With the glow of Petra pushing us on, we hit the road the next morning bound for Dana Nature Reserve and castle town Karak. I was becoming a bit less terrified of the stop and start steep hills but that doesn’t mean that I was necessarily getting any better. And then… da da dummmm… the car starts to make the loudest growling, rattling noise ever. We’re on a highway in the middle of nowhere. Oh shit, shit, shit. What have I done?!
Every once in a while, there’s a random police vehicle parked on the side of the road, looks like it should be a speed trap but they sit out in the wide open and mostly just lounge about and chat on their cell phones. Luckily our car temper tantrum started very near one of these highway hangouts. They eagerly came over, all of us looked at what I think was the exhaust pipe that had come loose from the underside of the car and was rattling all over the place. Race car minus the muffler, that’s what we sounded like. They directed us to a town about 20kms up the road where we would find a mechanic. Bring it on. Three white girls looking for Arabic mechanics. Nice one.
With MUCH patience, expert charades, and several phone calls to Avis, it was decided that I would pay the small amount of cash to have the mechanic tie up the loose bits and would be reimbursed when I returned the car instead of them driving the hour and a half to bring me a new one. Whatever. Just get us on the road. The girls searched out a place to sit and have ice-cream for breakfast while I smiled and nodded at grease monkeys who found this oh so entertaining. Adventure, adventure, adventure.
We were happy with the quick and cheap car fix and decided to skip Dana as we were now running short on time, so after some directional issues (yes, I AM a map retard!), we were on our way. When we arrived a short while later in the town of Karak, I quickly gave up the driver seat as the streets we had to navigate were the narrowest and steepest I had seen with of course NO room for roll back from the tooting, honking cars on our bumper behind us. Yikes! Liz to the rescue once again. Thank goodness!
Pretty much only one option for a place to spend the night and we were kinda undecided as to whether we should stay or keep moving on towards our next destination. Again, the BLISS of having our own car! Liz and Laura went off to see the castle, I was thoroughly castles and temples and ruins finished by this point so I wandered the town instead. Oh so lovely Karak town! Not meant to be a major destination on the tourist map except for a stopover on the way to somewhere else and a quick visit to the castle, this of course made the town that much more friendly and lovely and… oh I don’t know, just so NICE! It reminded me of my home in Thailand. I was grinning and getting all wrapped up in that home town feel of wandering around streets and shops where English was almost impossible to come by but everyone wanted to say hello. I met up with the girls after they finished checking out the castle and hope, hope, hoped they would want to stay the night. THEY DID! Woo! Hoo!
Booked into our old but cozy place to stay and we started getting organized for our adventure destination the next day… The Grand Canyon of Jordan, Wadi Mujib. I called and booked us in on a half day hike, had to make reservations with a guide, and we tried to imagine what we were in for. A hike through a river that flowed through a canyon similar to what we walked through in Petra, pools, and rappelling down a 20 metre waterfall. Tomorrow is gonna be such good fun.
We had about an hour drive to get there for 8am, showed up with another couple and were told we had to wait until 9am because there might be more people showing up. No big deal, it wasn’t so hot yet, and it was a beautiful place to hang out. My very first glimpse of the DEAD SEA! Sadly, the Dead Sea around here is frustratingly inaccessible. Drop off rocky cliffs that are a challenge to get up and down. So we walked around it from above and hoped that we’d be able to dip our toes in that Salty Sea one of these days soon.
Oh, ummm…, I’m kinda getting pretty good at lying. I’ve created quite a lovely husband and life I have with him, I’ve had a variety of names and occupations, and my travel plans are quite interesting depending on the day. Also, I had a fake teacher card made in Luxor. I think I told you guys about that, right? No? Oops. International teacher card, gives you discounts on entry fees, etc., $20 and it has already paid itself off. So yeah, I told the guy at Wadi Mujib, while the girls waited in the car, that I was a teacher and they were my students. Didn’t even ask to see my card, $15 off each ticket. Again, the entrance fees were MORE than Petra, another week’s worth of accommodation, but we REALLY wanted to do this thing and do it we did!
Six of us, we Three Muskateers, a lovely couple from Belgium, and our smiley guide Ali, hopped in the back of a pickup to be (THANKFULLY) driven up a hellish dirt road that should have flipped us over and started our little jaunt alongside a lovely little river. The dry sides of the river shrunk and into the water we waded. It’s a bit strange, against everything your mama taught you, to head straight into the water, shoes and clothes on, just go. But we knew this was the plan so once you got over the initial ummm… should I take my shoes off? it’s SO fun. And shoes on is kinda needed.
The river was anywhere from ankle to mid-thigh deep (for my short arse), a bit of a rushing river over slippery rocks and sand through that same marble smooth and coloured rocky gorge that we saw in Petra. It would open up into small fields or wider paths through the canyon, it was absolutely stunning! Easy hike, nothing strenuous, but out of breath simply from where we were and what we were seeing. This was unreal! We made it up to an opening, climbed up some rocks and found a place where the river formed a series of pools. Again, my pictures don’t do it justice AND my camera crapped out at the first pool… DAMNIT! But I got a few photos and the rest will be locked tightly in my happy happy memory.
Ali seemed to genuinely like his job as he led us up, up, up over small but fast moving waterfalls giving us boosts or using ropes, stepping just here, not there, hold hands here, sit down and slide there. It was just RIDICULOUS fun! Seriously. We couldn’t stop laughing. Unfortunately I think the Belgian couple was frustrated because they had to keep stopping and waiting for us but we weren’t in any hurry, we were having SO much fun, and really, the more time we had out there, the better! So yeah, jumping, swimming, sliding, wading, climbing, falling, and roaming in, on, around, under, and through a river and waterfalls in the middle of the most beautiful canyon. Truly, once in a lifetime kind of thing. It was, oh I’ve run out of adjectives and superlatives, it was just so much fun!
The grand finale really was that perfect mix of “Are you serious?!” and “Let’s do this thing!” While Ali hooked up ropes and we shimmied into climbing harnesses, that 20 metre waterfall all of a sudden looked to be about 200 metres. Gulp! Now, I’ve done some rock climbing, I actually LOVE rock climbing, but down the side of a waterfall where you can’t see past the first ledge… ummm… well… no choice but to give it a go. The only heart stopping moment was the very first bit where you straddle / lie on your stomach over a boulder, looking Ali dead in his smiling eyes, placing your life in his very capable hands, and trusting him as he says, now just let go. So I let go.
The fear INSTANTLY dissolved and I squealed my way down the 10 second rappel running my hands through the waterfall beside me then getting thoroughly smashed to my knees by it as you land directly underneath it. Oh I want to go again! Again! Again! Again! I watched my two girls follow suit and the smiles were priceless. Oh how I wish my camera was working but yeah, we’ll never forget it. NEVER. I want to come back. Think they’ll give me a job as a guide? Can’t hurt to ask.
A few smaller waterfalls to conquer on our way out but we were able to slide or climb down them with Ali at the bottom to pull us out as we were pushed to the bottom of the swirling mini-whirlpools. Just SO much fun! And yeah, I promptly fell in love. Seriously. Hiking, rock climbing, save my life guide… seriously, marry me. Don’t worry, don’t worry. I was very well behaved. But if anyone needs a guide for Wadi Mujib, I’ve got one for you. *sigh* Wow, what a day.
After a long rest and dry off, we packed up and made our way to Amman, exhausted but still buzzing from our adventurous day. Super nice hotel found in the middle of a very big city and we settled in for a good few days. We’re in Amman.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Exploring Petra
Petra, Petra, Indiana Jones, Petra. So hopefully Petra was famous and on some must-see lists before Harrison Ford’s adventures boosted it into Hollywood legend but yeah, the theme song was being hummed out loud as we made our way through some very famous sites.
Upon arriving in Wadi Musa, emergency brake necessity parked on a vertical hill, we decided to walk around checking out places to stay for the night. Again, the bliss of no packs on our backs, staying wherever we wanted to regardless of distance from sites was just divine! Settled on a lovely little place named “Peaceway” and unloaded the car. Poor Liz was getting a pretty nasty cold so she wisely decided to hunker down, power nap, and take it easy so that she wouldn’t be out flat missing too many days of her travels. Late afternoon so Laura and I headed down to Petra to see what we could see before it closed for the night. Some dreadfully embarrassing car moments on deadly steep hills getting to the site entrance but I managed without splitting poor Laura’s head open on the dashboard.
Entrance to Petra is again, ridiculous. I have spent more on entrance fees than accommodation, food, and travel combined. Shameful but keep justifying that I will never be back and it’s a must see. The entrance fees were one set price plus 10% of that price for an extra day. We were going to get every single penny worth of it. Late afternoon, sun was hot hot, but we were in Petra and there was lots to see.
It’s a two kilometer walk down from the entrance, initially a wide open dirt road with some ruins and temples carved into the rock walls along the way but then it narrows into an enormous gorge. Dirt path the width of a single lane road winding through smooth, colourful mountains that you can’t see the top of. Apparently the gorge was separated by tectonic forces but water has flowed through and smoothed it out like fine marble. Colour swirls of brown, purple, red, yellow, grey, and white make it look like it has been painted. So very beautiful. As you near the end of these two kilometers and strain your eyes ahead through the opening of the gorge, you see it, the sliver of the Treasury, a sight that makes everyone’s mouth drop as they exit the canyon and file out into the open air. My pictures do it no justice, please look it up online. A Treasury, an entire building, carved INTO a mountain. Impossible to imagine the work that went into this. Impossible.
