Marketplace | meaw en The Cultures of the Future I will have to learn how to ski one day. Just to know if I could have lied when the woman at the ski Dubai counter asked me if I knew how to ski. I said, "no, can I take a class and learn?"... "you have to take four classes"... "I don't have time for four classes"... "then you can just go into the snow park". That didn't sound like a lot of fun. But I did it anyway... I have a tendency to only work when I travel for work. So sometimes I just have to force myself to do something else.

The snow park is basically a crazy place. But it doesn't feel that crazy when you are there. I have not been in a theme park but I suppose the feeling is fairly similar. The guy in charge of the toboggan didn't object to me riding it 5 times so I could get different video shots. After one hour, it became boring. Probably like any other theme park. I visited the bathroom and noticed that this very serious Asian young waiter was washing his hands. He was the waiter that helped us a couple of days ago when we had dinner at the mall. Back then, he was extremely smiley, extremely nice, in a way that made me feel it could not be fake. He was too nice to be faking it. But now at the bathroom he looks like a different person. It is not that he is not smiling (who smiles in the bathroom?) it is that he looks like he is thinking, like he is worried, like he is in the middle of a process... he looks like a musician before entering the stage, or an athlete before starting a competition. Focused, that's what it is.

There is a complex story beyond the fairly well known story of these immigrants working their *** off. I could tell you what my experience as an immigrant has been in the US. But I will not. Because as much as I have tried to deconstruct it and understand it... I still think the consequences go beyond my comprehension. And the face of this young waiter in the bathroom is something I will never be able to explain completely on this paper, on a radio piece or on a video piece. It's a small window to a universe of feelings that come after we uproot ourselves. I would have loved to go up to him and say something... or just look at him with a half smile. He never looked at me.

The common thing to think is that this place looks pretty much like any other place in the US. In the Persian Gulf and there is not much exotic about anything I see here. There is lots of excess. The ski slope, the luxurious hotel on a small peninsula with its 250 dollar brunch (or that's what I hear at least...), the man made islands, the sky rises, the pairs of sky rises, two here, two there, two more in construction, two about to start construction, two construction workers walking down the street under the sun.

Our hotel is in what's called "knowledge city." I walk around and try to understand how one block can house three different universities. In 20 minutes I see people who could come from any place in the world. I suppose all of them have enough money to be able to attend a private university so... I can't really say that I see all types of people, but all types possible within a certain sector of the global population: the middle classes of the world, all studying in one village, in Dubai.

As soon as I landed in Dubai I started a process of deciphering. I am sure every other person does. What is this place about? Why would they try to build a city like this in the middle of the desert? And why a city so similar to any other big city in the US? I feel gypped. Where are the camels? Every one here speaks English. No one is asking me for a tip and the taxis have a very fancy meter. Apparently this is not a democratic state but no one seems to care about that. It has open markets, it embraces neo liberalism so... we can easily skip the part about democracy. The same way that Scott Jagow told a store owner in Cairo "I actually want to buy something, we can skip the part about the tea and the hospitality". Democracy is the tea. If you already know you are going to buy something, who cares about the tea?

I heard that some call what Dubai is doing "their legacy". Comparable to the pyramids in Egypt. History is a tricky thing. I can't really say whether they are right or wrong. I have no idea. I can't see the future. If I could I would not be writing this blog. Or maybe I would, because I don't know what the future is like. But the same way I wondered in Cairo about the authenticity hidden in the bedrooms of the locals, in their cafes, in their private conversations... I wonder in Dubai about the culture coming out of this madness. When nearly everything old is thrown away, when you create the city of the future, with people from all over the world, unapologetically undemocratic... Is there a new kind of authenticity being born here? I can't see it. I guess no one can see it. If it is happening we will only know in 20 or 50 years. But then, could it be, that Dubai will be the pioneer of the new world authenticity? One that counts on the planes, the visitors, the corporations, the globalization... the cheap labor side by side with the extreme wealth. One that does not talk about the past.

There is nothing more to dislike about Dubai, than there is to dislike about New York, London, Barcelona, Shanghai, Paris or Tokyo... Dubai is a mirror of what we all have turned the cultures of the world into.

-- Miguel Macias

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 17:51:41 GMT
Unlucky Thirteen We took a few hours off to go to the beach today. Jumeirah Beach Park costs just 5 dirhams to get in (less than $1.50), and it's beautiful. The water is swimming pool blue, and so salty you can just sit back and float with no effort.

