http://www.cs.bilkent.edu.tr/~pf/travel/egypt.trip (PC Press Internet CD, 03/1996)
Egypt - Jordan Trip Report
Copyright Pierre Flener, December 1992
Introduction
This is a report of a trip to Egypt and Jordan, undertaken during
May 1992 by myself (from Luxembourg) and my best friend, Marc
(from Belgium).
I have compiled this from my travel notes, often omitting ir-
relevant stuff such as where we ate or slept, who was sick with
what, how we organized the getting away from each place, and so
on, but adding some afterthoughts and hindsight.
This journey was totally improvised, reservations--except for
flights--being a concept totally alien to us. Of course we did
some homework beforehand, so as to know the must-sees. Valuable
information sources were The Rough Guide on Egypt (UK, sold as
Real Guide in North-America; solid value), the Lonely Planet -
Travel Survival Kit for Jordan and Syria (Australia; a great
classic, although the 1987 edition is aging badly; we met the guy
working on the update, so stay tuned), and Le Guide du Routard -
Egypte, Jordanie, Israel, et Yemen (France; so-so). Descriptions
are kept informative enough so that those who have been there
should recognize the places, while those who'd like to go there
should be able to locate them. This report is not intended to be
a crash course on Ancient Egyptian or Middle Eastern history.
This journey was a shoestring-budget trip, a mattress to crash on
and a shower being all that is needed when constantly on the
move. Round-trip flights, visas, inoculations, medicine, and
souvenirs excluded, we had a daily maintenance ratio of about $12
each, covering accommodation, food, drinks, transportation, and
(student) entrance fees. This has to be relativized though, as
Jordan is significantly more expensive--about 30%--than Egypt.
All views expressed here are mine, and you are the judge whether
they are witty insights, total misunderstandings, or unspeakable
truths. Comments are welcome. Enjoy,
Pierre Flener
47, rue de Roeser
L-5865 Alzingen
Luxembourg
Key to Abbreviations
$ US$
LE Egyptian Pound (in May: worth about $0.3)
JD Jordanian Dinar (in May: worth about $1.5)
Part I: EGYPT
Day 1: Brussels --> Cairo
Marc and I get to Cairo on separate flights, as we ran into trou-
ble with our late attempts at finding cheap tickets: we forgot
that low season implies less flights. Immigration and customs are
pretty straightforward, though slow. The visa only costs $15,
which is a real bargain compared to the $35 the Egyptian Embassy
in Brussels wanted to charge us. Declining all offers for a taxi,
we ride a minibus (#27) to downtown Cairo, getting off at Midan
Tahrir (Liberation Square), the pumping heart of Central Cairo's
traffic. It's 11pm, and many budget hotels are already full. They
are mostly on the upper floors of office buildings, and after a
series of juddering--suicidal?--rides in ancient elevators, we
eventually spot a safe haven for the next nights, somewhere on
Midan Talaat Harb.
Day 2: Cairo - Islamic Cairo, Old Cairo, Coptic Cairo
In the morning, we stroll towards Islamic Cairo, starting our
visit with the Al Azhar Mosque (970), one of the oldest universi-
ties in the world, a stronghold of Sunni orthodoxy, and a hotbed
of Egyptian politics. From its ramshackle roofs, we enjoy a good
view over Cairo. We also assess how much this city suffers from
air pollution: one day in Cairo is said to amount to smoking
thirty-five cigarettes.
On Sharia (Street) el-Muski, past Khan el-Khalili, the over-
touristed souk, and into its surroundings, we enter a totally
different world. This is Marc's first encounter with a medieval,
Islamic city-heart: narrow dirt roads, shoulder to shoulder
crowds, itinerant or squatting street vendors, music blaring from
the tape shops, air filled with incense or spice-scents here,
but stench there, garbage being dropped where it occurs, begging
cripples, deteriorated houses, the odd car insisting on driving
through this labyrinth, men in floating galabias, heavily veiled
women, and so on, mark our every step to the Northern Gates and
back. The people definitely exhibit a lot of humor and ingenuity.
We shortly peek into Khan el-Khalili, facing all the tricks of
the hustling sellers who try to help us get rid of our money:
leather jackets, gold and silver jewelry, perfume essence (that
is often diluted in oil), exotic spices (saffron is incredibly
cheap), handicraft (such as mother-of-pearl inlaid cedar-boxes),
and (ugly) T-shirts are on sale here for package tourists.
For dinner, we try fatir (Egyptian pizza) at Fatatri el-Tahrir,
and like it a lot. At dusk, we walk to the Nile, cross its full
width twice on Tahrir Bridge, and stroll southwards along the
corniche, past Roda Island, through Old Cairo, on our way to Cop-
tic Cairo. The Copts are orthodox Christians, and form a 7%
minority in Egypt. A very congenial atmosphere reigns here, and
we simply enjoy the street-life, rather than focus on the various
churches or convents. A wedding is being celebrated on a side-
road. Weddings are quite a thing in Egypt. The bride and groom,
dowry and gifts are on display, while music, singing, hand-clap-
ping, and the women's ululations provide the auditive background.
Eventually we spot the subway station, and head back to Midan
Tahrir, while a young Copt gives us--in fluent French--an
enthusiastic crash course on his people and religion.
Traffic
There is a maddening traffic around the clock. A total lack of
discipline and global thinking by drivers and pedestrians alike
creates one merry traffic jam after the other, turning the
streets into an open-air hooting cacophony, where light-shows--
oops, traffic lights--are merely decorative. Crossing streets
resembles a kamikaze trip, but foreigners soon get the hang of
elegantly weaving, lane by lane, across streets. It actually
turns out to be quite safe, as drivers are alert, and speeding is
difficult anyhow. Donkey or horse-drawn carts are frequent, as
well as (motor)cyclists. I saw an old man riding his bike one-
handed, while balancing a huge tray of breads on his head, and
negotiating in perfect serenity a difficult crossing.
Riding a bus can be a quite harrowing experience, unless you get
on, and leave, at terminals. First, bus-drivers merely slow down
at stops. And it's amazing to see even elder people jump on or
off. Second, Egyptians have this funny game of trying to board a
bus before passengers can get off. It's not uncommon to do so
across windows, or where windows should be, so legs are often
seen dangling around. Last, these buses must have been operating
since the Middle Ages, and you find yourself praying that you
won't fall through the floor, into the engine or onto the road.
Riding a taxi is the ultimate experience, transforming Disney
World's Space Mountain into a kindergarten attraction. Special
taxis, operating within towns, make you feel as if in the middle
of the 500 Miles of Indianapolis. Service taxis, operating on
fixed routes between agglomerations, tend to speed on the oppos-
ing lane, oblivious of the dangers that blind curves might en-
tail.
Strange, isn't it, that these people are the most relaxed you can
imagine, and yet turn into monsters once behind a steering wheel.
At night, many people drive with parking lights only, but switch
on their high-beams when encountering cars or other obstacles. We
tried to figure out what the rules were for hooting. It's defin-
itely not to say "Asshole!", but rather to say "Watch out, I'm
coming!". Many people outside urban areas are totally untrained
to coping with traffic, and cross without looking. Some drivers
mechanically hoot every n seconds, even in the absence of poten-
tial dangers.
Day 3: Cairo - Old Cairo
We set off where we left yesterday, from Coptic Cairo's subway
station. Past Amr's Mosque (641), we stroll along the Fustat, the
original Islamic Cairo, which today looks as if the Egyptians had
performed some nuclear experiments there, and where the unfor-
tunate sift through Cairo's garbage for edible or recyclable ma-
terial. On to the Southern Cemetery, which is actually inhabited
by hundreds of thousands of poor people. Street-wise kids accom-
pany us, and we teach them English words in exchange for lessons
in Arabic. Some adults think we are being pestered by these kids
and try to chase them away, although we insist that we appreciate
their company. Next, we climb onto the Citadel (1176) with its
imposing Mohammad Ali Mosque (1830), for another smog-laden view
over Cairo. Across Midan Salah al-Din, and between the Sultan
Hassan Mosque (1362) and Rifai Mosque, we head back to our hotel.