The open area in front of the Treasury had places to sit and lounge about, souvenirs and snacks to buy, and an assortment of locals with their resting camels wandering around trying to get you on for a ride. As it was late in the day, we were able to bide our time and wait patiently enough to snap a few photos with no one else around. Yeehaw! Again, so lucky!
Laura suggested we find somewhere high up to watch the sunset so we wandered past the Treasury, into the old city and came upon the theatre. Like old Roman ampitheatre, not modern day movie theatre. There, a local showed us a way to climb up and behind the closed off theatre and into the mountains behind. Treacherous and maybe a little dumb, but so much fun. Did it in flip-flops so really, it couldn’t have been that bad. We made it up to a top spot after much route searching and decided to just sit and look around before attempting the way down. It really didn’t look good for options down. As we were silently gazing at the brilliant sun setting ever so slowly over the enormous ancient city laid out far below us, we heard a ruffling and shuffling behind us. Out of nowhere, a small herd of goats had appeared up on top of our mountain top! Completely unexpected and wonderfully hopeful as that meant there was maybe a reasonable way down. I checked out where they had come from… yep… easy breezy way out. Thanks goat friends. Thanks.
After the sun had set behind the gigantic cliffs, we figured we should get a move on. It was coming up on pretty dark as we found our way back to the open area of the Treasury and thankfully Laura was smart enough to bring her head torch. We were so surprised to find that the souvenir stalls set up all along the way were obviously closed up, but all of their wares were still laid out, on tables, unlocked and uncovered, free to any unscrupulous souls who may have wanted a free gift or two. These Canadian chickies had no intentions of indulging in filling our pockets but wow, I wonder if all people who are still in the park after dark are so trustworthy. Very, very strange.
Seems as if no one really cares if you leave at night. They say there’s no sleeping or over-nighting but there’s no way they can check. They didn’t even seem to bat an eye when we stumbled out, 2 hours after their official closing time, in the pitch black, chattering away. Yep, we’re getting our money’s worth.
The next day, Liz was ready to go but still feeling pretty stuffy. Laura has problems with her back and Liz was sick but these two girls are troopers. Carry on – let’s go see stuff!
So back we go, and the exploring continues. We planned for a full day heading all the way to the very back of the city grounds and up to the Monastery, which is up another cliff far off in the distance. Our first feat was getting up eight hundred and some steps to “The High Place of Sacrifice”, used for exactly what’s its title suggests, and then venturing down the back of this mountain over towards the back end of Petra. The Crown Plaza hotel chain has set up a restaurant in the middle of this nowhere land so we chilled out on their picnic tables restoring some of our energy for our next big journey up to the Monastery. Yeah, yeah, not a very authentic ancient experience but it that heat, the modern luxury of a shaded place to sit was a life-saver.
Horses, camels, and donkeys are used in abundance to get some of the less energetic tourists from one spot to the next. The horses and camels look relatively well cared for and treated with some dignity, the donkeys, not so much. SEVERAL conversations were had with nasty boys hitting or whipping their animals and although I know I had zero influence other than to stop that immediate incident, there was little else I could do. Some laughed at me, some were shamed and apologized, some made temporary changes to the way their animal was tied up, and some got angry and nasty with me. It’s hard to keep quiet when it’s right in front of you, I know animals are just animals here, but it’s just too hard to ignore. I’m not very good at handling these situations. Obviously.
The second long journey up to the Monastery was a tough one and I went on a little ahead of the girls who were suffering with their colds and sore bones. Again, gasp and take your breath away. This place is all the magic of The Treasury but on TOP of a mountain. Wow! And THEN, you can wander up all these other cliffs and rocks and mountain tops to see the entire WORLD at your feet! So that’s what I did. As I was slowly making my way back down to the front of the Monastery where the girls were, I saw a dog off in the distance barking into a cave. As I got closer, I saw that the dog was chained up with links and a padlock so heavy he couldn’t hold his head all the way up and barely any room to move around. There was some old food there for him, no water, and a heavy, heavy chain bound with some wire. *sigh*. I’m gonna get myself killed…
I unwound the wire and set him free. Somebody OBVIOUSLY owned him but he was OBVIOUSLY never let off this chain and yeah, I’m a retard. He bounded away like a bunny, bouncing, running, stopping, starting, jumping, tail wagging, freedom. Came back to check on me and say thank you a couple of times too. Sweet, sweet dog. Then I heard was he was barking at. A small sound, like a baby. Puppies? I peered down into this cave that was purposely blocked off with debris… a very small baby goat, foaming at the mouth, blind, stumbling and stuck on the dead end steps out of the cave. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I frantically scraped and scrambled my way down and got him out. Filthy and leaking from his mouth and his poor behind, nothing but fur and bones, this little one was dying. He curled up in my arms as I made my way back to people trying hard not to fall to pieces.
Well, needless to say, my reception wasn’t warm. The few workers who were left looked at me with disgust and told me to just leave the goat, others said they knew the owner but the owner was out with his other goats and too far away to do anything, others told me to take the goat with me and stop being so crazy, others just got angry, shook their head, and stomped away. I was persistent. Mostly desperate. There was one man, one very gentle man, who saw the fragile state of both me and this dying goat in my arms. He talked to a few other people, phone calls were made, and eventually someone showed up on a horse who claimed to be cousin of the man who owned the goat. He was very kind, said all the right things, took control of me and the situation, took the baby goat in HIS arms, looked him/her over, tried to clean the goat up as best as he could, wrapped him/her in an old warm jacket and then laid the goat down in an area covered by a tent to sleep. He promised me that the owner was on the way and that they would take care of the goat. He kept saying “I promise, we have medicine, I promise.” His English was very good, he was very gentle and smiled as I tried to control my tears from turning to sobs. Damnit, I’m crying now as I type. Poor baby goat.
I had to leave, the sun had set, it was getting dark, Liz and Laura had so sympathetically been waiting HOURS and we needed to get down a mountain still. There was nothing else I could do except trust this man. There’s a good chance that the goat was left for dead or even more likely, eaten by the damn dog I set free and last saw climbing straight UP a cliff like he was a goat himself but I had no options. There are no vets here, I don’t speak Arabic, what can I do with a dying goat? Oh poor baby goat. I’m terrible at this animal thing. Terrible.
We three girls wandered out of a pitch black gorge under shining stars, a full day of exploring behind us, exhausted but giddy with all that we had a chance to see. Petra was wondrous, a physical challenge, an emotional train wreck, and an adventure all of its own. I had FABULOUS exploring partners. Indiana Jones has nothing on us, baby! Nothing!
Upon arriving in Wadi Musa, emergency brake necessity parked on a vertical hill, we decided to walk around checking out places to stay for the night. Again, the bliss of no packs on our backs, staying wherever we wanted to regardless of distance from sites was just divine! Settled on a lovely little place named “Peaceway” and unloaded the car. Poor Liz was getting a pretty nasty cold so she wisely decided to hunker down, power nap, and take it easy so that she wouldn’t be out flat missing too many days of her travels. Late afternoon so Laura and I headed down to Petra to see what we could see before it closed for the night. Some dreadfully embarrassing car moments on deadly steep hills getting to the site entrance but I managed without splitting poor Laura’s head open on the dashboard.
Entrance to Petra is again, ridiculous. I have spent more on entrance fees than accommodation, food, and travel combined. Shameful but keep justifying that I will never be back and it’s a must see. The entrance fees were one set price plus 10% of that price for an extra day. We were going to get every single penny worth of it. Late afternoon, sun was hot hot, but we were in Petra and there was lots to see.
It’s a two kilometer walk down from the entrance, initially a wide open dirt road with some ruins and temples carved into the rock walls along the way but then it narrows into an enormous gorge. Dirt path the width of a single lane road winding through smooth, colourful mountains that you can’t see the top of. Apparently the gorge was separated by tectonic forces but water has flowed through and smoothed it out like fine marble. Colour swirls of brown, purple, red, yellow, grey, and white make it look like it has been painted. So very beautiful. As you near the end of these two kilometers and strain your eyes ahead through the opening of the gorge, you see it, the sliver of the Treasury, a sight that makes everyone’s mouth drop as they exit the canyon and file out into the open air. My pictures do it no justice, please look it up online. A Treasury, an entire building, carved INTO a mountain. Impossible to imagine the work that went into this. Impossible.
The open area in front of the Treasury had places to sit and lounge about, souvenirs and snacks to buy, and an assortment of locals with their resting camels wandering around trying to get you on for a ride. As it was late in the day, we were able to bide our time and wait patiently enough to snap a few photos with no one else around. Yeehaw! Again, so lucky!
Laura suggested we find somewhere high up to watch the sunset so we wandered past the Treasury, into the old city and came upon the theatre. Like old Roman ampitheatre, not modern day movie theatre. There, a local showed us a way to climb up and behind the closed off theatre and into the mountains behind. Treacherous and maybe a little dumb, but so much fun. Did it in flip-flops so really, it couldn’t have been that bad. We made it up to a top spot after much route searching and decided to just sit and look around before attempting the way down. It really didn’t look good for options down. As we were silently gazing at the brilliant sun setting ever so slowly over the enormous ancient city laid out far below us, we heard a ruffling and shuffling behind us. Out of nowhere, a small herd of goats had appeared up on top of our mountain top! Completely unexpected and wonderfully hopeful as that meant there was maybe a reasonable way down. I checked out where they had come from… yep… easy breezy way out. Thanks goat friends. Thanks.
