#9 - Egypt
I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, you only have the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.
--Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There (1993)
“Welcome to Egypt! Where ya from?” asked the heavy-set man in a dark blue galabeyya.
“The States.”
“Ame-reee-kah! Which state?” he continued, a ½ smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“Florida. Miami”.
“I have cousin in New Jersey. And friend?” He nodded his head in the direction of Geoff.
“Australia.” piped in my ever-cheery travel buddy.
“Ah. Austria berry good. Europe berry buutifull!” he stated putting extra emphasis on the “u” allowing a breath of foul cigarette smoke to billow out from beneath his carefully clipped moustache.
“No.” I corrected him. “Aus-tral-ia” I said carefully, annunciating every syllable.
He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “Tell me American and Austrian friend, how long in Cairo?”
“We actually arrived this morning” I bit my tongue the second the answer left my mouth. Admitting that you recently arrived into Egypt was a mistake.
“You like perfume? Berry good souvenir!”
“I can imagine.”
“Come to shop. Right here” he said pointing at the shop not more than 3 meters away. “No need to buy. Free look!”
Geoff and I looked at each other
“Ok” I said sighing heavily.
Geoff looked at me with piercing eyes that screamed, “What are you getting us into?”
“C’mon” I shrugged defensively. “If we don’t feel comfortable we can just leave. Plus, what are we going to do for the next 5 hours before we have to pick Tim up at the airport?”
We had just visited the Mosque of Amr Ibn al-As. Built in 642 AD, it is the oldest mosque in Africa and the 2nd largest in Cairo. It was getting dark, there were no other Westerners around and being the first time for both of us in a Muslim country in the Middle East, we wanted to err on the side of caution.
“Shai (tea)? Coffee? Cola? Wah-ter?” asked our new found friend as we sat down in his perfume shop.
“No, No thank you”.
“No worry friends. Free. Egyptian hospitality.”
“Its ok” Geoff politely declined.
“Cigarette?” He asked leaning forward while offering a butt from a pack of Cleopatra cigarettes.
“No. La shokran” we said shaking our heads in unison.
After sitting through 5 more minutes of greeting formalities, 6 minutes of looking at Mohammed’s Tourist Wall of Fame, which consisted of photographs of Americans and Austrian tourists that had bought his perfume, we were ready to leave. Unfortunately, Mohammed was just warming up. For the next 20 minutes, the self-proclaimed perfume ‘expert’ went into a detailed history of Egypt’s perfume industry which according to him dated to Pharonic Egypt. He insisted that we smell some and even try a few of them.
Mohammed then went into a perfectly choreographed routine explaining how Egyptian perfume, and his perfume in particular, was vastly superior to the best European fragrances.
“My perfumes, NO oil …. Channel? Bvulgari? My perfumes exactly same. But, no oil. Why pay $75 when can pay 30 bounds (US$ 5) for same fragrance?”
What had I gotten us into?
His theatrical performance continued. Lighting a match, he removed the lid of a glass jar named ‘Nefertiti’, and held it inside the glass container. Nothing happened.
“See! No oil or would fire!” Mohammed exclaimed eyes glazing.
Geoff and I both nodded, unimpressed.
With the match in one hand, he lit his third cigarette in 30 minutes as he grabbed a short, squat glass and filled it with water. With the Nefertiti perfume, he dropped a couple drops of perfume in the water and again nothing happened.
“See my friends? No oil!” he proudly exclaimed. As if these 2 grubby, smelly male backpackers really cared if the perfume had oil or not.
“How about bottle for sweetheart in Austria? For you I make special deal!”
Twenty minutes later, smelling like 2 teenagers who had discovered a department store’s perfume section for the first time, we walked out of the shop each with a small bottle of cologne in hand. I have to admit, with over 3,000 years of experience, the Egyptians are good at taking advantage of newly arrived travelers. At least we did not end up on Mohammed’s Tourist Wall of Fame.….
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“We should have a moustache competition” I suggested.
Tim and Geoff looked at me like I was nuts.
