A whole lotta nothin'

29^th-30^th October 2009 – Days 31-32 – Dahab, Egypt

We went to Dahab with one main objective – do as little as possible. This was not only achieved, but achieved with flying colours! After an increasingly typical desperate dash for Cairo’s Turgoman bus station and a night bus in which I was woken up five times to show my passport and the driver got into a show of strength with an articulated truck (which, thankfully, nobody won) we pulled up in Dahab and headed straight for BishBishi, the place Richard had recommended to us. “Check in is at 12” they told us, “so your room is not yet ready. You can go to our restaurant on the beach to chill out for a bit if you want”. The expression “chill out” was one that seemingly everyone in the Dahab hospitality business knew and we soon learnt why. We hardly left “the place on the beach” for the entire two days and instead entertained ourselves with endless cups of tea, endless games of backgammon, and a few beers to boot. The first night saw a valiant attempt to do something else as we went to eat next door (and after my 6 hour nap in the restaurant, it seemed appropriate). M went one better and dragged herself several minutes back to BishBishi for a shower, although dragged herself right back after for more tea and backgammon. The following morning saw us greeted like old friends by the staff and we were then given a hearty goodbye and best wishes. A great and friendly place to “chill out”.

"Get the jumper cables, coffee isn't helping!'

Are we getting slightly too old and comfortable...?

Richard has headed to Aswan already and we’ve arranged to meet him on Sunday. Between then and now we have to get our ferry tickets from Cairo on arrival tomorrow morning, pick up our bags from Daniel and Megan and finally say goodbye to Dahab Hostel, and then get ourselves onto a night train to Aswan without any glitches in the plan. It should be fine, inch’allah, and we embark on the long road to Sudan.

Adventures with Mr. Asshole

23rd-28th October - Days 25-30 - Cairo, Egypt

6 days melted into one as we returned to that city we now call home – Cairo. Our pockets breathed a sigh of relief as we took the bus from the airport to Midan Tahrir without having to ask our banks for permission first, and we hopped back to the Dahab Hostel and settled in for a few days of business, leisure and lazy wandering.

The business portion consisted of 2 parts: Getting the Sudanese visa, and then getting a ferry ticket across Lake Nasser into Sudan. This first part was complicated by several predictable factors – Sudanese bureaucracy, the French consulate, and our ever decreasing ability to wake up to alarms. We had gone into the Sudanese embassy and were instructed by a man who we would (with great affection) come to call Mr. Asshole that we had to bring 2 photos, a letter of recommendation from our embassy and 100$. M delightfully demonstrated the advantages of being Finnish as she swanned off to Zamalek, got her letter and had a coffee even before I had squirmed my way out of the metro in search of the consulate, which internet maps had told me was out east in a district I’d never been to. As I walked further down the small, dirty and empty streets, asking people who couldn’t give me answers, I became more and more doubtful that I would find the French consulate here. We needed to get the letters into the Sudanese embassy by 12, and it was now 11. The clock was ticking. I decided to abandon my map and ask everyone, getting pointed in vague and contradictory directions each time. Eventually one gentleman informed me that I was in the wrong part of town and bundled me into a taxi with strict instructions to the driver, and off we set across town. An hour and many kilometres of traffic jams later I emerged sweating, tired and cursing at the foot of the Finnish embassy building where M was sat, looking unfussed and refreshed. Trying the phone number several times again, I cursed the Republic even more vigorously. M’s suggestion we go up to the Finnish embassy again bore fruit, and we had an address and a phone number. It turns out that there are 2 El-Fadl streets in Cairo and that Mappy had given me not the large street in the centre of town, but the filthy alleyway out in the suburbs. The joys of travel.

There was a twist in the story yet as the consulate found itself completely unable to pick up the phone when I called it, and then refused to issue me a letter of recommendation on government orders. Mr. Asshole was not going to be happy about this.

And so it proved the next day as we handed in our applications, with Mr. Asshole assuring me that I would not get a visa without a letter of recommendation. I tried to smile and persuade him that he could give me one but he kept on repeating the same two slogans : “No letter, no visa”, and “I told you the rule”. Great. Thankfully M knows how France works and wasn’t overly fussed as we thought we could try again at the consulate in Aswan. Having made us stand around and wait for 3 hours, Mr. Asshole told us we could come back tomorrow to pay, and we began to see a hint of a smile. The day after, we got our passports back, laden with visas. Our names are misspelt on both of them but Mr. Asshole sorted us out well.

Our desperate last minute attempts to buy ferry tickets sank because it was too late but we’ll go back on Saturday as we were ordered to in order to try our luck again.

Leisure has taken many forms as well : lying around, drinking tea and beer, playing backgammon and wandering around the area with the various interesting characters we’ve met – Daniel and Megan, two Americans studying in Moscow; Derrick, a Dutch guy who introduced us to the wonderful game “Cow trade”, and Richard, an English guy who’s heading down to Cape Town and should, inch’allah, be on the boat with us on Monday. The less interesting characters, like the Swedish group who drink lots and say very little, we have tried to avoid. Many hours of backgammon, many gallons of tea and many hours of lazing later, we’ve hopped on a bus to Dahab on the Sinai coast for a couple of days before heading back to Cairo on Saturday and starting the long slog south. Daniel and Megan offered to keep our backpacks in their room so we’re free of them for a couple of days. Woohoo.

This entry is dedicated to M on her 26th birthday and on finding out her sky high thesis grade – I apologise to her that the first bar I took her to had already closed down and that we couldn’t find the second one but at least we had Thai food with Egyptian wine!

Goodbye to: Ruben, Natalie, Cairo, Sandals

11th October 2009 – Day 13 – Cairo, Egypt

As M wrote her thesis and Ruben and Natalie disappeared off to the Egyptian museum and the Khan al-Khalili souq, I pondered what to do. Walk around by myself? Go to the French consulate to start the Sudan visa process? Join Ruben and Natalie? This pondering process ended up taking the best part of a day and by the time I came to my senses I was already sitting on a bench in the hostel drinking beer and the sun had gone down. Ah well. The last 12 days have been pretty hectic and it’ll do me some good to have a lazy day.