After the sun had set behind the gigantic cliffs, we figured we should get a move on. It was coming up on pretty dark as we found our way back to the open area of the Treasury and thankfully Laura was smart enough to bring her head torch. We were so surprised to find that the souvenir stalls set up all along the way were obviously closed up, but all of their wares were still laid out, on tables, unlocked and uncovered, free to any unscrupulous souls who may have wanted a free gift or two. These Canadian chickies had no intentions of indulging in filling our pockets but wow, I wonder if all people who are still in the park after dark are so trustworthy. Very, very strange.
Seems as if no one really cares if you leave at night. They say there’s no sleeping or over-nighting but there’s no way they can check. They didn’t even seem to bat an eye when we stumbled out, 2 hours after their official closing time, in the pitch black, chattering away. Yep, we’re getting our money’s worth.
The next day, Liz was ready to go but still feeling pretty stuffy. Laura has problems with her back and Liz was sick but these two girls are troopers. Carry on – let’s go see stuff!
So back we go, and the exploring continues. We planned for a full day heading all the way to the very back of the city grounds and up to the Monastery, which is up another cliff far off in the distance. Our first feat was getting up eight hundred and some steps to “The High Place of Sacrifice”, used for exactly what’s its title suggests, and then venturing down the back of this mountain over towards the back end of Petra. The Crown Plaza hotel chain has set up a restaurant in the middle of this nowhere land so we chilled out on their picnic tables restoring some of our energy for our next big journey up to the Monastery. Yeah, yeah, not a very authentic ancient experience but it that heat, the modern luxury of a shaded place to sit was a life-saver.
Horses, camels, and donkeys are used in abundance to get some of the less energetic tourists from one spot to the next. The horses and camels look relatively well cared for and treated with some dignity, the donkeys, not so much. SEVERAL conversations were had with nasty boys hitting or whipping their animals and although I know I had zero influence other than to stop that immediate incident, there was little else I could do. Some laughed at me, some were shamed and apologized, some made temporary changes to the way their animal was tied up, and some got angry and nasty with me. It’s hard to keep quiet when it’s right in front of you, I know animals are just animals here, but it’s just too hard to ignore. I’m not very good at handling these situations. Obviously.
The second long journey up to the Monastery was a tough one and I went on a little ahead of the girls who were suffering with their colds and sore bones. Again, gasp and take your breath away. This place is all the magic of The Treasury but on TOP of a mountain. Wow! And THEN, you can wander up all these other cliffs and rocks and mountain tops to see the entire WORLD at your feet! So that’s what I did. As I was slowly making my way back down to the front of the Monastery where the girls were, I saw a dog off in the distance barking into a cave. As I got closer, I saw that the dog was chained up with links and a padlock so heavy he couldn’t hold his head all the way up and barely any room to move around. There was some old food there for him, no water, and a heavy, heavy chain bound with some wire. *sigh*. I’m gonna get myself killed…
I unwound the wire and set him free. Somebody OBVIOUSLY owned him but he was OBVIOUSLY never let off this chain and yeah, I’m a retard. He bounded away like a bunny, bouncing, running, stopping, starting, jumping, tail wagging, freedom. Came back to check on me and say thank you a couple of times too. Sweet, sweet dog. Then I heard was he was barking at. A small sound, like a baby. Puppies? I peered down into this cave that was purposely blocked off with debris… a very small baby goat, foaming at the mouth, blind, stumbling and stuck on the dead end steps out of the cave. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I frantically scraped and scrambled my way down and got him out. Filthy and leaking from his mouth and his poor behind, nothing but fur and bones, this little one was dying. He curled up in my arms as I made my way back to people trying hard not to fall to pieces.
Well, needless to say, my reception wasn’t warm. The few workers who were left looked at me with disgust and told me to just leave the goat, others said they knew the owner but the owner was out with his other goats and too far away to do anything, others told me to take the goat with me and stop being so crazy, others just got angry, shook their head, and stomped away. I was persistent. Mostly desperate. There was one man, one very gentle man, who saw the fragile state of both me and this dying goat in my arms. He talked to a few other people, phone calls were made, and eventually someone showed up on a horse who claimed to be cousin of the man who owned the goat. He was very kind, said all the right things, took control of me and the situation, took the baby goat in HIS arms, looked him/her over, tried to clean the goat up as best as he could, wrapped him/her in an old warm jacket and then laid the goat down in an area covered by a tent to sleep. He promised me that the owner was on the way and that they would take care of the goat. He kept saying “I promise, we have medicine, I promise.” His English was very good, he was very gentle and smiled as I tried to control my tears from turning to sobs. Damnit, I’m crying now as I type. Poor baby goat.
I had to leave, the sun had set, it was getting dark, Liz and Laura had so sympathetically been waiting HOURS and we needed to get down a mountain still. There was nothing else I could do except trust this man. There’s a good chance that the goat was left for dead or even more likely, eaten by the damn dog I set free and last saw climbing straight UP a cliff like he was a goat himself but I had no options. There are no vets here, I don’t speak Arabic, what can I do with a dying goat? Oh poor baby goat. I’m terrible at this animal thing. Terrible.
We three girls wandered out of a pitch black gorge under shining stars, a full day of exploring behind us, exhausted but giddy with all that we had a chance to see. Petra was wondrous, a physical challenge, an emotional train wreck, and an adventure all of its own. I had FABULOUS exploring partners. Indiana Jones has nothing on us, baby! Nothing!
We're driving to Wadi Rum.
A night spent in Aqaba, the border crossing, ferry port, lovely town, starting point of our Jordan journey. No one had really heard much about things to do around the town, if you’ve visited Dahab, you’ve seen enough, so we were keen to just get a move on. Had arranged for the rental car pickup the night before so around 8am, paperwork was being filled out and a good deal had been struck. My two young, new best friends, Liz and Laura, recent graduates from BC universities, were as excited as I was so necessities were taken care of (new SIM card for phone and munchies for the ROAD TRIP!) and it was agreed that Liz would drive the first little bit until we got our directional bearing, then she would be my driving instructor. It was SIGNIFICANTLY cheaper to rent a standard as opposed to an automatic so as the primary driver of the car, I simply lied and said, yep, sure can drive a standard. Well, I would be driving one by the end of the trip so I wasn’t a complete lie. Was it? Thank goodness Liz could drive standard!
The world changed once we entered Jordan. Developed, organized, civilized Jordan. Busy, chaotic city streets but you could more or less see some sense to the chaos. Traffic lights and road signs (in English even!) and paved, smooth roads… we were home! I felt sick for the girls as we bumped and jumped our way along during my initial introduction to stick shift driving but once we were on the highway, it was smoother sailing from there, even found an English radio station! The roads were mostly deserted as we journeyed towards Wadi Rum, desert destination with impressive landscapes to see. Wadi Rum. Don't you love that name? Waddling through Rum is all I kept thinking. I could use some rum at this point. Will there be rum? What... it's a desert valley with mighty mountains??? Oh. Well, I'll find some rum eventually.
Visitor Centre set up controls all who enter but it was worth it. We paid for a jeep tour through some of the desert (our little Chi Chi Citroen had to stay behind) and an overnight in a Bedouin camp. Pretty standard going for this place. Got to see some inconceivably high rocks / cliffs and beautiful desert scenery but our guide was a bit eager to be done with us as he had a wedding to get to. Arrived at our camp, met a few others who were staying the night, and settled in to simply soak up and explore the quiet and isolation of where we were.
At one point after dinner, our hosts disappeared to drive the couple who was to be staying with us back to the visitor center and to gather a few things. Sun had just set, they would be back soon, lots of light left. So Liz, Laura, and I had the place to ourselves! COOL! Then it got darker, and darker. No hosts, no electricity (we’re in the desert!) so no lights, no vehicle, hmmmm…. out came our head torches and we started the search for lanterns, candles, matches, something. I managed to dig two small, used candles out from the ashes of our fire pit and we crashed the kitchen. Pitch black night by this point. Propane stove, perfect. Lit the small candles, started the tea, and carried on. Hosts came back and found this all to be quite amusing. Ummm… Thanks for stranding us, goobers.
Guide came back later on to play us guitar and sing while we drank tea, smoked shisha, and checked out the stars. *sigh* So relaxed. Set up for sleep outside (there were options to sleep inside the tented areas but no thanks) as it was such a nice night and woke up later to a big moon coming around the side of the mountains beside our camp. Lit up the desert clear as day. Amazing. The days can be rough in the desert but the nights make it worth every sweaty second. Wow.
Up and out the next morning. The dear owner of the Bedouin camp spoke excellent English but asked for some help in responding to an email from an agent trying to arrange an upcoming trip for a couple of people. I played secretary and typed up a response so late morning and we were on our way to try to find Petra. Famous, famous Petra.
The driving was fairly easy highway driving but the closer we got to Petra, the steeper the hills got. And when I say steep, I mean, oh my gosh can cars actually handle this? steep. The scenery got better and better as we made our way to Wadi Musa, the valley where the ancient city of Petra is found. Top of the world views over dry mountain and desert landscapes, small villages and local faces. So happy that we had our own car to do this beautiful drive at our own pace on our own schedule. It was fabulous and we were so looking forward to finding Petra. Google it. It’s incredible.