The scene is pure Dubai. European women in thong bikinis seemed right at home alongside fully-covered Arab women. Yet I saw a lifeguard tell an African man he couldn't go around in his briefs. It's easy to be lulled into thinking Dubai is just like America. Until your web search gets censored. it turns try to get on the bus.

I'll let Nancy pick up the story...Thanks Amy.

At first, we tried to get a cab. That didn't work. It was rush hour and cabs rushed by us. Hailing a cab in Dubai is like waiting for the Cubs to win the world series---lots of hope at the beginning, impatience in the middle, and defeat at the end as you watch other teams and cabs just go by you. So Amy suggested taking the bus--a trip she made a couple days before with her husband. The bus pulled up and we waited behind an older British couple. They checked their destination with the driver. Satisfied, they paid the fare and found the last two empty seats. It was about 4:30pm. The bus was packed with men in their construction uniforms standing in the aisle. A sprinkle of women--all sitting.

Amy approached the driver. And I handed him the money. I'll let Amy tell continue....

Okay, so the driver wouldn't take Nancy's money. At first we couldn't understand why. I thought maybe he didn't have change, but then noticed a whole tray full of dirham coins. But he gestured to the back of the bus and said "Ladies no stand." And it slowly dawned on us that he was saying we were not allowed to stand on the bus. And that, because all the seats were taken, we had to leave. Outraged, all I could think to say was "That is so backward!" Ridiculous, offensive...just bizarre. But the man walking onto the bus behind us confirmed--ladies no stand.

So Nancy did some research...Thanks, Amy.

Before I share my research, let me take a brief detour. Sorry about the pun. At least in other places in the Middle East, women have a choice--you can stand in a packed bus--sometimes uncomfortably, nestled between someone's armpits. Or you can wait for another bus with empty seats. But you have the freedom to make that decision, the freedom to decide your journey.

Okay, back to the question...why?

The Roads and Transport Authority of Dubai (RTA) reserves a certain number of bus seats for women. That number is 12. And all the seats are in the front of the bus.

Simple math follows. If you get on a bus and there are already 12 women on that bus, your chances of staying on the to nil. If a man offers to give you his seat, well...that doesn't work either. Women can't sit in the male section. The RTA is studying the issue--and plans to increase the number of reserved seats for women on...and here's the operative phrase...certain routes.

So we ended up taking a taxi, after all. Our driver didn't share our outrage. He made some comment about how lucky we were that we didn't have to walk to our destination in the afternoon sun. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

Amy again. And then he proceeded to drive us the long way back to the hotel. The fare was about 30 times what it would have cost to take the bus. Guess that's what you get for being the unlucky 13th (and 14th) woman.

  • Nancy Farghalli and Amy Scott
Fri, 14 Mar 2008 11:10:37 GMT
The Soul of the Future This room has fluorescent lights, white and blue tiles on the walls. This room doesn't have a whole lot of light. If I had to guess I'd say I am in a hospital waiting room somewhere in Queens, New York. I can't find the glamour. There is something odd about this room. When we finally board in our Boeing 777 I am still trying to figure out what's odd about that situation. I go to the bathroom and only then I realize that there is a PA system playing music across the plane. Some innocuous music coming out of a movie about the future. I can't recall ever hearing any music when boarding a plane. But maybe I was just not paying attention. And why am I paying attention now?
The flight from Cairo to Dubai is about three hours. Emirates is supposed to become the biggest airline in the world at some point in the near future. This plane is quite fancy. The food is quite fancy... we even get to see the plane take off on the screens across the plane. They placed a camera in the front of the plane. So you see those lights on the runway passing faster, faster, faster and finally... the stars. No one in this plane seems very surprised by this. I am so surprised, I take out the video camera and I start shooting the TV monitor. The flight attendants, who had been wearing some sort of traditional hats while we were boarding the place, now don't have any hats. And they don't look very Middle Eastern to me. They look more like... Scandinavian models. The luxury of this plane, the food, the staff... none of that fits with us, the people on the plane... regular people... Workers, visitors with not too much money, a pair of surprised public radio producers. No one seems very excited in this plane. Is this what the future will look like? A calm, somehow melancholic, un-surprised, luxurious, apathetic, melting pot? Either I am missing something big here, or the future has no soul.

-- Miguel Macias

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 18:15:53 GMT
From Cairo to Dubai To go from Cairo to Dubai is to go from the horizontal to the vertical. The Arab sky replaces the Arab street. Skyscrapers go up like flags on a flag pole. Construction cranes are everywhere. So is the noise from jackhammers. This is a city that has never said no.