In the evening, we go to ”Café Riche” in an extravagant show of opulence before throwing Ruben and Natalie into a taxi bound for the airport and wave goodbye to them – they’re heading back to Europe. M and I are going to have to face the next 4 months travelling alone and with only each other for company – let’s see who comes off better out of that one :) Having Ruben and Natalie around has been good – I don’t think we really have the same travelling style but we’ve seen a lot and have some good fun together and it’ll be strange to head off without them. We head back to Dahab Hostel for further beer for me, and further thesis for M. These days are starting to get strangely monotonous, aren’t they ?

This is the first day of my new life without sandals. The previous ones had a stench so engrained to them that I put them into an incinerator in Alexandria, and their presence in the city will probably poison the water supply there for years to come.

12th October 2009 – Day 14 – Cairo, Egypt

1) M continues writing thesis
2) T packs bags and then proceeds to abuse Egyptian jungle juice.

The plane departs to Bahrain at the end of an extremely long day at 4.45am. We pay the taxi driver EP50 for an extra hour's wait when MS Word starts to act up on M on the last minute before supposed sending of the G. The G still does not get sent from Cairo the same night.

Faculty meeting

9th - 10th October 2009 – Days 11-12 – Bahariya Oasis to Alexandria to Cairo, Egypt

We’re being bookworms with T again. Sitting on the train back from Alexandria to Cairo the trip seems to take forever so we’ve decided to be useful at least. Coming here on the same route the opposite way it took nearly four hours when it should have taken three. Now coming back we spent (and I quote T) “and hour and a half on a stretch between stations that should have taken eight minutes”. So I’m sure you get our drift. Inch’allah we’ll catch the last metro to our hostel in Cairo.

Sure enough though, reading should be a very appropriate activity while coming from Alexandria, the Mediterranean cradle of civilization and early appreciation for bibliography. We didn’t bother to visit the actual library as it is merely a newly built campus library (the university of Alexandria can be found behind it) with only some small bits left from the original that got burnt down in one of Caesar’s stunts I think it was – the more knowledgeable please correct me at free will. We visited the front door, however, on our quest to find a place to get online and were told the entrance is EP 10 and you must leave your bag outside. For more tourist info, get your own guidebook.

Our guidebook around Alexandria was called Ahmed, a friend of T’s and Rubén’s from the ever-notorious food serving establishment in Helsinki (that hardly needs more advertisement) where we have all worked (although me not at the same time with Ahmed so he was a new face to me). Ahmed moved back out to Alexandria from Finland a while ago so he was there to greet us at the train station upon our arrival from Cairo on Friday night. We had first taken a bus to Cairo from the Bahaariya Oasis the same morning and were happy to see a local face expecting that he might lead us to some hidden jewel of a hostel and take us around town for some nightly action – at least judging by Rubén’s comments on the train on the way there and the sneaky questions to Ahmed about if the dancing is good around here etc etc. What actually happened was that we followed Trotamundos’ (the Spanish Routard guidebook) advice on where to go sleep and Ahmed had to ask around on the way because he didn’t know any better than us. The hometown syndrome of not knowing where everything is, but just knowing your own way around. We found the place in the end but it only had place for two so we descended one floor down in the same building (here and in Cairo the hostels seem to be clustered onto different floors inside the same building) to another hostel which wasn’t smothered with cleanliness but served its purpose to us as it had toilets and showers and a view over the 20 km long corniche stretching out right below the window.

We showered and Ahmed took us around town to the extent that we simply yearned to get to bed, not because of the wild nightlife but because of the long rides on the microbuses along the corniche to get from one place to another. We took one microbus to visit a fort at one end of the stretch and walked around a bit, then took another to go all the way to the other end of the bay and round the bend to see the last king’s palace and gardens. The palace grounds are nowadays a hangout for the local youth to come and snog in the shadows of the trees and inside their cars as PDAs (public displays of affection) are not part of the culture here. I read on Trotamundos – and Ahmed confirmed the info – that you get the odd copper patrolling around in the garden and fining people for this pastime. Imagine a job as one of those coppers!! “Right you lovebirds there, I can see you – now cut the contact or you’ll get a fat ticket.” Now that’s one place where corruption should not only let flourish but is needed to do so. One last microbus ride back to our hostel and we finally got to bed at 3.30am.

One half of the 20 km-long corniche, as viewed from our hostel window.

How to (not) look like a local in Alexandria.

Natalie and Rubén, being on speed or whatever they feed the babies in Spain, got up around 8.30am and went shopping. Me and T were planning to get up too, I was supposed to write some G (my neverending thesis) and wanted to see the catacombs before starting on the writing. Hmmm, yeah didn’t quite happen. We got up at 11am and pretty much went to discuss with the hostel keeper about changing rooms to a double straight away as Natalie and Rubén were going to leave to Cairo the same night but we were planning to stay in Alexandria for a second night so I could use the plug at the hostel for my G purposes. We successfully changed rooms to a smaller one and soon after that the Spaniards came back to greet us quickly in the form of picking up their bags from the hostel before getting their train. All we had to do now was to find an internet café to google up the contact details of the hostel we had stayed at in Cairo earlier and which we had booked for the night as part of our earlier made plan to return to Cairo tonight, so as to avoid double-booking in two different cities.

The search for the internet café started well as we entered a Brazilian style coffee shop to get me the first (and hopefully not last) decent coffee of the trip. I was surrounded by the lovely fumes of my take-away latte for a good while I tell ya. As we’re searching, we decide to buy one of these payphone cards so that we can call both the hostel in Cairo and Ahmed cheaper. We keep searching and we see at least three places with free WiFi inside but no actual old school net cafés. After walking through a couple of barrios we come to the faculty of medicine of some university and in my style I suggest we should just ask instead of wandering endlessly. I mean, these people are students, they’ll speak English and will know their way around town too.

