(Twenty First of a Series of 26)

No single element of the trip frightened me as much as visas and customs. Nothing concerned me more than the thought of getting off of a plane, and going into detention for lack of documentation.

To enter Russia or Egypt, you need an Entry Visa. Russia requires an Exit Visa for them to allow you to leave. If your Entry Visa expires, and if your Exit Visa is defective, they can detain you for 21 days while the Russian Embassy issues a proper Exit Visa. Some countries require a Transit Visa - a Visa that allows you to change planes in that country, even if you have no plans to enter.

New Zealand requires a Health Visa. Their health care is nationalized. Health care is provided free to anyone in the country, whether or not a citizen. Since they don't want people entering the country for the free medical care, they require the Health Visa as proof that you have certified that you're healthy enough to expect to last your stay without seeing a Doctor. (If you need care for an unexpected emergency, it will be provided free and without consequence.) The Health Visa requirement is waived for visits less than 90 days.

America, England, Sweden and Czech Republic belong to the Schengen Convention, which means that citizens from each other's country can visit for 89 days with no Visa.

Russia's Visa process was by far the most complex. The application form was long, and the questions were not readily answerable. (List all professional, civil, charity or other organizations which you are/were a member of or cooperate/cooperated with.) They wanted details of your last three jobs. (Since I've only ever had two jobs since 1975, I needed to research the current contact number for a stock clerk job I held Summer 1974.) You needed a letter of invitation from a Russian citizen.

Once I prepaid the hotel, the Russian hotel wrote me to invite us. Since I was prepaid from September 2 through 6, that became the timeframe I was invited for. The Entry Visa would expire September 6, and the Exit Visa was dated September 6. Nobody ever did answer the question: What happens if it storms September 6, and the flight is delayed to September 7?

When you arrive, you are subject to the Visa requirements then in force, not to the requirements in force when you applied. In mid-June, the Russian Embassy sent me the application form. A week later, I returned it filled out. Three weeks after that, they returned all the paperwork unprocessed, for they had changed their application form. To top it off, they did not enclose an updated application form. The process was to start over, and to start, I had to re-request a visa application form.

Simply out of raw fear, I knew each country's visa requirements cold.

Therefore, I was utterly caught off guard when the Egyptian airline check-in clerk told me she couldn't board me without a New Zealand Visa. I protested, "I do not need a New Zealand Visa if I'm not staying 90 days." (In fact, if I had applied for one, my request would have been refused.) She researched the requirements, and confirmed I was correct. But it was too late - the computer already said I needed one. The only one that could override it was the New Zealand Embassy.

So at 3:00 pm, with a takeoff scheduled for 7:45, Emirates Airlines began placing calls to the New Zealand Embassy.

By 5:00, they had not yet gotten through. The flight to New Zealand was to connect in Dubai, and then again in Sydney. We were cleared for Dubai and Sydney; only New Zealand remained a problem. At 5:30, the airline advised us that if they couldn't clear the problem, then they'd fly us to Dubai, and they'd resume discussions with the Embassy from there.

That seemed wholly unacceptable. We were cleared to Sydney; our flight out of New Zealand was scheduled to connect in Sydney. If we can't get to New Zealand, then take us to Sydney. I could put together a fine agenda in Sydney. As 6:30 approached, I told them to stop dealing with New Zealand; I wanted to fly just to Sydney. Again, it was too late for that. I myself had been cleared for New Zealand; they were now negotiating Tricia. Since our credentials were identical, that made no sense.

At 6:45, one hour before takeoff, we were both cleared. Of course with boarding at 7:15, and passport control and security remaining, we lost all available time for a bite for dinner. We grabbed something quickly, and hoped for the best.

And security confiscated our dinner.

(Twentieth of a Series of 26)

At the risk of over-generalizing, the people of Cairo are rude. The notable exceptions were the people who worked at the hotel where we stayed, and the tour guides.

Drivers are rude on the road. Hucksters are rude to tourists. At the airport, luggage personnel take turns sitting on your checked-in suitcases. When I objected, the luggage man offered to tag it as 'fragile." Later, X-ray security officials blow smoke in your face as they stand arms-length from the No Smoking signs.

