[reisverslag] Zandhappen & cultuursnuiven Midden Oosten

Zo, een mooie foto om de aandacht vast te grijpen.

Na mijn zeer uitgebreide verslag van mijn laatste reis door de VS ( Reisverslag: Op zoek naar de winterzon in West USA ), en het misbruiken van de StageSC voor het neerplempen van alle avonturen in Taiwan en hetzelfde voor het grote Poker topic voor alle Italiaanse avonturen, dan volgt nu:

ETA gaat zandhappen en cultuursnuiven in het Midden Oosten

In ongeveer 3 weken verken ik 10 plekken in Egypte en Jordanië. Natuurlijk komen alle standaard toeristische dingen voorbij, maar ik heb gekozen voor een basic type reis waarbij veel gebruik word gemaakt van het lokale openbaar vervoer en veel contact met locals. De reis is georganiseerd door Intrepid travels.

Korte beschrijving trip:
Vanuit Cairo richting zuiden naar Aswan en Luxor, dan richting de Sinai woestijn met bezoek aan de bijbelse Mount Sinai. Na wat rustdagen in een verlaten resort gaan de reis verder naar Aqaba in Jordanie. Van daar gaan we richting het noorden, via de machtige Wadi Rum woestijn en de verborgen stad Petra naar de dode zee. En we sluiten af met Amman en Madaba.


Voor de mensen die niet het geduld hebben om alles te lezen, alleen fotos kijken kan ook: Een klein rijtje fotos


Ja, het verhaal is in het Engels vanwege een breder publiek, en ik zal proberen om de dag een nieuw stuk te plaatsen. Het volledige verhaal zal zoals gebruikelijk uitgebreid en lang worden


En we gaan van start:

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Almost there:

It is almost 2:00 in the morning when I arrive in Cairo. After I get of the plane, I'm pleasantly surprised to see someone holding a sign with the travel agency name. I expected someone to transfer me to the hotel, but I did not expect someone waiting for me before customs. His name is Ahmed, he's here to help me. He asks me for my passport, he will go arrange matters at customs while I buy a visa sticker. I hand him my passport and I go off to the bank kiosk to buy the visa. For s short moment I am worried, I just gave my passport to a unknown person who claims to work for a travel agency. It could be the start of a new scam story, but all turns out well. The customs guy doesn't even interrupt his phone call while stamping my passport. I am in Egypt.

Ahmed is not the most talkative person; I guess this is because it is in the middle of the night. A forced conversation about my travel experience and his work experience in Egypt ends in a repetitive "Welcome in Egypt". Every time a silence falls, he repeats "Welcome in Egypt". Ahmed is quite popular though, on the way to the car he stops several times to shake people's hands and kiss them on the cheek. "That is my cousin, haven't seen him in a long time". He has many cousins.

There is a driver waiting next to an old car on the dark parking lot, I half expect him to be Ahmed's cousin. We speed of into the dusty Cairo night. A brown haze is hanging over the bumpy road. The sporadic yellow streetlight adds no color to the environment. The dusty car I'm sitting in, blends in perfectly with its thick layer of dust and cigarette ashes everywhere. Cairo traffic is crazy I heard, but at this time there are no more then a handful of people walking over the streets (not on the sidewalks!) and a few cars. Small dented black and white taxis slalom around other cars and pedestrians, using the horn constantly. There are small group of people walking around with no apparent goal. When I see small groups of people roaming the streets at night, it gives me a unsafe feeling, Ahmed assures me Cairo is a safe city. When I look more closely I see that there are kids and old women among the groups, there are whole families walking around! It re-assures me a bit. We are getting near to the city center. I'm quite surprised to see the crowds in the city center at this time of night, there are even a few street stalls selling stuff.

It looks like quite a fancy hotel I'm staying in, including a proper doorman and security staff, there is even a typical brass bell on the reception counter. Before I can test the bell, someone arrives at the counter. Fortunately the paperwork is quick and easy, I'm way too tired for complicated tasks. Then the receptionist slams on the brass bell and an old man scurries into the lobby too grabs my bag. He reminds me a bit of Manuel from Fawlty Towers. He just grins at me because he doesn't speak any English. With a lot of effort and noise he manages to open my room, the lock is a weird one. At the room he franticly runs around to show me everything in the room and even finds me a German TV-channel. Assuming I have to tip him, I take my smallest note from my wallet and give it to him, it is only worth 1 Euro. His big smile reveals that I probably have paid too much. I'm too tired to care and go to bed.


