(Twenty First of a Series of 26)

No single element of the trip frightened me as much as visas and customs. Nothing concerned me more than the thought of getting off of a plane, and going into detention for lack of documentation.

To enter Russia or Egypt, you need an Entry Visa. Russia requires an Exit Visa for them to allow you to leave. If your Entry Visa expires, and if your Exit Visa is defective, they can detain you for 21 days while the Russian Embassy issues a proper Exit Visa. Some countries require a Transit Visa - a Visa that allows you to change planes in that country, even if you have no plans to enter.

New Zealand requires a Health Visa. Their health care is nationalized. Health care is provided free to anyone in the country, whether or not a citizen. Since they don't want people entering the country for the free medical care, they require the Health Visa as proof that you have certified that you're healthy enough to expect to last your stay without seeing a Doctor. (If you need care for an unexpected emergency, it will be provided free and without consequence.) The Health Visa requirement is waived for visits less than 90 days.

America, England, Sweden and Czech Republic belong to the Schengen Convention, which means that citizens from each other's country can visit for 89 days with no Visa.

Russia's Visa process was by far the most complex. The application form was long, and the questions were not readily answerable. (List all professional, civil, charity or other organizations which you are/were a member of or cooperate/cooperated with.) They wanted details of your last three jobs. (Since I've only ever had two jobs since 1975, I needed to research the current contact number for a stock clerk job I held Summer 1974.) You needed a letter of invitation from a Russian citizen.

Once I prepaid the hotel, the Russian hotel wrote me to invite us. Since I was prepaid from September 2 through 6, that became the timeframe I was invited for. The Entry Visa would expire September 6, and the Exit Visa was dated September 6. Nobody ever did answer the question: What happens if it storms September 6, and the flight is delayed to September 7?

When you arrive, you are subject to the Visa requirements then in force, not to the requirements in force when you applied. In mid-June, the Russian Embassy sent me the application form. A week later, I returned it filled out. Three weeks after that, they returned all the paperwork unprocessed, for they had changed their application form. To top it off, they did not enclose an updated application form. The process was to start over, and to start, I had to re-request a visa application form.

Simply out of raw fear, I knew each country's visa requirements cold.

Therefore, I was utterly caught off guard when the Egyptian airline check-in clerk told me she couldn't board me without a New Zealand Visa. I protested, "I do not need a New Zealand Visa if I'm not staying 90 days." (In fact, if I had applied for one, my request would have been refused.) She researched the requirements, and confirmed I was correct. But it was too late - the computer already said I needed one. The only one that could override it was the New Zealand Embassy.

So at 3:00 pm, with a takeoff scheduled for 7:45, Emirates Airlines began placing calls to the New Zealand Embassy.

By 5:00, they had not yet gotten through. The flight to New Zealand was to connect in Dubai, and then again in Sydney. We were cleared for Dubai and Sydney; only New Zealand remained a problem. At 5:30, the airline advised us that if they couldn't clear the problem, then they'd fly us to Dubai, and they'd resume discussions with the Embassy from there.

That seemed wholly unacceptable. We were cleared to Sydney; our flight out of New Zealand was scheduled to connect in Sydney. If we can't get to New Zealand, then take us to Sydney. I could put together a fine agenda in Sydney. As 6:30 approached, I told them to stop dealing with New Zealand; I wanted to fly just to Sydney. Again, it was too late for that. I myself had been cleared for New Zealand; they were now negotiating Tricia. Since our credentials were identical, that made no sense.

At 6:45, one hour before takeoff, we were both cleared. Of course with boarding at 7:15, and passport control and security remaining, we lost all available time for a bite for dinner. We grabbed something quickly, and hoped for the best.

And security confiscated our dinner.

(Twentieth of a Series of 26)

At the risk of over-generalizing, the people of Cairo are rude. The notable exceptions were the people who worked at the hotel where we stayed, and the tour guides.

Drivers are rude on the road. Hucksters are rude to tourists. At the airport, luggage personnel take turns sitting on your checked-in suitcases. When I objected, the luggage man offered to tag it as 'fragile." Later, X-ray security officials blow smoke in your face as they stand arms-length from the No Smoking signs.

As I approached the Men's room at the Egyptian Museum, a man chases me in. He hands me about six feet of toilet paper to take in with me. Then he asks me to pay for it, physically blocking me from going in for a moment.

The Egyptian Museum is where the artifacts are stored. In one room, we see eleven mummies on display. A whole wing is dedicated to Tutankhaman (King Tut). King Tut was actually a non-noteworthy monarch. He accomplished little during his reign. Evidently, he concerned himself more with building a legacy than ruling a country. He was buried with over 1200 artifacts, most of which are on display at this museum.

Most of the artifacts include a written description, in both English and in Arabic. And I started reading a few as I wandered slowly past the display. Suddenly, a man of about 70 years comes up behind me, grabs my shoulder, says "Excuse me," and yanks me out of his way.

And he proceeds to read the plaque I had been reading.

(Nineteenth of a Series of 26)

As Tricia went off to test her bargaining skills at an Egyptian flea market, the tour guide and I duck into a café. It was shortly after noon, and the sun was hot. The café was not air conditioned. I had several cans of apple juice just to keep hydrated. Forgetting about the Ramadan fast, I offered to get something for the tour guide. And we talked rather uneventfully.

I estimate that the waiter was about 40 years old. He probably owned the café; I never cared enough to ask. I did notice some added enthusiasm when he waited on an Australian party of eight that he did not display toward me.

When Tricia returned after her shopping spree, the waiter began to show more interest in my table. Somewhat overheated, Tricia sprayed her face with a mister. The waiter asked that his face be sprayed, and Tricia obliged though she declined his request to mist his underarms.

The waiter turned to me, and asked if Tricia was my baby (pronounced beebee). When I acknowledged she was, he disclosed he could tell by our eyes. Never mind that she is my stepdaughter. He then made me an offer of two million camels for her.

If he was serious, then I acted inappropriately. I gave the offer some thought. Two million camels is a very generous dowry. I could do a lot with all those camels. Sure, I would have to get them through customs some how. And I'd probably need to expand my back yard. And then there's the matter of breaking the news to my wife that I'd need extra room in the car when she picked me up at the airport.

But two million camels....

He wasn't finished. He proceeded to tell me how great a husband he would be. He flexed his arm to show me his muscles, but somehow I wasn't impressed. He assured me he was in top physical condition. He was "strong." He was "powerful." And he walked away after his claim of "no Viagra."

Two million camels.... Hmmmm.

[Tory's reply: "You should have counter-offered 100 camels for a single date."]