It is like being invited into a brainstorming session. You are told, "Don't think about the cost or the time or the staffing needs. Just imagine what you want to do. How you would plan this project?" But, at the end of the brainstorm, practicality sets in. You take your ideas and prioritize. What can we accomplish given our limits? Dubai doesn't operate that way. They are the brainstorm. And then they execute their ideas. New coastline -- check. Seventy five skyscrapers in a four-block radius -- check. Ski slope -- check. The more impractical, the more probable it is. It feels like the grand experiment in the Middle East, the globalized city state. A professional gold rush, a place where ambition and adversity live in the same frame. Migrant workers are building the monuments that soon will become Dubai's legacy.

You'll notice one big difference between Dubai and Egypt: How they talk about their history, their legacy. Unlike Egyptians, Emiratis prefer the background. You will meet lots of ex-pats who will tell you they love Dubai. They have lived there for years and yet they have never been inside an Emirati home. Egyptians will talk about the past, the pyramids. They'll point to ancient buildings as proof that the present day matters. This is what we gave to the world. In Dubai, they are inventing their history now. History is being written by those who can build, build, build. They don't have Egypt's wealth of ancient artifacts, but they do have something they consider more valuable -- family. And in a country where citizens get free housing, free college education, and free health care, you can understand why the family concept still matters. They have the time and the income to preserve their bonds.

-- Nancy Farghalli

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 22:03:43 GMT
A nice place to visit but . . . Dubai is one of the most successful cities on the planet: brave, ambitious experimental, safe, tolerant, peace-loving and prosperous. I hated it. Or to be more precise I loved the idea of this city but hated the reality of it....

Dubai is undoubtedly impressive. A small country on the edge of a desert, with an indigenous population of only 70,000 people and with only very modest reserves of oil, the city/statelet has achieved a great deal. With intelligence and energy and mass immigration it has turned itself into an economic dynamo. Dubai has become a major business and financial center, a tourist attraction and home to some of the most valuable real estate in the Middle East.

I should add that Dubai is a miracle of multiracial harmony. People from more than one 150 countries live and work there with no apparent friction. So how can you dislike a place like Dubai? Where do I begin? ...

First of all, it is a terrible place to walk around. There are very few genuinely atmospheric neighborhoods. There is some iconic architecture like the hotel shaped like a sail -- the Burj Al Arab -- and the palm-shaped artificial islands. But most of the city is just crammed with skyscrapers and shopping malls, interspersed with horrendously busy highways.

Also rather charmless and unnerving is the way the city is laid out -- in sectors. People are corralled according to their activities: Media City, Knowledge Village, Culture Village, Internet City and so on.

Secondly, you get little sense of a real country with a national spirit and identity. This must be largely due to the fact the native-born Dubaiyans make up only 3 percent of the population. The rest are foreigners who lead largely parallel lives; this is certainly no melting pot. OK, there is apparently no friction between different ethnic groups or any serious clash of cultures but that seems to be chiefly because the different communities hardly meet or mix.

Dubai feels more like a place to do business than a country -- a Marketplace!

Thirdly, as a radio reporter I found this a frustrating city in which to work. There is a huge reluctance to talk -- or at least to say anything other than what a wonderful place it is. The lack of candor and openness can be laughable. I attended a corporate governance training session promoting greater openness and transparency and the organizers refused to allow it to be recorded. They said it was "confidential."

The roots of this reticence probably lie in politics.

Dubai is not a democracy, there is no guaranteed freedom of speech and people are particularly loathe to say anything critical about the ruler, Sheik Mohammed bin Rashed al-Maktoum, and his government.

When the "D" word (democracy) came up in conversation, several young, educated Dubaiyans told me: "We don't need it because our rulers are so wise!

All in all, I'm glad I went to Dubai. It was interesting to see a place where globalization, market forces and shopping have reached some kind of peak. But it is not a place I feel any urge whatsoever to revisit.

-- Stephen Beard

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 21:49:56 GMT
It's the Holiday Inn Express, next to Knowledge Village. First of all, greetings from Dubai. If you've never been here, if you have, or even if you don't think you'll ever come, this is a place you ought to know about. More about this when the show hits the air later today.

Second, yes, we're staying in a Holiday Inn. This is public radio, you know. (Technically, it's 'Express, by Holiday Inn' which makes me think it's a franchised-out sub-brand or something.) Still, it's clean and has a free continental breakfast, so it works fine for us.