Day 1: Exploring Cairo

It's cold when I wake up, too cold to get up and explore the city before the meeting at midday, especially since I was in bed at 3:30 last night. Finally I get up and open the window shutters, expecting to be overwhelmed by a Arabic street scene. Reality is different; I'm looking onto the roof of the neighboring building, which looks like it has just been bombed. There is rubble everywhere, half build or collapsed roofs, just chaos.

Just after breakfast I meet up with my new group in the lobby. Again a flood of new faces and names, which are forgotten almost instantly. Luke, the Polish tour leader, introduces himself and starts off with the paperwork. My knowledge of Polish vodka establishes an instant bond. He suggests a lunch before we go out to explore Cairo.

For the first time I walk into the crowded streets of Cairo. There are 16 million people living in Cairo, most of them seemed to be in the same street as me. Wrestling through the crowds, combined with the noise of the racing cars nearby was an interesting first experience.

We stopped at a small place around the corner for our first group lunch. Apparently a popular place looking at the crowds outside. First look on the menu made me really realize we are in a Arab speaking country, and Arab is not a language I have mastered. Fortunately there were some crude translations in English which helped me, together with the advice of Luke, to try out the falafel. The taste of it confirmed that it was a good choice.

A trip to a mosque was planned for this afternoon. In the hotel we met up with our local guide, Ola, a young girl who radiates enthusiasm about Cairo. With a private minibus we drive of to the Al Azar mosque at the El Hussein square, a one hour spectacular (in my eyes) drive through busy Cairo traffic. I spend most of my time just staring out of the window, trying to grasp what I'm seeing. A mix of people dressed in long robes, turbans, burqas and head scarves, are blended in the chaotic scene of bashed up taxi, overloaded donkey carts and large busses.


First surprising view over Cairo


Entrace to Al Azar Mosque


Inside the mosque


Outside the mosque


Inside the 1000 year old mosque there is a welcome serenity. We settle down in a corner of the grand courtyard to hear more about this place. Meanwhile we are attracting attention of the locals. While most give us just a stare, a young boy approaches us and starts taking photos of us, not one or two, but at least a dozen photos. He has a special interest in the ladies of our group. Ola snaps a few strong Arabic words to him and he disappears towards his friends, smiling. I try to focus on the story told, but I'm distracted by the people walking over the shiny marble courtyard. A trio of men is involved in a deep discussion, a Chinese person in Asian blue robes and Chinese hat, an Arab person with a turban and white dress, and a black man with brownish colored clothing who looked like he came straight from Central Africa. While most didn't even notice them, I found it a fascinating scene. Three different cultures with traditional clothing meeting in a mosque, this surreal scene looked like a dress rehearsal for a school play. I feel far away from home now.

We take a few snapshots of the mosque in the fading sunlight before we return outside. Before I get back on the hectic Cairo streets I need my shoes back. Lacking of 1 pound notes, I decide to give the shoe guy 10 pound tip, which was a bit much. From that moment onward I started to save up on small notes, cherishing them more then the big notes.

The rest of the day, we were on our own. Most of us decided to explore the busy Khan al Khalilli bazaar. A packed street with small shops on both sides. I'm not sure if it was a paved street, there could be some tarmac under all the dirt. The bad condition of the street did not stop young men with push carts racing through the street. A constant "psssst!!!!" came from every direction, meaning I was in the way of another push cart. And that they were serious about I found out when one cart hit me hard from behind. The guy pushing the cart, realizing I was twice his size, quickly apologized and sped of again.

There seems to be a mix of clothes shop, souvenirs and food stalls in the street. In the distance a loud bang and a flash appeared. Someone was firing some fireworks in the crowded street, must be crazy! When I come nearer I spot many stalls selling fireworks, from small crackers to large rockets. Apparently there are no restrictions on selling explosives here...

The street continued on for several kilometers it seemed, maintaining the same level of crowdedness. It was about time to return back to the hotel to meet the others for dinner. We had a map and directions back to the hotel, so it should not be too hard to find our way back, I thought. The lack of any street signs, let alone English written street signs, hindered our progress. Following the directions of helpful locals led us in general direction of the hotel, but we still seemed hopelessly lost. After an hour of wandering around without any real progress we tried to take a taxi. Trying to get a taxi at rush hour in Cairo is as easy as trying to find snow in a desert, meaning it is possible if you are at the right place at the right time, but it is very unlikely. Took us 10 minutes to realize that this was a impossible task for us and continued walking again over the busy streets.