The world changed once we entered Jordan. Developed, organized, civilized Jordan. Busy, chaotic city streets but you could more or less see some sense to the chaos. Traffic lights and road signs (in English even!) and paved, smooth roads… we were home! I felt sick for the girls as we bumped and jumped our way along during my initial introduction to stick shift driving but once we were on the highway, it was smoother sailing from there, even found an English radio station! The roads were mostly deserted as we journeyed towards Wadi Rum, desert destination with impressive landscapes to see. Wadi Rum. Don't you love that name? Waddling through Rum is all I kept thinking. I could use some rum at this point. Will there be rum? What... it's a desert valley with mighty mountains??? Oh. Well, I'll find some rum eventually.
Visitor Centre set up controls all who enter but it was worth it. We paid for a jeep tour through some of the desert (our little Chi Chi Citroen had to stay behind) and an overnight in a Bedouin camp. Pretty standard going for this place. Got to see some inconceivably high rocks / cliffs and beautiful desert scenery but our guide was a bit eager to be done with us as he had a wedding to get to. Arrived at our camp, met a few others who were staying the night, and settled in to simply soak up and explore the quiet and isolation of where we were.
At one point after dinner, our hosts disappeared to drive the couple who was to be staying with us back to the visitor center and to gather a few things. Sun had just set, they would be back soon, lots of light left. So Liz, Laura, and I had the place to ourselves! COOL! Then it got darker, and darker. No hosts, no electricity (we’re in the desert!) so no lights, no vehicle, hmmmm…. out came our head torches and we started the search for lanterns, candles, matches, something. I managed to dig two small, used candles out from the ashes of our fire pit and we crashed the kitchen. Pitch black night by this point. Propane stove, perfect. Lit the small candles, started the tea, and carried on. Hosts came back and found this all to be quite amusing. Ummm… Thanks for stranding us, goobers.
Guide came back later on to play us guitar and sing while we drank tea, smoked shisha, and checked out the stars. *sigh* So relaxed. Set up for sleep outside (there were options to sleep inside the tented areas but no thanks) as it was such a nice night and woke up later to a big moon coming around the side of the mountains beside our camp. Lit up the desert clear as day. Amazing. The days can be rough in the desert but the nights make it worth every sweaty second. Wow.
Up and out the next morning. The dear owner of the Bedouin camp spoke excellent English but asked for some help in responding to an email from an agent trying to arrange an upcoming trip for a couple of people. I played secretary and typed up a response so late morning and we were on our way to try to find Petra. Famous, famous Petra.
The driving was fairly easy highway driving but the closer we got to Petra, the steeper the hills got. And when I say steep, I mean, oh my gosh can cars actually handle this? steep. The scenery got better and better as we made our way to Wadi Musa, the valley where the ancient city of Petra is found. Top of the world views over dry mountain and desert landscapes, small villages and local faces. So happy that we had our own car to do this beautiful drive at our own pace on our own schedule. It was fabulous and we were so looking forward to finding Petra. Google it. It’s incredible.
Get me to Jordan!
Getting to Jordan from Egypt is fairly straight forward. Apparently. If you’re me however, there MUST be a little bit of chaos. Really. But that’s part of the adventure right? Of course, of course.
It was arranged via my hostel that I would leave my big bags with them while I was at Mt. Sinai and they would send them with the minibus that was leaving from the hostel for the border crossing the next morning, when I was descending the great mount, to meet my minibus at some cross roads. I would simply hop off one bus, on to the other one, and carry on to the border. Sounds easy, right? Yep. Easy. I was a little nervous to leave my life’s belongings behind, but trust, trust, trust. So I trusted.
In the minibus back from the mountain, I asked the driver if he knew he was supposed to drop me somewhere. Yes, yes, bus coming, I know. I watched him attempt to make phone calls, get frustrated, make a few more, tsk and shake his head, all the while we keep driving and driving towards Dahab and then PAST the crossroads point that is clearly marked Dahab this way, border other way. Maybe just drop me off here? No, no bus coming. I figure it makes more sense to carry on then wait on the side of some random highway with no bags in sight. So we carry on. Eventually, 90 minutes later, “Welcome to Dahab” sign. I sigh and shake my head but am too completely and utterly exhausted to raise the slightest fuss. All of a sudden the bus pulls off to the side of the road, Out! Out! Car take you now! and I see that we’ve parked behind a random personal vehicle. Turns out that buses missed each other, shocking, so one of the hostel employees was going to speed drive me to meet the border bound minibus. Okay, okay, let’s just go. Stumbled out, no chance to say goodbye to my loveliest hiking partners, and I was off.
Another squealing 140km/hr drive to an empty minibus waiting 15 minutes up the road. Out quickly quickly. He will take you to border minibus. What? Where are my bags? Where are the people? On OTHER minibus, I promise, I put them on myself. Trust me. Again, what choice do I have? So ANOTHER minibus, drives me to a town where phone calls are exchanged and he finally pulls up outside of a restaurant / shop area where 3 other border crossers are sipping tea and waiting patiently for this last lonely duck. I check, all of my bags and belongings are on this final minibus, I offer weak apologies for my appearance and smell, and the three travelers kindly sympathize with my current state. Not two minutes into what I’m guessing is the last leg of my Egypt trip, THANKFULLY, one of the travelling trio asks me where I’m heading. Remember, I am delirious and have no idea where I am at this point. Jordan. You taking the ferry? Yes. Ummm… you might want to get off the bus as we’re going to the Israeli border crossing and THIS is the town for the Jordan border crossing. WHAT?!?!? STOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!
Off the bus I get, bags all in tow, and thankfully my other driver was still close by. Ask him about ferry, he asks if I have a ticket, no, no ticket, points me to entrance to ferry departure area. Ticket? Yes, yes, ticket there. I swear my bags weigh about 7000lbs by now, it’s just after noon, I’m hot, tired, and near collapse. I’m pointed in the right direction for scanning bags and ferry departure and they ask for me for my ticket. I need to buy a ticket. You must go different area. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. (I am close to tears.) Look at my big bag (pointing to the pack on my hunched over back) just climbed Mt. Sinai, no sleep, please, no, no, no, no, no. My desperation and the impending ferry departure registered in their very kind hearts and they let me leave my bags with them while I hoofed it the two blocks to the ticket office. On the way, I see a girl who I had met at my Dahab hostel… she assured me she’d hold the ferry for me. We laughed but I secretly crossed my fingers.
Ticket was a completely outrageous price but I had no choice. Paid a week’s worth of accommodation to get the ticket and then all motivation to move quickly drained from my body. No sleep, no food, angry, exhausted body, I just don’t care. I knew the ferry was at least a three hour trip so I stopped to get take away food, then made my way back to the ferry. Whatever happens will happen. I went through the appropriate check points for Egypt departure, kindness prevailed among the stares; a smelly girl wilting under the weight of an unnecessarily large back pack. While in the waiting area for a bus that takes you to the ferry, an official asked where I was going, I mentioned my friend who was already on the ferry, so they called a bus to rush JUST ME to that ferry as I guess they had closed it already and the full waiting room was for the NEXT ferry. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.
On the ferry, I am guided up, up, up. You, floor five. I’ve left my pack and my passport, as required, with them at the entrance and am picking my way through crowds of locals in hallways, on floors, on stairs, sitting, eating, sleeping, lounging, and I go up. Finally, I poke my head into a very posh and cushy lounge area, floor five, and see the girl from my hostel and a few other white faces. Relief. As it turns out, ALL foreigners are designated to this one very cozy area while the common folk are in the regular ferry down below. Don’t get me wrong, this is a HUGE proper ferry so even for those who bought tickets that restricted them to sitting outside, this was a safe place to be, but yeah, we were segregated to our own lovely lounge floor. There were maybe 10 of us and we all felt a little guilty until we realized how much we paid for the damn ticket. We all sat back and enjoyed the cushiness. I attempted conversation for roughly 15 minutes before crashing out on one of the cushiony couches. Three and a half hours later, we’re in Jordan.
I felt horribly anti-social and still looked like death but a few of the girls had hiked the mountain previously so were feeling my out-of-sorts pain and were thankfully sympathetic. There were four of us randoms. Me and girly from hostel were travelling on our own and another two girls were travelling together. Bonus… ALL CANADIAN! Yipee! The single girl was meeting a friend in the town we just arrived in, the other two girls and I found a place to settle in for the night. Yay! Travel friends. Food, chat, plans made… they were up for renting a car with me (suggested to me by travelers I had met in Dahab) and we would see how it goes. Road trip through Jordan! Yessssssssss!
It was arranged via my hostel that I would leave my big bags with them while I was at Mt. Sinai and they would send them with the minibus that was leaving from the hostel for the border crossing the next morning, when I was descending the great mount, to meet my minibus at some cross roads. I would simply hop off one bus, on to the other one, and carry on to the border. Sounds easy, right? Yep. Easy. I was a little nervous to leave my life’s belongings behind, but trust, trust, trust. So I trusted.
In the minibus back from the mountain, I asked the driver if he knew he was supposed to drop me somewhere. Yes, yes, bus coming, I know. I watched him attempt to make phone calls, get frustrated, make a few more, tsk and shake his head, all the while we keep driving and driving towards Dahab and then PAST the crossroads point that is clearly marked Dahab this way, border other way. Maybe just drop me off here? No, no bus coming. I figure it makes more sense to carry on then wait on the side of some random highway with no bags in sight. So we carry on. Eventually, 90 minutes later, “Welcome to Dahab” sign. I sigh and shake my head but am too completely and utterly exhausted to raise the slightest fuss. All of a sudden the bus pulls off to the side of the road, Out! Out! Car take you now! and I see that we’ve parked behind a random personal vehicle. Turns out that buses missed each other, shocking, so one of the hostel employees was going to speed drive me to meet the border bound minibus. Okay, okay, let’s just go. Stumbled out, no chance to say goodbye to my loveliest hiking partners, and I was off.
