Thursday, May 12, 2011
You know you're in Egypt when...
1. Horns. Constant. Everywhere. Bicycles, motorbikes, local hop-on rides, small cars, big cars, trucks, buses. High pitched blares to reverberating and echoing beep beeps to laying on one long single haaaawwwwwnk to modified horns that sound like police sirens or the beginnings of songs. All simultaneous, all trying to outdo one another, all several decibels louder than what the average human ear can tolerate. I’m right beside/behind/in front of you honks, I want your attention honks, I don’t like what you’re doing honks, olease go ahead honks, thank you/you're welcome honks, I’m bigger than you honks, I’m not slowing down so you better move honks, I like the way my horn sounds honks, I forget how to drive so I’m just gonna lay on the horn honks, I like the song on the radio honks, I don’t feel like stopping for the red light so I’m just going to go honks, and I’m awake so everyone else should be too honks.
2. Heavy, HEAVY smokers. Driving in a car, 3 men and me, all windows rolled up tight, all 3 chain smoking. On trains and buses and boats, in shops and offices and hotels, absolutely everywhere, constant lighting up. And the GOOD kind of smokes, Marlboro Reds, Camels, you know, the ones that make you cough up a lung. Nothing that a good smoke can’t take care of.
3. City wildlife. It’s not uncommon to see small herds of goats wandering around city streets and rummaging through trash bins alongside the stray cats and dogs or donkeys pulling wagons weaving in and out of traffic. They’ve all got their place here.
4. Pita for everything. All meals, all the time. By the bags and boxes and arms full. Pita. Pita. Pita.
5. January 25. All of the new shops are named “January 25” or some variation of that. The Revolution has been good for business apparently.
6. It’s mandatory, taught in all Egyptian schools: “What’s your name?” “What’s your country?” You must ask every foreigner this, no matter what. Then shout, “Come here!”
7. Tea is served in small water glasses and water is served in coffee/tea mugs.
8. It’s better to throw trash on the ground beside the bin instead of in the bin.
9. Side view mirrors on cars are meant to be hit by passing motorists. That’s why they’re there.
10. Mosque calls are timed so that there is a slight delay between the beginnings allowing one to continue as another one finishes thus drawing a 3 minute call out to 30 minutes by the time the rounds have been made. Doing them simultaneously would just be silly.
11. A normal, friendly conversation between men consists of yelling, shouting, shoving, laughing loudly, hand slapping, spitting, more yelling, exaggerated hand gesturing, and even more yelling. Good friends, good friends.
12. The condition the vehicle is in is directly related to how fast it should be driven. The worse the condition, the faster you must drive.
13. Men in dresses.
14. Women draped head to toe in black. Really? In a hot climate? Wow.
15. Baksheesh. Felucca. Carry (carriage). Just look, no hassle, just look, NO HASSLE! I don’t know what you’re looking for but I have it! Special for you!
16. Watering the sidewalk, streets, and roads with a bucket and a very unique wrist flick.
17. Fig jam. (yum!)
18. Olive coloured complexions with those blue/grey eyes. Gorgeous.
19. Seed spitting. Crunch. Chew. Spit. Crunch. Chew. Spit. Sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and some other stuff I don’t quite know.
20. Single pack Twinkies and Ho-Hos lining every small shop shelf.
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.
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.
La-la-la-Luxor
Luxor. Everything you want to experience in Egypt is here from the banks of the Nile to the endless checklist of must-see temples and tombs, fancy hotels and hyped tourist markets, balloon rides and desert treks and made to order adventures. Whatever you want, they are prepared to make it happen here for you. All at a very “special price”.
Ancient history exists in modern day Luxor. The Luxor temple is in the midst of the busy main street, cars and buses and life chugging around it, think downtown Rome, and it’s slowly undergoing varying stages of reconstruction. Sadly, construction sites leave open pits and open pits around many of these countries quickly become dumping grounds for trash but you learn to look past that. When I can find a second to just stand and imagine, replacing the paved streets with dirt passageways and the speeding cars with horse-drawn chariots, you can see the magnitude of magnificence, the reign of resplendent royalty, the reasons why even after thousands of years, we still keep coming.
And as it’s definitely one of the more frequented tourist spots due to the crazy amount of significant finds around Luxor, the touts here are of a different caliber than I’ve experienced so far.
Mido had warned me, telling me that the people in Aswan were very nice but in Luxor, not so nice and that I must “take care in Luxor”. I had forgotten about this warning until my first wander about. Again, understanding that the tourism has been very slow and everyone is desperate for money, I attempted to handle the incessant approaches to buy this and come see that with the small smile and shake of my head. Remember that ignoring technique that I had mastered along the way? Yeah, that doesn’t work here. When you ignore them here, they get even more aggressive and unfortunately, downright angry. Please understand, I don’t ignore EVERYBODY, not by a long shot, and I have a sense of humor about it with them most of the time, mocking their calls and laughing it up with their attempts or simply shaking my head and saying no thank you, but eventually, you just want it to stop. Traveling as a single girl (even with a brand new wedding band!) isn’t necessarily the nicest experience in this town. Funny thing is, the people in other parts of Egypt know what the people in Luxor are like and worry for the tourists heading there. For all the time that I’ve been here though, really, this one disappointment is easily overlooked and LUXOR is wonderful!
I’m starting to have to pick and choose what I can do and see around towns as I obviously didn’t anticipate the fees for everything I want to see and do. My hotel owner was desperately trying to get me to join his tour group going up to see the Valley of the Kings, Queens, and Hatchepsut, all of which I really wanted to see but hmmm… tour group, not so much. But we have A/C bus and it’s too hot for you. I know, I know, but I’m really not so keen on the group thing. So I decided to rent a bike and cycle up to see the ancient mighty tombs. It’s only like 10kms, how hard can it be?! *sigh* (have you noticed I sigh A LOT at some of the decisions I make?!) Plus, if I’m on my own, I can go early early, it won’t be so hot, and maybe there will be less crowds. So 5:45am and I’m off to the Valley of the Kings, hucking my bike on the little ferry to cross to the West Bank and on solid ground, I start pedaling.
At first it’s so nice! Farming fields and green pastures with mountains off in the background. Nice, flat road and it’s hot, but not too hot. Then as I gaze towards these impressive mountains far off in the distance, the black, gaping holes of excavation sites, like the spaces of missing teeth, dotting the hillsides, I suddenly realize, oh, oh no, I still have to make it to and then UP those mountains! No big deal, I can do this. Really. Well, this short, chubby ass huffed and puffed her way up the 8km gradual, steady incline, pushed on by the knowledge that any 6 year old could easily do this route so suck it up and get going. 7am and the sun is hot, hot, hot. I arrive at the entrance and am thankfully rewarded to see only a very few tourist mini buses. This might be worth it after all.
There are presently something like 62 tombs that have been discovered or are in the process of being excavated in the Valley of the Kings but only a small handful of them are actually open to the public at any time. Your ticket buys you entrance into 3 tombs of your choice but you must pay extra to get into King Tut and Ramsses V & VI (the Ramsses boys share a tomb). I saw most of the King Tut treasures at the Egyptian museum so decided to just pay the extra for Ramsses. The Valley is spectacular, made even more mysteriously spectacular by the fact that no cameras are allowed inside the Valley. It’s this massive hoodoo valley carved out in the midst of arid, ancient mountains but you’re not allowed to photograph any of it. SUCH a shame! *Ahem* As you can tell from my facebook photos, I lied about not having a camera when they asked me at the entrance. Whoops.
So not sure what I should do for tombs to see first, and just chanced stopping in at the special Ramsses one as it was before 7:30am and not too many people around. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! These tombs aren’t for the claustrophobic and worth every single step up and down. You trudge through a long tunnel deep down into a cave, hieroglyphics and carvings adorning the walls and ceilings, full bright original colour of black, red, blue, and yellow softly illuminated by the florescent tubes they have running throughout. The stairs and walkways they’ve created make the journey of course feel a little less authentic but so much more accessible. I thump my way down, down, down to the small open chamber of Ramsses V & VI… there’s no one there but the guard. No one!
The guards always start chit chatting away, instructed to tell you this or show you that and practice their usual “what’s your name, where you come from?” but here, I smiled, shook my head, held my finger up to my lips and sshhh’ed him very politely. Look, I said, there’s no one here, no tourists, just me. This is very, very special. VERY special! Ssshhhh. Smile, smile, smile. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that or of me. So he stood around in my awestruck silence for a few minutes, got bored, and then decided his buddy at the top of the entrance way would make better company. Yep. Me and the boys, personal, private, and up close for a good 20 minutes. Heart racing I snapped off a few pictures (with no flash!) and simply giggled and breathed in my unbelievable good fortune. How can I possibly explain what these places look like, FEEL like, and then to experience them without another single soul around is spooky, energizing, inspiring, overwhelming, and quite simply… wow.
I hung around until I could hear the footsteps of an approaching tour group thumping their way towards me, hot and sweaty and really not looking all that impressed as I grinned my way past them. Sadly so many people that I’ve seen being shuffled around by their “Egyptologist” tour guides just don’t seem to really want to be where they are. Sad but not gonna bring me down, baby! This is AMAZING!