Most tourists only come to Cairo because of the museums, the py-
ramids, and at best a few mosques. But there is much more to it:
although sometimes nerve-racking, Cairo is a fascinating oriental
city, with still one foot in the Middle Ages. After a while,
mosques and palaces all look alike anyway, so just walk off the
beaten path and you'll discover a wealth of interesting details.
Watch the people, possibly talk to them. Cairenes are very
friendly, good-natured, despite the often depressing cir-
cumstances. It speaks a lot for them that quarrels actually never
get really started, because passersby or friends are always quick
to temper bad moods.
We spend the evening with Dina, a friend of mine from my stay in
the USA, who has recently moved back to Egypt. She takes us out
to the Al Omdah Restaurant, in Mohandiseen, for a delicious
kushari dinner (rice, macaroni, lentils, and a spicy tomato
sauce) complemented by the usual appetizers (hummus, tahina, and
babaghanoush dips, plus torshi, that is pickled carrots) plus
some great pastry for desert. All together for a ridiculous
price, showing us how badly we have been overcharged so far.
Queuing
British discipline addicts must die of heart-strokes in Egypt. As
said earlier, boarding a bus precedes unboarding, and both re-
quire considerable skill and strength. Even in banks, or at cus-
toms, the unwary are merrily skipped over from all sides, and
most clerks don't give a damn whose turn it actually is. So you
have to be quite aggressive within queues that actually look more
like crowds: the one who shouts loudest will be served next.
Don't even consider leaving a polite gap to ensure the confiden-
tiality of your predecessor's operation. Women have absolute
priority, if not separate queues, although foreign women have to
be assertive to use this privilege.
Day 4: Cairo --> Saqqara --> Giza --> Cairo
"Was it worth the trouble getting to Saqqara?" (it's about 30km
south of Cairo), somebody asked me later. "No", I replied, "but
the trouble getting there was worth it!". Let me explain why. In
order to avoid the scalping taxi-drivers, who might furthermore
rush us through the sites, we decide to use public transportation
to get to Saqqara. Thus a subway ride to Helwan, the southern
terminal, then a minibus to the Nile, a ferry to its west bank
(where the sun sets, thus the right side for a necropolis), a
stroll to el Badrashein, a minibus to Saqqara village, and a
small baksheesh (tip) to the driver to drop us a few km further
on, at the gate to the North Saqqara necropolis. This time-
consuming and awkward approach overshadows a thousand times the
actual site. Indeed, wherever we appear, dozens of kids cloud
around us, and we feel like being the first-ever travelers get-
ting to these places. Many people just want to talk to us, and
our few words of Arabic come in very handy. Near the ferry, some
women come surprisingly close to us, apparently eager for a chat,
but then the menfolk chase them away, probably in a token gesture
to preserve everybody's honor? They express disbelief that we
might be interested in talking to such worthless creatures...
We visit the site only very briefly, as most things are in total
ruins, if not closed. Only the famous 60m high Step Pyramid--
built by Imhotep--on Zoser's Funerary Complex is worth it, plus
the fine views to the pyramids in South Saqqara and Giza. That's
where we head to in a taxi. The road goes through a paradisiacal
countryside, the Nile "oasis".
A host of camel-drivers assault us while we approach the big
three pyramids of Cheops, Chephren, and Mykerinos, but we shake
them off with our indifference to their pleas. The Sphinx--under
repair--is much smaller (20m) than it looks like on most (care-
fully angled) pictures. It's hot today, and the crowds are large,
so we relax in the shade of the Chephren Pyramid (136.5m), the
one with the intact summit, and that actually looks taller than
its neighbor. Marc is eventually conned into a camel-ride around
the pyramids. Why not? After all, sooner or later you've got to
try this anyhow. We have to forget our pledge to climb onto the
Cheops Pyramid (140m), not because it's forbidden (some rules
have been invented so that baksheesh can bend them), but because
it is very steep after all, and we both suffer from vertigo even
after the first few steps. Unfortunately, all pyramids are closed
in addition. In the early evening, we shoot the few classical
pictures. A bus (#901) gets us back to downtown Cairo.
After a Chinese dinner at Fu Ching's, we stroll on Sharia Talaat
Harb, where elegant young Cairenes do endless window shopping at
the fashion shops. Selling shoes must be the most difficult busi-
ness here, as dozens of look-alike shops compete for customers.
Egyptian women
Egyptian women are a difficult issue for a foreigner. At first
sight, if Western society is over-sexed, then Middle Eastern so-
ciety is under-sexed. Especially in rural areas, little girls are
dressed up like beauty queens, in colorful dresses, until puber-
ty. Then, according to religious beliefs and social standing of
their parents, they disappear under the hijab (veil) and heavy
black chadors, or simply cover their hair with head scarves. I
ignore to what extent women have disapproved, and do disapprove,
of this condition. But I have noticed that the more "adventurous"
among them, even some with veils, are quite flirtatious when
travelers turn their heads at them, and they know very well how
to "seduce" a man with a smile, a look, a sexy walk. These things
are inherent to women, and can't be bred away by centuries of
veil-wearing. It even seems that veils are mentioned nowhere in
the Qur'an.
Islamic society is very safe for women, as rape or sexual harass-
ment are little-known crimes. Women have separate quarters in
mosques, subways, and so on, and have priority in queues. They
don't seem used to gallantry, and are embarrassed when you hold
doors open, or sidestep onto the road to let, say, a pregnant
woman pass by.
At least in public, men often treat (their) women with total in-
difference, if not shocking disdain, at least for Western stan-
dards. I guess and hope, though, that in the intimacy of a house-
hold, a man shows more respect to his wife, and treats her as
more than just a baby-breeder and house-maid?
There is little open courtship, and arranged marriages still pre-
vail in rural areas. But love is a recurring theme in music, poe-
try, and movies: there is an abundance of habibi (darling) in
lyrics. Maybe love is just a pre-marital fantasy, but not an in-
gredient of marriage, which is rather seen as a social contract
to get along with each other? I don't know.
Egyptian women are very beautiful, even if you often have to
judge from their eyes only. These eyes...! So one might argue
that's one good reason to veil them, as there will be no tempta-
tion. OK, but what about the women's perspective on this "solu-
tion" to male craving?! And who invented belly-dancing, this
highly erotic entertainment? Although it seems that this is rath-
er inauthentic, as developed entirely for satisfying Western fan-
tasies about the Orient. Contradictions?
Muslim women are expected to be virgins at their wedding, but men
are not. So guess who's paying the price for all this suppressed
sexuality of young (male) Muslims? Female tourists, of course,
who have to cope with blunt invitations, fondling, and grabbing
(see below). Next, (purely sexual) male homosexuality seems ram-
pant as well, judging from proposals we had to reject. Somebody
confided to me that some young divorcees and widows are "avail-
able" for quickies. And adultery is not as unusual as one might
believe, according to other sources. Lastly, prostitution is very
much alive, though usually not on the tourist circuit. After all,
a pretty "normal" society, eh?
Day 5: Cairo - Egyptian Antiquities Museum; Cairo --> ...
We spend the whole morning exploring every single room of the
Egyptian Antiquities Museum. It's fabulous, though exhausting, as
every object comes in at least twenty different versions. And the
crowds are obnoxious too, though some groups are guided by gor-
geous young Egyptian women, whose explanations we listen to while
admiring them, rather than the objects. Other highlights are the
Tut-Ankh-Amon collection, the mummy room, pyramidions, sarco-
phagi, chariots, and various exquisite statues.