So I approach a lady in a pink veil. She speaks English but I’m not sure she understands what I’m saying. She’s very helpful though, and asks a man who is sitting under a huge sheet pronouncing that a “conference on anesthesia and first aid” is taking place at the faculty. They point us inside of the faculty buildings and tell us to “just ask anyone” which we take to be a bit peculiar but follow orders all the same. Once inside, we are approached by a young man who looks to be a janitor of some sort. We explain to him that we have been pointed inside and that we are looking for an internet café – so no loss of information in our message should have happened during our entry. The man asks us to follow him and takes us up the stairs onto what looks like one of the departments of the faculty with offices and secretaries. He talks to some older ladies inside one of the offices and we try to say a word in between just very cordially explaining why we’re here, but sounding all the more puzzled as to why in the world would there be an internet café inside the faculty office.

It seems no one else is noticing this tiny little discrepancy, however, and a woman in a grey veil takes action to lead us along the corridor further inside the faculty. She soon disappears into an office through a shiny wooden door which is slightly open and has a big name plate on the door: “Prof. Dr. Arab name. Faculty of Medicine. Dean”. We wait outside. T sits onto one of the sinking black sofas which are forming some sort of a waiting lounge in front of the office. I start blabbering nervously about that we shouldn’t sit down unless we’re invited to do so as I haven’t seen anyone do that over here. Or never mind that I wouldn’t do it anyway in a business context. T looks like he doesn’t care and also points this out. I sit down too. I soon get up again. The woman in the grey veil finally comes out and informs us that the dean of the faculty will be available for us shortly and that we should sit and wait. She asks if we want coffee or tea. We look at each other with T and start trying to explain the situation again from the beginning. “We were just looking for an internet café.” She’s nodding away calmly but starts to look like she doesn’t really understand.”IN-TER-NET café?” we try again. She asks again if we want coffee or tea. We deny cordially. We finally realize we’re really not getting through to her. Shit shit shit. She confirms again that we have a meeting with the dean in just a little while and asks if everything’s ok with us or do we need anything else. We give up and smile and nod as sign of everything being ok, and she smiles back and walks away.

What has just happened? We have asked a stranger on the street for directions to the nearest internet café. Less than 20 minutes later we have a meeting with the dean of the Faculty of Medicine of the University of Alexandria. Someone tell me, how is this even possible… We have a quick panic discussion session while sitting on the sofa. T suggests we should just bail out with the excuse of pretending to very busy and needing to catch a train. Ha ha. I can’t bring myself to just run out of the situation like that. I suggest we go inside and explain to the dean what has happened. Just as bad of an idea. Besides, he doesn’t sound like the nicest man from what we can hear through the open door. Slightly busy and uptight maybe. Probably not going to take our incident with humour. Plan C includes that we get up and try ask anyone else if they speak English. We wander to the door of an office that is next to the one where the woman in the grey veil is working. We start asking and explaining the same story all over again and add some nervous laughter about not meaning to cause any hassle and how we were just pointed inside the building so we just thought to come and try, but that under no circumstance do we need to meet the dean of the faculty. A man asks if we want coffee or tea. For crying out loud, do these people not understand the word ‘internet café’???? This IS a university, isn’t it? I keep it in and we try once more. One of the younger looking secretaries understands and smiles half-heartedly. The woman in the grey veil has come out of her office next door to see what the corridor huddle is about. Thankfully the younger woman explains something to the others in Arabic and takes us downstairs, “cyber café” she says and nods as we leave. I bend over backwards trying to tell her that she should explain to the others that this was a pure mistake and that we didn’t mean to bother anyone. I probably sound like a lunatic, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way. Back downstairs, she tells us that the cyber café is closed. We thank her and a mutual exchange of smiles takes place. We walk out the door and quickly pace up back to the direction we came from. Dear me. Cyber café. Would that have made all the difference? I can’t believe that either. Another close call for M & T on their long list of incredible incidents.

The course of the day changed there and then. By the time we got out of the university and walked back to the corniche to try yet again to find an internet café, the time has passed well onto the afternoon. This is when we come to the library and try there as our last attempt but think it’s not worth going inside and paying the fee and dropping our bags off to a separate cloakroom not knowing what we’ll get this time. Besides, we’ve seen enough of the one in Helsinki (the Helsinki University information center is called Alexandria), right? It’s 2.30pm by this point. We’ve probably lost the chance to cancel the reservation in Cairo by now anyway and I’ve wasted half of the day away from G writing already and haven’t even seen the catacombs yet. We text Rubén to announce that they should not try and cancel our share of the hostel in Cairo when they get there, because we will be coming there tonight as well. Our reasoning is clear. After all, the hostel in Cairo is better quality and we’re going to have to pay for them both at this point so we might as well also get the most out of what we’re paying for. Also this way we can sort out some paperwork needed for the Sudanese visa still before going to Oman so we don’t waste too much time with all of that after getting back. And I just need a fresh start for the G writing from the next morning.

Open hood and trunk day on the corniche. Free parking.

The rest of the day goes past quickly as we sit down for full-on lunch at an Italian place on the corniche. More of the better end, the place still provides TV screens to watch Zambia-Egypt World Cup Qualifiers while we work through both the appetizers and main course, both at very reasonable prices too. EP 150 for two persons’ guava juices, bottled water, good size appetizers, pasta and fish for the main courses and espresso and tea to digest it all. Egypt won 1-0 as well – people kept blocking my view to the screen towards the end. Who would have thought from a posh place, but once again football just touches the masses.

We used the payphone card to call Ahmed and we were supposed to meet him later but we ran out of time before he made it into town, so we spent the early evening riding the trams (they have some here!) and doing some shopping for mandatory supplies the likes of toilet paper and wet wipes. We also tried to find the catacombs but we learned they’d shut at 4.30pm when we go to ask at the tourist info office at 5.30pm. There went that as well. We called Ahmed again from the train station to say bye before getting on the train. Maybe we’ll be back to Alexandria, or Al-Iskanderia as it’s known in Arabic, after we return from Oman. Now I know who the kebab dish is named after as well – Alexander sure must have been Great to have had a kebab named after him as well.

All aboard! Women have their own section here too.

"Special price for you my friend!" M looks after the shop while the owner helps us to find the right platform, car and seats on the train. No baksheesh asked either.