My three remaining tombs, equally impressive and some “alone time” with each sarcophagi but nothing like my early morning rendez-vous with the Ramsses boys. I got myself into a bit of trouble as I saw a stairway leading up and away into a deeper part of the mountains and there was a sign posted saying that apparently there was a tomb up that way. I started walking and a man started shouting. He said I couldn’t go up, was trying desperately to convince me that he was the “Chief”, and that it was closed. I told him I just wanted to walk around, would not go near the tomb, just wanted to look. Shaking his keys at me, no! no! closed! Okay, okay, I get it, but can’t I just walk up that way a little bit? The mountains are so beautiful. I just want to walk. Plleeeeeeezzze? He sighs quite loudly, shakes his head, and stomps off so I hustle my way up there. I managed to snap two pictures before I saw some people walking by. I wasn’t sure how far I should push my luck but I’d come this far… so I started to climb the stairs. Got half way up before Chief Man had returned and was frantically shouting for me to come back. He was in the process of stringing a line of knotted rags across the pathway to keep other pushy peepers like me out and prove that he really was in charge. I wonder what they were hiding up there…
Oh! In one of the tombs entrances there was a little section carved out of the long hallway where a modern day restoration was taking place. This man was standing there, sorting a bunch of fist sized rocks/rubble into various buckets. I’m nosey so I started asking him who he was and what he was up to. Mr. Ted Brock, 25 year veteran Egyptologist, was in the process of sorting and identifying new finds in the tomb we were presently standing in. I just love this! Egypt is famous for its already uncovered pyramids and treasures of Kings and Queens but there’s still ongoing exciting archaeology happening all around here. I want to be a digger! Very nice, very interesting man. Said I should come back next year to see what his puzzle pieces actually turn out to look like.
Two and a half hours wandering through the intense and unforgiving heat of the Land of the Dead and at 9:30am, the sun is almost directly overhead. Giddy but tired, I drag myself back to that ratty tatty beat-up bicycle, watching the over-heated, red-faced tour groups pouring out from an endless line of tour buses. I was thankful for my good sense to come very, very early and that the ride was going to be mostly downhill from here.
I really wanted to see the Valley of the Queens as well but as I approached the turn off, at the bottom of yet another climb uphill, choking on the diesel of passing tour buses that had finished their race through the Kings and were on their way to the Queens, I decided against it. I opted to head back to the East Bank and see Karnak Temple instead. Navigated cars and traffic that hadn’t yet started up on my early morning venture out and was near fainting when I arrived at my next big sightseeing hotspot. Karnak is endless. You could take days to wander all of it. I wanted to cram in as much as I could. The sky was clear, the sun was merciless, and there is very little respite in the small sections of shade to be found. Push on, push on. Since the temple complex is so huge, I again gleefully bounded around in solitary bliss, and was happy with my choice to not follow the crowds. Headache and dizziness settling in, time to head back.
A full day out in the hot Egyptian sun, drenched in ancient history, and I know how extraordinarily special my experiences have been. My universe continues to be so good to me.
Ancient history exists in modern day Luxor. The Luxor temple is in the midst of the busy main street, cars and buses and life chugging around it, think downtown Rome, and it’s slowly undergoing varying stages of reconstruction. Sadly, construction sites leave open pits and open pits around many of these countries quickly become dumping grounds for trash but you learn to look past that. When I can find a second to just stand and imagine, replacing the paved streets with dirt passageways and the speeding cars with horse-drawn chariots, you can see the magnitude of magnificence, the reign of resplendent royalty, the reasons why even after thousands of years, we still keep coming.
And as it’s definitely one of the more frequented tourist spots due to the crazy amount of significant finds around Luxor, the touts here are of a different caliber than I’ve experienced so far.
Mido had warned me, telling me that the people in Aswan were very nice but in Luxor, not so nice and that I must “take care in Luxor”. I had forgotten about this warning until my first wander about. Again, understanding that the tourism has been very slow and everyone is desperate for money, I attempted to handle the incessant approaches to buy this and come see that with the small smile and shake of my head. Remember that ignoring technique that I had mastered along the way? Yeah, that doesn’t work here. When you ignore them here, they get even more aggressive and unfortunately, downright angry. Please understand, I don’t ignore EVERYBODY, not by a long shot, and I have a sense of humor about it with them most of the time, mocking their calls and laughing it up with their attempts or simply shaking my head and saying no thank you, but eventually, you just want it to stop. Traveling as a single girl (even with a brand new wedding band!) isn’t necessarily the nicest experience in this town. Funny thing is, the people in other parts of Egypt know what the people in Luxor are like and worry for the tourists heading there. For all the time that I’ve been here though, really, this one disappointment is easily overlooked and LUXOR is wonderful!
I’m starting to have to pick and choose what I can do and see around towns as I obviously didn’t anticipate the fees for everything I want to see and do. My hotel owner was desperately trying to get me to join his tour group going up to see the Valley of the Kings, Queens, and Hatchepsut, all of which I really wanted to see but hmmm… tour group, not so much. But we have A/C bus and it’s too hot for you. I know, I know, but I’m really not so keen on the group thing. So I decided to rent a bike and cycle up to see the ancient mighty tombs. It’s only like 10kms, how hard can it be?! *sigh* (have you noticed I sigh A LOT at some of the decisions I make?!) Plus, if I’m on my own, I can go early early, it won’t be so hot, and maybe there will be less crowds. So 5:45am and I’m off to the Valley of the Kings, hucking my bike on the little ferry to cross to the West Bank and on solid ground, I start pedaling.
At first it’s so nice! Farming fields and green pastures with mountains off in the background. Nice, flat road and it’s hot, but not too hot. Then as I gaze towards these impressive mountains far off in the distance, the black, gaping holes of excavation sites, like the spaces of missing teeth, dotting the hillsides, I suddenly realize, oh, oh no, I still have to make it to and then UP those mountains! No big deal, I can do this. Really. Well, this short, chubby ass huffed and puffed her way up the 8km gradual, steady incline, pushed on by the knowledge that any 6 year old could easily do this route so suck it up and get going. 7am and the sun is hot, hot, hot. I arrive at the entrance and am thankfully rewarded to see only a very few tourist mini buses. This might be worth it after all.
There are presently something like 62 tombs that have been discovered or are in the process of being excavated in the Valley of the Kings but only a small handful of them are actually open to the public at any time. Your ticket buys you entrance into 3 tombs of your choice but you must pay extra to get into King Tut and Ramsses V & VI (the Ramsses boys share a tomb). I saw most of the King Tut treasures at the Egyptian museum so decided to just pay the extra for Ramsses. The Valley is spectacular, made even more mysteriously spectacular by the fact that no cameras are allowed inside the Valley. It’s this massive hoodoo valley carved out in the midst of arid, ancient mountains but you’re not allowed to photograph any of it. SUCH a shame! *Ahem* As you can tell from my facebook photos, I lied about not having a camera when they asked me at the entrance. Whoops.
So not sure what I should do for tombs to see first, and just chanced stopping in at the special Ramsses one as it was before 7:30am and not too many people around. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! These tombs aren’t for the claustrophobic and worth every single step up and down. You trudge through a long tunnel deep down into a cave, hieroglyphics and carvings adorning the walls and ceilings, full bright original colour of black, red, blue, and yellow softly illuminated by the florescent tubes they have running throughout. The stairs and walkways they’ve created make the journey of course feel a little less authentic but so much more accessible. I thump my way down, down, down to the small open chamber of Ramsses V & VI… there’s no one there but the guard. No one!
The guards always start chit chatting away, instructed to tell you this or show you that and practice their usual “what’s your name, where you come from?” but here, I smiled, shook my head, held my finger up to my lips and sshhh’ed him very politely. Look, I said, there’s no one here, no tourists, just me. This is very, very special. VERY special! Ssshhhh. Smile, smile, smile. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that or of me. So he stood around in my awestruck silence for a few minutes, got bored, and then decided his buddy at the top of the entrance way would make better company. Yep. Me and the boys, personal, private, and up close for a good 20 minutes. Heart racing I snapped off a few pictures (with no flash!) and simply giggled and breathed in my unbelievable good fortune. How can I possibly explain what these places look like, FEEL like, and then to experience them without another single soul around is spooky, energizing, inspiring, overwhelming, and quite simply… wow.
I hung around until I could hear the footsteps of an approaching tour group thumping their way towards me, hot and sweaty and really not looking all that impressed as I grinned my way past them. Sadly so many people that I’ve seen being shuffled around by their “Egyptologist” tour guides just don’t seem to really want to be where they are. Sad but not gonna bring me down, baby! This is AMAZING!
My three remaining tombs, equally impressive and some “alone time” with each sarcophagi but nothing like my early morning rendez-vous with the Ramsses boys. I got myself into a bit of trouble as I saw a stairway leading up and away into a deeper part of the mountains and there was a sign posted saying that apparently there was a tomb up that way. I started walking and a man started shouting. He said I couldn’t go up, was trying desperately to convince me that he was the “Chief”, and that it was closed. I told him I just wanted to walk around, would not go near the tomb, just wanted to look. Shaking his keys at me, no! no! closed! Okay, okay, I get it, but can’t I just walk up that way a little bit? The mountains are so beautiful. I just want to walk. Plleeeeeeezzze? He sighs quite loudly, shakes his head, and stomps off so I hustle my way up there. I managed to snap two pictures before I saw some people walking by. I wasn’t sure how far I should push my luck but I’d come this far… so I started to climb the stairs. Got half way up before Chief Man had returned and was frantically shouting for me to come back. He was in the process of stringing a line of knotted rags across the pathway to keep other pushy peepers like me out and prove that he really was in charge. I wonder what they were hiding up there…
Oh! In one of the tombs entrances there was a little section carved out of the long hallway where a modern day restoration was taking place. This man was standing there, sorting a bunch of fist sized rocks/rubble into various buckets. I’m nosey so I started asking him who he was and what he was up to. Mr. Ted Brock, 25 year veteran Egyptologist, was in the process of sorting and identifying new finds in the tomb we were presently standing in. I just love this! Egypt is famous for its already uncovered pyramids and treasures of Kings and Queens but there’s still ongoing exciting archaeology happening all around here. I want to be a digger! Very nice, very interesting man. Said I should come back next year to see what his puzzle pieces actually turn out to look like.
