museum? Don't go now." I asked why. "Because now is when all the tours go. You should wait half an hour." I was skeptical, but told him thank you anyway and kept walking. He didn't leave me alone.
"So, you're from America?"
"Yes," I said, not really in the mood to talk.
"I have a friend in Seattle. Have you been there?" (Pretty much everyone I've met in Egypt has a 'friend in America'.)
"Yeah, I've been there." I kept walking towards the museum.
"Man, I'm telling you, don't go there now. They close at 7 anyway. You have time."
"Well, I have to meet someone in a couple of hours so I want to go now."
"Listen, man, really, don't waste your money there. They charge extra if you're American. Come with me and I'll show you a place where you can buy at Egyptian prices. Come, come I'll show you."
"No. No, thanks." I managed to brush him off after another minute. The funny thing is I looked back and saw him literally reverse direction at the point where I had met him, which means it's clear he was only interested in getting me to go somewhere with him from the very beginning. Strike one.
Then once I got past all the security at the front entrance of the museum, this older man walked up to me trying to get me to pay him to give me a tour of the museum. Strike two.
"No, it's okay," I told him in Arabic. "I want to go by myself."
"Okay. You speak Arabic well. I hope they give you a good price because you know they charge a much lower price for Egyptians."
"Yeah, I heard that."
"But the trick is you have to prove it. Good luck."
I worked my way through the crowd to the ticket counter.
"One, please," I said in Arabic. I handed him a 10-pound note, hoping to get away with paying the Egyptian price. The ticket agent was distracted for a moment and was about to take my note when he stopped.
"Where are you from?" he asked. Shoot. I shan't tell a lie.
"America."
"60 pounds."
I wasn't about to let him get me that easily. I did my best angry Arab impression.
"Come on, man! I'm half-Arab! I'm one of you! I thought Egyptians were nice people! How can you rip me off like this?"
"60 pounds. Six-ty."
I tried a little more but he wouldn't budge. He just kept his hand outstretched repeating "six-ty." I finally gave in. But I continued to make a scene even afterwards to the crowd of Arab tourists behind me. "Can you believe that? What a mushkeelah (problem)!" I heard a guy in line repeat it. "Yeah, mushkeelah indeed!" Strike three. My blood was beginning to boil a little bit considering I had had to shake off three money scams in just the past 15 minutes.
Once inside the museum, I was disappointed to discover that barely any of the pieces had information cards assigned to them. What kind of a museum doesn't tell its visitors about its pieces? My best guess is that they don't believe in the concept of "self-guided tours." God forbid. No, it's better if we cough up even more money to get a guide, hence the encounter outside the ticket counter. Sigh.
And finally, I think my strangest money scam experience thus far to date was the one I had in the museum restroom. As I saw the sign and entered the room, a guy standing there essentially "ushered" me to the urinal. "Yes, men's room, here you are," he said with an outstretched hand welcoming me to relieve myself. I immediately knew what was going on and felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. The guy stuck with me like glue... I caught him out of the corner of my eye standing only a couple of feet behind me as I took care of business. Then as soon as I was done, he tapped me and said, "Yes, over here to the sink. Over here." What am I an idiot? I continue to ignore him. As I got to the sink and turned on the water, he picked up the bottle of soap and tries to squeeze it all over my hands. That's when I stopped him. "No, no, thank you. Please let me do it." I scrubbed quickly, eager to get out of there. I backed away from the sink and made my way towards the exit, when one last time he tried to intercept me, this time with a couple squares of paper towel in his hand.
"Here, dry your hands, here."
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Change?" I noticed a couple of coins in his other hand.
"No." Strike four.
Alright, enough story-telling. I think the point here is that I've found in Egypt thus far that it is really really hard to tell when someone is trying to be sincerely helpful or not. It seems that most of the time the person is in it for the money. Which is sad because trust is what makes the world go 'round. If we are always trying to scam each other, it's going to breed more and more mistrust and animosity until we reach a breaking point. I'm actually getting a little sad just thinking about how much less friendly I've had to become just to shake off all the scammers and disingenuous people I run into on the street. Just the mere fact that I had to pay a higher price for the museum for being a "foreigner" makes me mad. They may consider it a matter of fact, but I call it pretty shameless discrimination.
Welcome to Egypt, I guess.
Welcome to the developing world. You have to remember that they are poor and you, as an American, are very very rich (really). So it is no wonder that they would expect to be paid for little services such as pouring soap on your hands or offering a guided tour. You can't think of it as rip-offs, so much as helping the poor... like the guys who "wash your windows" on 125th street in Manhattan. Oh, and that guy might have been able to get you the Egyptian rate...
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