I thought the days of flea bag motels were over, at least in the United States. I had the displeasure of staying at the Motel 6 in Billings, Montana for a few hours prior to my flight to Minneapolis.
Before I get into how disgusting this hotel is and what a scam it is to charge more than $10 for this pile of garbage, let me share with you the arduous journey of leaving Montana to get to London. First, I had to drive four hours through all elements to Billings. Then I had to connect in Minneapolis to Detroit and spend seven hours in the D waiting for my flight to depart. (I broke up the trip with a stopover in Michigan.) In total, from leaving the house in Montana to leaving DTW takes 18 hours. It takes 7.5 hours to fly from DTW to LHR. Good grief.
To rest before this journey, I decided to find a hotel upon arriving in Billings. None went for less than $100 which is ridiculous considering the high vacancy and the fact that I was only staying for four hours. I saw the sign for Motel 6 and the rate of $55 which was only honored after I presented my newly acquired AARP membership.
The room looked like a crime scene: It had flickering lights, white pieces of powder on the floor, and those slimy covers used in rooms that charge by the hour. It reminded me of Josh Baskin’s room from the movie Big. Had I not been in Montana, I would’ve been scared that I was in the wrong part of town.
Wary of what would be found under a black light, I slept with my jeans and coat so as to prevent any creepy crawlers from becoming my new friends. It was that disgusting.
When my alarm went off, I bypassed the snooze and headed straight for the door.
Seriously, how do these hotels stay in business?
My grandma isn’t staying in this hell hole.What is this?BathroomSickI was surprised that it wasn’t all adult entertainment.Nice $ SafeGet me out of here!
Guess who’s back, back again? TPOL’s back, share with a friend.
That didn’t flow as well as I had hoped.
I’ve been running around the globe the past few weeks and am back to share what I did. This Trip Report will cover one too many lounges, one too many complimentary breakfast buffets, and one too many bottle of bubbles at 30,000 feet.
I was only gone for a short period of time but managed to do quite a lot. I hope you’ll join me on this erotic journey of love and romance as TPOL goes to Greece and Egypt among other places.
As is the norm, here is the picture preview of what is to come:
The Motel 6 Billings, MontanaThe Self Service Bar at Delta Sky Club MinneapolisThe Park Hyatt TorontoDelta Sky Lounge DetroitVirgin Upper Class DTW-LHRVirgin Revivals LoungeKing George AthensHotel Grande Bretagne AthensAthens MarathonLe Meridien GizaSheraton LuxorHyatt Sharm el-SheikhEtihad First: CAI-AUHAloft Abu DhabiEtihad First: AUH-LAX20,000 Miles Covered
In order to update my Country Count List for the trip report, Athens Marathon: The Original Course I visited the Travelers’ Century Club website to confirm that Egypt was listed in Africa when what to my wondering eyes should appear but Egypt is indeed two ‘countries’. There is Egypt proper which is Egypt in Africa and Egypt in Asia which is the Sinai Peninsula.
Since Sharm el-Sheikh is on the Sinai Peninsula, Abu Dhabi is no longer country #75 as I had written but #76. What does this mean? Nothing. But it is a great opportunity to irritate those who don’t play the fun TCC game to track their travels. (see Is Hawaii A Country? for my breakdown of this fight.)
Which do you think is more absurd to list as a country: Turkey in Asia or Egypt in Asia?
The Hyatt Sharm el-Sheikh is located in its own country, separate from Egypt.
TPOL is back from his trip and ready to do the work of the people. I have plenty of reviews to write and photos to share which will begin tomorrow. For today, I thought I’d try to get back in the rhythm of posting from my laptop instead of from my mobile.
The points news since I left has not be very good. First, I read that Marriott is buying SPG. I doubt any points enthusiast is seeing this as a good thing. I know nothing about Marriott points and have always likened them to Delta in terms of accruing and spending points. How they will merge their program with SPG remains to be seen but let’s not pretend that it will be for the better.