Two and a half hours wandering through the intense and unforgiving heat of the Land of the Dead and at 9:30am, the sun is almost directly overhead. Giddy but tired, I drag myself back to that ratty tatty beat-up bicycle, watching the over-heated, red-faced tour groups pouring out from an endless line of tour buses. I was thankful for my good sense to come very, very early and that the ride was going to be mostly downhill from here.
I really wanted to see the Valley of the Queens as well but as I approached the turn off, at the bottom of yet another climb uphill, choking on the diesel of passing tour buses that had finished their race through the Kings and were on their way to the Queens, I decided against it. I opted to head back to the East Bank and see Karnak Temple instead. Navigated cars and traffic that hadn’t yet started up on my early morning venture out and was near fainting when I arrived at my next big sightseeing hotspot. Karnak is endless. You could take days to wander all of it. I wanted to cram in as much as I could. The sky was clear, the sun was merciless, and there is very little respite in the small sections of shade to be found. Push on, push on. Since the temple complex is so huge, I again gleefully bounded around in solitary bliss, and was happy with my choice to not follow the crowds. Headache and dizziness settling in, time to head back.
A full day out in the hot Egyptian sun, drenched in ancient history, and I know how extraordinarily special my experiences have been. My universe continues to be so good to me.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Yay! Felucca!
One of the dreamy things I wanted to do when I decided to come here was to cruise down the Nile. Laying on cushions being fanned by over-sized palm leaves drifting past crocodiles and small villages. Yeah, that doesn’t really happen. But there are a few other options. You can hop a 5 star hotel on water cruise boat and tourist your way between Luxor and Aswan or you can hour trip around the small islands that surround either of those two cities. I wasn’t too keen on either of them. After chatting with lovely Mr. Mohamed who had saved me from Mr. McFeely Hands my first day in Aswan, he had an option for me; he was a tour operator of course. We had arranged for me to do a two day, two night trip from Aswan to Kom Ombo, 40kms north towards Luxor. I would then train it from there. I was kinda disappointed as 40kms isn’t that far, but considering feluccas are sailboats so no wind, no moving, it made sense. That was the best we could do and I absolutely thrilled with it.
I’d returned from Abu Simbel early that morning and at noon, Mr. Mohamed met me and passed me on to another tour operator who passed me on to a driver who was going to take me to the boat. We drove and we drove and we drove and I was thinking I was driving a lot of what I should have been floating but whatever. I get dropped in a marshy area and pointed towards a felucca tied up along shore so I eagerly bound towards a young man approaching me from the boat. Stomping along beside this lovely Egyptian young man, I see one of my boat mates aggressively gesturing towards his watch and the sky. Oh dear. Not off to a good start. I plop myself on board with a family of 5 from France. As is often in case in Africa, what you pay for and what you get are two very different things. It turns out that the family had started their journey the day before from Aswan, where I had just driven from, and cruised nicely but then spent the night the entire day on this bank and the one just opposite, apparently waiting on me and another person yet to arrive. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Mom, dad, and three kids, 13, 10, and 6 (I think). Luckily the kids didn’t seem to mind as they were swimming and jumping around the boat but dad was really frustrated. 20 hours in the same spot more or less with nowhere much to walk around and nothing to really do. He had my sympathy.
Between mom’s very good English and my broken French, I was able to make friends and we were able to distract the dad while we waited for our last passenger. The three crew members were amazing and played with the kids like kids themselves. The kids were endlessly entertaining and remarkably well-behaved. SO easy to please! Finally, American Dan arrives and we’re off. Poor Dan was the first native English speaker I had seen in a while so I was quickly chatting his ear off in between my shameful attempts in French. As terrible as I am with the language, at least I’m not so embarrassed to try anymore. And I think we did okay between the lot of us as the conversation never stopped until it was time to sleep.
Luckily we had good wind so we just switchbacked from one bank to the next, slowly making our way north. The kids were having fun steering the boat and teasing the staff and the grown-ups (yes, I’m in that group!) talked and shared travel stories. We left about 2pm and just had the nicest time hanging out and chatting. You can see photos of what the felucca looked like on my facebook. Essentially a covered deck lined with cushions with enough space to sit up right but not enough to stand. Perfect for lounging and chatting. When we pull up alongside for the night that is quickly approaching, we all wander up from the water where there’s some farmland and a gathering of donkeys, cows, and stray dogs that all made for good distraction while staff made us dinner. 10 of us sat around to a simple home made dinner as we settled in for the night.
It got pretty chilly out there so thick woolen blankets were passed around and we all sprawled out and snuggled up on the cushioned boat deck. Everyone had had long days so sleep came quickly and is ALWAYS so much better when you’re sleeping outdoors. I, however, continue to be the world’s lightest sleeper and spent most of the night listening to our puppy friends in constant conversation with their buddies across the river, donkeys and cows braying and lowing their share of the chat, and the put-put of hotel boat engines chugging past in the dead of night. Even so, wrapped tight in my fleece jacket and wool blanket with the tip of my nose ice cold, wide awake but desperate for sleep, I was a happy, happy girl. This wasn’t what I had imagined but it was so fantastic nonetheless!
Oh, forgot to tell you MY part of the “it never goes as planned in Africa” bit. I had planned and paid for two days, two nights. Getting on the boat at lunch time and getting off the boat two breakfasts later. Well, my boat mates were all finishing their journeys after my one night, the very next day. The staff seemed surprised to hear that I had booked for two nights. Many phone calls were made, many back and forth conversations were had, and it was agreed that I would get off the boat with everyone else tomorrow. We had already made it to my departure point of Kom Ombo because of good wind so the only option would be to spend the second day heading BACK to Aswan. Ummm… no thanks. Half of my money was ACTUALLY returned to me and everyone was okay with the plan. It was the middle man, the one Mr. Mohamed passed me off to, who had given everyone the run around and he, of course, wasn’t answering his phone. No harm done, it would have been nice to have another day and night on the boat, but no big deal. I had such a lovely time cruising for the day that I did. We were away from the city, I got to lounge and see camels and donkeys grazing (no crocs), families bathing along the shore, and met some incredibly nice people. I had so much fun!
Our poor crew had to paddle us across and just up from our sleeping point the next morning, as there was no wind, to where everyone was getting off the boat. I hitched a ride part way into town with the family who had a driver waiting for them and then did the last bit to the train station via tuk tuk! I was thrilled as I hadn’t seen a tuk tuk since Asia! I love those annoying, cramped tricycle rides!
Boarded the local train to Luxor. The locals REALLY try to discourage me from using the local train and it’s understandable. They are hot, smelly, rough, and DIRTY as hell. But they are cheap cheap and run much more frequently than the A/C trains. So I get onto this very crowded train to Luxor and am immediately regretting not waiting it out. The trains have that four-seat configuration where two seats face forward and two seats backwards so you can look at each other instead of the back of a seat. I shared my little section with a very kind, tired mom and her very tired, dirty young boy. Our window doesn’t open, every smoker is a chain smoker, the heat is intense this morning, and the three hour journey is a tough one. With my backpack propped in between my legs, dripping sweat and hurting from the amount of smoke I’m inhaling, it was a LONG three hours. Take me back to my wide open felucca, please!
I’d returned from Abu Simbel early that morning and at noon, Mr. Mohamed met me and passed me on to another tour operator who passed me on to a driver who was going to take me to the boat. We drove and we drove and we drove and I was thinking I was driving a lot of what I should have been floating but whatever. I get dropped in a marshy area and pointed towards a felucca tied up along shore so I eagerly bound towards a young man approaching me from the boat. Stomping along beside this lovely Egyptian young man, I see one of my boat mates aggressively gesturing towards his watch and the sky. Oh dear. Not off to a good start. I plop myself on board with a family of 5 from France. As is often in case in Africa, what you pay for and what you get are two very different things. It turns out that the family had started their journey the day before from Aswan, where I had just driven from, and cruised nicely but then spent the night the entire day on this bank and the one just opposite, apparently waiting on me and another person yet to arrive. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Mom, dad, and three kids, 13, 10, and 6 (I think). Luckily the kids didn’t seem to mind as they were swimming and jumping around the boat but dad was really frustrated. 20 hours in the same spot more or less with nowhere much to walk around and nothing to really do. He had my sympathy.
Between mom’s very good English and my broken French, I was able to make friends and we were able to distract the dad while we waited for our last passenger. The three crew members were amazing and played with the kids like kids themselves. The kids were endlessly entertaining and remarkably well-behaved. SO easy to please! Finally, American Dan arrives and we’re off. Poor Dan was the first native English speaker I had seen in a while so I was quickly chatting his ear off in between my shameful attempts in French. As terrible as I am with the language, at least I’m not so embarrassed to try anymore. And I think we did okay between the lot of us as the conversation never stopped until it was time to sleep.
Luckily we had good wind so we just switchbacked from one bank to the next, slowly making our way north. The kids were having fun steering the boat and teasing the staff and the grown-ups (yes, I’m in that group!) talked and shared travel stories. We left about 2pm and just had the nicest time hanging out and chatting. You can see photos of what the felucca looked like on my facebook. Essentially a covered deck lined with cushions with enough space to sit up right but not enough to stand. Perfect for lounging and chatting. When we pull up alongside for the night that is quickly approaching, we all wander up from the water where there’s some farmland and a gathering of donkeys, cows, and stray dogs that all made for good distraction while staff made us dinner. 10 of us sat around to a simple home made dinner as we settled in for the night.