The train left from Alexandria at 9.00pm and it is now 1.25am and we’re still rattling on. I think we’ve missed the last metro. Rubén and Natalie are waiting for us in the Hard Rock Café in Cairo. I don’t even dare to think where we would end up next if we start asking for directions to get there. “HARD ROCK?” Taxi for us I thinks – straight to the hostel, please.

Lazy (for some) days

8th October 2009 – Day 10 – Bahariya Oasis, Egypt

1) M does thesis.
2) T attempts to do laundry, which still stinks despite valiant efforts.
3) Otherwise lazy day.

A familiar sight this week in Egypt.

Is the sun finally setting on M's thesis..?

Off to the Oasis

7th October 2009 – Day 9 – Bahariya Oasis, Egypt

It’s taken all of nine days but it’s finally happened – I have loud and explosive diarrhoea. I always seem to pick it up when I leave Europe so I’m not too worried about it but it’s annoying all the same. After a large explosion in Hurghada last night, we took a night bus up to Cairo where I proceeded to explode in a café on Midan Tahrir and again in the public toilets in Giza’s El Monib bus station. A five hour bus ride later, we’re in the beautiful Bahariya Oasis where my stomach has obliged and redecorated the toilets in the Sahara Camp where we’ve shacked up for the night.

Cairo was loud and hectic as before – after a bumpy, sleepless night on the bus we rolled into Cairo early, and after searching for a café for my newly-adopted morning ablutions, we headed off to Turgoman bus station in the centre of town for a bus to Bahariya. The guy told us that El Monib was the only bus station they left from so we took a metro ride down into the far reaches of Giza and after a long search during which we asked directions from Metro workers, firemen, policemen and various others, we finally found a microbus station under a fly-over, beyond which was hidden the bus station. Hurrah!

The bus left an hour later than we thought giving us 2 hours to kill. The girls left to wander around the university district and Ruben and I who were tired and feeling like crap/pissed off at the world respectively stayed behind the watch the bags. Being scientifically-minded individuals, we killed some flies and put them in front of an ant, which wandered off in search of help and came back with an army, who carried the fly across the road, up a 40cm vertical wall to the pavement, and across towards the roadside café we were sat at. Our curiosity satisfied and after some high praise directed at ant society in general, we saw M and Natalie came back armed with toilet paper and snacks. The bus pulled up and we departed towards the desert.

T's sandals were denied entry to our cute little camp home due to health and safety regulations.

Arrival in Al-Bawiti, main town of the Bahariya Oasis,was like at any small town which makes a proportion of its living from tourism. We got our bags and were immediately swooped on by touts from every camp and hotel in town, hounding us until one of them got the idea that we needed time and apologized, taking the others away and giving us time to talk. We eventually left with him to a camp which was beautiful but had a price tag to match and we’ve ended up in the only marginally less nice Sahara Camp. Our new friend Loly had a word with the owner and then looked at us and said “I have to tell you – there will be a Bedouin wedding party here tonight. Is that OK with you?”. It sure was! So here we sit, Bedouin music rattling out from tinny loudspeakers, under a thatched roof, the others enjoying their food while I give my stomach a break, occasionally rewarding it for its watertightness with a Pringle or two. I’m looking on enviously as they throw down their home-made rice with chicken and vegetables but, inch’allah, my stomach will soon decide to cooperate again and I can join in the fun.

Ruben and Natalie are off on a desert safari tomorrow but M and I are staying here – M has her thesis to finish and I’ll spend half of the day nervously eyeing the toilets. A few nights in the desert, though, in this friendly and atmospheric camp site with its wooden huts, is exactly the kind of lazy setting we need to get our energy levels back up to be ready for a weekend in Alexandria and Cairo.

T and stomach have a half-time team talk.

Sea, Sun and Snorkels

6th October 2009 – Day 8 – Hurghada, Egypt

Yup, Hurghada. If I had a list of 10 places on the planet I wouldn’t go to I would imagine Hurghada is one of them. I get bored at the beach and I hate holiday resorts. Ruben and Natalie are our guests though and they wanted to come here so we’ve let ourselves get talked into it. It’s exactly as I imagined – tourists everywhere, European bars, 5 star hotels.
We signed up for a snorkeling trip and went out on the boat to a few coral reefs out in the Red Sea and spluttered our way through the waves, seeing loads of fish and coughing up salt water on regular occasions. Eventually we got the hang of the snorkels and managed to get more than a few seconds looking at the fish and corals, and M celebrated this new found success by losing her snorkel, breaking a 5 day streak of not losing anything. Congratulations, M! Now back at the Sea Waves, chilling to Bob Marley’s grooves, drinking tea and passing the time until our bus to Cairo at midnight tonight. Hurghada’s been alright but I’ll be quite happy to get onto more Egyptian experiences…

----

A few hours later we find ourselves jamming to Jacko the Man in one of the tourist trail restos not far from our hostel. The story begins from us being recommended to try a cheap Egyptian eatery by Hasan the Hotel Manager at “See Views” - this is what me and Rubén have titled it in the end, as the business card of the place promises sea views but we could not find any for love nor money. The hotel is hidden behind a line of buildings which shield it from direct access to the sea, and these buildings are both wider and taller than the hotel itself so it would be quite a surprise if any of the windows in the rooms would give any sea views. We even walked through all the corners of the roof terrace just to be sure and nope – no sea views here. So maybe Hasan should check his typing for the next print of the card set. Back to the story… so we walked along and asked directions from a couple of places to find this cheap eat, and our first advice came from a friendly chap in one of the more established restaurants by the sea strip with purple haze lighting (to suit the relaxing atmosphere I guess). We found the place eventually, only to learn it was cheap indeed but also a take away sandwich shop with no veggie options so we decided to give it a miss for the moment and find something else and maybe return later to grab a bite for the road. After some more wandering around and checking menus for Natalie’s benefit we were back at the purple light district with the friendly chap welcoming us back. We told him about finding the other place but coming back because a sandwich shop just wasn’t what we were looking for and he told us we should have just gone around the corner and we would have found the sitting down side of the place with full menus. Oh well.