The afternoon is spent on some souvenir hunting, plus grocery
shopping for the forthcoming train ride. After checking out of
our hotel, we head for the Ramses Railway Station. What looks
like a relic from Death on the Nile times on track #11 actually
turns out to be our train to Aswan. Trains are dirt-cheap in
Egypt, so we afford a 1st class ticket (LE26, including a 35%
student reduction) for the 900km haul to Aswan. The carriage has
A/C, and only 1+2 armchairs in each row, but it is very dusty. No
overbooking, and we actually leave on time. It's late, and we try
to make ourselves comfortable for the night. I manage to sleep on
the ground, under the sofas, so as to stretch out fully, while
Marc stretches out across our facing sofas. The ride is juddering
and noisy, and the mere fact that the seats are not bolted to the
floor gives me the creeps when considering the consequences of
sharp braking, or, even worse, of a crash...
The pros and cons of being from a small country
As a native of Luxembourg, you'd consider that you can happily
announce where you're from, because absolutely nobody can pretend
disliking the foreign policy of your country. Right so. But, on
the other hand, it's amazing how many doors you close by being
honest about such origins: most people won't know what or where
your country is, and thus don't know where to start the conversa-
tion. "Feyn?" (Where?) "Ana min Luxemburg." (I'm from Luxem-
bourg.) "?", and they drop you like a hot potato, turning to the
more "interesting" guests from imperialistic powers like the USA,
England, France, or Germany. Marc has less problems with Belgium,
mainly because of some Belgian soccer stars, so whenever I feel
like it will help, I overcome my national pride, and also pretend
to be a Belgian. At other times though, you're quite happy to
state that you're from Luxembourg, namely when you're stuck in
one of these business-oriented discussions, starting with a ques-
tion about your origins. If the answer is that people from there
are good, even when you pretend being from Disneyland, Lichten-
burg, or Finmark, and that they have a brother there, then say
good-bye.
Day 6: ... --> Aswan
We breakfast on our delicious pastry, plus peanuts, and order tea
from the steward. The country-side is very interesting to watch
from the train, as we go through the fellaheen (farmer) villages,
pastures, and fields of the Nile valley. Everything is ingenious-
ly irrigated, and a lush green color dominates the scenery. Many
houses proudly feature hadj (pilgrimage to Mekka) paintings, dep-
icting the journey, the seven circuits around the Kaaba, the
kissing of the Holy Stone, the praying near the Mount of Mercy,
the drinking of water from the wells of Zamzam, the sacrificial
killing of a sheep, and other rites.
We make friends with the US couple from across the corridor, Su-
san and Steve. They've been on the move, all across Asia, for a
full year now, escaping the recession, and are fun to talk to.
There also is an Egyptian engineer, who is very nice to us, but
shy to use his few words of English.
Of course, the train is late, only 3 hours though, but we eventu-
ally get to Aswan in the late afternoon. It's still very hot, and
the various travelers have no trouble locating hotel rooms in
this low season, where heavy discounts are available. After a
well-deserved shower to wipe off the dust, we stroll to the Nile
corniche, arguably the best in Egypt: Elephantine Island,
Kitchener Island, and the various funerary monuments on the west
bank offer a great panorama, not to speak about the elegant
feluccas (sailing boats) gliding noiselessly over the Nile.
Caleche and taxi drivers, felucca captains, and various other
con-men are very anxious, if not aggressive, for business. But
we soon figure out the correct prices, and sign up at Hotel
Marwa's trips for the next few days.
Spelling
When crafting signs or pamphlets for tourists, in both an alpha-
bet and a language alien to them, Egyptians often don't bother to
ask native English speakers about correct spelling. The results
are sometimes very funny phonetic approximations of their inten-
tions. Here's a sample assortment: "buisenes" for "business",
"hotle" for "hotel", "pitsa" for "pizza", and so on. Most words
seem to be Arabic-to-Latin alphabet transcriptions of what the
Arabic spelling would be. But this can't work since some sounds
are missing. For instance, the "p" is absent, and often turns
into a "b". Especially my first name, Pierre, seems unpronounce-
able to most. Too bad I didn't know that Boutros (like the Coptic
UN Secretary-General) does the job perfectly well.
Day 7: Aswan - Kitchener Island, Elephantine Island
Captain Hassan and his aide take us (for LE10 each) on a half-day
cruise to Aswan's landmarks on his felucca called Pyramid.
Kitchener Island--"given" to the same-named British Consul-
General in reward for his exploits in the Sudan War--features a
beautiful Botanical Garden with trees and flowers from all over
the world, plus a colorful bird life.
On the west bank, we visit the Agha Khan Mausoleum, where the
48th Imam of the Isma'ili Shi'ites is buried, while his caring
widow, the Begum, makes sure that a fresh rose is deposited on
his tomb every day. Due to the heat, and the wealth of things to
see in coming days, we decide not to hike over to the St. Simeon
Monastery, nor the tombs even further beyond, and we get back to
our felucca.
On Elephantine Island--so called because of the smooth, round,
dark rocks lying around, looking like bathing elephants--we have
a look at the Nubian Museum (which features a skull featuring
proven traces of live surgery, or trepanation), the Nilometer,
and the ruins of the fabled Yebu town. Whoever delivered the
building permit for the Oberoi Hotel, and whoever designed this
airport-tower-like horror marring the spectacular beauty of the
north end of this island, should be posthumously issued a fatwa
(sentence of death).
The rest of the day is spent in laziness, and at dinner we meet
our two US-ians again. They too are eager for a longer felucca
cruise, and we give them the coordinates of Hotel Marwa so that
they sign up for the same trip as ours. Just four more people
like these two, and we should have a perfectly blended team.
Insh'Allah (if God wants).
Time
Most Egyptians are without notion of time. No wonder, as little
has changed over the millennia, and all that mattered was the
Nile's behavior. So it comes as little surprise that foreigners
clash with locals over temporal issues. For instance, at the
telephone office, when you want to place a domestic long-distance
call, the clerk lets you wait for 1.5 hours, and yet tells you
happily that he tried once when you enquire about why you don't
get the call. Or on a ferry whose departure is being delayed by 6
hours, although it is already boarded, and people have to sit it
out in the blazing sunlight, nobody complains. Malesh (never
mind). Fatalism is king. Bukra (tomorrow) is another favorite
when things don't realize as expected. So don't even ask about
times, as Egyptian minutes are very flexible: if they say a walk
takes 5 minutes, be prepared for a 30 Western minutes hike; if a
physician tells you on the phone he will be right there in a few
minutes, you'd better not be in a serious condition. The same
holds by the way for Egyptian kilometers: they range anything in
between 0.2 and 5 Western kilometers.
Day 8: Aswan --> Abu Simbel --> High Dam --> Philae --> Aswan
A short night, as we have to get up at 3:30am. Cramped into a
minibus with eight other travelers, we have a boring 3.5hr ride
south, across the desert, to Abu Simbel. At the edge of Lake
Nasser (created by the High Dam, see below), two rock-hewn tem-
ples were here salvaged by the UNESCO in 1968, when the rising
waters threatened to drown this monumental site. Ramses II
(1304-1237 BC) had these majestic temples erected at the south
entrance to Egypt, so as to show the might of the Egyptian nation
to anybody (Nubians,...) coming in from there. So the temple com-
plex was cut into pieces, and reassembled some 61m higher. The
great Sun Temple, depicted on the LE1 bank-note, has a facade
dominated by four 20m high enthroned colossi of Ramses II. The
Hypostele Hall and Sanctuary within the mountain are pretty im-
pressive, too. The smaller Hathor Temple of Queen Nefertari, his
favorite wife, features two statues of Nefertari, each between
two statues of Ramses II himself. We also peek behind the setup,
namely the False Mountain. Across Lake Nasser, we can see the Su-
dan.
