Our guides warned our group of travelers to Egypt before every stop that we would be inundated by pushy merchants selling their wares. We were also told that most of the goods offered were cheaply made, probably in China. It was stressed that it was best to ignore them completely. We would have plenty of opportunities to purchase gifts and souvenirs at legitimate shops. And we would be visiting a Nubian village where we could buy items made locally.
There was a lineup of vendors’ open-air shops at every site we visited. We were forced to walk along this passage coming and going to each temple, tomb, and pyramid. I thought that I was prepared for the onslaught.
The first vendor stepped directly in front of me and shouted, “Lady, lady! You need this tablecloth?! It’s beautiful, no?”
My well-bred Southern manners could not ignore him. “Not today,” I said with a smile.
Ooh, boy! Wrong take on my part. I was swarmed by more merchants. “Lady, lady!” More items—T-shirts, pants, trinkets of all sorts—were shoved in front of my face as I shook my head and tried to walk through. I eventually broke free, lowered my head, and forged ahead through the throngs. It felt terrifically rude on my part. This is not the way I was raised.
A few in the group did engage with the vendors and purchased items. Some thought of it as a game, complete with haggling and negotiations. Often, an agreement could not be made and the vendor would continue to run after someone, waving the item and shouting out lower and lower offers. I even heard one say, “It’s free! For you, lady, it’s free!”
One afternoon, I heard shouting outside my cabin windows. Opening the curtains, I saw a small wooden boat tied to our riverboat with two men inside. We had been told that we would encounter “pirates.” Here they were! From their tethered boat, the pirates would shout up to passengers on the open fourth floor sundeck to sell their goods. These were mostly tablecloths or items of clothing, each in a plastic bag. The vendors would throw an item up to the deck for passengers to inspect. If they wanted to purchase it, the vendor would throw up another bag, and the buyer would tuck money into that one then toss it back down.
When visiting tombs in the Valley of the Kings, one official inspected our tickets and handed out pieces of cardboard to use as fans inside the sweltering enclosure. How thoughtful, I thought. Until I emerged to find him holding out his hand that held coins to collect the fan. Ugh! Inside one of the tombs, someone gestured to my phone and mimed that he would take my picture. Again, How thoughtful! Again, a tip was expected after this kind act.
By the time we had reached the Temple of Edfu on day five, I was a pro at ignoring the merchants at the ancient sites, putting my head down, making no eye contact, and speed walking through the gauntlet. I had realized the pirates’ goods were really cheaply made, so I didn’t play that game. At Edfu Temple, though, a young Egyptian man was standing near a towering pillar. His head was wrapped in an elaborately large turban, and he wore a traditional galabaya (a long caftan). His hands were outstretched to capture sunlight that filtered through the ceiling. It was a beautiful sight. He caught me looking and gestured that I could take his photo. I was onto the game by now and shook my head no. But it would have made for a lovely picture, so I decided I would surreptitiously take his photo without his knowledge. I peeked around a column and saw he was now seated at the base of the pillar, and I quickly snapped a photo and ducked back around my column. Later, on the boat, I reviewed my photos of the day, cropping and correcting colors as I went. When I came to the photo of the turbaned “light catcher,” I saw that it was quite stunning. The sunlight brilliantly lit the top of his turban and the lap of his robe. I zoomed in to get a better composition. I laughed when I realized that he was on his cell phone! So much for the iconic photo of an authentic Egyptian amid the ruins of an ancient temple.
I realize how harsh some of this sounds. I suspect these vendors truly needed the money, and I was heartlessly ignoring their financial needs. The pushiness was off-putting, so ignoring them was easier. There were just a handful of children peddling trinkets, and these were harder to walk past. I’m not sure exactly why our guides so strongly discouraged us from interacting, but I eventually took their advice to heart. I’m still not sure if it was the right move.