Another squealing 140km/hr drive to an empty minibus waiting 15 minutes up the road. Out quickly quickly. He will take you to border minibus. What? Where are my bags? Where are the people? On OTHER minibus, I promise, I put them on myself. Trust me. Again, what choice do I have? So ANOTHER minibus, drives me to a town where phone calls are exchanged and he finally pulls up outside of a restaurant / shop area where 3 other border crossers are sipping tea and waiting patiently for this last lonely duck. I check, all of my bags and belongings are on this final minibus, I offer weak apologies for my appearance and smell, and the three travelers kindly sympathize with my current state. Not two minutes into what I’m guessing is the last leg of my Egypt trip, THANKFULLY, one of the travelling trio asks me where I’m heading. Remember, I am delirious and have no idea where I am at this point. Jordan. You taking the ferry? Yes. Ummm… you might want to get off the bus as we’re going to the Israeli border crossing and THIS is the town for the Jordan border crossing. WHAT?!?!? STOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!
Off the bus I get, bags all in tow, and thankfully my other driver was still close by. Ask him about ferry, he asks if I have a ticket, no, no ticket, points me to entrance to ferry departure area. Ticket? Yes, yes, ticket there. I swear my bags weigh about 7000lbs by now, it’s just after noon, I’m hot, tired, and near collapse. I’m pointed in the right direction for scanning bags and ferry departure and they ask for me for my ticket. I need to buy a ticket. You must go different area. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. (I am close to tears.) Look at my big bag (pointing to the pack on my hunched over back) just climbed Mt. Sinai, no sleep, please, no, no, no, no, no. My desperation and the impending ferry departure registered in their very kind hearts and they let me leave my bags with them while I hoofed it the two blocks to the ticket office. On the way, I see a girl who I had met at my Dahab hostel… she assured me she’d hold the ferry for me. We laughed but I secretly crossed my fingers.
Ticket was a completely outrageous price but I had no choice. Paid a week’s worth of accommodation to get the ticket and then all motivation to move quickly drained from my body. No sleep, no food, angry, exhausted body, I just don’t care. I knew the ferry was at least a three hour trip so I stopped to get take away food, then made my way back to the ferry. Whatever happens will happen. I went through the appropriate check points for Egypt departure, kindness prevailed among the stares; a smelly girl wilting under the weight of an unnecessarily large back pack. While in the waiting area for a bus that takes you to the ferry, an official asked where I was going, I mentioned my friend who was already on the ferry, so they called a bus to rush JUST ME to that ferry as I guess they had closed it already and the full waiting room was for the NEXT ferry. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.
On the ferry, I am guided up, up, up. You, floor five. I’ve left my pack and my passport, as required, with them at the entrance and am picking my way through crowds of locals in hallways, on floors, on stairs, sitting, eating, sleeping, lounging, and I go up. Finally, I poke my head into a very posh and cushy lounge area, floor five, and see the girl from my hostel and a few other white faces. Relief. As it turns out, ALL foreigners are designated to this one very cozy area while the common folk are in the regular ferry down below. Don’t get me wrong, this is a HUGE proper ferry so even for those who bought tickets that restricted them to sitting outside, this was a safe place to be, but yeah, we were segregated to our own lovely lounge floor. There were maybe 10 of us and we all felt a little guilty until we realized how much we paid for the damn ticket. We all sat back and enjoyed the cushiness. I attempted conversation for roughly 15 minutes before crashing out on one of the cushiony couches. Three and a half hours later, we’re in Jordan.
I felt horribly anti-social and still looked like death but a few of the girls had hiked the mountain previously so were feeling my out-of-sorts pain and were thankfully sympathetic. There were four of us randoms. Me and girly from hostel were travelling on our own and another two girls were travelling together. Bonus… ALL CANADIAN! Yipee! The single girl was meeting a friend in the town we just arrived in, the other two girls and I found a place to settle in for the night. Yay! Travel friends. Food, chat, plans made… they were up for renting a car with me (suggested to me by travelers I had met in Dahab) and we would see how it goes. Road trip through Jordan! Yessssssssss!
Diving & Dahab
The desert is beautiful. Much more dramatic and interesting than I ever thought it would be (and we all know how much I love drama!) My time there was far too short but now that I know what my options are, I can always plan my adventure back. If anyone is looking to do a Gilf Kibeer trip, 30 days in the Egyptian desert crossing Sudanese and Libyan borders, carrying any and everything you need with you, caravanning via tripped out Land Cruisers, count me in. Looks likes a seriously tough adventure that I must add to the to-do wish list. Any takers? Let me know!
But no trip to Egypt is complete without a dip in those clear and alive with coral waters; I was keen to get my diving boots back on. That first night back in Cairo, I stayed with a new friend who I met somewhere in Al Quseir. She and her companions were lost and I showed them the way. I know, hey? Couldn’t believe it either! I knew where I was going! Shocking. Anyway, she’s a teacher at the American College in Cairo, been in the area for a couple of years now, come stay anytime you’re in Cairo invite. I was in Cairo. BEAUTIFUL, HUGE, apartment in the loveliest district in Cairo paid for by the school, two cuddly, curious kitties to check me out, and everything was clean, clean, I’m at home, clean. Not the least bit awkward considering we had previously only spent a grand total of 5 minutes together. Really interesting woman and her hospitality was SO appreciated. I slept like an Egyptian Queen.
Had planned to get a move on down to Dahab the next day but was feeling disorganized so moved back into the hostel from my first stay in Cairo (so that I wasn’t imposing) and spent the day sorting out my venture to the Sinai peninsula. I REALLY like Cairo but was super excited for some beach, do nothing time. The next day, big ole 10 hour bus trip to Dahab.
Several police checks and at one point, crossing into Sinai proper, we all had to get off the bus, take our bags out from under the bus, and stand guiltily in line, passports out, while a fluffy and bored German Shepard sniffed our belongings. No contraband, no terrorists, no drama. Shame. So piled back in and on we go. Found my way to the hostel that was recommended to me in Cairo and yep, I’m here for a while. Dumped the bag and off I went for a walk. Again, as in most of Egypt, deserted resorts, empty restaurants, quiets shops. It’s kinda sad to see such beautiful property abandoned and going to waste. Even though there is obviously very little business around, I wasn’t hassled in the least. One nice, long, westernized strip along the water front of all of the hotels, hostels, and restaurants, then a parallel street with all of the markets, shops, and more local food restaurants, then a road that led off towards the real people world. The most relaxed, chilled out vibe ever. I can see how people get stuck here.
Planned to spend maybe three days there, ended up staying for seven. Walked, wandered, dived, hung out in the sun, did nothing, met people, napped, watched the water, and loved every minute of it. A holiday from my travelling and I’ve only been on the road a short time. Highly recommended to ALL!
Diving was the main reason for going and it didn’t disappoint. Didn’t really know what to expect but I was a happy girl to be in the water. Had to readjust for how floaty we are in the salty sea but clear, clear, see forever clear. Different than the other parts of Africa, not many fish, but the coral is incredible. Oh, and apparently I truly am a princess diver now. While most can dive Egypt in one long 5mm wetsuit, I was diving with one long 5mm, a short 5mm over top of that, and a hood but was teeth chattering blue coming out of each dive. Lots of head shaking and laughing at me under the water as I cruised along giggling, talking, and SHIVERRING the whole way. Big, big baby I am.
Not many divers at the shop I was with so after a very long but somewhat uneventful dive, I inquired about potentially more “dramatic” sites. Their famous Canyon and Blue Hole were stunning so to do coral cruises after that was a bit ho-hum. As we got to choose our dive sites because there were so few of us, they surprised me with a wicked-ass cave dive (open ended, no claustrophobic closed in for this girl) where we launched ourselves into the surf off of the ledge of this underground overhang and explored some fantastically dramatic territory. It was AWESOME! The perfect combo of fear, adrenaline, and utterly awesome scenery. Again, not a lot of fish but the topography was just amazing. Thanks for taking such good care of me, Penguin Divers. Let’s do it again soon!
I was getting stuck in Dahab. Having trouble making that final decision to pack up the bag and go, it was just so comfortable there. But I did it, I arranged my trip to hike Mt. Sinai and I was off. There were some words of caution as I had been diving deep that morning and would be climbing to 2500 meters only 14 hours later but it was a chance I was willing to take. I want to see the sun rise on Mt. Sinai.
So the trip to climb Mt. Sinai and visit St. Catherine’s Monastery (that’s at the base of the mountain) is now a thoroughly regulated tourist trap unless you’re on some kind of religious pilgrimage. I tried every which way and upside down to find a local bus, a different schedule, something that wouldn’t have me shoved into a bus full of us dorky travelers but there were no options to be had, unless I will willing to pay a fortune. I didn’t have a fortune. So the deal is you hand over a SMALL fortune, are herded into a tourist minibus with like-minded foreigners at 11pm, drive 2+ hours to the mountain, pay some more money, are given a guide (that you don’t need), are told to stick together (SUPREMELY annoying) and are herded up the mountain like goats. Not the nicest experience BUT it is what you make of it, right?