Another long bus-ride back, but in the scorching sun now. We stop
for tea somewhere in the desert where the Tropic of Cancer is
supposed to pass. Visiting the High Dam turns out to be a rip-off
as we actually have to pay, and as it is not interesting at all,
except maybe for the Soviet-built heroic-socialist-realist monu-
ments of fraternity. It is heavily guarded by military commandos
and anti-aircraft missiles: a dam burst would wash 45 million
people into the Mediterranean Sea. Completed in 1971, this dam
created the 6,000 sqkm Lake Nasser, stretching well into the Su-
dan. Its benefits--regulation of the Nile, electricity, more cul-
tivated land, more harvests, more rain--are said to outweigh its
drawbacks--need for fertilizers, appearance of bilharzia. The
great losers were the 120,000 Nubians, whose entire land has been
submerged by Lake Nasser, and who subsequently had to be relocat-
ed, within Egypt as well as to the Sudan (which is bad luck, be-
cause of the drought and civil war).
Marc and I get off the minibus at the east end of the Old Dam
(1902), and head to the motorboat dock. We split a ride with an
elder Dutch pair to get to Philae Island, where the rescued Tem-
ple of Isis is awaiting us. This one is especially bewitching.
It's very hot (40+C) by now. What kind of heroes come to these
places in July or August, considering that the difference between
40C and 50C is exponentially worse than the one between 30C and
40C?
Eventually, we head back to Aswan, storming the Aswan Moon's bar
for a cold Stella beer. We're down to two meals per day, break-
fast and dinner, because organizing lunch is tricky with all
those visits. But our bodies easily accommodate to this diet, as
it would be difficult anyhow to eat much when the weather is so
hot.
In the early evening, we again meet Susan and Steve, on their way
to Hotel Marwa for the final agreements on the felucca cruise. We
meet Roseanne (Canada) and her boyfriend Alan (Australia), who
also sign up for the trip, and who blend in perfectly. Two Ger-
mans are announced to complete the team.
After dinner, we meet the Egyptian engineer who was on the train
with us: he invites us for some hot kerkadeh drinks (Hibiscus in-
fusion) with friends of his, and helps us on souvenir shopping in
the souks. What a nice chap. He is so eager to assist us that he
gives us all his addresses and phone-numbers in Egypt, so that we
contact him in case of trouble, and he would join us if need be.
Children
Egyptians love (their) children, and they treasure family life in
a way long-forgotten in the Western world. In the evenings, you
see fathers loading up to five small kids onto their motor-bikes
for a ride around town. Children are all over, helping their
parents, raising the younger kids, doing odd jobs in the streets,
crowding around travelers. Some want baksheesh, pens, or candy,
while others try to sell you handicraft they designed themselves,
such as dolls made from rags, cobras made from grass, and so on.
Those in touch with tourists often have a useful babbling of En-
glish, and it can be quite fun to spend some time with them.
Indeed, after some smiles and greetings in Arabic, most forget
what they initially wanted from you. Some critics say that birth
control is a must for Egypt, as its population gains one million
every nine months.
Day 9: Aswan --> ...
Dagmar and Thomas, the two Germans, indeed complement our homo-
genous group very well. Just before setting off, we have the cra-
zy idea of taking Stella beer along. This amounts to a major in-
telligence act in a Muslim country, where beer is mostly avail-
able from bars only, which of course sell only at exorbitant
prices. But after a long chain of friends' friends, a taxi-driver
organizes a crate of twenty 1l bottles, at the reasonable cost of
LE5 each, including the various bribes.
The Sea Serpent is a beautifully arranged felucca, complete with
sunroof, and mattresses across the planks, under which we stow
our backpacks. Captain Hegazi and his aide Mohammad are great
chaps, too, speaking English reasonably well. Both are Nubians,
well-used to Western ways, and self-effacing, doing their jobs
quietly, expertly, and efficiently. Last but not least, they have
a tape-deck. The 3-day-cruise costs only LE35 each, plus LE20
each for food and mineral water.
Tacking along, we sail downstream (north), against the wind,
which always blows south: this involves a zigzag course, where
every zig is a slow crossing of the Nile perpendicular to a bank,
and every zag is a swift, long diagonal ride to the other bank.
This is of course the ultimate lazy experience. We get to know
each other. We read and exchange our books and magazines. We play
cards. We doze on the mattresses. We take sun-baths. We listen to
our tapes (Nubian, al Jeel, Rai, Western). We picnic on bananas
and on sandwiches with falafel, eggs, tuna, feta cheese, and
tomatoes. We drink an occasional cool Stella that we retrieve
from the Nile-borne basket. Steve ties himself to the boat and
body-surfs behind it at full speed during a zag. Everything is
completely quiet, except for the Diesel pumps that replace age-
old irrigation wheels, and the occasional cruise-boat.
At dusk, we tie up the boat for the night. A great kushari dinner
is prepared. It's still extremely hot, and mosquitoes are swarm-
ing all over the place. Why didn't I buy a net? The night prom-
ises to be a sweatbox experience worsened by those little beasts.
Drinks
Shaey (tea), kerkadeh (Hibiscus infusion), and ahwa (Turkish cof-
fee) are the main drinks. There also is a great variety of fruit
juices (lemon, orange, mango, and so on), often served ice-cold.
These drinks are very healthy, especially good for your stomach,
because best-adapted to local conditions of temperature and hy-
giene. Tea houses are great hangouts if you want to watch the lo-
cal menfolk: they gather here for the occasional drink, read the
newspaper, exchange gossip, and discuss politics, play tawla
(backgammon) or cards, smoke the charcoal-fired sheesha (water-
pipe). Egyptians drink tap water, or sometimes straight off the
Nile, but foreigners had better stick to bottled mineral water
(such as Baraka). Western soft-drinks are very popular, too: Pep-
si, Fanta, Sport Cola,..., and some local imitations (Teem, Mi-
rinda,...) dominate the market. Surprisingly Coca Cola is not
very present, and the legend goes that they lost their market-
share because of a rumor accusing their drink of containing por-
cine substances. Alcohol is forbidden by Islam, though readily
available: most countries brew their own beer (since Pharaonic
and Assyrian times), and produce their own wines, in addition to
all Western imports. Heavy-duty liquors are available duty-free
to foreign guests during one month, so Egyptians eager to spice
up their parties ask you to help them out.
Day 10: ... --> Kom Ombo --> ...
At 6am, Captain Hegazi unties the boat, and lets it drift with
the current. I wake up while he prepares breakfast, and silently
slip to the front deck, where Thomas soon joins me, and we enjoy
a first cup of tea with Hegazi. We soon understand why he didn't
set sail: there is no wind. So we advance extremely slowly today.
Mid-morning, we dock near the temple complex of Kom Ombo, right
on the Nile: what a gorgeous approach. The Temple of Haroeris and
Sobek is interesting, especially since leftovers of original
paint can be found all over.
The remainder of the day goes by in slow-motion, some telegraph
pole being visible all the time. The heat grows oppressive, and
the flies are very obnoxious. At dusk, Captain Hegazi estimates
that we covered an impressive 20km today, as opposed to the 40km
yesterday in 5 hours less time.
Garbage and recycling
Garbage is being dropped where it occurs. Trash cans are rarely
found, except maybe on temple sites. Whole armies of blue-coated
men are constantly sweeping the roads, removing the accumulating
trash, as well as fighting a Sisyphus battle against the sand.