So we stayed under purple haze instead and lucky we did! A chilled evening with great pizzas (conventional we know, but sometimes it’s just better to follow the tourist trail when it’s at its best), rounds of local Stella and fresh juices, clouds of shisha, a sad loss for Egypt against Costa Rica in the U-20 but lots of jamming to the King of Pop – may the maestro rest in peace. Our friendly chap Osama turned out to be quite a pro on the dancing front (from what he told us he’s done it for a living earlier but retired for being too old) and set the beat of the evening with his Jacko (and other) moves. He also got Rubén up his chair for a dance battle that eventually earner the latter the most legendary baksheesh of the trip: the guys at the bar presented him with a huge stiff one disguised as a bottle opener. Que fuerte! Sadly he didn’t get to keep the trophy. We taught Osama some Jungle Speed in return, and he got into the game so much that he soon was the most frustrated one of us about getting the patterns wrong and resigned after only a few rounds. Lame attempt, but if you ask me, he should stick to his grooving moves anyway.

Hey Rastaferrari!! Ruben definitely took in some of that Bob Marley influence from Luxor...

Six hours passed in the warm and cozy haze. The A/C on the bus afterwards was definitely set to ‘way too cold’ for our bodies and souls. OK, even an amateur knows that you don’t mount one of these trans-desert freezers wearing only a skirt, sandals and a skin-thin tunika, but the best of us hit blank from time to time. Roughly 25 positions and 5 dead legs later, with sore throats and yet again sleep deprived we arrived to Cairo the next morning. Natalie made the wise choice of getting her sleeping bag out in the night and is the only one of us that had any proper luck with Mr Sandman.

I see Rubén getting off the bus cranky and wearing ¾ length shorts and a T-shirt and absolutely see where his face came from. We just have this thing with him about being hungry, thirsty and sleepy always at the same time. Probably because we seem to also make bad choices at the same time. Great to have a companion like him along the trip really, as after these two Spaniards bugger off, I’m back to T regime of no food and no drink for days if need be (OK OK I know I’ll get niggling from him for this already, so let’s just call it even that I also tend to be the first to start snapping if my blood sugar sinks, i.e. the suffering goes both ways). At least I manage to sleep just about anywhere, as long as I dress properly that is. And he’s the best mossie repellent you’ll get as well so I think I’m still up compared to him on the travel comfort scale. He got bitten on the bus next to me while I was left untouched even if I was the one with open skin available from toes to knees and he was wearing two shirts with long sleeves and a pair of thick combat pants. ‘Sweet’ – said the mossies.In any case, we can’t stand around for too long feeling miserable because we’re called on a mission to find the nearest toilet for T. Yup, he’s gone down on the comfort scale even more.

Intermission

5th October 2009 – Day 7 – Luxor to Hurghada, Egypt

Our attempts to get up early to get the 5.30 bus to Hurghada were frustrated as we didn’t hear alarms and phone calls from Natalie and Ruben who went to the bus station without us. They also failed to leave, however, as they realized that they had no money to buy the bus tickets. They trudged back into town for breakfast and we eventually woke up thanks to the gas man banging on his canisters outside. A lot of slowness ensued and we eventually made it to the 2.30 bus, arriving in Hurghada at 8.30 and checking into the Sea Waves hotel which the guy at the “Green Chairs Café” in Luxor had recommended to us.

We left the Boomerang Hostel with smiles and fondness – it was a great place to stay, friendly atmosphere, warm welcome, always the impression that nothing was too much hassle. We aim to be educational as well as entertaining so here’s the plug – if you’re ever in Luxor try out this brand new place (www.boomerangluxor.com). In a city of a million hostels and mass tourism (at least by Egyptian standards) they deserve all the business they can get. Luxor itself was a surprise – of course there was a little business niggling but there was far from the amount of hassle and hustle that I expected from the city – much less than in Aswan for instance, and especially after our few days of freedom with the bicycles and our friendly welcome, I left with a good feeling about the place.

Lebanese food on Hurghada’s corniche kept us tanked up for the evening after which we hit the sack, ready for a day of sun and sand tomorrow.

A Luxorious day

4th October 2009 – Day 6 – Luxor, Egypt

Where's Waldo? For the first time in history, M feels small.

Ruben and Natalie buggered off to Kom Ombo temple for the day and M and I, ever enthusiastic, decided to sleep in and take our (t)rusty bikes over to Karnak where we wandered around for many hours – I thought I’d seen enough temples to last me a lifetime and if it had been any other place I’d probably have been blasé about the whole experience but Karnak was impressive! A huge place, spread over a large area and very well conserved – a lot more impressive than anywhere else I’ve seen so far and I’m glad I dragged myself out of bed for it! A thoroughly unsuccessful trip to the pharmacy to find water purification tablets was spiced up by some guy who wanted to take us to some shop which he bravely attempted, sticking to us incessantly for over half an hour until we invented an emergency for which we had to get back to the hostel. As it turned out there was an emergency – we urgently needed to take a nap and laze around, which we did until Ruben and Natalie came back from Kom Ombo with tales of great adventure!

M inspects Karnak's architecture. "It's not straight", she concludes.

They’d eventually got there after working out the Egyptian train system and got told the temple was right near to the train station and visible from it. This turned out not to be the case and then found out that the temple was a long trek out of town. When they got out of town they’d gone past a school at closing time and, like fish followed by seagulls, they were swooped upon by a mass of kids demanding money. They didn’t give any and their tightness was punished by a stoning by one of the kids who also pulled Natalie’s hair. Getting onto a minibus didn’t help as the kids followed them demanding more money, until they got off at the temple to be greeted by tourist police. The kids disappeared. Adventure indeed!
After a lazy evening planning the next day we disappeared off to bed. The wonderful news is that tomorrow morning, we’re off to Hurghada, tourist hell hole par excellence…

Just to reassure our parents - we're both still alive and smiling!