By the second day in Egypt I had noticed a striking similarity in the appearance of Egyptian men. Generalizations aside, I conservatively estimated 99% of the men in the city over the age of 40 smoked no less then 2 packs per day, wore galabeyyas (a traditional full length robe), drank 3 pots of shai before noon and sported a meticulously groomed moustache. What better way to become acquainted with a new culture then by trying out local traditions, garb and styles? Seeing that I don’t smoke, was already at my breaking point for daily caffeine intake and felt that donning a galabeyya would be a bit over the top, I suggested what I saw as our best option to assimilate to Egyptian culture
We were heading out to Giza, a hair-raising 25-kilometer ride from downtown Cairo. Sitting in the front of the car, I watched in amazement at the disorganized chaos unfold on Sharia al-Giza. Taxis cut in front of vehicles with reckless abandonment. Pedestrians randomly crossed the busy intersection. Illegally parked trucks in the right-hand lane turned the 3-lane thoroughfare intermittingly to a 2-lane one. Vehicles drove at such a close proximity I wondered if the drivers had developed some unique 6th-sense of sonar. It took some convincing but by the time we arrived in the village of Nazlet as Samaam the competition’s rules were set.
The cab driver provided ‘free of charge’ by our inexpensive hostel directed us to a fast talking, English-speaking Egyptian. Ushered into a horse stable, we climbing up the decrepit concrete steps to the 3rd floor roof where we stood face to face with the Pyramids of Giza, one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World. The 3 large pyramids, Cheops, Chephren and Mycernius towered majestically over the sands of the Libyan desert as the Sphinx sat in its feline posture as it has for milenia. Even if you have seen countless pictures of the Pyramids, upon seeing them for the first time they still take your breath away.
Before the we could even take in our surroundings the tout loudly began to offer us guided camel and horse tours around the Giza Plateau. Wrapped up in the magic of our surroundings, I foolishly believed the tout’s claim that the gates closed at 4 pm. Not wanting to waste a minute, I agreed to do something I would never rationally even think of doing. On behalf of Geoff, Tim and myself I agreed for us to take a camel ride around the Pyramids. For the 2nd time in so many days, Geoff looked at me with his piercing gaze.
The gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become until he goes abroad. I speak now, of course, in the supposition that the gentle reader has not been abroad and therefore is not already a consummate ass. If the case be otherwise, I beg his pardon and extend to him the cordial hand of fellowship and call him brother. I shall always delight to meet an ass after my own heart when I have finished my own travels.
--Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad (1869)
Heading west at a brisk trot 2-meters above the ground, I quickly learned the humor behind a t-shirt I had seen earlier that day. It had the Camel cigarette logo and underneath stated ‘9 out of 10 women who try camels, prefer men’. I didn’t have much time to laugh as I repositioned my rump on the camel’s hump to make sure I didn’t become a eunich.
Heading to the Pyramid of Mycernius (62 meters) Geoff and I left our day packs with Tim who waited outside as we went in to explore the claustrophobic tunnels and burial chambers of the 3rd largest pyramid. Dropping down a narrow and steep ramp we had to duck our heads as we walked hunched over into the humid belly of the pyramid. While there is not much left to see inside the massive structure, you can make out Mycernius’ burial temple and how the pyramid was built around it.
Fifteen minutes later we reemerged spotting Tim in the distance chatting with a local. As we came up from behind we could hear their conversation.
“I have Uncle in Washington!” said the heavyset 50-year-old man with a bushy moustache and sharp green eyes.
“Nice!”
“Picture with camel?”
“No thanks.” Tim politely replied.
“Free for you. Egyptian hospitality!”
“Its ok Moses. I already have my own camel.”
It was at this moment that Moses placed a kufeyya (traditional black and white headscarf worn by the Bedouin) on top of Tim’s shiny shaved head and a leather-riding crop in his hand.
“Photo good. Pyramid’s buutifull!”
Weighed down with three daypacks in his arms, Tim was temporarily paralyzed. Fortunately for his wallet’s sake, his paralysis lasted only a few seconds. He ripped the kufeyya off his head and forcibly gave it and the riding crop back to Moses.
“Egyptian hospitality, huh?” I wisecracked as Moses stormed off in search of another gullible tourist.
I discovered that the marvels of the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx had been degraded into commodities for an enormous tourist trade.
--Cecil Beaton, 1942
After the Pryamid of Mycernius we visited the Sphinx and finished off the prerequisite roll of film on the plateau as the sun set behind the magnificent Pyramids of Cheops (146.5 meters), the tallest man-made structure in the world for 4,500 years. Arriving back in Nazlet as Samaam we gladly got rid of our camels. The fast-talking Egyptian was there to receive us and collect his share of baksheesh (tips).