Finally, and the real reason I'm writing, Knowledge Village.

It's the landmark we give to cabdrivers when we need to get back to the hotel. Because the Express by Holiday Inn is kind of out in the middle of nowhere. But Knowledge Village is a great introduction to why we're here. It actually is a little village -- a condo complex, really -- that's home to dozens of what are called 'educational entities.'

Just a partial list is enough to make your head spin. There's the University of Wollongong in Dubai, Saint-Petersburg State University of Engineering and Economics, The British University in Dubai, and Shaheed Zulfikar Ali Bhutto Institute of Science and Technology.

Should you be so inclined, you could study online at Syrian Virtual University, or good old University of Phoenix.

There are trade schools, too, like the In the Mix Audio Training Institute and my personal favorite, the International Institute of Coffee and Barista Training. And yes, there is a Starbucks right around the corner. Seriously.

But...why? Why are all these companies here? One word. Well, two. Free Zones. As in Tax Free Zones. The government of Dubai has set up dozens of them all across the city as a way to grow and encourage investment. Come, it says, spend your money. Pay. No. Taxes. Education is a business, too, so what's a company to do? Especially when there's a huge potential student body across this region, from other countries in the Middle East all the way to Bangladesh.

Remember that phrase -- Tax Free Zones. You'll be hearing it again this week.

-- Kai

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 16:23:43 GMT
Cab Driver Econ If you don't have a car in Dubai, you can spend half your life in a cab. So I've gotten to know a few drivers since I arrived last week. Most come from India or Pakistan. One of them, John, is an electrician by training. He's from Kerala, in southwestern India. When he arrived here 8 years ago, he says his rent was 70 dirhams a month. That's about 19 US dollars. Sounds cheap, but consider he was sharing that one room apartment with three other people. Today? That same room costs him 650 dirhams ($177).

Everybody you talk to here complains about inflation. It's gotten so bad, the Gulf States are holding a summit later this month. The UAE just announced price caps on staples like eggs, rice, and water.

At the same time, my taxi driver, John, says he's making less money. As traffic gets worse, he has fewer fares. It now costs him about $25 to fill up with gas. Again, sounds cheap to Americans, but that's more than twice what he was paying just a year ago. And John used to have his cab for 24 he could work as long as he wanted. Often 16 hours at a time. But a few months back regulators switched to a shift system. Now, he has to surrender his car to another driver after 12 hours. Better for his health, perhaps. But now he can't work enough to offset the rise in costs.

So...when his contract expires in January, John plans to head back to his family in Kerala. He hopes to open his own electrical shop.

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 13:40:17 GMT
Cairo hits you in the gut Cairo hits you in the gut. The city selfishly takes control of all your senses. Sometimes, you'll just want to hide. It is the Arab Street -- in all of its contradictions and its complexity. Girls wear headscarves and tight jeans. Women in long hijabs -- black fabric covering their mouths -- only to move when they smoke shisha. Boys who play video games only to hit pause when they hear the call to prayer. Men who stare at all those who walk by. An Egyptian friend remarked, "We don't have freedom of speech, but we do have the freedom to stare."

And no matter how hard you try, you can never directly cross the street in Cairo (and take my advice, don't try). You'll weave in and out of black and white cabs bleeding smoke, you'll pass donkey carts hauling trash, and you'll look at the Egyptian traffic police who will stand in the middle of the chaos around them, shrugging their shoulders and letting you know that they are on display like the artifacts in the Egyptian Museum. In a way, the street represents the society, drivers finding the tiniest cracks to maneuver forward. Pedestrians finding a path across an onslaught of traffic, moving from bumper to bumper like a ball in a pinball machine. And sometimes you'll do the unthinkable -- you'll wait for a woman or a child or, in my case, a man with a cane, to make the first move. As he steps off the curb, you follow his path, thinking, in your head, there's no way a car is going to hit him. Inshallah.

But with all the chaos comes a sense of resiliency. You will never meet a nicer group of people. They will invite you inside their homes, serve you buckets of tea and trays of baklava. They won't accept no. In fact, the more you protest, the more they push. You will, at times, find yourself accosted by people wanting money to carry your luggage, to show you around the pyramids. And you'll hear the word "taxi" so often that it becomes a phantom ring in your ears.

