Touring the Big Mango with Anna

Anna got off the plane determined to see and photograph everything in Cairo. She had an ambitious to-do list which included a live belly-dancing performance, private belly-dancing lessons, sailing down the Nile on a felucca, riding a camel, an Egyptian cooking lesson and scuba diving in the Red Sea. We successfully checked off everything but the felucca. Apparently, Anna had envisioned a small boat with a white sail floating peacefully down a river where Pharaohs still bathed in shallow waters. Ahh, how disappointing reality can sometimes be. When she spotted the fleet of mini-ships donning flashing red chilli pepper lights and neon signs that say "Fun" and "Love", she decided that the picture on the internet had been misleading. That was Misconception Number One.

Number Two stemmed from her belief in the infallibility of her guidebook, which had recommended a cozy little place in downtown Cairo to enjoy a thoroughly Oriental night of belly-dancing. I had never heard of the club before but knew that downtown wasn't a great place for ladies to be alone at night, so we recruited two of my Egyptian male friends to accompany us. What we found was a dingy little hole in the wall with bad acoustics and even worse entertainment. A robust man in an orange suit moaned about loving some lady who apparently wasn't responding well to his bellows, while the 'belly-dancer' (who resembled Elvira with long, stringy dyed black hair and a black skin-tight dress to boot) walked around the stage as if she were competing for Mrs. Universe. To compensate for her lack of skill in her chosen profession, she substituted prancing for dancing, only stopping to shake her rear at the few men who stuffed cash in her bust. That one dance move, the rear shake, we later to learned is aptly named "the shiver."

Elvira wasn't the only one prancing. There were several prostitutes on stand-by, two of which singled out our friends Ramy and Kareem as potential customers. We were all thoroughly uncomfortable and slightly irritated at having spent money to feel very out of place and quite dirty. Anna, however, was so bent on seeing real live belly-dancing that Kareem offered the woman $20 to do something, anything, that resembled what Anna had seen in the movies. She gave him a wink and instead pulled Anna and me onstage--another clever trick to disguise her inability to dance. In an attempt to salvage the evening (and just because I like being on stage), I used the opportunity to showcase some moves I had learned from the girls at the orphanage. Anna, however, just turned red and ran back to our table. Not wanting to be mistaken for another of the Prancing Prostitutes, I was inclined to follow. After we choked down the drinks we had already paid for, we made our exit amidst pleas to return another night. Not unless I am bound and gagged will I ever see the inside of that place again. Lonely Planet will hear from me about this.