“I have idea! Light and sound show starts in 2 hours. There is Papyrus Museum nearby, why not go and have free look? Berry interesting.”
I kept my mouth shut.
We were hungry so we decided to check it out and on the way back we could grab some falafel for dinner.
The Egyptian’s have cunningly manipulated the English language so that the word ‘museum’ is actually a ‘shop’. After a ‘free’ demonstration on how the Egyptian’s made papyrus sheets, we were shown around the shop. Fed up with Egyptian hospiatality, free tours and toruist touts we decided it was our turn to have a little fun. Walking around the shop Geoff and Tim asked the shopkeeper to lay out 7 or 8 of the museum’s largest, most elaborate and most expensive papyrus paintings. Just when the easily excitable salesman thought he was going to make a big sale, we walked out empty handed.
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It wasn’t long after visiting the Pyramids did we expereince our first Cairene taxi cab. If you can make it across the street alive, Geoff likened it to the video game ‘Frogger’, you are half way there. Unfortunately, climbing into the back seat of the beat-up black Lada with a driver running on 3 hours sleep is not much better. Egypt has one of the world’s highest motor vehicle accident rates. This comes as no surprise considering that while the black coffins run on diesel, the drivers are fueled by caffeine and nicotine. It is the first city I have been to where they have traffic cops whose sole duty is to enforce the stoplights.
Jumping in, the smell of cigarettes permeated the air of the cluttered interior and a neon heart blinked erratically on the dashboard. The moustached man droves us all of 15 blocks. When asked the fare he replied “15 bounds”.
“Huh?” Geoff asked in disbelief “15 pounds?”
The driver nodded his head avoiding our eyes.
“That is absurd!” but not knowing what to do we handed over 20 pounds and waited for change.
The driver shrugged his shoulders when he saw that we expected our change.
“15 POUNDS. NOT 20 POUNDS.” I stated bluntly in my simple, strongly annunciated African English. “GIVE ME 5 POUNDS.”
“Me no have 5 bounds.”
I snatched the 10 out of his hand and pooling the last of our vital 1-pound notes handed him exact change.
That evening, hanging out with Santi, a friend who was living and working in Cairo, we got the low down on proper Cairo taxi etiquitte. He explained that taxis have long since shut off their meters because they run on rates from the 1980’s when gas prices were much lower. Whenever possible, he advised, find the price a local would pay before flagging down the cab. When you pay, crunch up the bills into a tight wad, hand it to the driver and jump out. Not being locals, not speaking Arabic, and not even slightly resembling an Egyptian (our moustaches had yet to grow in) didn’t help matters. So, we began to plan our taxi trips like a quarterback coordinates his offense in American Football.
On the ride back from Santi ‘s apartment we heeded his advice. Arriving at our hostel, all 3 doors popped open, we jumped out and Tim handed over a ball of crumpled Egyptian notes. By the time the the driver had counted his fare and realized he had not ripped us off, we were inside our hostel. Celebrating with high fives, we crashed for the night. Score 1 for the backpackers!
We had a fairly high success rate with the ‘planned-taxi-ride’. It worked 25% of the time. Our failure rate can be directly correlated to our limited grasp on the Arabic language.
Generally, the person up front would point to our destination on the map while butchering the pronunciation of the mosque or archaelogical ruin. When we intended to visit Saqqara, we ended up at the Pyramids of Giza, 15 kilometers away. Then there was the time we set off for the Citadel. Saying ‘al-Azhar’ a mosque located a few blocks from the base of the Citadel, the driver nodded his head acknowledging that he understood. Sitting in back, I followed our guidebooks’s map and had a peculiar feeling that something was wrong. Either a) the driver was taking us for a joyride or b) there was some level of misunderstanding.
Arriving, we followed our set routine. Handing over the 5 pound fare we jumped out. I was a few meters away when I turned around to see Tim still in the cab arguing with the driver. “Maybe we had underpaid” I thought to myself.
“Tim, George at the hostel told me it was only 5 pounds, he’s just trying to get more money from us!”
When I got to the sidewalk I looked back over my shoulder. The heavy-set driver had exploded out of the cab which he has left there in the middle of the street, engine running. He was red in the face, eyes bulging screaming at Tim incoherently in Arabic.
