The famous Cairo bazaar smells like a combination of Turkish coffee, spices and perfumes laced with cigarette smoke and three thousand years of camel-dust. It's like stepping inside a kaleidoscope of brightly colored textiles, beads and anything else that's flashy or glitters. It is a churning, dizzying herd of people, which at any moment seems like it may turn into a stampede. So much bargaining takes place over stuff that in America we don't worry too much about. This is one of those places where you actually have to haggle for your Coca-Cola. The street vendors talk over the top of each other..."Come this way" "Where are you from?" "Let me show you..." [in whatever language that matches the country they think you are from]. Sometimes people just say random phrases to try to grab your attention, like "Welcome to Alaska!" or "See you later Crocodile."

I developed a little test, which was if someone asked where I was from I'd say "Texas". I found that most didn't know where that was. Expecting me to say "America" or "Germany", any other answer seemed to break them out of their programmed routine and by the time they figured out a response I was already around the block. Most of the time I was safe from them pegging me as an American, and subsequently following me for miles trying to get me to buy something in dollars. Some of the Vendors did know where Texas was, but these were almost always the more interesting ones and I didn't feel like I was being pandered to death. (It didn't always work.)