Next, American Airlines has done something that I’ve expected them to do for a while. They are devaluing their awards program meaning you better book your Etihad Apartment before March 22, 2016 because the best awards program out there is about to become as mediocre as the rest.
All of this really makes me wonder how long this points game can last. We have dealt with a lot this year of which I’m too tired to recount. I’m sure we can adapt but in the event this is the Apocalypse, please remember what I’ve always stressed: Shut Up & Book!
Disclaimer: If you’re not a fan of the Travel Century Club and its characterization of what is or isn’t a country then you may want to stop reading. If you do continue, spare me the comments about how Hawaii Isn’t a Country, a title of a previous post.
Sorry for that whiny intro.
Abu Dhabi, my 75th ‘country’. Somehow each Emirate is its own ‘country’ but each state in the US is not according to the list.
75 is a good milestone though still 25 shy of the century mark. Somehow I thought I’d be a lot closer by now given how much I travel, but a shift from my obsession from only going to new countries to using points at the best resorts has kept this goal elusive.
At the same time and the more poetic reason I remain short is because nothing is better than visiting a country for the second or third time. For example, I recently went to Bali, China, Japan, and Mexico countries that I had traveled to before. Going again made the old memories more special and the new memories equally great. Furthermore, the pressure to go, see, do everything is lifted whether it be for personal curiosity or now to fulfill my duties as a blogger.
I’m hoping I have enough time in this life to get to 100 and beyond but in the event that I don’t, I can genuinely say that I’ve been to just about all the places I’ve wanted to see.
In high school, I along with an avid TPOL reader were part of a nerdy class section called Honors Humanities. Besides the torment of being labeled nerds, a title I embrace only in regards to points, we had to do quarterly projects for old school teachers who didn’t let students get away with anything. How far the education system has fallen.
Anyhow, the project which included presentations had to be fifteen minutes long. If that wasn’t stressful enough on its own, the transcript for the presentation had to be typed out and a fellow classmate would track our progress and make note if we made any mistakes. Now that’s precision.
My first project was on Egypt. I constructed a pyramid and wrapped ‘my little Chuckie’ with toilet paper to represent King Tut. I promise you it was better than I’m describing or at least I thought it was at the time.
Since doing research on King Tut (without the aid of Google) for that project (which I received an A+ on), I’ve always wanted to see King Tut’s mask. Fifteen years + two harrowing trips in Cairo traffic, I made it to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities.
Well, guess what. King Tut’s mask is not on display. It is under restoration. Why? Because some genius broke the beard of the mask last January then as I would do if I were a child tried to glue it back together. Surely an artifact that’s over 3000 years old should be handled and repaired with better care. It’s not like it’s a toilet paper Chuckie doll.
Now I’m on the way back to the airport, disappointed that I didn’t get to see the king and complete the circle. Simultaneously, given the surprises of this trip, I’m hardly surprised.
The only glimpse of King Tut on the entrance ticket. This trip would’ve required as much research as that project to discover all the hidden mishaps.
I know I’m going to open myself to attack on this one and deservedly so but before you unleash your fury please understand I am candidly sharing this experience when I probably should keep it to myself.
As I had written, food poisoning struck leaving me delirious. In fact, on Saturday I forgot my beloved Blackberry at the front desk when I went to ask for medicine. Obviously, I was never in danger of losing my phone since nobody uses a Blackberry besides me.
Ill, I felt a need to strip myself of my possessions including my Garmin golf/run watch. I placed it on the night stand and went to sleep. During the night I recall hearing a noise of something falling and thought nothing of it. Fact: it is always something.
The next morning I packed my things and took the free, that’s right free, shuttle to the airport. Score another transport success for TPOL.
The security at Sharm airport wasn’t any different from a normal airport on a normal day for domestic flights. Flights to the UK required passengers to arrive five hours before departure.
