Ramses Hilton-Good thing I'm not in Paris!

Everyone always says that Egypt is probably the coolest place you can visit- because of its rich and often bloody past, the mummies, and the tombs, and the mysteries of the Nile- and I think they may have hit the nail on the head. After just checking into my room at the Ramses Hilton, a five star hotel nestled in the heart of Cairo, (I decided that since I spent virtually no money in Bahrain-save for a coffee to keep me fully awake and ready for the sights of the country, although the sights alone were enough to keep my eyes open-I would allow myself to splurge on one of the greatest adventures of my lifetime.) already the city-or what I saw of it in the taxi ride to the hotel- has made a lasting impression on me. Upon reaching my door on the twelth of thirty-six floors, I took a deep breath and stepped aside, clutching my key with a death grip, making room for the untried traveler's mingling companions of excitement, anticipation, and just a little bit of fear of being left to fend for oneself in a foreign world, (a fear only slightly abated by my time in Bahrain. I was not really alone there. Most of my time was spent with Qua Tar.) I extended my unsteady hand and inserted the key into the lock; with a sharp intake of breath I turned the key with trembling fingers. Shuddering one last time, I threw my shoulder into the door and burst into my hotel room. I stood there panting, a relieved and pleased smile playing out on my face, a warm feeling of pride flushing my cheeks pink, and surveyed the room that I would be spending way too little time in. Immediately I got on my knees and scrambled around in my rucksack, searching for my camera, which was becoming so valuable to me these days. Standing back up, I snapped this picture.The room is a nice size for a family of three and had space in excess for my so few needs. The room is decorated in all pastel colors and classily furnished. Despite the fact that it comes equipped with a T.V., telephone, hair dryer, and air-conditioning system, the room is somewhat dated. Somehow the fact that I had this huge room all to myself must have dispelled any notions of unpacking and I rushed to the bed and began bouncing on it and shouting, without even bothering to close the door. I could tell the bed was old but it was nice and springy-perfect to bounce on. As I was in the midst of whooping my excitement, a man in Hotel uniform carrying luggage on a gleaming brass cart walked past my open door, and stopped, smiling. "First time," he guessed as I fell shamfacedly to the blankets. Nodding bashfully, my cheeks flushed with something entirely different than pride, I watched as he threw his head back and laughed, responding: "I understand," and walked on, carting the baggage on. Apparently it was a common sight for first time travelers to be marveling at their luck. Knocked out of my initial sense of delirium, I began to unpack what I had brought with me. My camera, the photographs that Qua Tar had given me, the photographs I had taken, my Pirates of the Caribbean hat that I had nearly lost at camp the previous summer, my notebook, my pens, my laptop, the picture of my friends and I after "Kiss Me Kate," "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" and other select books, my pocket knife, and my flashlight all came out of my rucksack. The rest of my luggage was still with the Bellhop who would deliver it to my room in due time. As I placed the picture down on my nightstand, the blinds over the window parted for an instant and for a brief moment I was blinded by a spear of light. After the large purple blot had faded and my vision returned to normal, I threw the blinds aside and gasped at what I saw. What I took to be a window was really a screen door opening to a small balcony furnished with ornate furniture-but it was not the balcony or the furniture that had caught my eye and interest so; it was the sight beyond. Spread bare for the beholder to examine and exclaim at from above lay the sprawling city of Cairo. As I gazed out on the beautiful city below me, my breath caught in my throat. I walked over to the deck chair and collapsed into it, letting the sun soak into my still very pale skin.( Although it was always sunny in Bahrain, I did not spend much time outside there.) Closing my eyes, It struck me as odd that my luggage had not yet been delivered. I noted that although it was a five star hotel, a fifteen minute walk to the city shopping center, and a five minute walk to the Egyptian Museum, it did not have very good service. I must have drowsed off because when I opened my eyes, the sun was low, the light haze over the city had intensified to a brown and black smog, and the rest of my luggage was in a neat pile next to my bed. On a whim, I decided to go swimming-after all, the outdoor pool with a view of the Nile was one of the reasons I had picked this hotel. I grabbed a bathing suit from my luggage and changed into it in the bathroom. Snatching a towel from atop my suitcase, I made my way to the elevator.