“Ok, maybe we are ripping him off” I frowned, thinking out loud. We had been in the cab for a good 20 minutes. Tim and Geoff reluctantly handed over more money. After 5 minutes of trying to find the al-Azhar mosque on our own, we decided to ask inside a pharmacy.
The English speaking pharmacist looked at me puzzled.“Al-Azhar mosque? Al-Azhar mosque berry far away. You are at al-Azhar square in Heliopolis, 5 miles from international airport!”
Asides from exploring Cairo’s suburbs from the inside of taxi cabs, we spent the next 4 days visiting the Egyptian museum, the Citadel, the Mosque and Madrassa of Sultan Hassan, exploring the step pyramids of Saqqara, kitsch shopping in Khan el-Kalili and discovering the countless back streets, alley ways and mosques of Islamic Cairo. One of the highlights had to be climbing up the spiral staircase of Bab Zuwuila’s minaret. From 30 meters up we had a spectacular 360-degree panoramic view of downtown Cairo, Islamic Cairo, the City of the Dead, the Citadel and the Pyramids off in the distance. It was 30 minutes before sunset yet you could feel the city pulsing from above. The streets were filled with countless fruit shops selling apples, bananas, tangerines, bakeries offered freshly baked pitas while freshly skinned cattle and camels hung from metal hooks outside of butcheries. Women covered head to toe walked quitely in groups, boys played football (soccer) in the streets as men sat at wooden tables playing dominoes and smoking shisha (water pipes). The honking of millions of diesel cars reverberated through the air. You could just feel the city’s energy.
If people say Cairo is Egypt and it is said you either love or hate the megalopolis, I really couldn’t say where I stood. As frustrating as it is, Cairo has its quirks. It is a loud, abbrasive, jolting place where 16 million people live crammed together. Breathing the air in downtown Cairo is equivalent to smoking 2 packs per day. Cairo recently surpassed Mexico City as having the most polluted air in the world. At least they are number one in something, a Cairene will proudly boast. As ironic as it may be, this tells of the pride most Egyptians have for their captial. For all its madness, for all the stress caused by the endless stream of touts, for all the aggravation from non-stop bargaining, those moments have been some of the fondest and funniest memories of my trip.
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“I really thought they would be bigger.” It was 7:30am and we were staring at the 4 monstrous statues of Ramses II in the early morning sun.
“A little jaded, eh?” Geoff chided although I could hear a hint of understanding in his voice.
We were in day 2 of our 7-day tour of Upper Egypt and I was having a hard time adjusting to the hordes of tourists. I was foolishly taking my frustration out on one of most spectacular sites in all of Egypt. Granted, it was the week before Christmas, and we were in Egypt. Nevertheless, Abu Simbel’s magic was spoiled by the sheer number of tourists. My romantic image of Egypt was dissolving with every click of a camera.
But professional imaginer or not, when you are at the destination you've dreamed of all your life, you're liable to be distracted by material reality in the form of T-shirt vendors and other tourists as you strive to be moved. The creative imagination works best in solitude and silence and not on demand. It is hard even now to acknowledge my own disappointment, for I know it is unattractive. What did I want: More ruin? More danger? Even less progress? To be the only tourist in Cambodia?
--Phyllis Rose, "Anticipating Angkor, a Dream Deferred", New York Times, July 2002
I had become spoiled, accustomed to having entire sites to myself.
Selfish? Absolutely.
Egotistical? Most definitely.
I was not so naive to think that we would be rewarded with tourist-free sites I had experienced elsewhere in Africa however, I never imagined fighting through tour groups to see the sites. I would gladly take back Ethiopian bed lice or Malawian malarial mosquitoes for some feeling of adventure and exploration.
While the holiday season was partly to blame, the real reason Abu Simble was so crowded was the convoy situation. Following the 1997 Luxor massacre, when terrorists killed 37 German tourists, the Egyptian government has forced foreigners to travel in armed convoys. In order to get from site to site you must ride in a vehicle that is part of the convoy which leave once a day. Our van had set off that morning at 4:30am with no less than 35 vehicles. Upon arrival, we were warned by the driver that the van would leave with the convoy with or with out us in exactly 2 hours. No better way to explore the fascinating temple complex of Abu Simbel with 1,000 other tourists.