As I approached the Men's room at the Egyptian Museum, a man chases me in. He hands me about six feet of toilet paper to take in with me. Then he asks me to pay for it, physically blocking me from going in for a moment.

The Egyptian Museum is where the artifacts are stored. In one room, we see eleven mummies on display. A whole wing is dedicated to Tutankhaman (King Tut). King Tut was actually a non-noteworthy monarch. He accomplished little during his reign. Evidently, he concerned himself more with building a legacy than ruling a country. He was buried with over 1200 artifacts, most of which are on display at this museum.

Most of the artifacts include a written description, in both English and in Arabic. And I started reading a few as I wandered slowly past the display. Suddenly, a man of about 70 years comes up behind me, grabs my shoulder, says "Excuse me," and yanks me out of his way.

And he proceeds to read the plaque I had been reading.

(Nineteenth of a Series of 26)

As Tricia went off to test her bargaining skills at an Egyptian flea market, the tour guide and I duck into a café. It was shortly after noon, and the sun was hot. The café was not air conditioned. I had several cans of apple juice just to keep hydrated. Forgetting about the Ramadan fast, I offered to get something for the tour guide. And we talked rather uneventfully.

I estimate that the waiter was about 40 years old. He probably owned the café; I never cared enough to ask. I did notice some added enthusiasm when he waited on an Australian party of eight that he did not display toward me.

When Tricia returned after her shopping spree, the waiter began to show more interest in my table. Somewhat overheated, Tricia sprayed her face with a mister. The waiter asked that his face be sprayed, and Tricia obliged though she declined his request to mist his underarms.

The waiter turned to me, and asked if Tricia was my baby (pronounced beebee). When I acknowledged she was, he disclosed he could tell by our eyes. Never mind that she is my stepdaughter. He then made me an offer of two million camels for her.

If he was serious, then I acted inappropriately. I gave the offer some thought. Two million camels is a very generous dowry. I could do a lot with all those camels. Sure, I would have to get them through customs some how. And I'd probably need to expand my back yard. And then there's the matter of breaking the news to my wife that I'd need extra room in the car when she picked me up at the airport.

But two million camels....

He wasn't finished. He proceeded to tell me how great a husband he would be. He flexed his arm to show me his muscles, but somehow I wasn't impressed. He assured me he was in top physical condition. He was "strong." He was "powerful." And he walked away after his claim of "no Viagra."

Two million camels.... Hmmmm.

[Tory's reply: "You should have counter-offered 100 camels for a single date."]

(Eighteenth of a Series)

The desert was hot, pushing 100 in the early morning. And about a mile away from the Nile, all vegetation quickly turns to desert. But the Pyramids at Giza are a must-see. Altogether, there are six pyramids at Giza, though three of them stand out more clearly. Tomorrow night, we will be returning here for a light and sound show. But for now, we get to walk right up to them - and even walk partway up the pyramids.

The three major Pyramids stand 400-470 feet high, and the staircase we climb goes up about 15 feet, so we don't get very high. But there is something fascinating about climbing even that high.

A band of hucksters waits for us to come back down the steps. And I knew what we were in for. They will stuff various (worthless) objects into your pockets, and then ask you to pay for them. Generally, a one-pound coin (about 18-US-cents) will get them off your back. But I didn't really want them on my back to begin with.

We decided to take a camel ride to the Sphinx, about a half hour trek. The camel owner's first quote was 700 pounds ($130), but our tour guide talked him down to 400 pounds. Since the negotiation between the Egyptian tour guide and the Egyptian camel owner proceeded in English, I judged the negotiation pure choreography so we'd be impressed with the tour guide.

I was advised that the name of my camel was Michael Jackson. Somehow that was supposed to make it easier to get onto his back. Once we were on our respective camels, the owner turned the camels over to a young boy introduced to us as his son. They said he was ten, but 12-14 would have made more sense. The young boy was quite skilled with the camels, notwithstanding that he kept calling my camel by a different name. And the boy did know his way around the desert.