-- Nancy Farghalli

Sat, 08 Mar 2008 00:08:08 GMT
From Cairo, with a smile... The thing I'll remember most about my trip to Egypt is definitely the people. Egyptians are perhaps the warmest, friendliest folks I've ever met.

When you pass them in the street, they'll say, "Welcome. Have a good day." They say "have a good day" even at night or when it doesn't make sense to say it. You can't help but smile. And that's the one thing Egyptians do a lot - smile. And the kids? They are precious. They swarmed around me everywhere I went and wanted to speak English and shake my hand. What is your name? How are you? Welcome to Egypt!

There was a security guy on my hotel floor who looked like a secret service agent. The first time I passed him, I kind of gave a little nod and said hello. I wasn't sure the protocol for greeting a security officer. He responded with a big smile and a warm greeting. It's very charming. My housekeeper made a point of talking to me every day.

The hotel staff, the waiters, the shopkeepers - everyone goes out of their way to provide good service. They earn their tips for sure. It's quite a departure from much of the customer service in the US. And these people don't make much money. I kept asking myself, how can they be so pleasant when their lives are so hard?

But there is a catch to some of the hospitality... people who just want your money. They'll engage you in brief conversation and then try to lure you into their perfume shop. Or if they point you in the right direction, they'll ask for a tip. I even had a guy talk to me for 10 minutes before I realized he was trying to gauge if I needed a lawyer! It happens so often, you become wary of everyone you meet, which is too bad. I guess they're just trying to make a living.

One thing I noticed is that the neighborhoods we visited for stories or for dinner had very few tourists walking around in them. We came up with one explanation. The tourists are afraid to cross the street! Crossing the street here is no joke. I swear the buses speed up when they see a pedestrian coming. I learned to step into the traffic only in front of cars. And even then, you better have 8 pairs of eyes.

I didn't learn to speak much Arabic - just a few words. But in lieu of Arabic, it helps to pronounce English the way Egyptians do. Telling the cab driver, "Nile Hilton please," doesn't seem to work. But if I say, Neel Heel-tohn... The driver replies, "Oh, yes, Neel Heel-tohn! No problem sir." It's pretty amusing.

I learned a lot about the way the Egyptian economy works at all levels. I interviewed the CEO of Mobinil, Egypt's largest mobile phone company. His office is on the 33rd floor of a very western-style office complex. He has a breathtaking view of Cairo, and his company is a huge success story. I also went underground and saw where Egyptians measured the Nile's water level for centuries to determine taxation on farmers.

I saw wealthy suburbs sprawling out into the sandy desert. They have names like Beverly Hills. I also visited the very humble apartment of an Iraqi family. They live in one of the many "informal" communities in Cairo. Slum is probably the right word for it. They were lovely people, but felt trapped by their circumstances. Getting work here is difficult, but they don't want to go back to Iraq either.

So many stories, too little time. I hope you found something enjoyable about our broadcasts and web elements. Getting on the street in another country can really change your perspective on the world. My trip to Egypt has certainly changed mine.

Ma'is Salaama...

Scott Jagow

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 15:20:48 GMT
Eating and Drinking in Egypt I wasn't sure what to expect in Egypt for meals or adult beverages. I'll start with the food. I haven't had a bad meal here yet. I was warned to be leery of uncooked vegetables and definitely the water. I've stuck to bottled water but I have eaten cucumber and tomato salads almost every day without problems. The lettuce, I hear, can be a little dicey. They use a lot of pesticides.

One of my favorite dishes is koshery. It's pasta and rice mixed with lentils and tomato sauce. It's a very hearty - and cheap - meal. Expensive koshery is less than $3 US. It's supposedly a dish of the lower classes. I could eat it almost every day, although I might have a carbo-ttack.

Meat-eaters will love the shish-kebab, and something called Fatah. It's minced meat rolled into a patty. I also had a "hamburger" at a Cairo restaurant. There was no bun. It was four small meat patties spiced with Cumin. Very tasty!

Vegetarians will love the fuul. It's a fava bean dish cooked with butter, tomatoes and onions. Delicious. Doesn't sound like a breakfast, but a lot of Egyptians eat it first thing in the morning as a hearty way to start their day.


The "Budweiser" of Egypt is called Stella. It's not Stella Artois. This Stella is made in Egypt. It's a decent lager. There are a couple of other beers you'll find in most places - Sakara from Egypt and Heineken. They also have a beer called Meister Max, which is 8% alcohol. Maybe two of those - Max. There are some liquor stores hidden throughout Cairo. I haven't been in any, but I hear they have Jim Bream instead of Jim Beam. This isn't a bourbon-drinking kind of place.