Not allowing myself to sulk, I was in Egypt after all, I looked to see what our guidebook had to say about the site. The temple was carved out of the side of a mountain on the western banks of the Nile and was built by Ramses II. Dedicated to the gods Ra-Haraklity, Amun and Ptah, Abu Simbel is testament to the warrior-Pharaoh’s greatness. Between each of the four 20-meter sculptures of the Pharoah, are smaller statues of his mother, wife and children. Sitting down to capture my thoughts into my journal I was interupted by a loud Long Island accent.
“Excuse me! Can you move out of the way? You are in our picture.”
The 3 girls quickly snapped their picture and went back to their conversation. “I got these Diesel jeans on sale for only $100! Great deal huh?”
“I could live on that kind of money for a week in Mozambique” I thought out loud.
I decided to seek refuge inside the temple. Entering through a large doorway, you find yourself inside the mountain. The first room has 8 gigantic columns that support the 7-meter roof. The cieling is elaborately decorated with falcons carved into the rock while the walls are intricately designed with ornate sunken reliefs of the larger-then-life Pharoah and his wife Nefertari conquering their enemies. On either side of the hypostyle hall are store rooms, each detailed with rows upon rows of hieroglyphics. The temples reliefs are not only exquistely deatiled and remarkably carved, but also show traces of paint. This leads you only to imagine how splendid the temple must have looked 3,300 years ago. Continuing west, you enter a smaller 4-columned chamber which opens to the holy of the holies. Inside the inner santucary sit the statues of the 3 gods and diefied Pharaoh, waiting paitently for October 22 and February 22. On these 2 days, believed to be the anniversary of Ramses’ birthday and coronation, the early morning sun’s rays enter the temple passing through the 3 chambers to illuminate the 4 statues.
If that engineering feat does not impress, the project to relocate the entire temple complex certainly will. With the completion of the Aswan High Dam in the early 1960’s, an enormous man-made lake began to form. Over a dozen of ancient Egyptian sites, including Abu Simbel, were threatened by the rising waters of the Lake Assad. An international cooperation assembled funds and technical expertise to move Abu Simbel and smaller temples to higher ground. Over the span of 4 years, the entire complex was carefully cut into pieces and meticulously reassembled piece by piece succesfully completing one of the most remarkable archealogical rescue operations in history.
The next morning, we boarded a felucca and sailed over to the botanical gardens on Kitchener Island and visited the ruins and Nilometer on Elephentine Island. Aboard the traditional sailboat were Joe and Danielle, 2 Peace Corps volunteers on their way home after a 2-year stint in Ghana and Tanzania, Devi, a 40-year-old computer programmer from New York City and Matt, a Canadian from Quebec. After the islands we set out from Aswan under a sunny sky sailing north down the Nile. We exhanged travel stories, read and played cards while drinking flat Stella beer. The 2 days on the felucca were a nice break from monument seeing.
As the sun set, the temperatures dropped and a cold front came through bringing 20-25 knot winds that blew through the night. Sleeping aboard beneath the stars, we woke at daybreak as the captain set sail for our second day on the water. Unfortunately, the winds would not die down and after only an hour of sailing we were forced to pull along the banks of the Nile. Sitting on shore listening to Bob Marley and forcing down a Stella I stared off into the dark waters of the Nile enjoying the first few moments of peace and tranquility since arriving in Egypt. I sarcastically contemplated writing the Egyptian Tourist Board to express how vulnerable I felt outside the convoy and away from my Diesel-jean-wearing countrymen.
After 2 hours of sitting ashore I was getting restless and went to ask the captain when he thought we would be able to sail.
He looked up at the sky, shrugged his shoulders and replied “Bokra, Inshallah,” quickly returning to gathering in the sail.
I nodded my head, understanding immediatly.
I had been in Egypt all of 8 days but had quickly learned the meaning of both. Bokra is the Arabic equivalent of Spanish’s manana. It means ‘tomorrow’ and/or ‘perhaps.’ Inshallah loosely translated means ‘God willing.’ The captain was basically telling me to continue drinking my flat beer because we were going nowhere fast.
On the third morning, we rejoined the convoy to visit the temple of Kom Ombo that sits on an outcropping overlooking the mighty Nile. Next we were shuttled to the colossal temple of Edfu. Its 36-meter high doorway sets the tone as you pass the enormous human-high carved falcons guarding the entrance. Its sheer size speaks of the greatness of the civilization of Ancient Egypt. Arriving in Luxor (ancient Thebes) in the afternoon we relaxed for the afternoon before 2 more days of Egyptian siteseeing.