Had loads of laughs hiking up with 2 English folk and an Aussie, tried to engage a young Chinese girl but her English was limited and she was focused on powering up the mountain, met four Colombians who had just spent 3 months volunteering on a kibbutz in Israel, and the most amazing French girl who has done a year of volunteer work in India with plans to do more. Our group scattered, split up, regrouped, and carried on several times over the hike as we were passed by or overtook dozens and dozens of orthodox pilgrims coming to see the mountain for much more admirable reasons than my desire to simply see what the fuss was all about.
Crowded, fairly steep mountain path illuminated by a FULL moon (yay! Perfect timing!) with little shops selling drinks, snacks, and souvenirs set up every few hundred meters and offers to ride a “cam-eel? cam-eel? cam-eel?” up the hill every few seconds. So many people, a kind of organized chaos, but an encounter of a lifetime all the same. To scramble atop this spectacular mountain and watch the sunrise hearing the singing and praying of the religious zealots in the background as they appreciate the scenery for reasons far too saintly for me made it all worth it. Crowded and touristy? Yes? Would I do it again? For sure. It was just so beautiful.
Taking a different route down, just me and the inspiring French girl, we plopped and picked our way down an endless series of steps and boulders. Different scenery, just as breath-taking, knees and thighs screaming for mercy the whole way, and over-tired delirium settling in quickly. You are picked up from your hotel at 11pm, start your hike around 1:30am, end up back down at the bottom by the Monastery around 7:30am but the Monastery doesn’t open until 9am and the bus to bring you back to Dahab isn’t coming until 10am. You’ve been awake pushing 24hrs at this point, hiked up 2500metres or so, are stiff, sore, alternating between freezing cold and stinking, sweaty hot, and verging ever so slightly on grouchy but the oldest still functioning Monastery in the world, so yeah, I guess I’ll stick around. I think I fell asleep sitting upright on the concrete ground with my eyes open several times, but I’m gonna see this place if it kills me!
It was a Monastery. Very pretty, very old, very tiny, the fabled burning bush is inside and some other significant Biblical reference kinds of things that I sadly should have learned about, but a quick 15 minute jaunt through and I was done. I am one tired, aching cookie. I want to go now, please.
Dahab and Sinai a must see. Diving, hiking… life is good. While I’m super excited about Jordan, I will miss Egypt. Egypt has been VERY good to me.
But no trip to Egypt is complete without a dip in those clear and alive with coral waters; I was keen to get my diving boots back on. That first night back in Cairo, I stayed with a new friend who I met somewhere in Al Quseir. She and her companions were lost and I showed them the way. I know, hey? Couldn’t believe it either! I knew where I was going! Shocking. Anyway, she’s a teacher at the American College in Cairo, been in the area for a couple of years now, come stay anytime you’re in Cairo invite. I was in Cairo. BEAUTIFUL, HUGE, apartment in the loveliest district in Cairo paid for by the school, two cuddly, curious kitties to check me out, and everything was clean, clean, I’m at home, clean. Not the least bit awkward considering we had previously only spent a grand total of 5 minutes together. Really interesting woman and her hospitality was SO appreciated. I slept like an Egyptian Queen.
Had planned to get a move on down to Dahab the next day but was feeling disorganized so moved back into the hostel from my first stay in Cairo (so that I wasn’t imposing) and spent the day sorting out my venture to the Sinai peninsula. I REALLY like Cairo but was super excited for some beach, do nothing time. The next day, big ole 10 hour bus trip to Dahab.
Several police checks and at one point, crossing into Sinai proper, we all had to get off the bus, take our bags out from under the bus, and stand guiltily in line, passports out, while a fluffy and bored German Shepard sniffed our belongings. No contraband, no terrorists, no drama. Shame. So piled back in and on we go. Found my way to the hostel that was recommended to me in Cairo and yep, I’m here for a while. Dumped the bag and off I went for a walk. Again, as in most of Egypt, deserted resorts, empty restaurants, quiets shops. It’s kinda sad to see such beautiful property abandoned and going to waste. Even though there is obviously very little business around, I wasn’t hassled in the least. One nice, long, westernized strip along the water front of all of the hotels, hostels, and restaurants, then a parallel street with all of the markets, shops, and more local food restaurants, then a road that led off towards the real people world. The most relaxed, chilled out vibe ever. I can see how people get stuck here.
Planned to spend maybe three days there, ended up staying for seven. Walked, wandered, dived, hung out in the sun, did nothing, met people, napped, watched the water, and loved every minute of it. A holiday from my travelling and I’ve only been on the road a short time. Highly recommended to ALL!
Diving was the main reason for going and it didn’t disappoint. Didn’t really know what to expect but I was a happy girl to be in the water. Had to readjust for how floaty we are in the salty sea but clear, clear, see forever clear. Different than the other parts of Africa, not many fish, but the coral is incredible. Oh, and apparently I truly am a princess diver now. While most can dive Egypt in one long 5mm wetsuit, I was diving with one long 5mm, a short 5mm over top of that, and a hood but was teeth chattering blue coming out of each dive. Lots of head shaking and laughing at me under the water as I cruised along giggling, talking, and SHIVERRING the whole way. Big, big baby I am.
Not many divers at the shop I was with so after a very long but somewhat uneventful dive, I inquired about potentially more “dramatic” sites. Their famous Canyon and Blue Hole were stunning so to do coral cruises after that was a bit ho-hum. As we got to choose our dive sites because there were so few of us, they surprised me with a wicked-ass cave dive (open ended, no claustrophobic closed in for this girl) where we launched ourselves into the surf off of the ledge of this underground overhang and explored some fantastically dramatic territory. It was AWESOME! The perfect combo of fear, adrenaline, and utterly awesome scenery. Again, not a lot of fish but the topography was just amazing. Thanks for taking such good care of me, Penguin Divers. Let’s do it again soon!
I was getting stuck in Dahab. Having trouble making that final decision to pack up the bag and go, it was just so comfortable there. But I did it, I arranged my trip to hike Mt. Sinai and I was off. There were some words of caution as I had been diving deep that morning and would be climbing to 2500 meters only 14 hours later but it was a chance I was willing to take. I want to see the sun rise on Mt. Sinai.
So the trip to climb Mt. Sinai and visit St. Catherine’s Monastery (that’s at the base of the mountain) is now a thoroughly regulated tourist trap unless you’re on some kind of religious pilgrimage. I tried every which way and upside down to find a local bus, a different schedule, something that wouldn’t have me shoved into a bus full of us dorky travelers but there were no options to be had, unless I will willing to pay a fortune. I didn’t have a fortune. So the deal is you hand over a SMALL fortune, are herded into a tourist minibus with like-minded foreigners at 11pm, drive 2+ hours to the mountain, pay some more money, are given a guide (that you don’t need), are told to stick together (SUPREMELY annoying) and are herded up the mountain like goats. Not the nicest experience BUT it is what you make of it, right?
Had loads of laughs hiking up with 2 English folk and an Aussie, tried to engage a young Chinese girl but her English was limited and she was focused on powering up the mountain, met four Colombians who had just spent 3 months volunteering on a kibbutz in Israel, and the most amazing French girl who has done a year of volunteer work in India with plans to do more. Our group scattered, split up, regrouped, and carried on several times over the hike as we were passed by or overtook dozens and dozens of orthodox pilgrims coming to see the mountain for much more admirable reasons than my desire to simply see what the fuss was all about.
Crowded, fairly steep mountain path illuminated by a FULL moon (yay! Perfect timing!) with little shops selling drinks, snacks, and souvenirs set up every few hundred meters and offers to ride a “cam-eel? cam-eel? cam-eel?” up the hill every few seconds. So many people, a kind of organized chaos, but an encounter of a lifetime all the same. To scramble atop this spectacular mountain and watch the sunrise hearing the singing and praying of the religious zealots in the background as they appreciate the scenery for reasons far too saintly for me made it all worth it. Crowded and touristy? Yes? Would I do it again? For sure. It was just so beautiful.
Taking a different route down, just me and the inspiring French girl, we plopped and picked our way down an endless series of steps and boulders. Different scenery, just as breath-taking, knees and thighs screaming for mercy the whole way, and over-tired delirium settling in quickly. You are picked up from your hotel at 11pm, start your hike around 1:30am, end up back down at the bottom by the Monastery around 7:30am but the Monastery doesn’t open until 9am and the bus to bring you back to Dahab isn’t coming until 10am. You’ve been awake pushing 24hrs at this point, hiked up 2500metres or so, are stiff, sore, alternating between freezing cold and stinking, sweaty hot, and verging ever so slightly on grouchy but the oldest still functioning Monastery in the world, so yeah, I guess I’ll stick around. I think I fell asleep sitting upright on the concrete ground with my eyes open several times, but I’m gonna see this place if it kills me!
It was a Monastery. Very pretty, very old, very tiny, the fabled burning bush is inside and some other significant Biblical reference kinds of things that I sadly should have learned about, but a quick 15 minute jaunt through and I was done. I am one tired, aching cookie. I want to go now, please.
Dahab and Sinai a must see. Diving, hiking… life is good. While I’m super excited about Jordan, I will miss Egypt. Egypt has been VERY good to me.