It got pretty chilly out there so thick woolen blankets were passed around and we all sprawled out and snuggled up on the cushioned boat deck. Everyone had had long days so sleep came quickly and is ALWAYS so much better when you’re sleeping outdoors. I, however, continue to be the world’s lightest sleeper and spent most of the night listening to our puppy friends in constant conversation with their buddies across the river, donkeys and cows braying and lowing their share of the chat, and the put-put of hotel boat engines chugging past in the dead of night. Even so, wrapped tight in my fleece jacket and wool blanket with the tip of my nose ice cold, wide awake but desperate for sleep, I was a happy, happy girl. This wasn’t what I had imagined but it was so fantastic nonetheless!
Oh, forgot to tell you MY part of the “it never goes as planned in Africa” bit. I had planned and paid for two days, two nights. Getting on the boat at lunch time and getting off the boat two breakfasts later. Well, my boat mates were all finishing their journeys after my one night, the very next day. The staff seemed surprised to hear that I had booked for two nights. Many phone calls were made, many back and forth conversations were had, and it was agreed that I would get off the boat with everyone else tomorrow. We had already made it to my departure point of Kom Ombo because of good wind so the only option would be to spend the second day heading BACK to Aswan. Ummm… no thanks. Half of my money was ACTUALLY returned to me and everyone was okay with the plan. It was the middle man, the one Mr. Mohamed passed me off to, who had given everyone the run around and he, of course, wasn’t answering his phone. No harm done, it would have been nice to have another day and night on the boat, but no big deal. I had such a lovely time cruising for the day that I did. We were away from the city, I got to lounge and see camels and donkeys grazing (no crocs), families bathing along the shore, and met some incredibly nice people. I had so much fun!
Our poor crew had to paddle us across and just up from our sleeping point the next morning, as there was no wind, to where everyone was getting off the boat. I hitched a ride part way into town with the family who had a driver waiting for them and then did the last bit to the train station via tuk tuk! I was thrilled as I hadn’t seen a tuk tuk since Asia! I love those annoying, cramped tricycle rides!
Boarded the local train to Luxor. The locals REALLY try to discourage me from using the local train and it’s understandable. They are hot, smelly, rough, and DIRTY as hell. But they are cheap cheap and run much more frequently than the A/C trains. So I get onto this very crowded train to Luxor and am immediately regretting not waiting it out. The trains have that four-seat configuration where two seats face forward and two seats backwards so you can look at each other instead of the back of a seat. I shared my little section with a very kind, tired mom and her very tired, dirty young boy. Our window doesn’t open, every smoker is a chain smoker, the heat is intense this morning, and the three hour journey is a tough one. With my backpack propped in between my legs, dripping sweat and hurting from the amount of smoke I’m inhaling, it was a LONG three hours. Take me back to my wide open felucca, please!
Southbound. Aswan to Abu Simbel
Egypt has continued to be beautiful and challenging and full of something for everyone. I’ve seen retirees, gap year kids, lost souls like me, and families with children from all over the globe roaming the streets and sites and temples in my few weeks here. Even though the media coverage from early in the year painted this country as one in turmoil filled with angry, uncivilized, and violent people, I have to remember that kindness and generosity very rarely make the news. Of course we know that politics should never be used to prejudice our opinions of the people within the country but sometimes it’s hard to get past those TV images that are used to invoke fear and increase the distance between “them” and “us”. Egypt’s people have accomplished an enormous and amazing feat but sadly instead of joining in with their celebrations of that exciting future, we issue travel advisories. A country that is ready to get on its feet is suffering because tourists and travelers are too cautious to come. Tourism is their major export here, of course. If Egypt has ever been on your bucket list, now is the time to come, my friends. Now. Writing was INVENTED here for crying out loud! Archeologists still work around the clock, unearthing new ancient treasures everyday… how exciting is that?! Luxury is definitely an option (the Pharaohs were always very well looked after) if roughing it isn’t your style so there’s no reason not to come. This place has left me giggling and amazed and I thought I had seen some pretty impressive stuff already. Come to Egypt. You won’t be disappointed.
Okay, PR plug complete. On to the stories…
Aswan… While the touts were out in full force doing their jobs with a mighty gusto, Aswan remained a lovely town to stroll around. The day was full of shouts to get you into a taxi, horse carriage, or felucca, and after dark, the chants changed to having a look in their shop and buying their wares. Somewhat annoying if you wanted to stop and actually look at anything as you would be instantly swarmed, but harmless and comical for the most part. The night market in Aswan is beautiful. Typical tacky tourist trappings mixed in with the warm savoury scents of colourful spices arranged in open bowls and brilliant iridescent racks of silk and cotton scarves, shirts, skirts, and dresses. Fruit piled high pyramid style and jewelry shops bursting with Egyptian shaped charms. I bought a legit silver “wedding band” for less than $10 because the cheapo one turned my finger green. Oops! You could find anything here and of course, it’s all “special price for you!”
And as is the case with most of my travels, I’m eating my way through the country. Falafel and eggplant stuffed pita, tahini sauces and strange omelets and kashory (a carb lovers combo of rice, pasta, lentils, and some kind of tomato sauce) and some other random street food that would catch my attention without me fully understanding what exactly it was but I’d try it anyway. If the locals are chowing down on it, I want to try too. There was a lovely little park alongside one section of the river where I could sit on a bench and watch kids playing soccer or families strolling around without being the target of attention at all. It was amazing. I met the same young boy there both nights I wandered down as that was his turf for selling whatever he was selling and although we couldn’t understand a single word of what the other was saying, he was the nicest company. For a city that started with a pervo beginning, Aswan turned out to be so lovely!
I was considering heading south to Abu Simbel, 40kms north of the Sudanese border, but some locals suggested it really wasn’t worth it. My sister said it was, and she was right – THANKS JOOL! Of course, I want local buses as tourist crammed transport leaves you no time to do anything independently. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with tour groups, often they’re the best way to make sure you see all the highlights, but I’m a dawdler. Always have been. Whether hiking or sightseeing or diving or whatever, I generally get distracted by something or other, wander off from the group, and am always running to catch up, feeling like I’ve missed something along the way, then getting a telling off to boot. Not the way I like to see my once in a lifetime attractions.
So with directions from the guy at my hotel, I arrive at the local minibus station and am pointed to the Abu Simbel minibus where the driver quickly makes an X with his forearms and says, Tourist, no, NO! But this bus goes to Abu Simbel? Yes, Abu Simbel, but no for you, no tourists. Harummmph! HOW RUDE! I want to go to Abu Simbel, please. No for you! No tourist! Police! No for you! (small whine in my voice)… but I want to go to Abu Simbel, this bus is to Abu Simbel, why can’t I go to Abu Simbel? I’ve looked in the minibus and see there are other women in there, so it’s not a segregated bus thing, and there are still empty seat available. I’m thoroughly confused and at 7am, not sure what my options are. The bus driver then points me to a big, proper sized tour bus and tells me to go there. *sigh* Hanging my head a little bit, I shuffle over to this big bus and see four white faces around a table. I ask what’s the deal and find out that tourists are not allowed to ride in the small, private taxis or minibuses to areas south of Aswan, some kidnapping and robbery issues, so we must ride in these big government registered buses. Just like the typical Greyhound buses from home. Locals take them too, more comfortable than the minibuses, same same more or less. I’d heard the stories of police convoys and limited travel but it was from like 10 years ago. I guess not much has changed. Then they promptly turned their backs on me and continued chatting away in Spanish. Oh, okay. Thank you.
My first views of the desert on the four hour trip down and many police check points along the way. They never come onto the bus or actually stop the traffic, you just have to veer through pylons and gates and over speed bumps where groups of bored and uninterested military boys laze about with machine guns slung slackly over shoulders or backs of chairs, feet up, hats pushed back on their heads, and tea in hand. Miserable patrol assignment, for sure.
Abu Simbel is a small, quiet town on the Nile that obviously doesn’t see much tourism and as of late, even less. My 30 minute walk from town to the temples was almost deserted and the few people I did see offered hellos of genuine kindness instead of let me take your money. A pretty town that was much more of what I was hoping for. Arriving at the temples, I laughed to see that I was the only one there. I’m not kidding. About 50 security guards, shop owners, and various staff, and me. Sweet. I went to buy a ticket and choked. *side note* While the temples I have visited are cheap by Western prices and worth every single penny, they have been costing me about the same price as a night’s accommodation. It was starting to add up and any budgeting has already been totally and completely bashed. So this entry ticket was the most expensive one by far and was twice the price of my accommodation for that night. Gulp. I just couldn’t do it. So I wandered around out front for a bit, was instantly befriended by a fly/tick infested dog, and tried to figure out what I should do. I couldn’t let money be the issue right now, I'd come all this way and I’ll never be back. But it was a lot of money for this budget travelling girl. They had a student price listed, which was half the regular price, and just as I was about to approach the ticket man with puppy dog eyes and a plea for that student price, he waves me over. You have no money? I have money, just not enough money. You have money for student price? Yes! Yes! I can do student price. Okay, you pay student price. Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you! And in I go. All by myself is coming in handy in so many ways.
No need to bore you with the details of the temples but needless to say, if you look at my facebook photos, the temples were, as all have been, completely incredible. (I am obviously running out of adjectives descriptive enough to paint the AWESOMENESS of these places!) Oh yeah, and I was there all by myself. The four Spanish people from the bus did come and go, as did a few small tour groups, but I lingered and wandered and waited and had many long moments where it was just me and the big stone statues. For the sake of tourism, I’m sorry that people are staying away, but for selfish me, WOO! HOO! I’ve had National Geographic moments, just me and thousands of years of history. Un-freaking-believable! Lucky, lucky me!