Khan al Khalilli bazaar


Chaos


It is interesting to see that there are more people walking on the streets between the rushing cars, then on the sidewalks. It gives a whole new perspective to the phrase "Walking like an Egyptian". We follow suit and try to navigate through traffic. This reminds me of the game "Frogger", jumping forward and backward to dodge the oncoming cars. A pedestrian overpass gave a brief escape from the crowds, and a overview over the streets. It was amusing to observe from this position. Cars didn't double parked, but triple parked bumper to bumper. I wonder how the cars on the inside would ever get out. We try to get our bearings and dive back into the madness. It took us over 2 hours to find the hotel back. It was a relieve to be back in the tranquil lobby of the hotel. Not much time to rest since we were meeting with the rest to go out for dinner, so back into the streets.

The whole day I saw small restaurants, but now we are hungry and looking for one, they seemed to have disappeared. Luke, the tour leader, had to do some work and could not join us tonight, but gave us some advice on where to get food. An hour we walked around to find a place to eat before we turned around and found a small restaurant in a side street. We take a few seats upstairs and ask the waiter for the menu. He looks confused. He tries to ask me something, but I'm not sure what he is asking, I think he is asking "Small or large?". I try to make clear I want to see the menu, which he answers with a confused look. Then I realize he was indeed asking me if I wanted a small or large one. This restaurant only serves one dish, so the only option is small or large. I opt for a large bowl of food, not knowing what it was. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with the nice meal we got, a good mix of pasta, rice, tomato sauce, chickpeas and other unidentified stuff. Later we learned it was called koshari, a typical Egyptian dish, which would become a favorite dish among many of us. The bill was another pleasant surprise, everyone paying less then a Euro for his dinner including the drinks.

On our way back we stop at a small shop around the corner for some supplies. Ahmed, the owner, is happy to see us. The few Arabic words we can stutter are received with great enthusiasm by Ahmed. He forgets about selling his wares and starts a spontaneous language course. As a thank you we buy some of his wares and head back to the hotel for a couple of beers.

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rest volgt later

quote:

Op dinsdag 13 mei 2008 08:31 schreef WooZ het volgende:
waarom doe je eigenlijk alles georganiseerd?

het is een bewuste keuze om sommige dingen georganiseerd te doen, en andere reizen weer niet. Heb ervaring met beide, en om deze streek te verkennen leek het me wel gepast om het op deze manier te doen. Het is dan wel georganiseerd, maar zeer kleinschalig en flexibel. Er is genoeg vrijheid om je eigen ding te doen, maar het meest lastige zoals vervoer is geregeld.

Het is altijd een afweging tussen de vrijheid om spontaan nieuwe dingen te ontdekken, en iemand meehebben met goede lokale kennis om juist kansen optimaal te benutten. Achteraf gezien was het een redelijk goede keus geweest om het op deze manier te doen, enige was dat het nog net iets te luxe voor mij was, teveel hotels, mocht wel iets meer basic

We gaan weer verder Ik vraag me eigenlijk af of er eigenlijk wel iemand is die dit serieus leest of alleen de fotos bekijkt

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From Pyramids to Upper Egypt

It was a noisy and remarkable cold night in the hotel. The windows would not close properly, letting in the constant traffic noise of one of the busiest streets in Cairo.

This morning one of the most famous sites is on the menu, the Pyramids. During this trip we would be taking as much local transport a possible to enhance the experience. So we walked down the Cairo subway to take the metro to Giza. Here there was another example of the segregation between men and women; a special carriage was reserved for women. The ladies of our group followed Ola, who joined us today again, and the rest followed Luke in the far more crowded men's section.

The metro ran partly above ground, giving me the opportunity to see more of the suburban part of the city. In general it looks the same as the rest of town, small shops lining the streets with half finished buildings on top. Not before long we stop at Gizah station. Since the Pyramids are one of the most visited sites in the world, you would think that there will be a good public transport connection towards it. Not in Egypt. In a side street there are a few, probably originally white, Volkswagen vans. Dents, rust and rambling parts and the general look reveals something about the age of the vans. We should consider ourselves lucky that we have a door, which was not standard on other vans we passed.