Most travelers are extremely conscious about not spoiling the
landscape with their trash, for instance by asking their felucca
captains not to dump everything in the Nile. But what guarantee
do we have that they don't do so after we've turned our backs?
You can see many people sifting through the garbage, looking for
food leftovers and recyclable material. Yes, Egypt must be a
top-ranked recycling nation in the world, as literally everything
is re-used or recycled. Dagmar showed us a nice flower made of...
chocolate wrappings.
Day 11: ... --> ...
Although mosquito-ridden, the night is pleasantly cool, and we
all sleep well. Thomas again joins me on the deck, while the boat
already drifts downstream. After breakfast, the wind picks up,
and we efficiently tack north at full speed, past Silsilah, the
ancient quarries for the necropoles.
When we dock in Edfu at 5pm, we actually almost match our initial
schedule, though the local temple complex is closed by now. So
only Dagmar gets off, since she has to be in Cairo tomorrow even-
ing to meet her sister. As Edfu itself looks pretty uninviting,
Captain Hegazi offers us to sail downstream with him and Moham-
mad, to some island on the river, and spend the night there in-
stead. Agreed.
Western women
Many Egyptian men seem to have strange ideas about Western women.
Of course, from their point of view, a woman traveling alone, or
in a (mixed or not) group, can only be lose, and thus easy prey.
Garb is actually irrelevant, most female travelers conclude:
whether modestly clothed from neck to ankles, or in T-shirt plus
shorts, they collect the same blunt declarations like "I want to
f*ck you". Only boyfriends acting as husbands, or (fake) wedding
rings in the absence of a (would-be) husband, can make them look
respectable, if at all. They complain about grabbing and fondling
in crowded areas. Though it must be said that a sharp reaction
usually attracts the sympathy of passersby who scorn the of-
fender. Some young Egyptians got it all wrong by thinking that
Western women are at any male's every whim: they asked us how to
proceed, and how much money was currently needed to pay a random
girl for a quickie. That only prostitutes do it for money, and
that sluts are rather the exception, and that it's often love
that links sex partners, were totally strange ideas to them.
So imagine these three women and five men on that felucca: what
wild orgies they must be having every night. So, not unsurpris-
ingly, whenever we dock for spending the night, the whole menfolk
of the nearest village crowds the banks, sitting on their heels,
and staring at us for hours. The girls have difficulties changing
their clothes when the nights become cooler, and you can literal-
ly hear the eyes pop out of some heads. Same with nature's calls.
Jane, a Kiwi, later told me that a fellah once showed her a 1.5m
high mud-brick circle where she could relieve herself. Gratefully
she stepped in, and in the midst of "delivering" a diarrhea, saw
a dozen adult men staring at her. She forgot to ask for baksheesh
for this peepshow... Hallas, imshee (stop it, go away)! These
things are unthinkable with the local women.
Day 12: ... --> Edfu --> Luxor
Back to Edfu at 8am, we disembark, but not after a hearty
farewell to Mohammad and Hegazi, for whom we write an enthusias-
tic letter of recommendation. The Horus Temple complex is super-
bly preserved, and overshadows everything seen so far, except Abu
Simbel. We split a service taxi to Luxor, and all check in at the
Grand Hotel, a famous travelers' haunt, recommended to us by the
Hotel Marwa staff.
The rest of the day is spent on strolling around Luxor: the tem-
ple downtown, though impressive, can almost entirely be eye-
visited from the outside. One of its twin obelisks is today
adorning the Place de la Concorde in Paris. The souks are quite
lively and colorful, so that's where we hang around most of the
time. Suddenly, in a totally untouristed area, a man invites us
for tea. Juma, a Nubian, is a tailor, and insists that he is not
interested in money, which is usually a bad sign. He sounds
honest, though, and lectures us on his philosophy of life. We ac-
cept an invitation for tomorrow's dinner with his family. But at
times, he is very weird.
Music
Egyptians are crazy about music. Tape stalls, often selling
pirate copies, are all over, and you hear--endure?--the current
smash hits many times every day. On our trip, it is Hakim--a pro-
ponent of al Jeel, a modern urban music including elements of
disco and rap, like Algerian Rai--whose album is best-selling,
even among tourists. Lu-lulu-lu-lulu and Lucky-Lucky-Luck
(phonetic approximations) are omnipresent in our minds. Few peo-
ple seem to listen to more classical Arab music, but they abso-
lutely love you for identifying Umm Kulthum, Mohammad Abdel
Wahab, Farid el-Atrache, or Fairuz on the radio.
Day 13: Luxor --> Theban Necropolis --> Karnak --> Luxor
In order to beat the crowds and the heat, we ride our rented
bikes to the Nile in order to catch the first locals' ferry at
6am. Once on the west bank, we cycle across interesting fellaheen
street-life to the student ticket office, just across the Colossi
of Memnon. These are 20m high, heavily withered twin statues sit-
ting amidst corn fields. We purchase tickets for the Tombs of the
Nobles only, but first cycle out to Deir el-Bahri where we view
the famous Hatshepsut Temple from a distance, because it's under
heavy restoration, and the two upper levels are closed.
On to the Tombs of the Nobles, set in limestone hills amidst a
village. Young girls insist on selling us their dolls made from
rags, then on giving them to us a gifts, because they "like" us.
The tombs themselves are a heavily underrated destination, and we
examine the following with great care: Nakht (#52), Ramose (#55),
Userhat (#56), Khaemhat (#57), Menna (#69), Sennofer (#96), and
Rekhmire (#100). The artwork includes paintings on stucco featur-
ing earthly life and its continuation in the hereafter. The paint
looks so incredibly well-preserved that we almost ask the guardi-
ans, who reflect the sunlight into the tombs with mirrors, when
the paint last got refreshed.
It's not too hot yet, so we scoot around the Ramesseum (mortuary
temple of Ramses II) and Medinet Habu (mortuary temple of Ramses
III). Both are heavily deteriorated, so we only view them from
the outside, as more spectacular temples are on our program:
we've become quite greedy after Edfu. Near a well, we spot some
women desperately trying to help their donkeys pull the carts
with water-barrels onto the road, but to no avail as the slope is
too steep. So we dismount our bikes, and help them. They are very
grateful: shokran (thanks), and we move on saying afwan (our
pleasure).
Back to Luxor at 11am, we have an early lunch at the excellent
New Karnak Restaurant. Then luck is on our side when it turns out
that the Luxor Museum is open in the evenings only. Indeed we de-
cide to cycle on to Karnak then, and despite the by now oppres-
sive heat, we're bound to have the time of our live there. There
is almost nobody else on the site: it's lunchtime for package
tours. For almost 3 hours, we walk in total awe around the magni-
ficence and leviathan grandeur of the Precinct of Amun. The Great
Hypostele Hall with its dense forest of over a hundred 23m high,
15m round columns is so overwhelming that we have to sit down to
take it all in. This is where James Bond (Roger Moore) and Anya
Amasova (Barbara Bach) have their titanic fight with the steel-
toothed killer in The Spy Who Loved Me. Temples, pylons, obelisks
(one in Rome now), courtyards, and hieroglyphics galore. But
eventually, many package tours start flocking in, destroying the
spirit of the place, and we cycle home via the Avenue of
Sphinxes.
In the evening, we pick up Juma at his store, and head to his
home for the promised dinner. It's a cozy, clean place, and his
4-year-old son Mohammad is a quite happy and lively lad. We're
only shortly allowed to greet his wife, who is self-effacingly
preparing the food in the kitchen, while breast-feeding the baby.
After the great kushari dinner, Juma proudly shows us his many
family pictures, plus photos taken by other travelers he has
treated to dinner. But then the discussion again turns sour,
around medicine stones, an expensive pomade for Thomas' knee,
buying whiskey, and so on. We gracefully withdraw, after compli-
menting the wife on her great cuisine.