Had a few visits with lovely local families when I stopped in at a shop or for something to eat (shocking!) and was up and gone on the 6am bus the next day. A quick 18 hour visit worth every single minute. Back to my hotel in Aswan where I had a few hours to kill before heading out on a trip I had planned to float down the Nile for a couple of days. I’m going on a felucca!
Okay, PR plug complete. On to the stories…
Aswan… While the touts were out in full force doing their jobs with a mighty gusto, Aswan remained a lovely town to stroll around. The day was full of shouts to get you into a taxi, horse carriage, or felucca, and after dark, the chants changed to having a look in their shop and buying their wares. Somewhat annoying if you wanted to stop and actually look at anything as you would be instantly swarmed, but harmless and comical for the most part. The night market in Aswan is beautiful. Typical tacky tourist trappings mixed in with the warm savoury scents of colourful spices arranged in open bowls and brilliant iridescent racks of silk and cotton scarves, shirts, skirts, and dresses. Fruit piled high pyramid style and jewelry shops bursting with Egyptian shaped charms. I bought a legit silver “wedding band” for less than $10 because the cheapo one turned my finger green. Oops! You could find anything here and of course, it’s all “special price for you!”
And as is the case with most of my travels, I’m eating my way through the country. Falafel and eggplant stuffed pita, tahini sauces and strange omelets and kashory (a carb lovers combo of rice, pasta, lentils, and some kind of tomato sauce) and some other random street food that would catch my attention without me fully understanding what exactly it was but I’d try it anyway. If the locals are chowing down on it, I want to try too. There was a lovely little park alongside one section of the river where I could sit on a bench and watch kids playing soccer or families strolling around without being the target of attention at all. It was amazing. I met the same young boy there both nights I wandered down as that was his turf for selling whatever he was selling and although we couldn’t understand a single word of what the other was saying, he was the nicest company. For a city that started with a pervo beginning, Aswan turned out to be so lovely!
I was considering heading south to Abu Simbel, 40kms north of the Sudanese border, but some locals suggested it really wasn’t worth it. My sister said it was, and she was right – THANKS JOOL! Of course, I want local buses as tourist crammed transport leaves you no time to do anything independently. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with tour groups, often they’re the best way to make sure you see all the highlights, but I’m a dawdler. Always have been. Whether hiking or sightseeing or diving or whatever, I generally get distracted by something or other, wander off from the group, and am always running to catch up, feeling like I’ve missed something along the way, then getting a telling off to boot. Not the way I like to see my once in a lifetime attractions.
So with directions from the guy at my hotel, I arrive at the local minibus station and am pointed to the Abu Simbel minibus where the driver quickly makes an X with his forearms and says, Tourist, no, NO! But this bus goes to Abu Simbel? Yes, Abu Simbel, but no for you, no tourists. Harummmph! HOW RUDE! I want to go to Abu Simbel, please. No for you! No tourist! Police! No for you! (small whine in my voice)… but I want to go to Abu Simbel, this bus is to Abu Simbel, why can’t I go to Abu Simbel? I’ve looked in the minibus and see there are other women in there, so it’s not a segregated bus thing, and there are still empty seat available. I’m thoroughly confused and at 7am, not sure what my options are. The bus driver then points me to a big, proper sized tour bus and tells me to go there. *sigh* Hanging my head a little bit, I shuffle over to this big bus and see four white faces around a table. I ask what’s the deal and find out that tourists are not allowed to ride in the small, private taxis or minibuses to areas south of Aswan, some kidnapping and robbery issues, so we must ride in these big government registered buses. Just like the typical Greyhound buses from home. Locals take them too, more comfortable than the minibuses, same same more or less. I’d heard the stories of police convoys and limited travel but it was from like 10 years ago. I guess not much has changed. Then they promptly turned their backs on me and continued chatting away in Spanish. Oh, okay. Thank you.
My first views of the desert on the four hour trip down and many police check points along the way. They never come onto the bus or actually stop the traffic, you just have to veer through pylons and gates and over speed bumps where groups of bored and uninterested military boys laze about with machine guns slung slackly over shoulders or backs of chairs, feet up, hats pushed back on their heads, and tea in hand. Miserable patrol assignment, for sure.
Abu Simbel is a small, quiet town on the Nile that obviously doesn’t see much tourism and as of late, even less. My 30 minute walk from town to the temples was almost deserted and the few people I did see offered hellos of genuine kindness instead of let me take your money. A pretty town that was much more of what I was hoping for. Arriving at the temples, I laughed to see that I was the only one there. I’m not kidding. About 50 security guards, shop owners, and various staff, and me. Sweet. I went to buy a ticket and choked. *side note* While the temples I have visited are cheap by Western prices and worth every single penny, they have been costing me about the same price as a night’s accommodation. It was starting to add up and any budgeting has already been totally and completely bashed. So this entry ticket was the most expensive one by far and was twice the price of my accommodation for that night. Gulp. I just couldn’t do it. So I wandered around out front for a bit, was instantly befriended by a fly/tick infested dog, and tried to figure out what I should do. I couldn’t let money be the issue right now, I'd come all this way and I’ll never be back. But it was a lot of money for this budget travelling girl. They had a student price listed, which was half the regular price, and just as I was about to approach the ticket man with puppy dog eyes and a plea for that student price, he waves me over. You have no money? I have money, just not enough money. You have money for student price? Yes! Yes! I can do student price. Okay, you pay student price. Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you! And in I go. All by myself is coming in handy in so many ways.
No need to bore you with the details of the temples but needless to say, if you look at my facebook photos, the temples were, as all have been, completely incredible. (I am obviously running out of adjectives descriptive enough to paint the AWESOMENESS of these places!) Oh yeah, and I was there all by myself. The four Spanish people from the bus did come and go, as did a few small tour groups, but I lingered and wandered and waited and had many long moments where it was just me and the big stone statues. For the sake of tourism, I’m sorry that people are staying away, but for selfish me, WOO! HOO! I’ve had National Geographic moments, just me and thousands of years of history. Un-freaking-believable! Lucky, lucky me!
Had a few visits with lovely local families when I stopped in at a shop or for something to eat (shocking!) and was up and gone on the 6am bus the next day. A quick 18 hour visit worth every single minute. Back to my hotel in Aswan where I had a few hours to kill before heading out on a trip I had planned to float down the Nile for a couple of days. I’m going on a felucca!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Ahhh... As-uan
I have to say, for every creep story I might have, there are ten more kind ones. I tell the creep ones not to worry or stress people out but because they’re really pretty funny. And honestly, the very, very, VERY few times I’ve felt creeped out, it was only that, creeped out. I’ve never once felt the tiniest bit unsafe since I’ve arrived. If I need anything , even if I don’t think I need anything, someone has always been there to help or give me tea or take me somewhere. Truly amazing people. Everyone must come to Egypt!
So, more examples of super niceness… I now needed to buy a train ticket to get to Aswan remember? but the train ticket guy was really sorry to tell me that there were no trains. What? Of course there are! They go a few times every day. No, no, no, air conditioned car train finished. Tomorrow, you want for tomorrow? This isn’t about money, they all honestly want to make sure I’m touristy comfortable. SO NICE! It’s okay, I tell him, I just want local train. Oh! Local train! You go with Egyptian people! No problem, you buy ticket on train. Yes, yes, welcome to Egypt. So while I listlessly try to pass away the three hot and sunny hours waiting for a train that’s supposed to come somewhere around 2pm, I’m of course lazing around on the wrong side of the tracks at 2:15pm because I figure I’ve got loads of time.
*side note* I’m still on Africa time. That simply means that I expect everything to be kinda sorta somewhere around when they say it’s going to be and when we’re all loaded up and ready to go, that STILL gives me another 10 or 15 mins while drivers and such sort themselves out. I need to snap out of this as things here are unbelievably efficient! I laughed it off when someone came by at around 2:05pm to apologize for the train being late; I assumed he was just used to whiny tourists who are on schedules they can’t let go of. You can set your watch by scheduled transport here, folks. I kid you not!
Train pulls up just after 2:15pm, I’m not really paying too much attention, and two men around me jump up pointing to my backpack that I’ve left on the RIGHT side of the tracks (I was keeping an eye on it, don’t worry!) You! Aswan? Aswan? Yep, me Aswan. GO! GO! Aswan! I race up the steps across the tracks while they shout at the train and someone pops out to grab my bag and help me on board. Stares all around. Oops. I get settled into my seat and within 5 minutes, two pretending to be official looking men come and stand beside me. They're talking to each other and the man sitting behind me who then speaks up and tells me that the men are policemen and they want me to come with them. What?! Why?! He explains that they feel I’ll be more comfortable, SAFER, if I sit up in the front with them instead of in the local car. Bahahaha! Apparently I really am royalty! No, no, I’m fine, everyone is very nice here, I’ll stay, no problem. They look at me in slight disbelief, shake their heads, and carry on. Oh so well taken care of indeed!
A very kind man on the train makes sure I get off at the right stop and I’m in Aswan. Taxi driver insists he knows where he’s taking me, I’ve got the name of a place in mind this time so I’m ready, but we drive in circles around and round. Finally he finds the place with many apologies and a “Welcome to Aswan!” and in I go. The guy at the desk has slime oozing out of him and he’s more than happy to show me a room. He tries to slip an arm around me as he slithers out from behind the desk but I was quick with the sidestep. Unfortunately the elevator was the smallest, narrowest thing I have ever seen. It was just long enough for the two of us to stand shoulder to shoulder and pressed up against the back wall, I could not put my arm all the way straight out in front of me. Smaller than a closet small. He insists I stand next to the buttons so he can do a boob swipe as he “oh, excuse me” presses the floor, then has hands on me, helping me out of the elevator. Seriously dude, OFF! The room was so nice, especially after what I had just come from in Edfu, but out on the balcony, just a smidge bigger than the elevator, he again had me cornered so that he could put his hands around my waist and guide me inside, trying to cuddle up to me. Ick. Ick. Ick. So Mr. McFeely Hands grabbed and pawed until we got to the desk. I said it was too expensive, it SO wasn’t, and as I bent down to pick up my bags, I heard a growl… “mmmmm, yes, good, good, very good.” I snapped my head up to see him leaning over the desk, craning his neck, as he tried to get a good look down my shirt. Vomit. With a great deal of restraint, I raised my voice just loud enough for others to hear that this was a very nice hotel but he was a very bad man, he is no good, and I will not stay because of him. “Bad man” gets the point across really well over here. Yuck, yuck, yuck!