Monday, May 16, 2011
A day in the desert
The desert. We’ve already talked about my not-so-smart, naïve visions of what desert life looks like so I obviously needed to see as much as I could for myself. I wandered around the tiny, strange, EMPTY town of Mut (it was Friday so EVERYTHING was closed) and definitely decided it was simply a stopping point; nothing to do, see, or really visit here. Lovely people, so friendly as they obviously don’t see many visitors, but yeah, really not much else to say. My new best friend, the hotel manager, was going to set me up for a desert destination holiday, but first I had to bus it through the White Desert and Black Desert to get to the guide’s starting point. But wait, I want visit these deserts. Yes, yes, you will be coming back down to them. Well that just doesn’t make sense, why would I drive all the way up there just to drive all the way back down? You want desert trip? *sigh* yes, yes, I want desert trip.
A nice day had wandering around and even though I had another 6 hour bus trip ahead of me, I was ready to go. Poor Mr. Manager has been forced to marry a girl that is 10 years younger than him, that he doesn’t love, that he has had two children with, and he is thoroughly miserable. Can I please tell you that this isn’t the first time that I’ve had an “I’m unhappy in my marriage” conversation with a man over here. I must have “sucker ” or something written on my forehead. While I listen to their sob stories and nod or tsk tsk appropriately here and there, believe me, I’ve had to try hard just to show a little sympathy. In a country where women continue to be second class citizens, required to be covered when leaving the house, and are obviously limited in their rights, I have very little sympathy for any man whining to me about their sad state of affairs at home. You want 8 babies but she only wants 2? Oh, POOR YOU! You have to work long hours because she wants a place separate from your parents to live in? SUCH A SHAME! She gets upset when you sleep at work or choose not to come home for long periods of time? NO S**T – THERE’S A GOOD CHANCE YOU’RE CREEPING ON TOURISTS! No sympathy here folks. Sorry about your luck. Nice man, very nice man who took very good care of me, but yeah, epic fail on that bonding point of conversation.
Up and out at 6am to head to Bahariya, another oasis town. Oh! Forgot to tell you that the whole way to Mut and carried on into Bahariya, we pass through military check point after military check point. Long, empty desert highways… checkpoint. Rinse and repeat. No one will give me a straight answer as to why, very similar to my trip down to Abu Simbel, but the best I can figure is that in the areas near bordering countries, Sudan, Libya, Chad, it continues to be a bit of the old wild, wild west. Smugglers, highway robberies, kidnappings, wide-open lawlessness desert so legitimate threat or not, they keep a good eye on the foreigners travelling through here – for OUR safety. At each check point, I would hear blah, blah, blah, Canadian. More or less, all locals, one Canadian on board. Nobody bothered to look for me, check my id, write anything down, or any recognition of the sort, but I guess it helps everyone feel that things are a little more under control. And when your presence is being announced upon arrival, yeah, you can’t help but feel a little special.
Was picked up in this even smaller more basic oasis town by the son of the owner of my new home. Zero details of what I have in store for my desert destination but later, later. Get settled in and he offers to take me Land Cruising through some local dunes, for FREE! Ummm… yes please! My current wish list now includes a Land Cruiser. I’ve seen them in action, been cruising in a few, but this was my first ripping around dunes, vertical inclines, up and across the desert, drive-the-snot-out-of-it, let’s-see-if-we-can-flip-it experience I’ve had. SO much fun! Parked on the top of a sand dune so I could get out and play in the sand for a bit, blah, blah, blah, insert typical creepy Egyptian man story here, and karmic payback for his ick factor towards me was that we got stuck in the deep, soft sand after his advances were refused and it was time to leave. I was chuckling to myself sitting pretty in the passenger seat while he was furiously digging like a dog for a lost bone in the hot, tire-trapping sand. Awww, poor you. Thanks for the ride, good chance I won’t be seeing you later.
An overlander trip had stopped to camp at the place I was staying so had some lovely company for the night but still no plans about the desert. Tomorrow, people will arrive to join you tomorrow and we go in the afternoon. So essentially a cash grab to get me up there for the night. Whatever. Tomorrow comes and I wander and hang out and finally a manager shows up, fairly disinterested in me, and quotes me an astronomical price for a trip that will last less than 24hrs. I sat there blinking, blinking, blinking. Pardon? He continues on with several other conversations and I thank him for his time but tell him I won’t be able to afford the trip, that it is much shorter than I had been told, and that I was very disappointed. He simply couldn’t care less.
I head back to my room and plop myself down on the bed. In my head I’m seeing the 20+ hrs I had just travelled to get there, reminding myself that I’ll most likely never be back here and that it shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about the experience, cursing the fact that this is one of those things that I just can’t go at alone, and with a frustrated sigh, I go find the jerkface who is about to rip me off. I get him to reduce the price ever so little and then pack up my stuff to await my new desert traveling partners. Two were to be arriving from Cairo any minute now.
Two didn’t arrive, three did. A mom, dad, and 5 year old screaming banshee from India. The little princess was dressed head to toe in ribbons and lace, a frilly dress, and sparkly shoes. Mom and dad looked a little less done up but not necessarily ready for camping in the desert. I tried all of my “let’s chat!” charm and got pretty much nowhere. A nice enough family all of whom suffered slightly in the socializing with strangers department. THANKFULLY our guide was a happy, chatty, excited young man who loved what he did, loved the desert, was SUPREMELY sarcastic. I had a friend for the journey. Let’s get going!
Drive, stop and look, drive, stop and look. The sandy brown earth and mountains covered with a layer of spewed black volcanic rock. Welcome to the Black Desert. Very neat to see some of the changing landscape but after a few kilometers of this… *yawn*. So we drive, up and over a bit of a mountain range, and the scenery starts to change a little more. We’ve left the perimeters of the Black Desert and are now entering the National Park of the White Desert. THIS I liked.
Sandy bottom with massive white boulders randomly blooming like mushrooms on a forest floor. In sections, the brown sand is suddenly a river of clean, white snow. It’s beautiful. My pictures on facebook do it NO justice. As far as the eye can see, crops of brilliant white boulders carved out by an ancient, long gone ocean. Yeah, let’s sleep here.
As we set up camp, the guide and I were doing our best to hold each other’s patience together as the screaming banshee was evoking images of tied and gagged left on a rock in the middle of nowhere. At the top of her lungs… mum-EEEEE! Mum-EEEEE!! Mum-EEEEE!! Pa-PAAAA!! Pa-PAAAA!! Pa-PAAAA!! Family Guy reference where Stewie harasses Lois for a solid 5 to mins of “mama! Mama! Lois! Mommy!, etc”, multiply that by like a thousand, amplify it by a million, and take out the humor, that was our soundtrack. Her parents would ignore her or continue on with their conversations. We attempted to shush her, no success. I really, really, REALLY wanted to shake her and her parents. Desert: quiet, isolated, still. Nope. Spoiled, indulged screaming banshee was going to rule the trip. Frick.
An incredibly yummy camp stove dinner was made and conversations were attempted in between the full blown stomp her feet and scream at the top of her lungs temper tantrums and demands for this and that. Again, parents did nothing or sat by and laughed. It was ridiculously frustrating. Managed to enjoy the scenery amidst the howling Indian Princess as the sun set and the smells of fragrant food filled the air. Enter desert fox.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I want a desert fox! These cat-sized, light coloured, big-eared, bushy-tailed, curious and hungry critters soon surrounded our camp, obviously used to the thousands of people who stake out the sands for a bit of respite from the hustle and bustle of the big Egyptian cities. Bold, brave, and oh so cute, they’d lie in wait for scraps and scamper off with whatever treasure they could find before sniffing their way back for more. Up close, as any habituated animal will be, but often scurrying away at the screams and chucking of random things originated from the howling child. Seriously, not happy with you.
Stomachs full, dark skies, shining stars, and I’m encouraging a long overdue bedtime for the tantrum-ing tot while guide extraordinaire is setting up a campfire. *sigh* THIS is what I came for. The grownups (again, YES! I’m included in this group!) sit around the fire keeping our fingers crossed that the she-devil will sleep. Eventually mom goes to lay with her and there is brief, beautiful silence. Secret smiles exchanged between guide and me… welcome to the desert.
And yep, it’s COLD! Luckily I was a little better prepared than I would have been thanks to my night out on the felucca but wow, that fire was a saving grace for me. I am a BABY when it comes to the cold now. Africa has ruined me for all others! Lots of chat, tea, and shisha, then all are ready for sleep. A shelter of mats and blankets had been set up alongside the Land Cruiser, I however, made my bed beside the fire. One, the further away from the howling hyena, the better, and two, wide open night under the stars beside a fire… could you ask for more? Wow.
Cozy and snuggled under wool blankets and campfire smoke, I was a happy girl. Not too much sleep to be had as OF COURSE the shrieking she-devil couldn’t possibly sleep through the night and I was considering ways to piece her off to the desert foxes but whatever. Warm body, ice cold nose in the clean, fresh air… *sigh* fabulous.
Thankfully I woke before the yelling yeti did so when she started carrying on while her parents continued to sleep, I was able to dig myself out of my mountain of blankets and wander off into the maze of stone statues. I sing-songed voiced my disapproval of her attempts to follow me and got lost on my own for a while. Chilly early morning, rising sun, middle of nowhere desert. Very, very cool. Got back to camp and could see the frustration on dear guide’s face as I could hear her screaming no matter how far I wandered. Quick pack up and we were off. A knowing glance as I was invited back by the guide to stay with his family and visit the desert “properly” the next time. Sad to say goodbye to such a lovely place. Would do it again in a heartbeat. Minus the child, of course.