Feeling better, I sat at the gate, happy that my Egypt sprint was coming to an end. This happiness was short-lived as I instantly felt sick when I felt for my watch and only found my masculine wrist.
A pointless check of my bags yielded nothing as I instantly recalled the noise from the night before. Frantic, I rushed to the coffee shop and asked to use the phone to call the hotel. The barista graciously let me borrow his and despite the call dropping multiple times I got a hold of the hotel who advised me to call back in 7 minutes for the results.
7 minutes passed and I tried to call but the phone would not work. Seconds were ticking away and I was doing a terrible job of running the two-minute drill. I asked another kind stranger for his phone and he allowed me to call. (On a side note, I have unlimited intl data on ATNT and I disabled voice for all the drunk dialing/inadvertent calls that run up my bill when I’m abroad. I’ll be changing that back.)
The good news was that the hotel had found my watch, the bad news is that they required 120 EGP or $14 to bring it to me. So much for free ride to the airport.
It’s funny how bargaining is enjoyable until the shit turns real and you actually need something done. They could’ve said double, even triple that amount and I would have agreed, chalking it up as a fine for my stupidity.
The thrill ride continued when I tried to exit the airport and was stopped by a mob of security guards. They yanked my boarding pass and let me leave. From there, I paced back and forth outside the terminal waiting for my savior to arrive. He finally did but it wasn’t in the 12 minutes the hotel had stated. (not sure about the odd times they kept quoting.)
The driver gave me the watch and I offered him the last of my EGP, 105, not the 120 required. I wrongly believed that this was a Hyatt car and they wouldn’t care about $1 difference especially when it is a ‘twelve minute’ drive to the airport.
Nope. Wrong. The driver called to security. The security told him to get over it. He insisted. They pleaded. I grew more nervous. I should’ve been proactive and gone to the ATM in anticipation of this being an issue specifically because I truly would’ve given 3x the money But, at the time, having exact change, was the last thing on my mind. Terrible reasoning I know.
The security escorted me back into the terminal where I withdrew 60 EGP. As bad luck would have it, the money was dispensed as one 50 and one ten. Back out the terminal, with the 24 soundtrack ticking in my head, I presented the 50 and 10 to the driver.
He took out a wad of cash with 100 dollar US notes and a stack of Egyptian pounds. The security snatched the ten out of my hands gave it to the driver who vigorously protested and escorted me back inside.
I made my flight with time to spare and am now reflecting on what transpired. I can’t say I blame the driver for demanding payment in full but maybe a hint of compassion would’ve been appropriate. After all, when I was a cabbie, I often extended a helpful hand without expecting anything in return. On the other hand, in the words of Jay-Z, “You owe me 120 Egyptian pounds, you pay me 120, not 105.” Then again Jigga did borrow the Egyptian tune for his famous Big Pimpin, so there is latitude for generosity.
In conclusion, Sharm el-Sheikh was supposed to be relaxation but that was hardly the case. Next time I come to Egypt I’m staying in Cairo where the chaos makes me comfortable.
Correction (12/1/2015): Above I said “I should’ve gone to the ATM”. It should read, I should’ve gone to a ‘different’ ATM. The only ATM in the terminal didn’t accept my card and that’s why I didn’t have the correct amount.
The chills, the sweats, and the impromptu runs to the toilet is how I spent my Saturday in Sharm. I’m not going to go into detail about that situation. Instead, this is a travel advice post for avoiding food poisoning especially when you’re somewhere that’s supposed to be relaxing.
The rule is simple: make sure your hots are hots and your colds are colds. Beyond that hope that the kitchen is clean, drink bottled water, and avoid ice.
I have plenty of experience with food poisoning and curiosly none of it has come from street food. In Prague, a glass of bad milk had me wrapped around the toilet. In Atlanta, it was sushi baking in the hot sun that impaired my enjoyment of Michigan in the Final Four. In Siem Reap, a bad batch of ice had me in pain for two days. Ironically, before ordering a drink I took a pic of the menu which said ‘We use clean ice.’