And again, REALLY?! How do men, in any country in ANY place think this is a good idea? I know all of you girls can relate, the guys at the construction site you have to walk past, the goob in the convenience store who happens to always work the shift that you stop in, the slippery skid at the pub who seems to be a permanent fixture. Seriously, guys, think what you want but really, when those thoughts leave your head and enter MY world, it’s not winning you any brownie points. Even on those ugly days when I’d rather not be seen, THAT kind of attention simply warrants a punch in the balls. Enough said. Blech!
On the front steps of the hotel, as I re-adjusted my pack and shook off the slime, a man was just getting out of his car and coming up the steps. Can I help you? No, I’m fine. You don’t look fine, are you okay? No, I’m not okay! I need a place to stay and this is a bad place with a bad man! (Don’t I sound like I’m 5?! Too funny!) Oh madam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you. I’m of course super wary at this point but he pulls out his business cards and a portfolio, he’s a tour operator and he uses this hotel for his Korean guests sometimes. This man takes me in his personal car, for free, and drives me to my latest and greatest hotel, overlooking the Nile, for the same price, with assurances that I will be very, very safe here. I want you be happy, I no like how your face look out of that hotel, I want to change your face. I want you to like Egypt. Oh I do, I do. I’m sorry. It was a bad 5 minutes and now it’s all good. Thank you so much Mr. Mohamed. I love Egypt!
So my new hotel is on the main street of town with the unbelievable constant laying-on-the-horn-honking drilling shrilling into my brain but my big window opens up directly over the Nile, it’s clean and big and cozy, and I’m settled in for a good few days. In Edfu, I barely took anything out of my pack, within 10 minutes here, my whole bag has been unloaded. Yep, I’m comfortable, the staff is SO lovely, and I’m gonna be just fine!
So, more examples of super niceness… I now needed to buy a train ticket to get to Aswan remember? but the train ticket guy was really sorry to tell me that there were no trains. What? Of course there are! They go a few times every day. No, no, no, air conditioned car train finished. Tomorrow, you want for tomorrow? This isn’t about money, they all honestly want to make sure I’m touristy comfortable. SO NICE! It’s okay, I tell him, I just want local train. Oh! Local train! You go with Egyptian people! No problem, you buy ticket on train. Yes, yes, welcome to Egypt. So while I listlessly try to pass away the three hot and sunny hours waiting for a train that’s supposed to come somewhere around 2pm, I’m of course lazing around on the wrong side of the tracks at 2:15pm because I figure I’ve got loads of time.
*side note* I’m still on Africa time. That simply means that I expect everything to be kinda sorta somewhere around when they say it’s going to be and when we’re all loaded up and ready to go, that STILL gives me another 10 or 15 mins while drivers and such sort themselves out. I need to snap out of this as things here are unbelievably efficient! I laughed it off when someone came by at around 2:05pm to apologize for the train being late; I assumed he was just used to whiny tourists who are on schedules they can’t let go of. You can set your watch by scheduled transport here, folks. I kid you not!
Train pulls up just after 2:15pm, I’m not really paying too much attention, and two men around me jump up pointing to my backpack that I’ve left on the RIGHT side of the tracks (I was keeping an eye on it, don’t worry!) You! Aswan? Aswan? Yep, me Aswan. GO! GO! Aswan! I race up the steps across the tracks while they shout at the train and someone pops out to grab my bag and help me on board. Stares all around. Oops. I get settled into my seat and within 5 minutes, two pretending to be official looking men come and stand beside me. They're talking to each other and the man sitting behind me who then speaks up and tells me that the men are policemen and they want me to come with them. What?! Why?! He explains that they feel I’ll be more comfortable, SAFER, if I sit up in the front with them instead of in the local car. Bahahaha! Apparently I really am royalty! No, no, I’m fine, everyone is very nice here, I’ll stay, no problem. They look at me in slight disbelief, shake their heads, and carry on. Oh so well taken care of indeed!
A very kind man on the train makes sure I get off at the right stop and I’m in Aswan. Taxi driver insists he knows where he’s taking me, I’ve got the name of a place in mind this time so I’m ready, but we drive in circles around and round. Finally he finds the place with many apologies and a “Welcome to Aswan!” and in I go. The guy at the desk has slime oozing out of him and he’s more than happy to show me a room. He tries to slip an arm around me as he slithers out from behind the desk but I was quick with the sidestep. Unfortunately the elevator was the smallest, narrowest thing I have ever seen. It was just long enough for the two of us to stand shoulder to shoulder and pressed up against the back wall, I could not put my arm all the way straight out in front of me. Smaller than a closet small. He insists I stand next to the buttons so he can do a boob swipe as he “oh, excuse me” presses the floor, then has hands on me, helping me out of the elevator. Seriously dude, OFF! The room was so nice, especially after what I had just come from in Edfu, but out on the balcony, just a smidge bigger than the elevator, he again had me cornered so that he could put his hands around my waist and guide me inside, trying to cuddle up to me. Ick. Ick. Ick. So Mr. McFeely Hands grabbed and pawed until we got to the desk. I said it was too expensive, it SO wasn’t, and as I bent down to pick up my bags, I heard a growl… “mmmmm, yes, good, good, very good.” I snapped my head up to see him leaning over the desk, craning his neck, as he tried to get a good look down my shirt. Vomit. With a great deal of restraint, I raised my voice just loud enough for others to hear that this was a very nice hotel but he was a very bad man, he is no good, and I will not stay because of him. “Bad man” gets the point across really well over here. Yuck, yuck, yuck!
And again, REALLY?! How do men, in any country in ANY place think this is a good idea? I know all of you girls can relate, the guys at the construction site you have to walk past, the goob in the convenience store who happens to always work the shift that you stop in, the slippery skid at the pub who seems to be a permanent fixture. Seriously, guys, think what you want but really, when those thoughts leave your head and enter MY world, it’s not winning you any brownie points. Even on those ugly days when I’d rather not be seen, THAT kind of attention simply warrants a punch in the balls. Enough said. Blech!
On the front steps of the hotel, as I re-adjusted my pack and shook off the slime, a man was just getting out of his car and coming up the steps. Can I help you? No, I’m fine. You don’t look fine, are you okay? No, I’m not okay! I need a place to stay and this is a bad place with a bad man! (Don’t I sound like I’m 5?! Too funny!) Oh madam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you. I’m of course super wary at this point but he pulls out his business cards and a portfolio, he’s a tour operator and he uses this hotel for his Korean guests sometimes. This man takes me in his personal car, for free, and drives me to my latest and greatest hotel, overlooking the Nile, for the same price, with assurances that I will be very, very safe here. I want you be happy, I no like how your face look out of that hotel, I want to change your face. I want you to like Egypt. Oh I do, I do. I’m sorry. It was a bad 5 minutes and now it’s all good. Thank you so much Mr. Mohamed. I love Egypt!
So my new hotel is on the main street of town with the unbelievable constant laying-on-the-horn-honking drilling shrilling into my brain but my big window opens up directly over the Nile, it’s clean and big and cozy, and I’m settled in for a good few days. In Edfu, I barely took anything out of my pack, within 10 minutes here, my whole bag has been unloaded. Yep, I’m comfortable, the staff is SO lovely, and I’m gonna be just fine!
Naughty & Nice in Edfu
As I left the comfort of my squatter’s palace in lovely Al Quseir, I was excited to be heading towards the Nile. Visions of floating wooden barges and feluccas sailing lazily down the water as camels grazed peacefully in the shadows of looming ancient temples. The Nile in Cairo was a big ole river in the middle of a very big city, I wanted to see old school Nile. If you didn’t know it already folks, obviously I’m in my own little world; it’s 2011, not 2011BC! So I left the coast of the Red Sea and spent all of about $5 to get the 5 hours from Al Quseir to Edfu via the usual Peugot station wagon and minibus. I was aiming for Edfu as it didn’t seem to be too much of a tourist town, it’s right on the river, and I was planning to hop a local boat from there south to Aswan. Why I try to plan these things after ALL this time is beyond me; I just don’t learn.
The minibus driver, as all of them have been, was WONDERFUL! Every taxi driver or transport driver has gone out of their way to take me the extra distance from the station to wherever I might be able to find accommodation. Even insisting on carrying my bag! I’m strong like bull but thankful for the chivalries when it means climbing X number of flights of stairs with it. Then they all make sure I take their phone numbers, even if they only know 3 words of English, so that “you call, I help you”. SO NICE! Really. Edfu was a loud, busy town, a minor stop on the tourist circuit, so I thought it would be an okay happy medium of comfort and challenge. The hotel where my driver dropped me was WAY expensive so backpack on (it’s now mid-afternoon hot), and off I trudged to find somewhere to lay my head for the night. It seems that accommodation is hard to come by in Edfu as not many people could offer ideas and I was on the main street through town. Finally, two young girls walked me to this crumbling building (literally!) tucked behind alleyways near the market and saved me from the sweltering agony of concrete, blaring horns, and being generally lost and confused.