Whenever I looked past the obvious scams, I really did enjoy the ride. The sun was very hot, but the ride was effortless. Once we got behind the three major Pyramids, we were able to see the three smaller structures. Hills in the sand made the ride interesting; the camels can't keep their backs level on the hills. Every two or three minutes, the boy asks if we are happy. He really did do his job well.

I didn't know it at the time, but Immigration Forms into New Zealand and the United States would later ask us if we had been in contact with live animals within the past thirty days. Both countries are concerned about importing disease. Dutifully, we reported that we had, though neither form asked for more detail. And when we presented the Immigration Forms, neither country asked about the Yes replies. I never did find out why they bothered to ask.

The Sphinx then appeared in the foreground, and five minutes later, the camel ride ended. The boy asked a few more times if we were happy. When we dismounted, I told Tricia to give him 100 pounds for a tip. He was polite and thankful to her. And then he turned to me. "What about you, Sir? Do you have a gift for me?"

(Seventeenth of a Series)

Our tour host was driving us from the hotel to the Pyramids. All around us, on both sides of the road, I saw walls and walls of concrete - just concrete. I asked what these buildings were. They were apartment buildings.

I suspected as much, but I still found the answer incredible. The walls seemed to continue forever, and they had no windows. She said the apartments had no interior walls - they were one-roomed, and she admitted that they violated the building code, but that the code was not well enforced. Not enforced indeed: There were reinforcement rods sticking out of the roofs. The buildings were inhabited even before construction was complete.

Where do the children play? She explained that there were community playgrounds where the children could gather. She said nothing about adult supervision. I saw no nearby parking facilities. I was fairly sure I knew the answer, but I asked where they park their cars anyway. She replied that they were poor, and could not afford cars.

Throughout this exchange, we continued to drive past the apartments, yet they remained in view. The low standard of living was unnerving. It seemed impossible that they could live in those buildings - no air conditioning and no apparent ventilation, and here it is at least 100 degrees in September. I didn't even ask about plumbing facilities, and I feared what the answer would be if I had. It made me even more curious about the other structures I saw in abundance on the roofs:

I asked, "Are those all satellite dishes I see on the roofs?"

(Sixteenth of a Series)

Altogether in Egypt, we saw no stop signs and two traffic lights. All intersections are open intersections. You stick the nose of your car into traffic and you keep going. The highway has generally three lanes painted on the road, but in most areas, there are five cars across at any given spot on the highway.

If the car in front of you is going slower than you like, you simply drive around him. You don't look first to see if the lane is clear, you just drive around him. If you are about to cut somebody off, he will simply honk at you. Unlike in America, there is no offense in being honked at. It's the way drivers talk to each other. If you are about to side-swipe someone already in the other lane, he will move over within the lane and share the lane with you.

Two things surprise me. First, there is rarely gridlock. To be sure, there are traffic slowdowns, but rarely gridlock. Drivers usually have some place they can move to, so they are always in motion. They can communicate with each other using a language that goes above the spoken word. They expect the other cars to proceed as they do. Driving American style would confuse other drivers on the road, and that would create the gridlock they've managed to avoid.

Another surprise is that we saw only one accident. Now from what I saw, a passenger car made a wide left hand turn, and clipped the side of a minivan that was stuck in his right-hand lane. Since the total speed of the two cars couldn't have been more than 5 mph, injury seemed not a concern. And then the two drivers involved got out of their cars, and entered into a fist fight.

I understand that I am unfamiliar with the rules of fault in Egypt, but the mechanics of the fight confounded me. To begin with, the van driver was about 6 inches taller than the car driver. Further, the fault seemed to lie with the little guy, the car driver. Yet the little guy seemed to be the aggressor of the fight. You would think that with the size advantage, as well as with the rules of fault, that the big guy would be the aggressor.

Tricia added some perspective: "You never know what [the big guy] said to him."

(Fifteenth of a Series)

Even though Cairo is directly south of Saint Petersburg, we set our watches two hours BACK as we arrived into Cairo. Just from looking at a map, I wouldn't have expected Cairo to be in the same time zone as Paris. But so it was. What that told me was that the sun would set early in Egypt.