Begining early in the day, we set out to visit the Valley of the Kings and Queens. The New Kingdom Pharoahs (1570 – 1190 BC) established Thebes which became the political, religious and administrative capital. At the entrance of the open-air museum we were greeted by the Colossi of Memnon, twin 18-meter statues that tower over the remains of Amenhotep III’s temple. We headed first to the Valley of the Kings, the elaborate ancient tombs of the 11th and 12th dynasty Pharoahs. It was here in 1922 Howard Carter made one of the greatest archaelogical discoveries in history, finding the intact tomb of King Tutankhamun (King Tut). While the wealth of artefacts and gold found inside the tomb is astounding, King Tut was actually of minor importance. His name goes down in history because his was the only tomb ever found completely intact.
Visiting the tombs of Tutankhamun as well as Ramses III, VI and IX, much greater and important Pharaohs, leaves the imagination to wonder what they must have contained before they were looted in antiquity. Each of these three tombs are enormous. Long hallways are adorned with vividly painted scenes from the Book of the Dead, elaborate sculptures and detailed hieroglyphs. In places, the colors inside the tombs appear as brightly as they did 3000 years ago. After the Valley of the Kings we headed to the enormous Temple of Hatshepsut, built by the female-Pharoah Hatshepsut. Built into the bright limestone cliffs on the side of a mountain, it is composed of 3 enormous tiered patios. Later in the afternoon we visited the Tomb of Amunherkhepshep, Ramses III’s son and the Tomb of Titi in the Valley of the Queens.
On our 7th and final day in Upper Egypt, we visited the temple of Karnak which defies comprenhension. Built over a period of 1500 years, it measures roughly 1-½ kilometers by 800 meters. Containing 7 pylons (sections) it houses countless obelisks, inner temples, enormous sculptures, sanctuaries and even a sacred lake that was filled with water from the Nile. The most impressive section of the sprawling complex is the Amun Temple Enclosure. The largest hypostyle hall in the world, it consits of 134 enormous papyus-shaped columns and spreads over an area large enough to house both St Peter’s in Rome and St Paul’s in London. We concluded our marathon week of Egyptian monument seeing in Upper Egypt with the Luxor Temple at sunset. Ruined out, we headed to Dahab for 12 days of R&R, celebrating the Christmas holidays and partying in the New Year.
Arriving in Dahab, the once backpacker-mecca of the Middle East, we found ourselves quickly getting into the flow of things - chilling out and diving. The Red Sea boasts some of the best diving in the world so we opted for a 4-dive package with Fantasea Divers (www.fantaseadiving.net). On the first day we dove at Three Pools and Om Sid, but it was the second day’s dives that lived up to the Red Sea hype. Dropping in through a small v-shaped crack in the reef’s edge we quickly descended to 30 meters. Swimming along the reef’s enormous wall all you could see below was the dark blue abyss. Maintaing a depth between 20-30 meters we saw abundant marine life. While the marine life was impressive, it was the wall’s sheer size that made the dive so spectacular. Ascending to a depth of 15 meters, we came over the ridge’s wall and swam over the infamous Blue Hole.
At the Canyon dive site in the afternoon we began by walking out from shore before descending and swimming out along the slowly sloping sandy ledge. Swimming north along the edge of the reef, we came to an area where air bubbles floated to the surface. Following our divemaster’s lead we dropped down into the underwater canyon and descended to 30 meters. Looking up from the bottom of the canyon the colors were unreal. Rays of sunlight streamed brillantly through cracks in the canyon’s ceiling illuminating the chasm in an array of blues. Backtracking, we ‘climbed’ up through the crack in the canyon wall before heading back to shore.
So impressed with our dives, Tim and I opted to treat ourselves to an overnight dive excursion to the SS Thistlegorm and Ras Mohammed National Park. Driven down to Sharm-al-Sheik with 15 other divers, we slept on 60 foot sleep-aboard yacht. Waking up the next morning, we found ourselves approaching the wreck site of a World War II British army supply ship. Sunk a kilometer off shore, the boat sits at an angle in 10 to 31-meter deep water. Dropping in, we descended quickly and swam around the exterior of the 126.5 meter long ship. With 10-meter visibility we spotted the main anti-aircraft gun and a 39-mm gun on deck. Off the port side of the ship, a railway locomotive lied at 33m, thrown from its place on deck as the ship sank as well the badly destroyed midsection which was where the boat suffered its fatal blow.