I had to go through the lobby to get to the pool entrance, and the noise nearly deafened me. Rushing through the gate to the outdoor pool, I was met by a breathtakingly beautiful sunset over the Nile. Pulling out my camera, (I always keep it on me.) I snapped this picture here. You can see a group of tourists like myself taking a ferry down the nile. Maybe I will take such a ferry tommorow. As the sun sank even lower, I gazed on in splendid rapture, and it was not until the sun's light was no longer visible above the horizon that I finally threw aside my towel and jumped in the pool. I have always loved swimming at night, and this pool was 89 degrees. After an hour of lounging in the pool and hot tub, I realized how hungry I was, and decided it was time to find a restaurant. Of course, I could always order room service, but where's the fun in that? It was 9:00, and the restaurant crowd was sure to be heating up. Boy, was I in for it.

After drying off, I headed back through the noisy lobby, and up to my room on the twelth floor to change. I knew there were a number of restaurants in the hotel, and I wanted to find the one I was sure to enjoy the most. I flipped through the list: ( this is the actual list that I took off of Gulliver Travel Services before coming to Egypt.)

* Terrace Café:Informal 24-hour buffet restaurant overlooking the River Nile. International and Oriental dishes including salads, meats and pastries. Kids under 1.2 metres eat free, and can dine in the kids’ corner. Hosts Italian, Indian and seafood theme buffets on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Open for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

* Citadel Grill:Semi-formal restaurant offering traditional Mediterranean specialties freshly prepared in an open kitchen. Live entertainment from guitar/flute duo. Open for dinner.

* Falafel Restaurant:Serves Oriental cuisine such as Shish Kebab, Lebanese Mezze and Oriental desserts, followed by traditional Egyptian belly dancing. Open for dinner.

* Regent Chinese Restaurant:Serves authentic Chinese dishes. Open for lunch and dinner.

* Windows on the World:36th-floor restaurant & cocktail bar offering international dishes and panoramic views of Cairo reaching as far as the Pyramids. Nightly live entertainment includes piano music and belly dancing. Open for lunch and dinner.

* Sherlock Holmes Bar & Pub:Traditional English pub serving daily specials and drinks in a pub atmosphere with music and a widescreen television. Open for lunch and dinner.

I decided to go to the Windows on the World restaurant-it sounded like a fun time. So I made may way to the elevator once more, and came out on the thirty-sixth floor. The door to the restaurant's waiting hall was propped wide open and the maitre'd came striding out in his tailored suit to greet me in a rush of Arabic, or at least I thought it was Arabic. Sensing my confusion, he immediately switched to English and apologized, saying that he would find me a table right away. There was a very festive atmosphere in the room and as the maitre'd led me to a table overlooking the bustling city of Cairo I let the wave of English, Arab, and numerous other languages that I could neither identify or understand wash over my ears. It was not an abrasive sound, but alien and exciting to hear, as if I needed proof I was in this foreign country. From the colorful and often exotic garb, it seemed to me as if there was a representative for every country in the world present in that room. As my gaze swept across the room, I witnessed a particularly rowdy group of locals cheering on several men and women as they downed identical tall glasses of some glistening liquid, only to break up into laughter and applause as the competitors lurched drunkenly to the restrooms, not even bothering to distinguish "Gentlemen" from "Ladies, as I read it in English. " There was another loud rush of English and Arab and I could've sworn I heard the word "Amnesia."