3rd October 2009 – Day 5 - Luxor, Egypt

We wake at 4am and walk a few blocks to the station, getting onto the 5am train to Luxor. Egyptian railway stations are peculiar in having a metal detector and security guards at the entrance to each platform. People going through invariably set the alarm off and are then waved through with a smile and no further checking nonetheless. Great for creating employment in the armed forces, but maybe a slight waste of resources…

Things I am tired of hearing/seeing :

- “Felluca ?” – I’ve said no to every other tout on the corniche, what makes you think you’re different buster ?
- “Hello, my hostel is just near to here” – When I say I already have one, it means I already fucking have one, OK ???
- “But it’s cheap price !!” – it’s not that I think the price is too high, it’s that I don’t want to buy your miniature sphinx/camel/pyramid/pack of postcards. For any price. Even if it was free. Period. - “How many camels for her ?” – knock it off boys, we’ve heard it before and it wasn’t funny then either.
- “Hey Rastaman !* to Natalie, who has dreadlocks. This is particularly irritating as it comes at every street corner. “Hey Rasta”, “Hey Rastafari” and the extremely clever “Hey Rastaferrari” are varieties of this.
- Tourists in large groups who wear completely unsuitable clothes – women in strap tops and miniskirts, men in short shorts. We have taken to calling them “the enemy” and taking pictures of them. In Abu Simbel, we had a contest to see who could take the picture of the most ridiculous tourist. It was there that I was finally confronted with the level of ridiculousness that the Caucasian tourist can reach, something I have been sheltered from in my choice of destination so far in my life. I will never laugh at a Japanese tourist in London or Paris ever again. At least we have one use for them – we’ll always stick behind a large group in the tourist souks to be able to sneak past the crap vendors.

Tourist at Abu Simbel displaying full respectful Islamic dress.

The sad thing in countries like this is that the vast majority of people are friendly and wouldn’t want to hassle anyone, yet the visitor is swarmed by salesmen and touts and gets a really bad impression of the place. As we roll along the Nile on the train, watching fishermen and palm trees and small allotments, I force myself to remember this. We have just been moved from our seat, for instance, because another guy had a seat reservation for where we were sitting. The conductor is falling over himself apologizing to us as I assure him that it really is no problem. Knowing, however, that this train is going to drop us off in Luxor, Egyptian tourism city central, I have a feeling I will forget it again rather soon. I’m beginning to really look forward to seeing Sudan.

Anyway, we have 10 days to make the most of here. Today we will be seeing (wait for it…) more temples, in the shape of the Valley of the Kings and perhaps Karnak if we have time. Tomorrow, we head off for one of the Oases of the Western Desert, once again looking for that promised land – a place we can wander the streets in peace :)

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Luxor, so far, has been quite a surprise. The town itself has been relatively (by Egyptian standards) hassle free. We arrived at 8.30 and crawled into the brand new “Boomerang” hostel at a bargain price, and were swiftly entertained by the enthusiastic Australian woman who owned the place along with her Egyptian Yannick-Noah-lookalike husband. We enquired about getting to the Valley of the Kings and she gave us the smart option, the easy option, or the cheap option. Sensing a good deal packing in good fun to boot, we opted for the cheap option. This would be that she’d call a guy who rents bikes and we cycle there, crossing the Nile on a ferry and up a hill on the other side. It would take about 2 hours each way, she said. Seeing a chance to grab our freedom, we did so with both hands and we were soon all proud owners (or at least tenants) of rattling Chinese bikes with no suspension, seats that rotated by themselves and wheels that didn’t spin straight. They were beauties, and good companions for the rest of the day! First destination was the ferry in the centre of town which would take us over to the West Bank, and it was here that I had one of my more Egyptian moments of the day. I went into my wallet to pay for the ferry tickets and by the time the guy had explained that it was a return ticket and given me my change, my bike had disappeared! An inspection of the surroundings revealed that an old man had picked it up and walked off with it towards the ferry, and I got on at the same time as him. M went one step better and had hers grabbed from her hand and lugged off by a man who proclaimed himself the captain and, of course, turned out to be nothing of the sort. They put the bikes down and instantly demanded money for having transported them the 20 metres they did. I put on my best shocked expression, snorted like an angry rhino, and walked upstairs without giving anything. M, for her part, said as many “no”s in five seconds as we heard “hey you’s” today. Further wrestling took place on the other side of the river as the same old man tried to offload all of our bikes, and we eventually set off, wallets intact.

M refreshes herself as Ruben and Natalie get down to the serious business of working out where the hell we are

After cycling uphill, asking directions here and there, for the designated two hours we arrived, hot, sweaty, tired and triumphant, at the Valley of the.... Queens. Crap. Upon asking for directions to the Valley of the Kings, we were offered t-shirts and postcards and coke and water (very cheap!), until a friendly guy wandered up and explained nicely, without asking any money, how to get there. And for the first time today, the directions were entirely accurate!! Off we trundled past calls of “hey you!”, “Taxi??” and “Hey Rastaferrari!” and turned left at the police checkpoint, as ordered, on the interminable hill which finally ended at another police checkpoint, where the girls were chatted up (again) and we were told where to buy tickets (again) for some ancient tombs (again).

Ruben and T follow instructions, while simultaneously declining a taxi ride

The visits to the tombs followed a familiar pattern:

a) Enter tomb
b) Get followed by ticket man who explains the paintings on the wall in great detail (e.g. “there, a snake with 6 heads.”)
c) Get asked for money by said ticket man
d) Explain that we had no money
e) Exit tomb and search for another tomb
f) Repeat in next tomb.

Eventually it was time to leave and we descended effortlessly (besides fending off attempts from kids to extort money, a couple of men who wanted to buy our bicycles, and “Hey Rastaferrari”-screamers) until the last few minutes before the boat where Ruben managed to crash into a little kid who was playing chicken, and we all managed to cycle straight over a freshly painted pavement, to the enormous chagrin of the painter.

We’re now washed and ready to go out for that greatest of all Egyptian inventions (besides the compound word “Rastaferrari”), a nice cold bottle of Stella beer.