All of us on the afternoon bus back to Cairo, child slept a good chunk of the way thank every god in heaven. Bid them a quick goodbye and made my getaway. Was considering heading straight back down to the beautiful white sands, but on to the sea, on to the sea, diving to do, things to see!
A nice day had wandering around and even though I had another 6 hour bus trip ahead of me, I was ready to go. Poor Mr. Manager has been forced to marry a girl that is 10 years younger than him, that he doesn’t love, that he has had two children with, and he is thoroughly miserable. Can I please tell you that this isn’t the first time that I’ve had an “I’m unhappy in my marriage” conversation with a man over here. I must have “sucker ” or something written on my forehead. While I listen to their sob stories and nod or tsk tsk appropriately here and there, believe me, I’ve had to try hard just to show a little sympathy. In a country where women continue to be second class citizens, required to be covered when leaving the house, and are obviously limited in their rights, I have very little sympathy for any man whining to me about their sad state of affairs at home. You want 8 babies but she only wants 2? Oh, POOR YOU! You have to work long hours because she wants a place separate from your parents to live in? SUCH A SHAME! She gets upset when you sleep at work or choose not to come home for long periods of time? NO S**T – THERE’S A GOOD CHANCE YOU’RE CREEPING ON TOURISTS! No sympathy here folks. Sorry about your luck. Nice man, very nice man who took very good care of me, but yeah, epic fail on that bonding point of conversation.
Up and out at 6am to head to Bahariya, another oasis town. Oh! Forgot to tell you that the whole way to Mut and carried on into Bahariya, we pass through military check point after military check point. Long, empty desert highways… checkpoint. Rinse and repeat. No one will give me a straight answer as to why, very similar to my trip down to Abu Simbel, but the best I can figure is that in the areas near bordering countries, Sudan, Libya, Chad, it continues to be a bit of the old wild, wild west. Smugglers, highway robberies, kidnappings, wide-open lawlessness desert so legitimate threat or not, they keep a good eye on the foreigners travelling through here – for OUR safety. At each check point, I would hear blah, blah, blah, Canadian. More or less, all locals, one Canadian on board. Nobody bothered to look for me, check my id, write anything down, or any recognition of the sort, but I guess it helps everyone feel that things are a little more under control. And when your presence is being announced upon arrival, yeah, you can’t help but feel a little special.
Was picked up in this even smaller more basic oasis town by the son of the owner of my new home. Zero details of what I have in store for my desert destination but later, later. Get settled in and he offers to take me Land Cruising through some local dunes, for FREE! Ummm… yes please! My current wish list now includes a Land Cruiser. I’ve seen them in action, been cruising in a few, but this was my first ripping around dunes, vertical inclines, up and across the desert, drive-the-snot-out-of-it, let’s-see-if-we-can-flip-it experience I’ve had. SO much fun! Parked on the top of a sand dune so I could get out and play in the sand for a bit, blah, blah, blah, insert typical creepy Egyptian man story here, and karmic payback for his ick factor towards me was that we got stuck in the deep, soft sand after his advances were refused and it was time to leave. I was chuckling to myself sitting pretty in the passenger seat while he was furiously digging like a dog for a lost bone in the hot, tire-trapping sand. Awww, poor you. Thanks for the ride, good chance I won’t be seeing you later.
An overlander trip had stopped to camp at the place I was staying so had some lovely company for the night but still no plans about the desert. Tomorrow, people will arrive to join you tomorrow and we go in the afternoon. So essentially a cash grab to get me up there for the night. Whatever. Tomorrow comes and I wander and hang out and finally a manager shows up, fairly disinterested in me, and quotes me an astronomical price for a trip that will last less than 24hrs. I sat there blinking, blinking, blinking. Pardon? He continues on with several other conversations and I thank him for his time but tell him I won’t be able to afford the trip, that it is much shorter than I had been told, and that I was very disappointed. He simply couldn’t care less.
I head back to my room and plop myself down on the bed. In my head I’m seeing the 20+ hrs I had just travelled to get there, reminding myself that I’ll most likely never be back here and that it shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about the experience, cursing the fact that this is one of those things that I just can’t go at alone, and with a frustrated sigh, I go find the jerkface who is about to rip me off. I get him to reduce the price ever so little and then pack up my stuff to await my new desert traveling partners. Two were to be arriving from Cairo any minute now.
Two didn’t arrive, three did. A mom, dad, and 5 year old screaming banshee from India. The little princess was dressed head to toe in ribbons and lace, a frilly dress, and sparkly shoes. Mom and dad looked a little less done up but not necessarily ready for camping in the desert. I tried all of my “let’s chat!” charm and got pretty much nowhere. A nice enough family all of whom suffered slightly in the socializing with strangers department. THANKFULLY our guide was a happy, chatty, excited young man who loved what he did, loved the desert, was SUPREMELY sarcastic. I had a friend for the journey. Let’s get going!
Drive, stop and look, drive, stop and look. The sandy brown earth and mountains covered with a layer of spewed black volcanic rock. Welcome to the Black Desert. Very neat to see some of the changing landscape but after a few kilometers of this… *yawn*. So we drive, up and over a bit of a mountain range, and the scenery starts to change a little more. We’ve left the perimeters of the Black Desert and are now entering the National Park of the White Desert. THIS I liked.
Sandy bottom with massive white boulders randomly blooming like mushrooms on a forest floor. In sections, the brown sand is suddenly a river of clean, white snow. It’s beautiful. My pictures on facebook do it NO justice. As far as the eye can see, crops of brilliant white boulders carved out by an ancient, long gone ocean. Yeah, let’s sleep here.
As we set up camp, the guide and I were doing our best to hold each other’s patience together as the screaming banshee was evoking images of tied and gagged left on a rock in the middle of nowhere. At the top of her lungs… mum-EEEEE! Mum-EEEEE!! Mum-EEEEE!! Pa-PAAAA!! Pa-PAAAA!! Pa-PAAAA!! Family Guy reference where Stewie harasses Lois for a solid 5 to mins of “mama! Mama! Lois! Mommy!, etc”, multiply that by like a thousand, amplify it by a million, and take out the humor, that was our soundtrack. Her parents would ignore her or continue on with their conversations. We attempted to shush her, no success. I really, really, REALLY wanted to shake her and her parents. Desert: quiet, isolated, still. Nope. Spoiled, indulged screaming banshee was going to rule the trip. Frick.
An incredibly yummy camp stove dinner was made and conversations were attempted in between the full blown stomp her feet and scream at the top of her lungs temper tantrums and demands for this and that. Again, parents did nothing or sat by and laughed. It was ridiculously frustrating. Managed to enjoy the scenery amidst the howling Indian Princess as the sun set and the smells of fragrant food filled the air. Enter desert fox.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I want a desert fox! These cat-sized, light coloured, big-eared, bushy-tailed, curious and hungry critters soon surrounded our camp, obviously used to the thousands of people who stake out the sands for a bit of respite from the hustle and bustle of the big Egyptian cities. Bold, brave, and oh so cute, they’d lie in wait for scraps and scamper off with whatever treasure they could find before sniffing their way back for more. Up close, as any habituated animal will be, but often scurrying away at the screams and chucking of random things originated from the howling child. Seriously, not happy with you.
Stomachs full, dark skies, shining stars, and I’m encouraging a long overdue bedtime for the tantrum-ing tot while guide extraordinaire is setting up a campfire. *sigh* THIS is what I came for. The grownups (again, YES! I’m included in this group!) sit around the fire keeping our fingers crossed that the she-devil will sleep. Eventually mom goes to lay with her and there is brief, beautiful silence. Secret smiles exchanged between guide and me… welcome to the desert.
And yep, it’s COLD! Luckily I was a little better prepared than I would have been thanks to my night out on the felucca but wow, that fire was a saving grace for me. I am a BABY when it comes to the cold now. Africa has ruined me for all others! Lots of chat, tea, and shisha, then all are ready for sleep. A shelter of mats and blankets had been set up alongside the Land Cruiser, I however, made my bed beside the fire. One, the further away from the howling hyena, the better, and two, wide open night under the stars beside a fire… could you ask for more? Wow.
Cozy and snuggled under wool blankets and campfire smoke, I was a happy girl. Not too much sleep to be had as OF COURSE the shrieking she-devil couldn’t possibly sleep through the night and I was considering ways to piece her off to the desert foxes but whatever. Warm body, ice cold nose in the clean, fresh air… *sigh* fabulous.
Thankfully I woke before the yelling yeti did so when she started carrying on while her parents continued to sleep, I was able to dig myself out of my mountain of blankets and wander off into the maze of stone statues. I sing-songed voiced my disapproval of her attempts to follow me and got lost on my own for a while. Chilly early morning, rising sun, middle of nowhere desert. Very, very cool. Got back to camp and could see the frustration on dear guide’s face as I could hear her screaming no matter how far I wandered. Quick pack up and we were off. A knowing glance as I was invited back by the guide to stay with his family and visit the desert “properly” the next time. Sad to say goodbye to such a lovely place. Would do it again in a heartbeat. Minus the child, of course.
All of us on the afternoon bus back to Cairo, child slept a good chunk of the way thank every god in heaven. Bid them a quick goodbye and made my getaway. Was considering heading straight back down to the beautiful white sands, but on to the sea, on to the sea, diving to do, things to see!
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)