We spent one day in Alexandria, which is a beautiful city on the Mediterranean. Before you get dreamy-eyed about the ancient city of Alexandria... that city is mostly at the bottom of the sea or underneath the new city. They do have a beautiful new library, which is the main tourist attraction. It really is stunning. But the fish in Alexandria is also worth the trip. We ate at a place right on the sea where we picked out the exact fish we wanted to eat - a snapper and a sea bass. They were brought to our table and the waiter went to town on it, slicing and dicing it with a whirlwind of knives. It was spectacular. And so was the fish.

We tried to eat lunch in an Alexandria neighborhood. There were no other tourists in sight. We spent 45 minutes trying to order food... at a restaurant. There was a major communication breakdown. We finally gave up. The menu was in English and Arabic, but they couldn't seem to figure out what we wanted to order.


They do have American fast food restaurants, like McDonald's, Pizza Hut and Sbarro. The service at these places is impeccable, quite a difference from the US. The people who work there take a lot of pride in what they do. And the food is well prepared. I was surprised.

The one bad thing about Cairo restaurants -- the cigarette smoke. You can literally gag on it. One place we went, there was a visible haze in the room. We ate pretty quickly that night.

Scott Jagow

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 02:51:21 GMT
A Music Lesson We walked around Old Cairo until we found a place where they were giving music lessons. The students were learning to play an instrument called an oud. It was the predecessor of the western lute. They've been playing the oud in this part of the world since about the 8th century!

An oud looks like a pear-shaped guitar with the neck bent backwards. There are 11 strings and no frets. This is so players can be expressive with slides and vibratos. Just think of the Middle Eastern music you've heard and all the microtones in the music. The "pick" is a piece of metal about the size of your index finger.

Since I play guitar, I thought it'd be fun to try it, but I did not make beautiful music with the oud:

(Listen to how bad he sounds. He sings even worse.)

It was much different than a guitar, although with a few lessons, I might get the hang of it.

I listened to the teacher play for a while. He was extraordinary. I could've listened for hours. He was only 16 years old!

(Now, this guy rocks.)

Hear some more from a recording taken from the same music academy:

A real pro.

We also heard another, similar instrument called a saz. It has a smaller neck and fewer strings. The saz is popular in Turkish folk songs.

Music is an important language throughout the Middle East. It's a way for people to connect. Of course, that's true in any country, but here it seems even more vital, given the circumstances in which many people live.

I love the traditional music in Egypt, but I'm not so sure about the pop songs. Everywhere you go, you see TV's playing music videos, and to me, it seems like a lot of Christina Aguilera-types in belly dancing outfits.

Maybe I'm getting old, but I'll take an oud solo any day.

--Scott Jagow

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 21:51:35 GMT
Let's Make a Deal... In Cairo, negotiating is an age-old art form. And it's actually a lot of fun once you catch the spirit of it.

I spent a few hours at the Khan al-Khalili market. It's a narrow cobblestone street full of shops where tourists can buy souvenirs, spices, even gold. It's been around for about 600 years. As you walk along, the merchants will try to physically steer you into their shops or least barrage you with sales pitches. You want some jewelry? A mini-Sphinx? Nefertiti? Or my favorite, "How can I take your money??? I'll give you good Egyptian price."

Trust me, you don't want to pay the Egyptian price. If they say 100 pounds (20 dollars), it's probably a 100 percent mark up. If you don't say anything and just walk away, the price immediately drops 20 pounds. But if it's something you want, start the bidding. So you might say, 30 pounds. 70? No, 40. 60? No, 50. Okay, deal.

I noticed a lot of the shops had the exact same trinkets. Hmmm. Now, why would that be? Turns out it's because many of these ancient Egyptian artifacts are ... GASP... made in China. One guy told me 80 percent of his stuff was made by Chinese workers. He told me it's much, much cheaper for him. He said something like, why should I work hard selling higher-priced Egyptian items when I can make easy money? "Americans buy the China things."

Well, not all Americans. I set out to find the real deal. At the next shop I visited, I picked up a little statue and took a peek at the bottom. There was a "made in China" sticker on it. Good grief.

So, I asked the guy where this thing was made. In Egypt, of course, he said. Oh really, where? We have many factories in this area. Okay, then why does it say made in China on it? He was obviously flustered and gave me some answer about the government. He said, "You understand?" No, I don't. I said, "You're lying, aren't you? After a pause, he laughed and admitted it was made in China. Then, he gave me a high five for busting him.