2nd October 2009 – Day 4 - Aswan, Egypt

It is hot inside. The fan is cutting through the standing air and my white linen pants are stuck to the crunched sleeping bag which I’m sitting on. Yet earlier I was thinking about going to negotiate for discount with the hostel’s main man, Khaled, as we have no hot water but our fellow travelers in the other room do. Quite absurd but I’m sure there are a few souls out there who share my point of doing things by principle. I’m thinking of one good friend in particular. Besides, what we’ve seen here so far has also been driven by principle. No man of the souks is going to not try and push a deal for his friend as well no matter how much you’ve already spent in his own shop or resto. It’s just what is done, one must always push for the next deal for whoever while you’re pushing to finish your current one.

We visited Abu Simbel this morning as part of a tourist minibus transport convoy with accompanying police cars. The deal we had made through our hostel was for transport there and back with scheduled stops at other sites of interest, such as the Aswan High Dam which created Lake Nasser and the temple of Philae on one of the islands south of Aswan. The price included only transport, admissions we had to pay on-site. Abu Simbel we wanted to see and staggered through by admiring other tourists, but after that the mentality of these kinds of tours proved too much for us. After getting out of the car for the dam and paying a fee only to cross the road that runs on top of the dam, we decided to lounge through the other stops in our ways, either by joining the locals’ lunch table and ordering three helpings of bread and tahina or by just brutally staying in the minibus and snoring away in the boiling air of midday.

The Giants of Abu Simbel contemplate the tourists. A tourist contemplates Abu Simbel.

Tonight is an early night as some of us didn’t press their heads against the pillow at all last night due to the early 3.00am wake-up for the tourist tour. I think we’ve all had enough of Aswan and are happy to move on tomorrow morning.

T samples the local delicacy - Stuffed Pigeon

1st October 2009 – Day 3 – Aswan, Egypt

Aswan street scene.

Rolling into Aswan only 2 hours late we discover a different world – a city of little hassle, less traffic, less aggressive salesmen, a slower pace all in all. The illusion is soon shattered as we are approached by people touting every hotel in the city, but the impression is still of a friendlier, less aggressive city than Cairo. We shack up in the Noorhan hotel, where we lay down our bags and are promptly jumped on by people advertising tours. We sign up for one tomorrow, going through Abu Simbel, Aswan High Dam, Philae island and the mysteriously named “the Obelisk”. We spend the rest of the day wandering through the city and going through the usual par-for.the-course Egypt things – buy this, buy that, get on my felluca, special price for you my friend, and so forth. I knew it would be like this from friends who have been to Egypt before but I’m getting a little tired of it. It seems that hardly anything is authentic any more – the souk in Aswan is half full of crafts and t-shirts for tourists, you can’t walk 50 metres along the corniche without being followed by a felluca captain/tout. You can’t walk past a shop without being yelled at, or having your hand pulled. It would be completely different if this treatment was dished out to everyone – in Senegal, for instance, locals and foreign visitors were jumped on with pretty similar regularity. Here though, Egyptians are largely left alone and foreigners are inevitably approached, like an adult walking past a group of beer-less teenagers on a Friday night in suburban Helsinki. As soon as you see them, you know they’ll notice you and come running. Only in Egypt they want you to buy something from them, instead of for them.

Aimless wandering continues, we visit the interesting Nubian museum (although our visit is cut short as the security guys want to go home and we have to skim through the end of it). There is precious little else to see in Aswan itself though, and I begin to have the feeling that Natalie is getting bored if there isn’t a “sight” to see, and isn’t really interested in just walking around streets and taking in the atmosphere for what it is. The evening sees a long game of Jungle Speed and many bottles of the Egyptian “Stella” beer. Ruben and I don’t make it to bed before departure to Abu Simbel at 3.30am.

T Deals as another heated game of Jungle Speed begins.

Suburban Giants

Day 2: September 30th, 2009 - Cairo, Egypt

T:

As I write this, we are on the night train to Aswan having escaped from Cairo for the time being. It’s been an interesting couple of days although Cairo didn’t get a grip on me the way I thought it would an I’ve left with an image of it being a loud, lively and packed city but not much more than that. Granted, we missed out on the vast majority of the city and we’ll be back there in a couple of weeks but that’s the status at the time being.

Today’s primary activity was the pyramids, Sphinx and so on and so on. We arrived there and promptly ended up signing for a camel tour. Much like Cairo it was nice but I was left without having dramatically altered my perception of life and the world. The pyramids were impressive, yet not quite as big as I had imagined. The Sphinx is the same. The main downer was the huge groups of Russians (amongs others) who had bussed in on their tours and charged around in tank tops and hot pants although quite a few other tourists were doing the same. Mahmoud, our camel man and guide, wondered aloud to me why these people came here dressed like they were going to the swimming pool. I wondered quietly why anyone would want to come to a Muslim country if they were not ready to respect this simplest of cultural norms. Maaka soon made me forget this with her daily disaster – letting her camera drop out of her pocket somewhere between Pyramid number 2 and the Sphinx, leading our caravan to turn tail and head back along the same path to try and retrieve it. Ruben, hero of the day, spotted it in the sand leaving Maaka’s camera to live another day, and leaving the rest of us to wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Our heroes wonder whether they should order Half Chicken Stuffed Evacuated in Cairo.

More sweating and cursing as we went back to Midan Tahrir to pick up our bags, and more profuse sweating and more tired cursing as we lugged them on the metro to Ramses station in central Cairo along the same metro line we’ve been using the whole two days.

We’re now on the train and I’m about to fall asleep. In our company are Ruben, a friend who Helsinki and co-worker at Bar Teos and his friend Natalie, from his home town of Fuengirola, who we’ve never met. He’s loud, enthuasistic about everything, typically Spanish, and a good friend of mine. Natalie is similar, her Spanishness diluted by her having an English mother. They’re here for 2 weeks just while we’re in Egypt and are good company.

The Banks of the Nile in Cairo. Mister, Mister Felucca?? No thanks.

Tomorrow Aswan, and a calmer, slower pace.

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M’s retrospect addition from Aswan on Friday 2nd .

My first attempt on the Swiss keyboard with flies making stopovers on the screen.