By the time we landed in Cairo, the sun was already down; it was 1:30 in the morning. We had managed to get through to the hotel, so we knew they were expecting us to be late. Our pre-arranged cab ride met us inside the security area immediately as we got off the plane. In less than ten minutes time, the driver had us escorted through baggage claim, through passport control, and through customs. I'm not positive that he acted legally.

We arrived during the season of Ramadan. Though it was just short of 2:00 am, the streets were heavily populated. Mosques were decorated with lights much the way Americans decorate their private homes during Christmas season. It occurred to me that we might have trouble eating if the entire Egyptian population would be fasting. But they never imposed their observances on foreigners. This marked the second holiday we happened across - we were in England during "Bank Holiday." Banks of England routinely observe a Bank Holiday four days a year.

As we descended into Egypt, we were advised that the current temperature was 36-degrees, likely in Celsius. So that makes it (carry the nine, drop the five, do something with a 32, I wish I had paid attention in Physics) HOT. And it was middle of the night. Tricia had packed a few tank tops for the trip. It wasn't quite hot enough to wear them in England or Russia. The weather was much more summery in Egypt. But that very day, the story of Sudanese journalist Lubna al-Hussein, the lady charged with public indecency for wearing dungarees, was breaking. Tricia had no interest in testing the resolve of the Muslim community in Egypt.

On the way to the hotel, we drive over the Nile River. Cars are lined up parked on both sides. About a thousand people are resting against the bridge wall. I ask if that was to celebrate Ramadan. He answered that they were simply getting free air. Egyptian homes don't all have air conditioning, and the air is cooler above the Nile.

I made no attempt to speak in Arabic. For one, the Arabic alphabet includes only the long vowels; the short vowels are implied. Eight Arabic letters are duplicates of English letters, differing in that they are pronounced with various nuances of the throat. But the most compelling reason not to attempt Arabic is that English is widely spoken in Egypt.

Out of about 30 channels on television, eight are (usually) in English. English speaking channels are subtitled in Arabic. Egyptian television shows are not shown in their entirety. They are usually interrupted about two-thirds of the way through. CNN-Europe broadcast live coverage of Obama's health-care speech to Congress. Mid-subject, they switched to a rerun of Scrubs.

Due to the time we arrived, the only thing planned for the next day was a Nile River dinner cruise. So the next morning will be leisurely. We observe that the top of a Pyramid is visible against the skyline as we look out from our (mercifully) air conditioned hotel room. Later during our stay, we will tour the Pyramid area. There are other attractions in Cairo, but not as many must-sees. We will eventually see the Saqqara Carpeting School, a Papyrus Factory, tour a Mosque, visit the claimed site of refuge of the Holy Family and other sights.

(Fourteenth of a Series)

The food was remarkably constant throughout the travels. Breakfast menus featured eggs, cereals and fruits. Various sandwiches were available for lunch. And dinner menus were largely beef, chicken or seafood.

In England, bacon was wider and more substantial. And of course tea was pushed over coffee. Coffee as we know it was unavailable in New Zealand. The single time I ordered coffee there, I got this soup bowl full of creamy white stuff. Even in Egypt, it's important to ask for "filtered coffee." Apple juice was made from green apples in Russia and Egypt, and it made me wish I could find it here. Our hotel in New Zealand was next door to a juice store that squeezed the fruit juices fresh. Russian sausage has the appearance of miniature hot dogs. Egyptian bread is drier than I like.

Duck appears on English dinner menus, and Marty ordered and endorsed it. We never did find a distinctly Russian restaurant; we found an Italian restaurant we liked. Simply out of convenience, we had one dinner at Subway. At a Russian Subway, the menu is similar to America's, but the sandwich meats have a different substance. Egyptian dinner restaurants outside of the hotel were hard to get to, so we ate at the hotel. Most of the dinner restaurants in New Zealand were Asian-ethnic - Japanese, Korean, or Thai. Lamb is more readily available at these restaurants. But the theme seems to be a rice base, and a sauced topping of meat and vegetables. One lunch restaurant offered pumpkin soup. Kiwis rank up there with apples and oranges on the New Zealand fruit menu.

