Back in the olden days, you know, well before the turn of the century, February 1977 to be exact, I had been studying architecture in Versailles, France (actually in one of the Palace buildings). It was an extraordinary program where we would have five weeks of class and then a break of between two and five weeks, all for travel. The architectural history we were learning came alive as we traveled around Europe for the school year.
Because this was my second bachelor’s degree, I was more than five years older than the rest of the students, which meant I was about the same age as the two instructors. John was a year younger than I and taught structural engineering and architectural design, and Dave, a year older than I, taught history and design.
A break was coming up in February and John and Dave asked if I wanted to go on an organized tour to Egypt. As I had been fascinated with ancient Egypt since I was a child, I couldn’t agree fast enough.
As is the case with architecture class, most of the students were male. There were six women and 36 men, so there was a lot of b.s. going on at all times. As classmates, we became close friends through traveling together, having meals together, and researching the history of Versailles’ buildings. Not to mention bringing our lunches to the Hall of Mirrors to play Euchre while sitting on the floor. We spent endless hours discussing where we were traveling to next, who we were traveling with, what we planned to see, etc. While I managed to keep my plans quiet for quite some time, eventually the others found out about it and the teasing was never ending. The litany of “what are you going to do in Egypt with John and Dave? When on until just before we left. Finally I came up with a reply that silenced the guys. I shot them a look that dared them to challenge me and told them that I was going to guarantee A’s in history and structures. Their eyes bulged because they just weren’t sure. When the other students asked John and Dave what they were going to do in Egypt with McFadden, they replied that they were going to sell me.
The tour was extraordinary and we all got on quite well. I was well known for two things – my inability to speak French (but I could understand it as long as it was about Egyptian history), and my long white blond hair. It was nearly impossible for me to move around freely because I was surrounded, six deep, by kids who wanted to touch my hair. The other passengers would always thank me because they were able to get some wonderful photos without people in them, because they were all gathered around me. That hair caused more than its share of trouble.
Our Luxor hotel had a broken elevator so it was a 10 floor walk-up. But that was okay because we spent our meal times at the nearby Old Winter Palace Hotel, the grand dame of the Nile, evocative of the style of the 20’s and 30’s. After schlepping my suitcase up to the room, I was pretty tired and needed a nap. Dave took off on his own and when he came back he told John and I that we were going out that night with Ahmed, someone that he met at the market. Dave didn’t think he needed to mention that one of us was a single woman with white blond hair.
Before we left for the evening, we met at the Old Winter Palace so our tour manager, Bibi could meet Ahmed. Safety first. Always.
We headed north and east, away from the Luxor Temple weaving through narrower and narrower streets and then smaller alleys. Suddenly we were inside in a place where, honest to God, it looked like it was from out of the movies. We were the only non-Egyptians there. Men were smoking hookahs, and the smoke was so thick that the other side of the room was not visible. And a belly dancer performing on the table that had been pushed together. John and Dave followed Ahmed’s directions and put me in a corner and stood in front of me to each side, blocking the view to me as best they could, but also making sure I could see what was going on around me. Amazing – belly dancers, money in her girdle, hashish smoke, and all local men. Except for us.
After about a half hour, Ahmed pulled Dave to the side while John and I continued to watch the show. After about 20 minutes, John came back and said, in a ‘Dad voice’ that we were leaving. We speed walked through the streets trying to find our way back to the hotel. It took a bit, but we managed. Not another word was said – my traveling companions had turned into sphinxes.
On the plane home, both of them finally fessed up to what happened. They were tense and serious and upset.
The story finally came out.
When we were in the club with Ahmed, and he pulled Dave to the side, it was to ask him if he or John owned me. Sort of. He actually asked to buy me. Back then, (olden days – remember?) women were not allowed to be out with anyone who was not a family member or a husband. It was inconceivable to Ahmed that I was not owned by one of them. Dave tried to explain that to Ahmed, but Ahmed became suspicious – he thought Dave was lying. He offered two cows. Dave insisted he could not sell me. Ahmed added 200 Egyptian pounds and asked Dave to talk to John. Ahmed and Dave went back and forth a few more time, and I remember that by the end, chickens and camels were in the mix.
Ahmed eventually came to the conclusion that Dave was indeed lying to him because of course one of the two of them owned me. Ad he was highly insulted. And that was when Dave got quite uncomfortable and decided we needed to leave – NOW.
They were both quite shaken and decided not to tell me until we were on the plane going back to France. It was safer for them that way.
When we got back after the break and were waiting for class to start (the school had a bar on the premises and people gathered for croissants and coffee), the three of us were standing together, when the questions and teasing started. John and Dave were heckled about not selling me, and both of them turned white and stared at the ground mumbling, and looking terribly uncomfortable. The others caught on and became silent.
I looked at everyone and said, “They tried, but they didn’t know how to get all the camels and chickens back here to school, so the deal fell through. And that is how I guaranteed an A is structures and history”. The other students were not really sure if I was telling them the truth or not, glancing at John and Dave, who looked thoroughly guilty, scared, and embarrassed.
And yes, I did get an A in each class.
But I earned those grades.
Really.
I did.
I am really surprised that you didn’t dye your hair darker for those those kinds of trips!
Never occurred to me to look different. And as this was February of 1977, I am not so sure over the counter dye was easily available.
And, probably, my blonde hair would have turned orange. 🙂
I lived in Egypt for the summer when I was 8. My father worked in Saudi, and my mother refused to live there. She didn’t want to be owned either, and she loved travel. To strange places. We took off every week to another wild and woolly place while Jac was flying around wherever. Life was amazing in Egypt in the early 50’s. As were airplanes, but that is another story.
Oh my. The changes are astronomical from back then. I am sure that it is quite different now. 🙂
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