I never quite understood how close to Cairo the Pyramids are until witnessing it just the other day. At the same time I didn’t realize how much they stay in the shadow of their home city of Giza, which is in fact glued to Cairo. I imagined that the Pyramids 1) would lie on open desert a while away from any habitats, and that 2) they would at the same time be visible on the horizon when viewed from Cairo for their sheer size. The first one of these assumptions I proved wrong: the distance from nearest houses in Giza is walkable in 30 minutes. As for the second one, I tried to look but could not see them until in Giza. However, the latter will need reconfirmation on the next visit in a couple of weeks.

I got my first glimpse of them on a local bus from Cairo downtown to the suburbs of Giza as they emerged from behind a bunch of trees in the same way as any other building had done during the ride. Paying more attention to the conversation we all were having with our newfound Egyptian friend (who Ruben and Natalie ran into on the street and who cordially guided us onto the right public bus to the Pyramids, accompanied us and paid the fares only to escort us straight to his friend Mahmoud the camel guy’s house), it was only the rightly timed wonder I had about them having to appear soon which made me stretch my neck out to notice them for what was a mere four seconds until they went hiding behind the suburban jungle again.

L-R: Camel, Pyramid, Mahmoud

The next time I had my camera out too, but they just liked to disappear and reappear at such a pace that I didn’t catch the ultimate shot that would grasp their position against the city skyline – the honoured pieces of history left from the glorious old times now easily accessible via the Cairo city metro network. Not a bad backyard for locals to go walk on for those contemplating moments. Ideally one would also have it as such, as by the time the tourist hours are over and the sun begins to set behind them, your mind can easily find peace in spite of the hustle and bustle echoing from the city at the edge of the sand. We got to experience about 15 minutes of this treat thanks to my bad camera-handling skills explained above in T’s text.

On the way back from our successful quest for the camera we gazed on the empty sands where hundreds of people had been crisscrossing still half an hour ago while sensing the light turning slight purple. Taking the last couple of shots from the camels’ backs before turning our own ones to the three big ones. To yet again break Mahmoud’s suggestive comments about my camel riding skills pointing to very good belly dancing skills as well (earlier I had been made to ride the camel by myself and under his special supervision – which lead to the camera falling off my pocket in the first place – and offered a wine bottle for belly dancing for him), I asked him if it is ever possible for the people to come and see the mighty piles of rock in this light, right before the sunset. He said we were lucky to have a reason for our extra wonder. Judging by the incomprehensible yells from the tourist police to Mahmoud while he led us back towards the Pyramids for the search (my Arabic proficiency pending), I would have guessed the people’s chances for similar wonders must be low. The area shuts around 4pm and after that access is denied to the proximity of the Pyramids. Fair enough when we’re talking about the last standing wonder of the world.

The Pyramids, after hours.

Mahmoud told us the Egyptian way is to watch the Pyramids from the rooftops of the city during the evening light show and invited us to come to his rooftop for some tea and the show, but excusing ourselves on the grounds of having to catch the night train (and a little in the fear of more tipping to come) we casually dropped the subject. We were the last caravan of the day to sway on our camels through the gates that separate the suburb from the desert. Kids were still playing football on a pitch on the desert’s side. I wondered if we’d be allowed to join them just so we could say we’ve played by the Pyramids. T’s version of that kind of story would involve scoring of course.

It starts...

We arrive in Cairo at 0.30 and by 0.31 we’re confused. We’ve hardly slept all week and we left home 18 hours ago, coming here via Tampere, Bremen and Köln. It’s stiflingly hot, the airport looks like a refugee camp, we have to fill in forms without a pen and the officials want to go home. We’re trying to work out how to get out of the airport to meet Ruben’s friend Natalie who’s arriving from Prague. Eventually, having worked out that we need to buy our visas from a bank instead of the immigration desk, we are escorted to our bags by some guy who promptly demands a tip. Welcome to Egypt ! A quick glance at the arrivals screen lets us know that there is no flight from Prague and more confusion follows until we are told to try Terminal 1. We barge our way out of the dimly lit airport, crawling with people like a termite mound after heavy rain, and get a free shuttle bus to Terminal 1, where Natalie’s flight has just landed. We’re relieved not to have missed her….

…and an hour and a half later she finally emerges. We find a taxi and the handler demands a tip. We find the hotel and the taxi driver demands a tip as well. Really, welcome to Egypt !
It’s not so bad though – the welcome at the Dahab Hostel is warm, and I’m relieved to finally see a bed. Apart from a small interesting accident where Maaka’s face lotion has exploded in her bag and alcohol has seeped through her bag and her clothes, forcing an hour-long clean-up operation, the night is uneventful and we get to bed at 5am. By 10, we’re up again.
Cairo is a big, loud, dirty, crowded, hot city with action on every street corner and everywhere in between, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Everywhere you go, someone is either grabbing your attention to greet you and welcome you to Egypt, or to sell you something or other. I’d usually be quite interested by a city like this but after the week I’ve just had, it’s overwhelming and exhausting. A trip to the Sudanese embassy for our visa application is unsuccessful as we’re too late and don’t have a letter of recommendation from our own embassies (and finally, I suppose, we will see our rewards from not living a life of crime – we can be recommended ! Hurrah !). We resolve to come back in a few weeks when we are next in Cairo. The train station gives us a little more success despite having to queue at several booths to get our tickets for tomorrow night to Aswan. Our lucky break comes when a guy in front of us in the queue starts chatting to me about football and then helps us out, asking around and pointing us toward the right ticket desk before leaving on his way, no bakchich required ! We end up walking around Cairo aimlessly but I’m getting increasingly impatient with constant stops to check out the guidebook or the map or take pictures for half an hour and realize that I just need to get some sleep and get my normal let-it-go attitude back. Cairo definitely isn’t a city to be impatient in and I don’t really want to push it so I eventually niggle my way back to the hostel and for once, at 11pm, I’m in bed and writing and aiming to be asleep soon ! Tomorrow : Pyramids, usual other touristy crap, night train to Aswan, better mood…..

Despite it all I’m happy to be out here, excited about the trip ahead and sure I just need to catch up on all the sleep I missed out on recently to get back into the swing of things. Maybe a stay in a smaller, quieter town like Aswan will help me with that too.