These people are real characters.

I finally found a merchant who swore up and down all his stuff was made in Egypt. His things did seem sturdier. They were at least made of stone and not some form of plastic that would change colors on the plane ride home.
I bought a couple souvenirs from him, but I still don't know for sure what I ended up with. I did have fun negotiating with him.

So at least, the price was right.

Scott Jagow

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 01:57:17 GMT
The Middle of Anywhere Tonight we ate dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in a fake Moroccan souk, served by Indian waiters. And this pretty much sums up my impression of Dubai so far. Exploring this city, where less than 20% of the population actually comes from here, where â€œOld Townâ€ is still under construction, where the University of Phoenix shares a campus with Mahatma Gandhi Universityâ€¦itâ€™s easy to find yourself asking over and over again, â€œwhere the heck am I?â€ It could be the middle of anywhere.

Like so many workers here, our waiter came from India to make money to send back home. But after just 19 months, heâ€™s leaving next week. After all the folks weâ€™ve talked to who seem pretty darn happy here (despite the high rents, the inflation, the lack of rights, no path to citizenship), it was surprising to find someone who admitted to not really loving it. He thinks he can do just as well back home. And next week some other South Asian will serve foul moudames to an American visitor wondering where on earth sheâ€™s landed.

P.S. Kai and I are in Dubai this week preparing for next weekâ€™s live broadcasts. Hope you can tune in!

-- Amy Scott

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 23:14:30 GMT
King Tut's Bling I'm guessing no one in the history of the world wore as much bling as King Tutankhamun.

Not by choice, mind you. King Tut's body was buried with 143 pieces of jewelry -- bracelets, anklets, amulets -- attached to it. And I mean attached. When Tut's body was found in the 1920's, Howard Carter's team cut up the mummy into several pieces because the jewelry was glued to Tut from all the embalming resin. The only reason I bring this up is that I saw a lot of this bling at the Egyptian Museum.

The most magnificent piece was King Tut's death mask. Pure gold. Weighing 220 pounds. It truly is a sight to behold. It got me thinking -- how many people must have worked on the King's death? And for how long? There had to be an entire industry around this one event. Tut was buried in THREE coffins, each one placed inside another. They weighed 3,000 pounds total. The inner-most one was also pure gold.

And King Tut wasn't even the most revered pharoah of Egypt. He died when he was only 19. That's a whole other story, apparently. Based on the latest evidence, Tut is thought to have died from gangrene after breaking his leg. Others still maintain he was murdered. Whatever the case, his notoriety mainly stems from Carter's find. Many of the other pharaohs' tombs were raided long ago.

The craftsmanship of these pieces is astounding. The respect and effort the Egyptians afforded the death of their kings remarkable. They believed that the bodies of gods were made of gold. So, they literally blinged their king into a god. Quite a business.

-- Scott Jagow

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 15:07:00 GMT
Still dead after all these years... After visiting the Egyptian museum, I have decided to stipulate in my will that under no circumstances, should I be mummified when I die.

I actually debated whether to even enter the Royal Mummy rooms. My colleague, Miguel, stayed put. He said these people were buried in a specific place and did not intend to have their remains gawked at under a glass case 3,000 years later. Pretty good point, but I am here to experience Egypt in all its... gory. So, morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I paid the 20 US dollars to visit the two rooms.

First of all, it was fascinating. The Ancient Egyptians went to extraordinary lengths to preserve the bodies of the dead. One woman's face was packed with soda and fat to make her appear more "life-like". Unfortunately, they used too much soda and fat, and the result is that she appears disfigured beyond belief and very definitely dead-like.

But other mummies looked like they could rise up out of their case right then and there. I got a good look at one of Egypt's greatest kings, Ramses II. He lived a long life for a man at that time - well into his 80's. 3,000 years later, he kind of resembles a man in his 80's. Or 200's, tops. For some reason, I imagined him sitting in a rocking chair reaching out for my hand, as if i were his grandchild. It was then that I realized I shouldn't stay in the mummy room very long.

In the second mummy room, I found myself alone for a couple minutes. This gave me a top-notch case of the willies. I was standing in the middle of a deadly quiet room with a dozen dead people. Each one had the hint of an expression frozen on their faces. For some, it looked like serenity or at least fulfillment. For others, it was more like - for crying out loud, please, get me out of this wrap. One woman had a mummified bundle next to her. When she was excavated, archaeologists thought perhaps it was her child. No, it turns out it was her pet baboon. And now, the two of them were in a room alone with me.

