104
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
I CLIMB A PYRAMID
FOR the time being I had had enough of the seamy side of
Cairo. Deciding to see other facets of the city which might
give me better perspective, I visited the famous mosques and
the imposing Citadel. I made a tour of the bazaar area. With
the Armenian I had met at the airport I went to several nightclubs. I attended a formal spring ball at Heliopolis, a suburb
of Cairo, and found the gowns lovely, but the girls less pretty
than ours.
In the Garden City section I marveled at the homes, gardens, and the exceptionally handsome modern architecture.
I wondered how it was possible for the architects of Egypt to
live in the twentieth century, while the vast majority of its
society wallowed in feudalism. Invited by someone from the
Arab League Office, I had tea at the Gezira Sporting Club, a
smart gathering-place for the international set, patronized
mainly by the wealthy, by members of the foreign ministries,
Europeanizcd Arabs, and expensive kept women with faces
like worn doormats. At the Gezira I was urged not to miss the
royal museum. But I knew of the glory that was Egypt. I was
living in modern Egypt—an entirely different world. I was in
the Middle East to study life, not historical deadwood.
I picked a bright sunny day when I had no appointments
scheduled. I boarded a trolley that took me to the Mena
House, the finest hotel in Cairo, and stepping-off point for
visits to the Pyramids. I weathered a locust swarm of guides,
pimps, camel-ride vendors, photographers, shoe-shine boys and
dragoman-leeches who hurled themselves on me the moment
I dismounted, and finally chose a young and sturdy Egyptian
named Khalil. According to the card he thrust in my face, he
was also "contractor" (whatever that meant) for "Cameles
and Horsese."
With him I visited the interior of one of the Pyramids: the