The surprised looks on the faces of the staff members at El Medina Hotel revealed that they had obviously not seen a foreign traveler in quite some time. They immediately welcomed me in and the owner, who must be pushing 90 if not more, insisted I sit and look at comment books and photos of him with travelers of many years ago while another staff member graciously provided me with the coldest, yummiest glass of guava juice. The broken chatter about all of his guests and the 20 or 30 years that he had owned this hotel went on and on and on (never did find out who owned it for the 150 previous years.) The younger staff members offered me sheepish, sympathetic looks as they attempted to redirect grandpa so that I could actually get a room, but there was no stopping him. It was only once I sifted through all of the photos and skimmed the latest comment book did someone swoop in and save me under the pretense of showing me rooms for the night.
Ummm… okay. Now, I’m remembering some of the places I’ve hunkered down in before. I’m not usually too too picky about where I stay, I usually know what I’m getting myself into more or less, but yeah, this place was rough. The man showing me around was so eager, showing me one room right next to the office if I wanted to be close to them, (no, very kind, but no thank you), another one that was right over the street, looked bright and sunny, and then an “Oh wait! Ah ha! moment” as he brought me to a similar room but on the other side of the scary building where it was “very quiet, no street, very quiet”. Yes, yes, this will do. I was cringing but he was SO nice! Back downstairs to fill out paperwork and talk price. This place was half the price of the first place but still the most expensive place so far and really, should have been condemned, but at this point, my choices were pretty much none and the family and staff were just so nice! “you drink tea?” “you want food?” “you want tea?” Umm… I’m okay, I’m just gonna go to my room, but thank you, thank you very much.
The door to the room was barely on its hinges so needless to say, the lock was most ineffective, the three single beds in the room had mattresses so thin that I could feel the wire frame underneath them, and the bathroom, oh the bathroom, it had me afraid for my life. That being said though, it was a big room, I couldn’t see any creepy crawlies, and yeah, it was only for one night. I dropped my stuff, making sure that nothing that was going to touch my skin touched the floor, the carpet, or the beds, and ventured out. Hot and sweaty but I wanted to see where I was.
Harassment had been blissfully minor up to this point. I was thoroughly unprepared.
Horse drawn carriages seem to be the way tourists get around here so each one that passed by shouted to me for a ride. As did each taxi driver and each shop owner. “Hello!” ”Hey you!” ”Hello!” ”Taxi?” ”Hello!” ”You want taxi?” “Hello!” “Look in my shop!” Hello!” “What’s your country?” “Hello!” “Welcome to Alaska!” (What the HELL? That’s a new one!) There is no possible way to respond to every single person who shouts at you or tries to greet you or attempts to engage you in some form of communication. Honestly, it’s not being rude, it’s just impossible. And then, super annoying. So ignoring them is a survival strategy that is the quickest way to get rid of the unwanted attention. Quickest, but not immediate. I kid you not, the taxi or carriage driver will slowly pace beside you and just say “hello, taxi?” over and over and over again, honking their horn or cracking their horse whip, while I look straight ahead not even acknowledging their presence, and it goes on and on. We’re maybe a metre or two apart and they just keep throwing out their pitch while I continue to ignore them. I’m serious! It must look hilarious! And love a duck, it’s exhausting.
I finally hide out in this tiny little falafel hole in the wall where some nice kids are working. The group of curious onlookers that gathers always has at least one who can speak English. The English speaker gives me the creeps right away as he was one of those yelling for my attention on the street from his car and came rushing in when he saw me sit down, but I’m hungry, the other boys in the shop are nice, and *sigh*, I just don’t have the energy at the moment. I ask about any other places to stay and of course, he offers his family’s house. Now THIS isn’t creepy, it has actually been surprisingly common and so very Egyptian hospitality where I've been invited to stay with families out of sheer generosity, but when I declined, he followed it up with the tidbit of info that he has a cat that just had kittens, don’t I want to see the kittens? Oh ewwwwww!!! Pedophile to the children in the park… come on little girl, I have some puppies in the car, come see my puppies. No way guy!
I firmly refuse but then he insists that he show me a place that he knows of. I ask him to just tell me, no, no, better price if I go with you, which again is true, so I go. It’s broad daylight in the middle of the busy street and my creep detector is on high alert so I’m not worried. He’s shady, but a bit of a joke. I figured I could outrun his chubby ass if I needed to. Not 5 minutes down the road and the conversation turns to him asking me to do something, blah, blah, blah, that I should hold his hand because it would be nice for him and make him feel good. Ciao creep! I turn on my heel and am outta there. My icky hotel is just fine, thank you very much.
As I’m standing in the doorway to the office of the hotel talking to the incredibly nice man who showed me my room earlier, creepo kitty guy suddenly shows up, peering over my shoulder. ACK! Get out! Get out NOW! He tries to talk to my hotel guy so I just kept talking over him saying “bad man, bad man, bad man, tell him to go, tell him to go.” so my hotel guy politely insists that he leaves. I thought that I'd shaken him off when I bolted from the street but the creep followed me! I made sure that my hotel man knew to not let this guy back into the hotel, to NOT show him my room, that he was NOT my friend, and to please let me know if he comes back. It really wasn’t a big deal but wow did it ever give me the heebie jeebies! Yuck!
As I’m gathering my wits in my room, there is a knock at my door not 3 minutes later. Really?! Did he really come back?! It was the nice man (oh I wish I could remember his name!) who was insisting I come downstairs. Why? Just come, come. Oh shit, what have I started? He puts me in this tiny, dingy room, obviously where staff hangs out to watch TV and I’m thinking that if police or creepy kitty guy or ANYONE else shows up, I’m ditching my stuff and making a run for it. Instead, nice man brings in a massive tray of food, his lunch. He then begins shoving food in my hands and up to my mouth, eat! Eat! Oh no, no, I just ate, really I’m ok. No! You eat! His English is broken, his face is serious, he wants me to know that Egyptian men are good men and I don’t know? that maybe food will erase the minor creep experience I had upon arrival??? So we sit, he eats and I try to swallow a bit here and there (I JUST ate, remember?) and he tries to make everything okay. SUCH a nice man! I ask him about getting a felucca south to Aswan and he makes a plan to take me to his friend later that night. He was going to take very good care of me.
Unfortunately, the Nile in the middle of these cities is just a big river with massive cruise ships tied up alongside. No sailing boats, no fishing boats, only hotels on water. This sweet man walks up and down the river later that night with me asking whoever he can find about local boats to Aswan. We talk to tourist police (who know nothing) and local people but can only come up with a plan to show up the next morning to try again. Looks like there are no boats going south. From what it seems, for whatever reason, you can only sail the sections of the river between Luxor and Aswan via hotel-sized cruise boat. No feluccas, no small boats, and no hopping on board somewhere in the middle, which is where I was. Sigh. Okay. Will try tomorrow. Back to the hotel. Took a good couple of hours out of this man’s night and he can only smile and ensure that we try again tomorrow. Wow. So, so, SO nice!
Not much sleep that night, for however many reasons, and at 6:30am someone starts knocking on my door. You know how when you don’t sleep all night, the only sleep you actually get usually comes around 5:30am? Yeah, I had just fallen asleep and someone is knocking on my door. Hello? Hello? Who’s there? Please go away! No response, just… Knock, knock, knock. Grumble, grumble, grumble, I open the door to grandpa insisting that I come for tea. I simply looked at him. No thank you, I’m sleeping (pointing to my wildly messy hair and puffy face). You want tea? No, really, thank you, I want to sleep. Oh, okay, you come later. *sigh* Nicest family EVER but COME ON!!! I shake my head, laughing to myself, and crawl back into my creaky wire bed.
I try to get a bit of sleep, get up, and pack up all of my stuff. I’m leaving today whether there’s a boat or not. 8:30am, another knock on my door. Really?! REALLY?! It’s nice man, asking when I’m going to the temple because “temple open now, going to boat 10 o’clock”. Okay, okay, going now. Oh my GOSH! I hoof it the 20 minute walk to the Temple of Horus ignoring horse carriages and taxis the whole way. Oh. Wow. Most completely intact temple in Egypt. This was amazing. Huge and perfect and amazing. Needless to say I was there a little longer than I had planned. Was almost 11 by the time I got back to the hotel and the nice man and I said a quick goodbye. I’ve GOT to find a way to thank that man. Incredible.
Oh, little side funny. Apparently I’m the only one who walks anywhere hence the only crazy man in Edfu who also walks the road from town to temple thought it would be quite entertaining to stalk and shout at me in what I think was his attempt at asking me my name in English but more or less sounded like “wassabyneem?” I crossed the street, he crossed the street, I slowed down, he slowed down, I passed him, he ran to catch up, you get the point. I just ignored him and kept on straight ahead however a few people watching this scene signaled to police officers (I didn’t see this) who felt it was now their duty to accompany me. Crazy man hopped up in one of the many horse carriages, laughing as he was whisked away, and then the police pick up where crazy left off… So, what’s your name? Where do you come from? *sigh* What can you do?
The backpack walk to the river was the longest yet so I was exhausted upon arrival. Found out what we had suspected, no boats for me to hop on, so train it is. 3 hour wait until the train comes. Ugh. But it’s all good. Heading to Aswan.
The minibus driver, as all of them have been, was WONDERFUL! Every taxi driver or transport driver has gone out of their way to take me the extra distance from the station to wherever I might be able to find accommodation. Even insisting on carrying my bag! I’m strong like bull but thankful for the chivalries when it means climbing X number of flights of stairs with it. Then they all make sure I take their phone numbers, even if they only know 3 words of English, so that “you call, I help you”. SO NICE! Really. Edfu was a loud, busy town, a minor stop on the tourist circuit, so I thought it would be an okay happy medium of comfort and challenge. The hotel where my driver dropped me was WAY expensive so backpack on (it’s now mid-afternoon hot), and off I trudged to find somewhere to lay my head for the night. It seems that accommodation is hard to come by in Edfu as not many people could offer ideas and I was on the main street through town. Finally, two young girls walked me to this crumbling building (literally!) tucked behind alleyways near the market and saved me from the sweltering agony of concrete, blaring horns, and being generally lost and confused.
