It’s been a month of temp bank registration meetings and job rejections but I have finally found employment until my next departure date. With the weight of being broke lifted off my overdraft’s diminishing shoulders, I have freed up some mental capacity to offer another word or two on Egypt – this time on the topic of tourism.
The Hassle of Scamsters.
Traditionally one of Egypt’s greatest sources of revenue, tourism has suffered substantially from the consequences of the recent revolution and ongoing social and political turmoil. The crippling of the police force, which previously kept in check those inclined to dramatically exploit tourists, has brought out louts and scamsters in abundance.
Given the economic hardship and the shrivelling of the industry, harassment and scams targeting tourists have increased to the point of the ridiculous. As a tourist with little local knowledge, your safest bet is to find yourself a reliable Egyptian friend or tour guide who can keep harassers at bay and ensure a fair(er) deal than you’d face on your own – especially if you happen to be of the young, fair-skinned and female variety.
Some of the greatest historical attractions in Egypt are located in and between Luxor and Aswan, towards the south of Egypt. Following the recommendation of a friend-of-a-friend, as one does, I made a trip by boat from Luxor to Aswan, stopping in Edfu and Kom Ombo enroute.
My worst experience of being hassled was in Luxor, one early evening. It had grown dark at around 5.30pm, but I was forced to make the 250m walk from the boat to a cash point so that I could pay my tour guide first thing in the morning. Upon leaving the boat I was targeted by a rather hostile twenty-something Egyptian who immediately claimed he didn’t want my money; he just wanted to practice his English – so why wouldn’t I speak to him? His tone was aggressive and he refused to stop following me, despite repeatedly telling him to do so. He followed me all the way to the bank, ignoring my blatant discomfort and playing further on my vulnerability with suggestive comments. He hung around until I started walking back, clinging tightly to my purse. Finally, he got the message and left as I made a hasty return, through a haze of catcalls, to the safety of the boat.
This sort of behaviour was clearly a tactic centred on annoying – or perhaps, rather, scaring – foreigners into handing over money to escape an uncomfortable situation, without the harasser verbally ‘begging’ for anything.
How Can I Take Your Money?
As one of few single passengers on the boat, I was approached and befriended by a sixty-year-old Saudi Arabian who took a particular liking to me and attempted a relationship dangerously bordering on that of a sugar daddy. Fear not, my dignity stood leashed and at attention. He anticipated and duly received a ‘no’ upon various proposals (alas, not marriage!) and behaved entirely respectfully according to my sensibilities, unlike a particular European creeper on board.
Mr Saudi Arabia had a soft spot for Egypt, but even he became frustrated with the harassment, rip offs and tip expectations: “People say ‘Hello’ and expect you to give them money”.
He wasn’t exaggerating. In Egypt, particularly in tourist hotspots, it feels as though every small service and gesture of good will is masking a request and expectation of financial reward. You quickly grow suspicious of any generosity or kind-heartedness once exposed to this environment for long.
One particular question heard in marketplaces across Egypt further illustrates how unashamedly blatant these intentions are: ‘How can I take your money?’. The brutal honesty of such a query is received with a hue of irony in the ear of a westerner, so accustomed to the polite veilings of an advertising industry long tuned in to the value of gently misleading customers into believing we are cleverly getting more than our money’s worth. Not that Egyptian marketeers don’t apply similar methods, aided by the tourist’s lack of a monetary yardstick and our (or at least my) cultural inability to haggle.
It was not uncommon to hear of tourists paying 350 L.E. for an item worth only 45 and later feeling outraged (I wasn’t quite so naïve, but probably close). It’s surprising that people here at home are readily prepared to hand over 300% of the cost of production for an item simply due to the name on the label, without any sense of being swindled. Social capital is where it’s at; ‘it’ being the route through the closely guarded purse strings of millions.
I may have gone off track.. Here’s a photo with dodgy exposure:
‘How can I take your money?’ is, I’m sure, the real question on a lot of corrupt businessmen’s mind, the verb being the central point of moral contention; Taking, as opposed to, say, earning. I recently read an article about the key to making trillions: creating customers, that is, convincing people they need something and somehow weaving this need into the fabric of culture, primarily through media, TV and celebrity. With this in mind it’s safe to suggest that we’re all massive objectified dupes.
At least the odd Egyptian stall owner has the integrity to make that clear, leaving it entirely up to our own agenda to determine whether his stall boasts anything of interest.
And you know what, I did buy a scarf ..or five.
Teapot Antics 