Package tourists
Package tourists were our big plight. I know many people whom I
can't imagine going to a place like Egypt without a fully-
organized tour. So such tours apparently serve their purpose, be-
cause Egypt is rightfully a top tourist destination in the world.
But it remains a mystery to me how these people can go home
afterwards, and pretend having seen Egypt. Shipped around in A/C
buses, trains, and boats, bedded in 3+* hotels, driven like
flocks of sheep across museums and sites, with no time to linger
over details and no option to decide on their own priorities,
dropped into the most throat-cutting souks, dined on inappropri-
ate Western cuisine, how can they pretend enjoying it, or even
knowing anything about contemporary Egypt? Indeed, most look in-
credibly bored, and don't even listen to their guides: I
overheard a guide differentiating two deities in some tomb, and
testing her group in the next tomb, but nobody could distinguish
both gods anymore. Some seem more interested in the lonely widow,
who in turn has a crush on the guide, who actually has an eye on
somebody's beautiful 17-year-old daughter running around in pro-
vocative mini-skirts and tight T-shirts. Package tourists should
be given more freedom, and somebody should hand them a pamphlet
on money-spending (see below), modest dressing, and so on, which
they have to pass a test on in order to be admitted on the tour.
Day 14: Luxor --> Theban Necropolis --> Luxor
Up early again, we walk this time to the Nile ferry. On the other
side, we hail a taxi to the Valley of the Kings. The three most
famous tombs (Ramses VI, Seti I, Tut-Ankh-Amun) are closed:
malesh. So we decide on Ramses III (#11), which is said to be a
fair consolation price when Seti I is closed. Almost 30m long,
this over 3,000-year-old tomb features the classical excerpts
from the Books of the Dead. Our next choice is Amenophis II
(#35), one of the deepest tombs, and hence with suffocating air.
This 3,500-year-old tomb has a right-angled layout, and even
features defences against grave-robbers, such as a pit and a
false burial chamber. The quartzite sarcophagus is still there,
and other than the original mummy, nine others were found here:
they got stashed here as their original tombs turned out unsafe.
The last pick--we bought three wildcards--is Horemheb (#57),
which is quite interesting due to its unfinished state: indeed,
the deeper you proceed, the more the paintings actually turn into
stick-figure drawings, showing how the artists proceeded in their
decoration work.
The afternoon is spent in laziness. We then have a look at the
interesting displays of the Luxor Museum. After dinner, over a
good beer, we bid good-bye to Thomas, who will be leaving early
tomorrow morning for the Siwa Oasis.
Walking
There must be a law stating that tourists are not allowed to
walk. Indeed, it gets very annoying if you have to explain a zil-
lion times a day that you don't need a taxi, caleche, or felucca
ride: la, shokran (no, thank you). Also, many locals can't under-
stand why a traveler would just like to wander around in untour-
isted areas--namely to precisely get in touch with those who are
not spoiled by mass-tourism--and they very eagerly explain to you
that you are way off the path to temple so-and-so.
Day 15: Luxor --> Qena --> Port Safaga --> Hurghada
Today is souvenir shopping day, because it's our last opportunity
for quality stuff at reasonable prices, and from a decent selec-
tion. It's quite easy to haggle some dealers down by 75%, showing
how stupid some tourists must be to ever let them try such exor-
bitant first bids. At the same time, Marc shoots a lot of close-
up pictures of the street-life in the souks, asking for permis-
sions of course.
Templed out, we turn our backs to the Nile Valley, and board a
bus at 4pm bound for Hurghada, a beach resort on the Red Sea
coast, and our stepping stone to the Sinai peninsula, and new ad-
ventures. But we first say good-bye to Roseanne and Alan, who
will stay in Luxor for a few more days, and who have been on
Sinai before anyway. So our clan of eight is reduced to the ori-
ginal four again: Susan, Steve, Marc, and I. Yalla (let's go)!
The ride across the Red Sea Mountains is very boring, and only
short stops in Qena and Port Safaga allow some leg-stretching.
Once in Hurghada, things become very hectic; actually already on
the bus, where hotel touts are desperate for business, and prom-
ise incredible luxury for next-to-zero prices. But we stay unir-
ritated, and Steve soon whisks us into a taxi bound for My Place,
for which we carry a referral from the Grand Hotel. This place is
managed by... a young Japanese, and is incredibly clean for low-
budget standards. However, Yoki is unable to squeeze out four
more tickets for tomorrow morning's ferry to Sharm el-Sheikh
(Sinai), because it is already sold-out. And the day after is a
Friday (the Muslim rest day), so no ferry either. Oh well, so we
have the alternative of sticking it out in Hurghada, which
doesn't come with great credentials, for two days, or embarking
on an 18hr service taxi relay all around the coasts of the Gulf
of Suez. Too tired for such decisions, we delay this to tomorrow,
and go for a good dinner at Aladin's Lamp.
Movies
Egyptians are crazy about movies, too. And they produce their own
films, which they export to all of the Arabic-speaking world,
just like their music, thus making the Egyptian dialect under-
stood everywhere. Precious few movies ever make it to the West,
mainly because of the mediocre quality of these assembly-line
mass-productions. We've watched a few in hotel lounges, but I re-
gret not having actually gone to a movie theatre in order to ob-
serve the crowds. Advertised with aggressively painted huge post-
ers, these movies are kitschy soap-operas, with displays of in-
credible luxury and with worn-out classical plots. They are some-
times musicals, with some famous singer playing the main part.
It's not uncommon that some actors are involved in the making of
several movies at the same time, thus hopping from set to set.
Action movies are quite popular, too (such as imitations of Ram-
bo), though some stuff is actually imported from India. Amateur-
ish play and low-budget special effects make the non-
understanding Westerner smile at these movies. Western movies
make it to Cairo, though heavily censored.
Day 16: Hurghada
Over breakfast, we decide to stick it out here in Hurghada, and
to try everything the town has to offer. So this first day is for
beach-bums. The public beaches are pretty uninviting, so we drive
out by minibus to the private beaches around the Sheraton Hotel.
Of course, we first try to sneak into the superior beach of the
latter: twenty minutes later, we're kicked out from the north end
of their beach, and another half an hour later, somebody else
kicks us out from its south end. So we pay the cover charge for
the Shellghada Beach, which gives us an equal amount of credit
towards drinks and pizzas. The whole day goes by in total inac-
tivity.
Islam
Most Egyptians are Muslims, and often proud to be so. Egypt is a
secular state though, and the Sharia (Qur'anic Law) is not
directly applied. You actually see precious few devotees kneeling
down for prayers in the streets, at the five daily prayer-times
announced by the muezzin. This Allahu Akbar (God is Great) chant
can be very overpowering, depending on the voice and your immedi-
ate surroundings. It contains all the mystique of the Orient. Too
bad it's recorded on tapes today: I've spent nearly 4 months to-
tal in Muslim countries, and have never seen a muezzin calling
from a minaret. Attendance in masdjids (mosques) also is much
lower than I expected, as street-life goes on in total indiffer-
ence. Except on Fridays (the Muslim rest day) and Ramadan (the
fasting month), where most businesses close down, and where green
carpets are rolled out in many public places (such as the Ramses
Railway Station in Cairo), transforming them into temporary
mosques.
Day 17: Hurghada --> Giftun Island --> Hurghada
More action today. At 8am, we're picked up and crammed with other
travelers into a minibus heading for the port. We embark on a
large motor-boat and set out for Giftun Island. We throw anchor
off its beach, near some island corals. Susan explains to Marc
and me how to use our snorkeling gear, and soon we jump into the
water. For us beginners, it turns out to be surprisingly diffi-
cult to learn breathing through the snorkel, plus keeping the
mask watertight. So this first experience kind of turns into a
flop, especially because of the high waves, which mess up even
more expert swimmers' outings. Nevertheless, we get a good first
glimpse of the amazing submarine life with fish and flowers of
all imaginable colors and sizes.
