Cairo Airport - Ransom, Bribery, and Utter Chaos

We land in Cairo around 11:15pm. In order to pass through immigration, we had to get a Visa stamp in our passports. Our friends in Istanbul had already given us a hot tip that you have to get the Visas from these small bank windows before you get to immigration. Cool... we are a step ahead of everyone else. So, of course, we are one of the few people who actually get in line at the bank booths before proceeding to immigration.

[As quick background, we made sure to spend the rest of our Turkish Lira before leaving Turkey, as they would do us no good anywhere else. I also only had 5 US dollars left at this point. It is normally the easiest and most cost effective (exchange-rate wise) to get cash from an ATM once you are in the destination country, so we did not have any Egyptian Pounds yet either.]

When we get to the window, I hand the teller my debit card, but he shakes his head, says something in Arabic, and points to the ATM across the way. Ok, fine... they only take cash, so we'll go get cash. Minor problem - the ATM is out of service. So we look around for another ATM, but find none. We find an Egypt Air employee. The gist of the conversation is as follows:

Us: Hi, we need to get cash for a Visa stamp.

Airport employee: There’s an ATM over there.

Us: The ATM is out of service

Airport employee: No problem, there’s an ATM downstairs.

Us: Don’t we have to go through immigration to go downstairs?

Airport employee: Yes

Us: We can’t go through immigration without our Visa stamp.

Airport employee: No problem, you can get your Visa stamp at the bank teller over there.

Us: But they only take cash!

Airport employee: Oh, well there’s an ATM over there.

Us: Ummm… It’s broken!!

Airport employee: No problem, there is an ATM downstairs.

[Conversation continues in a circular manner without a solution]

So we locate an information desk and ask how to get cash for our Visa stamp. The conversation goes about the same as above, interspersed with interruptions from immigration guards asking what the problem was. Finally, he directs us to another bank window. The teller takes us through the same circular steps. After a while, he remembers that Thomas Cook bank has a working card reader. Thank goodness! We go to Thomas Cook and . . . their card reader is out of service. Great. And wouldn't you know it, we go around and around in circles with the teller trying to find a solution.

Keep in mind that no one we have spoken to yet understands us very well. And they are speaking to us in a mix of broken English and Arabic, making the situation even that much more frustrating. However, this time we aren’t leaving his window without results. After some time, we have apparently annoyed him enough. He calls over the guards. Uh oh!

They proceed to have discussions in Arabic. I take a look around and notice that there are only 3 non-employees left: myself, Kim, and an 80 year old hysterical lady, screaming at some of the guards in Arabic. We are now feeling very uncomfortable, as we are two Americans who can't communicate very well with anyone in this sketchy airport. One guard finally points at Kim and says "She stays," then looks at me and says, "You . . . follow him," pointing to one of the guards holding a rifle. My mind is now racing. I'm not sure what's going on, but then again, do I have any other choice? They mention I am going to an ATM. I'm pretty sure they are holding Kim here as ransom until I come back with money. Fine, I'll just come back with money. But what will happen if the foreign ATM rejects my card?! It happened a few times in Istanbul. I will try not think about this scenario.

As I start exiting immigration with the guard, the guard motions to the hysterical lady, now in tears. She joins us. Fantastic. The lady proceeds to yell at the guard in Arabic the entire time we walk. We make it to another guard checkpoint. The lady is now going up to every guard, grabbing their uniforms, pleading with them in Arabic (I can’t determine what about). I am just standing to the side watching this surreal scene. The guard who escorted me down comes over smiling, and asks (probably the only English phase he knows), "How much you pay me?" Thinking it is a joke, I don't answer. After about 15 minutes, the guards are still trying to calm the woman. In my head, all I'm thinking is, "PLEASE, just get me to the ATM." I know Kim is worried sick by now.

They finally let us pass, and we enter the baggage claim area. To the right, I see the ATMs. Hallelujah! However, I suddenly hear a loud uproar coming from the mob of people to my left. A brawl has broken out. Guards are joining in as the brawl grows, and the circle of people around it expands. This kind of thing only happens in movies. But then again, I'm in Egypt. I'm just praying that no gunfire breaks out. Our guard decides to watch for a little bit, unconcerned (almost like this was a common thing), then takes us toward the ATMs. As I use the ATM, I try my best to ignore the chaos behind me. My card is accepted!

Myself, the guard, and the hysterical lady (still hysterical), walk back toward immigration. The guard asks me once again, "How much you pay me?" He was dead serious. The ATM had only dispensed me 200 Egyptian pound bills (~$35 each), so I offered my last $5 bill. He gladly accepts the offering (i.e bribe). Whew!

I finally get back, and thankfully Kim is still there (and not detained somewhere). I can't wait to tell her what had just happened. Below is a picture she snapped of her captors.



By this time, it is almost 1am, and all we want to do is get a cab to our hotel in Giza (~45 mins away). A guard motions over the seemingly last cab driver left at this hour. Somehow, the hysterical lady has joined us again, and is now following us out to the cab. Oh no no no. I tell Kim (and subsequently, the cab driver) that we are not riding in the cab with her. So we make it to the cab, no hysterical lady, on our way to Giza at 1am. As if we hadn't been through enough, now we get to experience driving in Cairo (yes there’s traffic at 1am) . . . . more on Cairo driving later.