For beverages, "soda" means "soda water." During one dinner, I ordered a Diet Coca Cola, and Amy was less particular, simply ordering a "diet soda." It puzzled us when the waiter returned advising Amy that they were out of diet soda, but that did not affect my order for diet coke. In Russia and Egypt, diet coke is marketed as Coca Cola Light.

The strangest food I actually ate was slices of a Seafood Pizza in Russia. When I ordered it, I expected meat particles of fish, and perhaps shrimp and crab pieces, maybe a few scallops. I did not expect the shells to be still on the shrimp. And it had completely slipped my mind that squid was seafood.

For all I was concerned about not being able to eat foreign food, the only place I got stranded was in the United States. After a 13-hour flight from Sydney to Los Angeles, baggage claim, customs and security gobbled up every minute of our 3-hour connect. We just barely caught the 9:00 am flight back to Baltimore. Then, for the five hours of our home-going flight, the only food American Airlines had to sell me were a sugar danish, a sugar muffin, or a chocolate chip cookie - all of which are poisonous to a diabetic.

Though the dietary adventures were fun, sometimes we found it better to play it safe. On two or three occasions, we ate at Subway. And during our connection in Prague, we selected KFC as a safe harbor. But once inside, we discovered that the Czechs must be partial to Spicy, for that was all that was on the menu. But the menu hardly mattered - they were essentially out of chicken of any variety. That particular night they were pushing french fries. They were down to their final three pieces of chicken.

(Thirteenth of a Series)

As we traveled from place to place, we took the precaution of phoning ahead one day in advance to confirm arrangements with everybody we were counting on. And this habit did correct a few disasters. As it stood, we were in the Prague airport on the way to Egypt, and we still had not confirmed our Egyptian hotel reservation. And confirmation seemed vital, for we were scheduled to land in Cairo at 1:30 am local time.

We couldn't use our cell phone from the Czech airport, for the signal was too weak. Since we had plenty of time, I decided to call from a payphone. After several failed attempts to place the call to the Egyptian hotel, I let the international operator place the call for me. She explained that calls from a Czech payphone into Egypt were blocked. She suggested I call either from a mobile phone, or from a privately owned land line.

More under my breath than as a rebuttal, I noted that neither option was feasible.

She had one final suggestion: Sir, perhaps you could try placing your call from a different country.

(Twelfth of a Series)

More frequently than we might estimate, we share a plane ride with honeymooners. Usually, they have a way of blending in. Sometimes they make no attempt to blend in. Sometimes the couple has the Captain announce their presence on the plane. Other couples talk in such a manner as to be overheard.

Rarely have I ever seen a couple board a plane dressed the same way that they were dressed at the altar: a man in an overly formal suit, and a woman in a long billowy white dress, complete with veil and bouquet. There was no subtlety in their approach to the concourse.

It was a two-and-a-half hour flight from Saint Petersburg to Prague. There were no boarding priorities; as soon as the airway door is manned, all 200 passengers rush the door to be first. It makes no matter that seats are assigned, it is vital to be first on board. I pondered the fate of the wedding dress, whether it could survive such a rush. Earlier, I had wondered whether such a full dress could fit in one seat.

I could not tell if they were low on time, so they chose not to change clothes before flying off. Or perhaps they were acting out a local custom. When they managed to escape others' attention, I leaned toward it being a local custom. Part of me wanted to take a few pictures of them. But it seemed wrong to reduce a sacred bond to the status of tourist attraction. I had come to Russia with the aim of seeing how the people really lived. In sharing a plane with a honeymoon couple, perhaps I hit the jackpot. And other passengers were affording them privacy, they were not bombarded with camera after camera in their faces.

Once on board, the plane rows had five seats each. Tricia and I were assigned to the two seats on the left. The honeymooners were across the aisle - three seats, with the aisle seat vacant. She and her dress fit into the window seat. Eleven days later, the final flight of our journey would feature us sharing a three-seat block with a nursing mother and her three-month-old daughter. We circled the globe to the circle of life.

Somewhere in the deplaning process at Prague, I lost sight of the honeymoon couple forever. I don't even know if Prague was their final destination. If it is not a local custom to depart in complete wedding regalia, then it is certainly a novel method of expanding the number of people who could celebrate with them.