After a rice and fish lunch on the boat, a siesta on Giftun Is-
land is planned. But Marc and I don't feel like sun-tanning, and
we soon remount our snorkeling gear for perfecting our technique
in the shallow coastal waters.
Then we head back to Hurghada, but throwing in another snorkeling
outing at another island coral. This time, everything is just
about perfect. Afterwards we happily trade our stories, bent over
the Red Sea marine life charts of Shaky (New Zealand).
Back at the hotel, we wash off the salt, and head out for dinner.
Since it is my birthday, I offer a round of Stella beer, and I
have to blow out a candle to complete the "party".
Food
Egyptian cuisine is excellent in terms of appetizers (already
mentioned) and deserts (especially the gorgeous pastry), but I
don't like the main dishes too much, except kushari. Indeed,
you've got to like chicken, kufta (grilled ground meat), and
kebab (grilled meat) a lot, because there isn't much other
choice, and they are often very greasy. Staple food like bread
(the Egyptian-Arabic word, eysh, also means "life", and that says
it all), fuul (beans) in all variations, falafel (patties of fuul
beans mixed with spices), or shawarma (the same thing as Turkish
doner kebab or Greek gyros), makes for great snacks. Restaurants
come in many variations, though most are very basic places, if
not mere cookers mounted on bicycles. Many hotels think they do
you a favor by including a dull continental breakfast in the
price. Most Egyptians are vegetarians, though not by choice. It
is a pity that a lot of good land is wasted on growing food for
cattle, so that the rich can eat meat, while this same land could
feed so many more (poor) people. Indeed, Egypt has to import food
to cope with its galloping population increase.
Day 18: Hurghada --> Sharm el Sheikh --> Dahab
The ferry (LE60) is quite small, but not too crowded. Departure
is being delayed by only one hour, and we meet Ed, a sensational
Californian retiree who loves to travel solo around the Middle
East. Once past Shedwan Island, the Red Sea becomes pretty rough,
and our little boat sways precariously. Faces turn green, discus-
sions stop, people disappear downstairs, others crowd around the
toilets, as the ship slowly prowls forwards. Very few people are
unaffected, but we eventually cruise into Sharm el-Sheikh's har-
bor. Again, this is not a place to stay (too expensive this
time), so all travelers split service taxis in groups of seven,
heading for Dahab.
The scenery is absolutely spellbinding: rocks are glowing red in
the sunset, distant mountain ranges fade into various levels of
grey and blue, occasional Bedouin tents with camel or goat herds
are scattered across the plains. We talk our driver into a
photo-stop. I'm quite happy here, since I prefer these mountains
many times over the boring plains of the Nile valley.
Finally we arrive in Dahab, or actually the Bedouin village near
Dahab. This is a leftover from old Hippie times, but people here
pretend nothing has ever changed. The magnificent golden (dahab)
sand beach forms a 1.5km long half-circle, along which camp-
grounds, bars, restaurants, grocery stores, and souvenir shops
cater to the exclusively young guests. The architecture is pretty
much as if the Swiss Family Robinson had been living here, and
palm trees actually grow through many huts. There is music and
food for all tastes. Drugs were freely available until a recent
crackdown, but even today keeping your ears open suffices to spot
the dealers. Dahab's reefs are well-known for their amazing
snorkeling opportunities, while beach-bums, wannabe-hippies, and
Nubian rastas hang around all day doing nothing. The local
Bedouin are used now to these crazy Westerners, and they offer
jeep and camel rides into the desert. Egyptian playboys show up
here for the obvious reasons. The legend holds that some trav-
elers have never left this place, and indeed quite a few
Westerners are running their own businesses here.
We check into one of these look-alike campgrounds--they are actu-
ally composed of mud-brick huts, with two bunk-beds each--and en-
joy a good pizza at the... Hard Rock Cafe (where else?).
Day 19: Dahab --> St. Catherine --> Mt. Sinai
In the early morning, Marc and I split a taxi to Dahab town, with
Ed. We catch the bus to the St. Catherine village, in the middle
of Sinai, while Ed heads north to Nuweiba, on his way to Jordan.
Our ride is spectacular again, as we slowly gain elevation. Long
sandy plains stretch out between the mountain chains. At 11am,
way too early for our plans, we are at our destination. Only a
handful of travelers get off, all sharing the same ideas. So we
settle on the terrace of a cafeteria, and slowly get ready for
the ascension. Two guys just come down from the mountain, and
volunteer us all the relevant information. A late and filling
lunch gives us the needed energy burst.
So at 5pm, we share a taxi with Jane and Nick, two girls from New
Zealand, to the St. Catherine Monastery (1,570m). We drop all our
luggage, except for sleeping bags, water bottles, and cameras, in
the storage room. There are two ways onto Mt. Sinai (2,285m): a
long, switchback camel-path, or a short, steep path with 3,750
steps hewn into the rocks by a penitent monk. We take the obvious
decision, and steam away. There are food and drink stalls every
few hundred meters, with rising prices as you get higher. It's
not too hot any more, and we soon arrive at Elijah's Hollow,
where we shoot some great mountain pictures, as the lighting is
pretty good right now. This is where the camel-path joins the
stairs, so now comes the fun part. Some package tourists are on
their way, too.
Once on the summit, where a small chapel precariously hovers over
the precipices, we enjoy great views all over Sinai. A fraternal
spirit reigns over this holy place--after all, Moses received the
Ten Commandments here--, even between budget travelers and pack-
age tourists. Sunset turns out pretty dull, because of some low
cloud layers on the horizon. While the package tourists climb
down again, the fifteen travelers who decided to spend the night
here, get to know each other. It gets significantly cooler, and
we put on our sweaters. At 8:30pm, it's totally dark, and we
spread our sleeping bags over the various tiny terraces around
the chapel. Some rent extra blankets, just in case. Unfortunate-
ly, one of the Bedouins operating the food and drink stalls right
on the summit, has been totally spoiled by tourism, and
desecrates this holy place by actually shouting at us for buying
our tea from the other guy, and by trying to con us into paying a
fee for sleeping here. Pathetic. Huddled in our sleeping bags
between the two Kiwi and two Danish girls, we crack a few jokes,
and trade travel anecdotes in the candle-light, until we fall
asleep.
Important archeological find
Remember Mel Brooks' irreverent movie on world history? Well, in
a niche way off the path, I stumbled over a stone-plate with He-
brew inscriptions. I had them deciphered by an expert later, and
they turned out to be those infamous lost Five Commandments.
Here's what they say:
11: Thou shalt not overcharge travelers.
12: Thou shalt not ask for baksheesh.
13: Thou shalt leave travelers alone if they wish so.
14: Thou shalt not harass female travelers.
15: Thou shalt not smoke.
Too bad these got lost.
Day 20: Mt. Sinai --> St. Catherine --> Dahab
A short night, as by 4am, many loud and obnoxious German and
Italian package tourists start flocking all over the summit, not
caring about our sleep, and literally sitting down on our blank-
ets, not to speak about inadvertently kicking us while climbing
all over us. Our choice spot on the east terrace is becoming
nightmarish. And the greedy Bedouin nearby doesn't stop shouting
"coffee, tea, milk" at every newcomer. We soon abandon our posi-
tion, and huddle on some rock. Eventually, the sun rises, above
the low cloud layers, and an Israeli group engages in some Hebrew
songs.