"Some "Amnesia" for you then, too?" Startled, my head whipped around to find my waitress, a ravishing woman of maybe 19, grinning from ear to ear, with pen in hand. My skin burning I replied: "Uhm..no...I mean ...do you have any..anything non-alcoholic?" She threw back her head and laughed, her voice carrying to me like windchimes in a breeze. "Well, we have water but we may well be out of that, what with that damned sun shining all the time." I blinked. "it looks like you've found that out the hard way," indicating my sunburned face and arms. "Yah, I fell asleep... I mumbled, embarrased and impressed at the same time. "My name is Isis; I will be your serving companion for this night." At my wondering expression, she smiled and asked: "I'll just be getting that water then?" I watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. The maitre'd came over and placed his hand on my shoulder. Seeing my Harry Potter wristband, he exclaimed: "Oh! You like Harry Potter as well! I have just gotten the book and am about half-way through it." "Yah, I love harry Potter, but don't tel-" at which point he interrupted me saying: "Did you know that J.K. Rowling has already killed off three people? I just about died when I read it, and I just know more are on the way. I am at the part when Harry-but oh! Y must know that the book has been leaked onto the internet? How terrible indeed! Here, let me tell you what happens!" Paying no attention to my cries of protest and, expression of utmost despair, he went on to tell me that Bill and Fleur get married. "It was truly wonderful, and Ms. Weasley finally gives her blessing." I wanted to strangle him, or to just get him to stop..talking. If I found out what happened in book 7 before I read it for myself I would...... Iwould- "And then Ron comes and he-" then Isis came with my water and in a desperate attempt to shut the maitre'd up I snatched the water out of her hand and dashed the water, ice and all, onto the oblivious maitre'd's suit jacket.

Realizing what I had just done I rose from my chair and started apologizing profusely for what I had done. At the same time he was apologizing to me that he should've realized that I was a hard core Potter fan and of course he wouldn't want to spoil the ending for me. "Isis, get this fine young man another water please?" The bewildered Isis complied, heading back to the kitchen. As she turned around, he shouted to her back: "Extra ice, please!" At this point he started striding briskly away and promptly slipped on an ice cube. When Isis came back with my water, she asked: "What was that all about?" I replied with a smile: Oh, just discussing the Qur'an. Apparently he would sooner slip on an ice cube than spoil the ending of Harry Potter 7 for a fine young man such as myself." I was rewarded with a dazzling smile. "So, what do you recommend I order?"

I was halfway through the recommended Kebda Iskandarani, an Alexandria style liver, when Isis flounced down next to me and told me between breaths that she had to get ready and to watch for her. Her last words were, "You better be able to dance," before she scampered off and disappeared into the crowd. A couple minutes later, the lights dimmed and the musicians struck up a lively Egyptian beat. I started to tap my feat as a woman stood up on a table with a microphone and started wailing and howling to the beat of the music. All of a sudden the table of locals who I had seen holding the drinking contest vacated their seats and started dancing. As I contemplated getting up myself to dance, a young woman of maybe 19 emerged from a beaded arch way wearing a shimmering sequined outfit of gold. As she began to dance, and the gold around her shifted to the music, everybody turned their heads to her. She began to roll her body as the band struck up an even livelier beat. "Traditional Egyptian belly dancing is truly a sight to behold, is it not? I turned around to find the maitre'd at my shoulder. "Yes, that Isis is something." I nearly choked on an ice cube. "I-Isis?" I spluttered. Just then the song ended and isis came running toward me, smiling mischeviously. "Come on," she said, taking my hand. "Let's dance!" Isis pulled me into the center of the room and we began to dance to the beat of the music. It was as if I had become an extension of Isis's arms, and she twirled me around with a wonderful smile. We danced for what seemed like forever, and we were at the centre of attention. Isis then pulled me aside and proceeded to instruct me in the ways of belly dancing.

"Ok, so the most important part of belly dancing, other than feeling the music flow through your veins as if it were your own blood, is the body roll. You must roll your body....like so." "Like this?" I asked, giving an awkward sort of wiggle of my stomach. Isis laughed her laugh like tinkling glass and placed her hands on my waist, trying to guide me. But my skin was burning and I couldnt quite get the twist of the stomach. She laughed once more and lead me back to the dance floor. She gave me an encouraging smile and began to belly dance once more. When she realized I wasn't joining in she grabbed my hand and we belly danced together, master and student. Everyone around us laughed and clapped when the music ended and Isis kissed me on the cheek. For the countless time that evening, I turned a bright scarlet, then I gave a funny little bow. Isis kissed my cheek once more and whispered in my ear: "You are now a fully authentic traditional Egyptian belly dancer." She laughed again and told me to get some sleep, because tomorrow, if I was in need of a guide, she would give me a tour of Cairo and of some of Egypt beyond the city's limits. I agreed faintly, paid, and returned to my room. Now I must go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be great!