Celebrity me!

I’m learning to carry on with my make-it-up-as-i-go travel plans, even when someone or other tells me it’s not possible. Somewhere along the Red Sea coast, I was told it wasn’t possible to travel a route through the desert that I saw on a map. It’s Egypt, there’s a good chance that even if there aren’t tourist buses, SOMEONE is going there. So dismissing several no-nos, I departed my hotel in Luxor early early and made my way to the train station to see what I could figure out. The plan was to train it up to Qena and head west from there. Train tracks go that way, roads to that way, I want to go that way.

At the train station in Luxor, again, attempts to dissuade me from local trains but I wanted to get a move on so hopped on a crowded board and sat with two lovely girls who made sure I was okay and got off at the right spot. The trains were FULL of local boys in military uniform so sticking to that small group of girls diminished the leers and come-ons entirely. Magic. Got off in Qena and inquired about my next stop. Oh dear. This caused some problems. I asked one man, who asked another man (who made sure the train I just got off of didn’t leave) and pretty soon I had a group of 10 station staff all around trying to figure out how to get me to where I wanted to go, a group of military boys who had wandered off the train trying to find out what was going on, and several onlookers hanging out the doors and windows of the train. No one was angry or upset, just thoroughly entertained, I think.

Through much discussion, it was decided that there is NO train that goes directly west (it had stopped some years back so they say), I must head north, then take a bus back down south west. And since the train I had just gotten off of had filled full at this station, it was decided that I would wait an hour to get the next, nicer one. My backpack was carried off to a side office for me, someone went to get me a proper train ticket, someone else brought me a glass of tea, and several others asked if I needed anything. Oh my dear I was a pampered celebrity! I’m all sorted out and the train finally leaves. So if any of you were waiting on a train from Luxor to Cairo that was a little late, yeah, that was me. Sorry.

By the way, yeah, a lowest class train ticket, that I’ve been taking, costs about $1.50 for a 4 hour trip, a 4 hour A/C ticket with fewer stops costs $5.50. Worth the difference in absolute gold. Gold, gold, gold!

So arrive in Asyut, walk over to the bus station, that is thankfully next to the train station, and wait the 1 & ½ hrs til my bus is scheduled to leave. Nice little town. Not one single white face for this whole journey so far but the kindness and smiles and assistance continues. Taking a look at the bus that’s to take me further west, into the oases towns of the desert, I knew it was gonna be a rough go. But I’ve come this far so no turning back now. It’s 2pm, there’s no A/C, the bus is full of people in the front and about 6 bus-sized spare tires piled up in the back, and yeah, it’s really freaking hot. Open windows do nothing but blow hot air and dust around an already suffocating, speeding Egypt travel death trap. How many hours to Khurga? 4 hours. My journey, that I originally thought was going to take 7hrs, is now looking like it’s gonna take a little longer. Hmmm.

Lovely people on the bus, a few of whom spoke very good English and it was decided that I shouldn’t stop in Kharga as there’s nothing to really see or do there, but I should carry on to the town of Mut in the Dakhla oasis, another two hours past Kharga. People on the bus assured me that this was a much better decision and people were assigned to make sure I got to where I was going. Hilarious. They even made a guy who was sitting in the front seat of the bus switch with me so I could see the panoramic desert vista as we descended into no man’s land. For a whole lot of desert nothingness, it was incredibly beautiful.

Now again, my living in la-la land imagination is astounding. I hear “oasis” and I literally picture a sudden sprouting of palm trees in the middle of the desert surrounding a crystal clear lake with maybe a tiki bar or two (okay, okay, not the tiki bar) and a few camels and stray bedouins lounging about while lost and delirious travelers are crawling towards salvation on hands and knees croaking, “water! I need water!” Okay, not so much. Of course, where there’s water, there can be life, so it really is hundreds of kilometers of desolation, sand, dirt, sun, and rock, then the palm trees, farm lands, now harnessed natural springs, and a basic little TOWN. It’s AMAZING! Proper towns in the middle of the desert! Where nomads used to travel from spring to spring to settle down until the water ran dry, technology has now allowed people to dig deep for the water, channel the water, and make permanent settlements on what looks like the surface of the moon. So these were my oasis towns.

As we were approaching the first town of Kharga, where I had been discouraged from stopping, I’m still in the front seat watching the changing desert landscape and our driver who is exerting a lot of physical effort trying to control this ancient piece of stressed metal on wheels. All of course, at 140kms/hr even though the speedometer and all other gauges didn’t work. KA-POW! A gunshot like sound and the cabin of our bus fills with acrid black smoke and the bus starts to shake. Oh love a duck we blew a tire. As our driver struggles to gain control of and eventually pull the bus off to the side of the road, the smoke clears from the air and I figure we’re still another good 60kms from town. Hmmm… So out we get out (me too, of course!) and they all decide that since it was an inside tire, we can carry on, at a painfully slow speed. Who would have ever thought that I’d be MISSING the break neck speeds?! Once we’re on the road again, a shaky driver gets a cigarette from his partner driver, slowly settles his nerves, and on we go. I was wondering what all those tires were for in the back of the truck, taking up all of those seats. I guess now we know.

Eventually another bus passes by, turns around, we all transfer on to it, and make it the rest of the way into town in a really NICE A/C bus. Where was this bus when I needed it like 4 hours ago?!

It’s dark, around 7:30pm when we pull into Kharga but miles and miles until I sleep. I get off the bus and whoever was assigned to take care of me at this stop summons one police officer who rounds up his whole crew of about 8. Again, much discussion, much worry, and many radio conversations to who knows who. I’m put into a taxi and I kid you not, get a police escort to the minibus station. A police car in front with lights AND sirens going, me, MORTIFIED, in the taxi, and a police truck with 6 cops behind me. Are you kidding me?!? I wish you could have seen this. A very serious conversation had between the police officers and the minibus driver, some shuffling seats around because this white princess was not up to sitting in the very back back for another 2 hour trip (yes, I will take full advantage of playing the helpless tourist sometimes!), and into the dark of night we go speeding off.

Driving at 140kms/hr in the light of day is one thing, in the darkness of night, it’s terrifying. And they do some weird thing where they turn off their headlights as they come up behind a vehicle that they’re about to pass and leave them off for what seems to be an extremely unsafe length of time after they’ve passed, and then there’s some whole secret code of flashing high and low beams between vehicles that are approaching each other… I was convinced that my death was imminent but a van full of sleeping bodies seemed quite okay with the whole choreography. Woah. Not fun.

Arrive stiff, smelly, and awfully damn tired a couple of hours later in Mut. Minibus driver drops me in front of a guest house, owner speaks beautiful English, shows me a lovely and clean room, and I’m down for the count. 14 hours travelling today. Welcome to the desert. All done.