Then the drama: Marc turns out to be extremely weakened, plagued
by sensations of cold, fever, headaches, nausea, muscle sores,
and dehydration. I immediately walk him down, acting as his sher-
pa. At Elijah's Hollow, he opts for the camel-path again, because
there is no way he could concentrate on more steps than the ones
so far. In hellish slow-motion, we eventually arrive at 8am at
the monastery, where I put him to bed in the storage room, so
that he can sweat it all out, and I provide him with plenty of
water.
At 10am, while he sleeps, I head to the monastery proper (337
AD), which is only open in the mornings. I meet Susan and Steve
there, who come today just for the monastery, not for the actual
climb onto Mt. Sinai. We visit the Greek Orthodox basilica with
its spectacular gold decoration, wood carvings, and icon collec-
tion. "It's beautiful" Steve says to the young US-monk at the
doorway, and this one almost snaps back: "It's not beautiful,
it's miraculous." OK, OK. The monastery also features Moses' Well
(where Moses met his future wife Zipporah), a descendant of the
Burning Bush, and a Charnel House. The latter is quite spectacu-
lar with its heaps of skulls and bones--the cemetery is too
small--, plus the all-dressed up sitting skeleton of St.
Stephanos, the whole display being submerged in a suffocating pu-
trefactive stench.
Back to Marc: we catch the 1pm bus to Dahab, check in at the Hard
Rock Cafe's campground to which Susan and Steve have moved in the
meantime, and eventually decide to locate a physician. He diag-
noses a gastro-enteritis and hands over tons of medication, all
together for an incredibly low LE10. Health services are actually
free for Egyptians.
Money
Most people, especially package tourists, have no clue about what
money is worth in other countries. For instance, the average
Egyptian worker earns LE4 a day. Small wonder that baksheesh for
little services is a welcome complement to such meager salaries.
But it is frightening to observe the vicious circle created by
mass tourism. On the one hand, it creates jobs and attracts
much-needed money. But on the other hand, the whole economy is
messed up, not to mention the mentality of some Egyptians, when
foreigners start literally throwing money around. This behavior
attracts contempt of the locals, to which the tourists react with
scorn, and it becomes difficult to escape these stereotypes.
Even if souvenirs or other items seem dirt-cheap, that doesn't
mean that you should not bargain over them, as you are likely to
be overcharged many times. If you don't haggle them down, which
is actually almost considered an insult, you leave the impression
that all Westerners are rich and don't care about money. This
makes life unbearable for the budget traveler who wants to pay
Egyptian prices, not tourist prices. Ana mish sayyeh (I'm not a
tourist)! And it turns those who do business with tourists into
greedy money-monsters, screwing up their personalities.
Beggars, cripples, and homeless people usually easily survive on
the sole donations made by Egyptians (zakat is one of the five
requirements of Islam), and rarely seek out tourists. Those who
do often don't need it, and are crooks, or spend your money on
cigarettes anyway. Some children have learned that simply asking
for baksheesh works well in touristed areas: but if a father sees
that they make more money than himself, and in a much easier
fashion, he will actually send them out to do so, preventing them
from going to school. Mafish fulus (there is no money)! Other
kids ask for pens or candy, but again you'd better refrain from
donations, so as to prevent a dependence Egypt could well do
without. The meaning of baksheesh has significantly changed with
time: originally, it was a gift to the guest by the host, then it
became a gift to the host by the guest, nowadays it's mostly a
tip for lesser services, and soon it will be mere alms.
Day 21: Dahab
Another lazy day of playing beach-bums and snorkeling, while Marc
slowly recovers from Pharaoh's Revenge. At the spectacular reef
at the north end of the bay, we spot many new varieties of fish.
Here's what you experience when you swim out. When stepping into
the lagoon, you're about knee-deep in very clear and warm water.
The ground is a mixture of stone and sand, but dangerous because
of sea urchins, so you'd better start snorkeling right away, un-
less you are even more afraid to scratch your chest. As you
proceed forwards, you swim through schools of damselfish that are
flitting about, and encounter starfish, sea slugs, clams, anemone
fish, clownfish, butterfly fish, blennies, and so on. Next comes
the reef flat, not much deeper actually, with cutting corals,
anemones, damselfish, angelfish, parrotfish, snappers, and oth-
ers. All in amazing colors. Finally you get to the reef crest, a
sheer drop-off whose depth you can't fathom, where yet other
varieties of fish await you. The water is deep-blue, and the in-
dividual sunrays exploring the depths give a surreal feel to the
whole scenery. Susan even encounters some Napoleon fish, which
are larger than herself, as well as a water-borne LE10 note. I
didn't swim out further, but a submarine pillar often follows
where you can watch more fish without needing diving gear. Beyond
that, you might encounter sharks...
Day 22: Dahab --> Nuweiba --> Aqaba (Jordan)
In the early morning, seven travelers split a service taxi from
Dahab to Nuweiba. They are Susan, Steve, Marc, and I, plus Shaky
(the Kiwi), Mark (Canada), and John (UK). The harbor turns out to
be flooded by people: Egyptians returning to their jobs in the
Gulf States, and dozens over dozens of buses filled with pil-
grims. Yes, the hadj season (annual pilgrimage to Mekka) has
started. There are huge waiting lines, in the already blazing
sunlight. But some friendly military policemen take us in charge,
and whisk us through some back-door into the ticket office, where
we have to pay $25 cash each. But at customs, in a shaded hall,
we have to wait like everybody else, although nobody bothers to
check our luggage. Emigration is pretty straightforward, too. We
are asked to wait in a huge hall until the ferry is ready. It's
9am, and departure is scheduled for 10am. Of course, with this
mess, we're not too optimistic about accurate timings.
Eventually, they tell us to board one of the bus-shuttles cover-
ing the 500m to the ferry. Easier said than done: after two
failures to get even remotely close to a bus-door, we imitate the
locals, elbow-push our ways through, and board across windows.
It's pathetic: it's plain obvious that the ship won't leave until
everybody is on it, and yet people insist on beating the Guiness
Book filling record with every shuttle. Moreover, why can't we
just walk to the ferry? Oh well. Once there, we're kindly asked
to drop our backpacks on the parking deck, and to climb to the
passenger decks. We have to abandon our passports as well. The
A/C Pullman seats are already taken, so we climb onto the upper
deck, and sit down on some boxes on the west deck, where the
shade is. During the next 3 hours, it looks like they also want
to figure out how many people will fit onto the ferry. A lot! A
long column of trucks, loaded with zillions of sheep that are to
be sacrificed in Mekka, enters the ferry. Meanwhile, the sun has
turned around, and our choice spot selected for a morning pas-
sage, turns into a baking oven. But nobody cares, nor complains.
Fatalism. Eventually, only 6 hours late, the ship leaves.
We swiftly cruise north. There is no wind, and we have to abandon
our positions for a more shaded one next to the captain's bridge,
where a small Italian package tour-group has found refuge as
well. The Gulf of Aqaba is closing at the horizon, and we enjoy
the rare opportunity of seeing four countries at the same time:
Egypt, Israel, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia, in clockwise fashion.
(End-of-Part-I)
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Part II (Jordan) of this travelogue is available:
http://www.digimark.net/rec-travel/middle_east/jordan.trip.flener
http://www.cs.bilkent.edu.tr/~pf/travel/jordan.trip
The *entire* text is available from the author in various other forms
(ASCII, PostScript), as *unique* files.
--
Pierre Flener, Ph.D., Assistant Professor
Department of Computer Engineering Email: pf@cs.bilkent.edu.tr
and Information Science http: //www.cs.bilkent.edu.tr/~pf/pf.html
Faculty of Engineering Voice: +90 / 312 / 266-4000 x1450
Bilkent University (GMT+2) +90 / 312 / 266-5031 (home)
06533 Bilkent, Ankara, Turkey Fax: +90 / 312 / 266-4126
========================================================================