The second dive during which we were able to actually enter the boats 3 holds was what blew me away. Swimming though the ships doors we entered the various compartments and spotted motorcyles, jeeps and electronic equipment. Being an army supply ship, the boat is a submerged army surplus store. You can find army issued boots, ammunition boxes and even small arms - weapons of various calibre in packs of 6 or 8 placed butt to muzzle. Seeing the ship’s cargo was fascinating however, grabbing hold and actually touching the motorcycles’ rubber tires was what I found most striking. Even after being submerged for 50 years they felt brand new, adding a human element to the long-lost ship.
The rest of our days in Dahab were spent relaxing and hanging out with our diving buddies. As for the results of the 2003 Moustache Competition? After 3 weeks of encouragment from Egyptians (none of them women, unfortunately) it ended in a 3-way tie. Sadly, we never were able to become one with our inner-Egyptian. After 3 weeks, Geoff looked like a bad porn star, Tim a law enforcement officer and I looked like an idiot trying to grow a moustache. Nevertheless, as part of our kitsch–Christmas present giving, I got the present I have always longed for. A full-length, brightly-colored, sequin galabeyya with an iron-on of the famous King Tut death mask. Thanks to Geoff, I have my Halloween costume set for 2004.
Partying in 2004 with Tim, Laura, Davie, Jason and Farmer on god-awful Egytian-made Carla’s Black Label (remember, Egypt is a Muslim country and Muslims don’t drink alcohol) is one New Years I won’t forget any time soon. While Geoff set off to London a few days after Christmas, Tim and I hung out in Dahab until I could recover from Carla’s revenge.
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Looking back on nearly 4 weeks in Egypt, I have mixed feelings. If you chose, as most people do, to visit Egypt to see the monumnets of ancient Egypt, you will be awestruck and stunned by their magnifigence. One can see countless documentaries on the Discovery Channel or read volumes of books on Egyptian civilization, but until you have gazed at the Great Pyramids, stared in the eyes of Ramses at Abu Simbel and walked through the Great Hypostyle Hall of the massive Temple of Karnak you will never be able to truly comprehend the greatness of the ancient Egyptians. You have to witness it to believe it.
As I wrote in a previous update, one of my goals for this trip was to witness the change of cultures from Cape Town to Istanbul. I have found the best way to do this was through meeting and interacting with locals outside the tourist trade. Egypt caters to the multi-billion dollar package tour industry. For a stuggling third-world country it is perfectly understandable. However, for travelers trying to meet locals, experience culture and get a taste of the real Egypt, it is frustrating country to visit. For the independent traveler on a tight budget, the convoy dilemma has all but eliminated the ability to travel on anything but an organized tour. Shuttled from hotel to archaelogical site to hotel on the Disneyland-esque shuttle buses leaves little flexibilty and few opportunities to get a taste of the ‘real’ Egypt. When we do have the opportunity to meet an Egyptian, we were limited from delving into conversations past the basics of our rudimentary Arabic (which obviously is our own fault). Egyptians do speak English, but from our experiences those that did spoke to us with the intention to sell us something.
I am currently in Turkey, the fifteenth and final country of my adventure. Stay tuned for Wanderlust #10 – Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon, where Tim and I explore the amazing rose city of Petra (think Indian Jones and the Last Crusade), visit the crusader castle of Krak des Chevaliers, tear up the ski slopes of Faraya and party til dawn at Beirut’s bumpin’ BO18 nightclub.
Stay in touch!
Kind regards,
Dave
davidmlawrence@yahoo.com
For previous updates, check out http://wanderlust.on.journeyfile.com
The pleasure of traveling consists of the obstacles, the fatigue, and even the danger. What charm can anyone find in a an excursion when his is always sure of reaching his destination, of having horses ready waiting for him, a soft bed, an excellent supper and all the eases and comfort he can enjoy in his own home! One of the great misfortunes of modern life is the want of any sudden surprise, and the absence of all adventures. Everything is so well arranged.
--Theophile Gautier, Wanderings in Spain (1845)
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