The surprised looks on the faces of the staff members at El Medina Hotel revealed that they had obviously not seen a foreign traveler in quite some time. They immediately welcomed me in and the owner, who must be pushing 90 if not more, insisted I sit and look at comment books and photos of him with travelers of many years ago while another staff member graciously provided me with the coldest, yummiest glass of guava juice. The broken chatter about all of his guests and the 20 or 30 years that he had owned this hotel went on and on and on (never did find out who owned it for the 150 previous years.) The younger staff members offered me sheepish, sympathetic looks as they attempted to redirect grandpa so that I could actually get a room, but there was no stopping him. It was only once I sifted through all of the photos and skimmed the latest comment book did someone swoop in and save me under the pretense of showing me rooms for the night.
Ummm… okay. Now, I’m remembering some of the places I’ve hunkered down in before. I’m not usually too too picky about where I stay, I usually know what I’m getting myself into more or less, but yeah, this place was rough. The man showing me around was so eager, showing me one room right next to the office if I wanted to be close to them, (no, very kind, but no thank you), another one that was right over the street, looked bright and sunny, and then an “Oh wait! Ah ha! moment” as he brought me to a similar room but on the other side of the scary building where it was “very quiet, no street, very quiet”. Yes, yes, this will do. I was cringing but he was SO nice! Back downstairs to fill out paperwork and talk price. This place was half the price of the first place but still the most expensive place so far and really, should have been condemned, but at this point, my choices were pretty much none and the family and staff were just so nice! “you drink tea?” “you want food?” “you want tea?” Umm… I’m okay, I’m just gonna go to my room, but thank you, thank you very much.
The door to the room was barely on its hinges so needless to say, the lock was most ineffective, the three single beds in the room had mattresses so thin that I could feel the wire frame underneath them, and the bathroom, oh the bathroom, it had me afraid for my life. That being said though, it was a big room, I couldn’t see any creepy crawlies, and yeah, it was only for one night. I dropped my stuff, making sure that nothing that was going to touch my skin touched the floor, the carpet, or the beds, and ventured out. Hot and sweaty but I wanted to see where I was.
Harassment had been blissfully minor up to this point. I was thoroughly unprepared.
Horse drawn carriages seem to be the way tourists get around here so each one that passed by shouted to me for a ride. As did each taxi driver and each shop owner. “Hello!” ”Hey you!” ”Hello!” ”Taxi?” ”Hello!” ”You want taxi?” “Hello!” “Look in my shop!” Hello!” “What’s your country?” “Hello!” “Welcome to Alaska!” (What the HELL? That’s a new one!) There is no possible way to respond to every single person who shouts at you or tries to greet you or attempts to engage you in some form of communication. Honestly, it’s not being rude, it’s just impossible. And then, super annoying. So ignoring them is a survival strategy that is the quickest way to get rid of the unwanted attention. Quickest, but not immediate. I kid you not, the taxi or carriage driver will slowly pace beside you and just say “hello, taxi?” over and over and over again, honking their horn or cracking their horse whip, while I look straight ahead not even acknowledging their presence, and it goes on and on. We’re maybe a metre or two apart and they just keep throwing out their pitch while I continue to ignore them. I’m serious! It must look hilarious! And love a duck, it’s exhausting.
I finally hide out in this tiny little falafel hole in the wall where some nice kids are working. The group of curious onlookers that gathers always has at least one who can speak English. The English speaker gives me the creeps right away as he was one of those yelling for my attention on the street from his car and came rushing in when he saw me sit down, but I’m hungry, the other boys in the shop are nice, and *sigh*, I just don’t have the energy at the moment. I ask about any other places to stay and of course, he offers his family’s house. Now THIS isn’t creepy, it has actually been surprisingly common and so very Egyptian hospitality where I've been invited to stay with families out of sheer generosity, but when I declined, he followed it up with the tidbit of info that he has a cat that just had kittens, don’t I want to see the kittens? Oh ewwwwww!!! Pedophile to the children in the park… come on little girl, I have some puppies in the car, come see my puppies. No way guy!
I firmly refuse but then he insists that he show me a place that he knows of. I ask him to just tell me, no, no, better price if I go with you, which again is true, so I go. It’s broad daylight in the middle of the busy street and my creep detector is on high alert so I’m not worried. He’s shady, but a bit of a joke. I figured I could outrun his chubby ass if I needed to. Not 5 minutes down the road and the conversation turns to him asking me to do something, blah, blah, blah, that I should hold his hand because it would be nice for him and make him feel good. Ciao creep! I turn on my heel and am outta there. My icky hotel is just fine, thank you very much.
As I’m standing in the doorway to the office of the hotel talking to the incredibly nice man who showed me my room earlier, creepo kitty guy suddenly shows up, peering over my shoulder. ACK! Get out! Get out NOW! He tries to talk to my hotel guy so I just kept talking over him saying “bad man, bad man, bad man, tell him to go, tell him to go.” so my hotel guy politely insists that he leaves. I thought that I'd shaken him off when I bolted from the street but the creep followed me! I made sure that my hotel man knew to not let this guy back into the hotel, to NOT show him my room, that he was NOT my friend, and to please let me know if he comes back. It really wasn’t a big deal but wow did it ever give me the heebie jeebies! Yuck!
As I’m gathering my wits in my room, there is a knock at my door not 3 minutes later. Really?! Did he really come back?! It was the nice man (oh I wish I could remember his name!) who was insisting I come downstairs. Why? Just come, come. Oh shit, what have I started? He puts me in this tiny, dingy room, obviously where staff hangs out to watch TV and I’m thinking that if police or creepy kitty guy or ANYONE else shows up, I’m ditching my stuff and making a run for it. Instead, nice man brings in a massive tray of food, his lunch. He then begins shoving food in my hands and up to my mouth, eat! Eat! Oh no, no, I just ate, really I’m ok. No! You eat! His English is broken, his face is serious, he wants me to know that Egyptian men are good men and I don’t know? that maybe food will erase the minor creep experience I had upon arrival??? So we sit, he eats and I try to swallow a bit here and there (I JUST ate, remember?) and he tries to make everything okay. SUCH a nice man! I ask him about getting a felucca south to Aswan and he makes a plan to take me to his friend later that night. He was going to take very good care of me.
Unfortunately, the Nile in the middle of these cities is just a big river with massive cruise ships tied up alongside. No sailing boats, no fishing boats, only hotels on water. This sweet man walks up and down the river later that night with me asking whoever he can find about local boats to Aswan. We talk to tourist police (who know nothing) and local people but can only come up with a plan to show up the next morning to try again. Looks like there are no boats going south. From what it seems, for whatever reason, you can only sail the sections of the river between Luxor and Aswan via hotel-sized cruise boat. No feluccas, no small boats, and no hopping on board somewhere in the middle, which is where I was. Sigh. Okay. Will try tomorrow. Back to the hotel. Took a good couple of hours out of this man’s night and he can only smile and ensure that we try again tomorrow. Wow. So, so, SO nice!
Not much sleep that night, for however many reasons, and at 6:30am someone starts knocking on my door. You know how when you don’t sleep all night, the only sleep you actually get usually comes around 5:30am? Yeah, I had just fallen asleep and someone is knocking on my door. Hello? Hello? Who’s there? Please go away! No response, just… Knock, knock, knock. Grumble, grumble, grumble, I open the door to grandpa insisting that I come for tea. I simply looked at him. No thank you, I’m sleeping (pointing to my wildly messy hair and puffy face). You want tea? No, really, thank you, I want to sleep. Oh, okay, you come later. *sigh* Nicest family EVER but COME ON!!! I shake my head, laughing to myself, and crawl back into my creaky wire bed.
I try to get a bit of sleep, get up, and pack up all of my stuff. I’m leaving today whether there’s a boat or not. 8:30am, another knock on my door. Really?! REALLY?! It’s nice man, asking when I’m going to the temple because “temple open now, going to boat 10 o’clock”. Okay, okay, going now. Oh my GOSH! I hoof it the 20 minute walk to the Temple of Horus ignoring horse carriages and taxis the whole way. Oh. Wow. Most completely intact temple in Egypt. This was amazing. Huge and perfect and amazing. Needless to say I was there a little longer than I had planned. Was almost 11 by the time I got back to the hotel and the nice man and I said a quick goodbye. I’ve GOT to find a way to thank that man. Incredible.
Oh, little side funny. Apparently I’m the only one who walks anywhere hence the only crazy man in Edfu who also walks the road from town to temple thought it would be quite entertaining to stalk and shout at me in what I think was his attempt at asking me my name in English but more or less sounded like “wassabyneem?” I crossed the street, he crossed the street, I slowed down, he slowed down, I passed him, he ran to catch up, you get the point. I just ignored him and kept on straight ahead however a few people watching this scene signaled to police officers (I didn’t see this) who felt it was now their duty to accompany me. Crazy man hopped up in one of the many horse carriages, laughing as he was whisked away, and then the police pick up where crazy left off… So, what’s your name? Where do you come from? *sigh* What can you do?
The backpack walk to the river was the longest yet so I was exhausted upon arrival. Found out what we had suspected, no boats for me to hop on, so train it is. 3 hour wait until the train comes. Ugh. But it’s all good. Heading to Aswan.
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