selva

The 1902 (and indeed, the entire Old Cataract Hotel & grounds) evokes images of old-time elegance. It was hard to escape the fact that Howard Carter himself enjoyed the luxuries of this facility.

This concept of Howard Carter-ness led to countless numbers of quips, similar to the following:

“To think that Howard Carter himself also once sat in this very chair!”
“To think that Howard Carter himself also once roamed these very hallways!”
“To think that Howard Carter himself also once used this very vending machine!”

Well, you get the idea.

And the food? Let’s just say we set the high bar for dining here, right at the beginning of the trip.

Four days on or near the water in Maine, seeing old friends was wonderful, although lacking cell phone coverage and internet for that period of time felt… unprecedented. It’s amazing how connected we’ve become in the last ten years that such a thing for so short a time can feel like complete alienation.

Weather was beautiful, and we enjoyed soft-shell lobster and haddock chowder and dodged lobster pot buoys and floated in the coves. Entertainment was decidedly lo-tech: board & card games and puzzles. I took about a gazillion photos, which I’m slowly fixing up for presentation.

In Dallas for a wedding, which marks my first visit to Texas, ever! I think that qualifies for at least a few points off on a purity test somwhere.

So far, I can’t tell if the scale of everything here (big, big, big — trust me, I’ve seen some enormous flags!) is inspiring or depressing. What’s certain, though, is something about this place is throwing off my (usually steady) sense of direction. So far, I’ve gotten lost at least five times, and that was just looking for the hotel & some place to eat! Not sure whose fault that is — me, these Dallas roads, or Microsoft Streets & Trips’ directions (I guess there’s an easy scapegoat there) — but something’s wonky for sure.

Contrary to popular expectations, there is a Quarter Pounder with cheese sandwich served in McDonald’s restaurants in Egypt. The odd thing is that right next to it on the menu is a completely different sandwich called a McRoyale (to all intents and purposes, equivalent to the not-so-accurately monikered “Big ‘n’ Tasty”). For a second, I almost considered ordering it, but the resemblance was too great.

Now, one could ask (and quite rightly) why an American traveling abroad would choose to sup at that most American of establishments, especially in the middle of a huge cultural and commercial area like Midan Tahrir. First: yes, it’s truly and excessively sad, but I do enjoy springboarding a conversation with ridiculous situations like that. More importantly, I actually find foreign versions of familiar things to be really fascinating and possibly more exotic than the authentic cuisine of a region.

For instance, say you’re in London and you’re confronted with the choice between a dead-to-rights vindaloo (available at who-knows-how-many fine Indian restaurants in any decent-sized U.S. metropolis) and a Lamb McCurry burger from the golden arches.

“A-ha!” you exclaim. “Presented that way, obviously the latter!”

No? Ah, fine.

Though it’s certainly how I chose, I’ll admit that that may not have been the most appetizing example. At any rate, you’re never going to find a McChicken Korma on this side of the Pond, or a kimchi & bulgogi pie in an States-side Pizza Hut. Given the chance, I’ve tried them all — even the Burger King bean burger (a lot tastier than it looked!).

On this night, however, it was not to be. As exotic experiences go, this Cairene McDonald’s was a giant letdown; aside from the aforementioned McRoyale, there was nothing even remotely strange on the menu. Alas, B. was tired and didn’t have the energy to find another restaurant, so there, in the shadow of the pyramids, I dined on a Big Mac and fries.

I blame Quentin Tarantino.