I thought about what these people's lives were like and wished I could know. I paid my respects to their unique culture. I thought about my own mortality and what will happen after I die. I decided it will not be mummification. I'd prefer to live on in the memories of people I loved and not in a temperature-controlled glass case with who knows what expression on my face.

Besides, I wouldn't have a pet baboon to keep me company.

-- Scott Jagow

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 15:06:30 GMT
Here's your money. Can I have some? Somewhere I read a saying about Egyptians: If you drop your wallet on the street, an Egyptian will run after you to give it back. Then he will try to get you to voluntarily part with the contents.

After my short time here, nothing could be truer. Egyptians are extraordinarily friendly people. They shout "Welcome!" to strangers on the street. They seem genuinely warm and hospitable. They want to help you.

But they also want a tip for every single thing they do. Point you in the right direction? Five pounds, please. Carry your bag down a flight of stairs? Something for me, please. Five pounds? Is that all you have?

It is a serious conundrum for visitors. The boat driver who gave us an hour tour of the Nile was a lovely Egyptian man who'd worked on the river for 50 years. He sang us songs and laughed and took pictures with us. He praised Americans. Oh, they are wonderful tippers, he said. He said that a lot.

And when we gave him a 60 percent tip, he chided us for not giving him more. He tossed the money in his hand and said, "This baksheesh (cash). This is not good." Yes, our tip only equaled 6 US dollars, but the boat ride was 10. Afterwards, the question we asked ourselves is: how much would be enough? When would he have said, "Thank you. You are most kind."

I don't know the answer.

I understand why people do it. Wages are low here. Life must be difficult on the lower end of the class scale. But what happened on our boat ride certainly soured the experience somewhat. I also fear that some of the tourists who've come before us have created expectations beyond reason. There has to be a line somewhere.

I suppose it is better than what you see in the US so often: someone on a street corner jingling a cup in his hand. I haven't encountered one Egyptian asking for a handout. They want to do something for the money, even if you didn't ask them to do it.

I did have one cab driver who, when I gave him a 10 pound tip, said something I couldn't quite make out. I thought he said, "Usually we only get one or two pounds. This is too much."

At least, that's what I hope he said anyway.

-- Scott Jagow

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 15:06:00 GMT
Tea An observation about doing radio interviews in Egypt: Theyâ€™re constantly interrupted by the call to prayer . . . and the delivery of tea. Thereâ€™s a knock on the door. In walks someone with a tray. Delicious. And you simply canâ€™t say no. I finally learned to ask for herbal tea in the afternoons so that I could sleep at night.
-- Amy Scott

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 12:43:09 GMT
It's just exhaust--ing Cairo is such a bittersweet city. When the call to prayer echoes through the city five times a day, it's like a siren's song. You have to stop what you're doing and listen. Strolling the banks of the Nile at night or taking a felucca out on the water is a sublime experience. Watching the sun set over the mosques is truly breathtaking.

Which brings me to the traffic. The gasoline fumes will take your breath away for sure. You might as well walk around inhaling a portable exhaust pipe. And riding in a car (FORGET driving) is like being on a rollercoaster you can't wait to get off. "Please keep your hands inside the car at all times. You might lose one."

Cars whip by you with inches to spare. People are constantly knocking each other's side mirrors. There are no lanes. There are no rules. U-turn in the middle of a pedestrian cross-walk? No problem. Squeeze into a space the size of a matchbox car? Better get there quick or someone else will.

Our driver is a great driver.... in Cairo. In the US, he'd be thrown in jail. I've surmised that the key is to be as aggressive as possible and apologize later. In fact, don't even apologize. Just ram forward into the next glob of traffic and slam on the brakes. Someone else will cut you off and even things out. Use the horn like it's your gas pedal. Meep meep-meep. Meep-meep-meep!

If you're on foot - pray first. Then, be aggressive, stick out your hand and move swiftly. Don't get caught like a deer in the headlights. Chances are, the driver isn't using them.

And after a harrowing day on the roads, just when you think you've seen it all, you'll get stuck in a mash-up of cars, buses and trucks where five "lanes" converge onto a side street the size of a bowling lane....

And a donkey will trot right past you.

Yes, a donkey. What are you supposed to do? Give him an obscene gesture?

Scott Jagow

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 12:18:19 GMT