When food poisoning strikes it paralyzes the body making you question if recovery is possible. I have mixed feelings about taking pills to combat food poisoning. Taking Cipro in Cambodia only brought me and the toilet closer together. Taking whatever they gave me here did the same. I’m guessing the logic behind these pills is to flush the system of the toxins. But in doing so, it creates the side-effect that it is supposed to prevent.
Food poisoning is no joke which is why you should stay paranoid wherever you eat. Interestingly enough, the suspected culprit of this round of food poisoning came from the best Egyptian restaurant in Sharm.
a-live and almost well, I now continue with my regular blogging.
And now for the dramatic conclusion of my time in Luxor.
Fed up with the swindlers, I passed out early yesterday from exhaustion. All I wanted to do was wake up, get in a taxi, and get to the airport. Instead, I found myself walking the empty streets of Luxor searching for a taxi that wouldn’t rip me off too badly.
Even at 430am, their ability to haggle was as sharp as I ever. I knew that time was against me so I grew slightly worried that I would not find a taxi at this hour and on a Friday, the Muslim day of prayer.
When one taxi driver said, “It is impossible to pay what you have paid from the airport,” I thought I had finally lost it. The driver was making me question my own reality.
After a couple more ridiculous offers, I thought maybe I should just call it a defeat and pay whatever they asked. The alternative was to miss my flight and stay another day in this tourist exploiting paradise.
But lucky for me the taxi driver blinked and accepted my offer. En route the anxiety grew as I swore I heard the driver’s tire pop. Then at the checkpoint the driver said he left his ID papers at home.
Finally at the airport, I’m happy to be getting out of this place. I’m not saying don’t visit Luxor but bring your blood pressure medication if you do.
And so it finally came to be. TPOL had enough of the shenanigans of the Egyptian tour guides and let his voice be heard.
But before I get into that, let’s rewind to how I came to this point. On the way to the hotel my taxi driver abruptly stopped to speak to a dude on a motorbike. Said dude came to the window of the taxi and inquired as to where I was from. I said Iraq by way of America and he replied that he was from Egypt, a common response with everyone I have spoken to here.
Instantly, he broke into his sales pitch of taking me to the Valley of the Kings, the Valley of the Queens, and the West Bank. He said, “You can come as you wish, you can not come, either way you are welcome. We will not kill you.”
Reassured by his awkward kindness, I continued onto the hotel. At a tour of the Luxor Temple I met a woman who said she was a tour guide and could show me the Valley of the Kings for 100 EGP including transport and entry. The next day we went on the tour and her tune quickly changed. The 100 EGP would only be for her travel guide services and I would have to pay an additional 100 EGP ($12) to enter the Valley. While everyone believed that I was Egyptian and could have probably faked my way in for the local price of 10 EGP, Ms TPOL’s ‘European’ features killed that hustle.
Angry that I was paying double for what I bargained for, I voiced my displeasure to her. She tried excuse after excuse to rationalize her robbery to no avail. Sensing my frustration, she stated that in fact I was the problem. She said, “You are a bad tourist.”
Perhaps I should have been insulted but I took it as a compliment. If being a bad tourist means questioning why what we had bargained for was not honored then I accept the title of bad tourist. If being a bad tourist means refusing to pay more simply because Ms TPOL doesn’t like Egyptian but I do, then I’m a bad tourist. If being a bad tourist means not submitting to the injustice of being overcharged regardless if that is one dollar or one hundred, then damn it I’m a bad tourist.
To that end, I advise all TPOL readers to become the worst tourists of all time and not fall victim to price discrimination regardless of the excuse you are given.
Oh and if you do visit the Valley of the Kings don’t bother with a guide as they are prohibited from entering the tombs with you. All they can do is give you a wikipedia presentation and send you on your way. That’s hardly worth $2 let alone $12.
View of the West Bank, a place thought to be bad luck by ancient Egyptians. Now I know why.