Swerving over a long straight road, to avoid other traffic, is not a pleasant combination with the exhaust fumes hanging in the streets. My head starts to feel a bit light during the drive. An ominous triangle suddenly dooms up from the haze, it takes a second to realize that it one of the pyramids.

Via a road we walk up to the site. In the distance there is the silhouette of a man on a camel, nice sign, I think. A small security post and a ticket booth mark the entrance. The bored guards glance quickly into my bag when I pass them. Not that it helps, since I could also step over the 30cm high wall behind the security post like all the vendors are doing. I look back at the "sign", just to see it is not a sign, but a real camel with a policeman on it.

From a distance the pyramids looked impressive, from close up, they look even more impressive. Ola explains the history of the pyramids and at the same time she chases away small kids who try to make their next sale. "They are distracting you from my story" she says. After the explanation we are own, free to explore the pyramids.

I walk around the first pyramid, to see it from different angles. It is amazing how large it is. I try to capture the whole pyramid on a photo from the far end of the site. While I'm snapping away, a uniformed man is approaching me. He orders me to take a few steps back, not sure what it is about I take a few steps back. "Better picture from here" he says with a grumpy voice. I thank him with a smile and continue take a few more photos. He asks me to give him my camera, so he can take a photo of me. Well, it didn't sound like a friendly offer, more like a demand. Then I notice he is not wearing a "tourist police" arm patch, like all the other policemen. Because I stepped back a bit, I was now standing in a sheltered area. He gets more insisting to let him make a photo of me and tries to grab my camera. No good can come from this situation, so with a loud voice I thank him once more and walk away. The loud "thanks" turned some heads my direction and prevents the "policeman" to continue bothering me. I'll never know if he was sincere, wanted some bakshees (a tip) or just wanted to get my camera.

A small shack with rusted iron bars serves as the ticket office for the middle pyramid. For just a few pounds I could visit the inside of the pyramid, and of course I can't go to Egypt and not see the inside of a pyramid. Despite the chilling wind outside I'm advised to take off my jacket. Quite cold I make my way to the entrance where there is a slight chaos. A bunch of men is standing in front of the entrance, some of them are checking tickets, some of them are checking for sneaked in cameras and others are just there to create a chaotic scene. A small stair leads to the entrance of the tunnel. I hesitate for a second when I see the entrance, the tunnel is a bit smaller then expected. Hoping that I don't get a case of instant claustrophobia, I bend over and push myself into the tunnel. With every step the tunnel gets smaller and hotter. It just takes a few minutes to crawl through the whole tunnel, but I'm panting. The large chamber with the tomb does bring some relief, I can stretch my legs and back, but the humid heat is still present.

I try to grasp the importance of this room, the history, the treasures, the workers and the pharaoh, but the heat and the noise of other tourist doesn't make it easy. I leave the room a bit sooner then I really wanted, I couldn't bear it anymore. During the crawl to the exit I'm looking jealously to the small kids running around without any problems. Sweat is running down my back when I finally reach the cold outside air.


Mandatory photo with a camel in front the a pyramid.


Overview of the site


Looking over the expanding town...


It's big


Pyramid


Next to the pyramids is another famous landmark, the Sphinx. It seems far more crowded around the Sphinx then at the pyramids. A wide street filled with people, cars, vendors and donkey carts leads down towards the temple next to the Sphinx. We get another explanation about the history of the Sphinx and of course a few theories about how he lost his nose. It is safe to say that it was not Michael Jackson who stole the nose to replace his own. A small girl with necklaces and souvenirs approaches our group, Ola notices here and I expect a few harsh Arabic words from her. Instead she shrieks happily and gives her a big hug. Ola knows here since she was a small kid and they see each other regularly when Ola is guiding a group here. She tells us a bit about her school, her family, her history, growing up without much money. It shows there is a story behind every "annoying little vendor".

Ola promised a traditional dish for lunch. The place we went to near the pyramids had a few chairs and tables in a tiled room with no door. Koshari was the traditional lunch, exactly the same as everyone had last night, and eaten with the same pleasure as last night. The rest of the afternoon we spend in the Egyptian museum, with the tomb and golden mask of Tutankhamen, and on the streets walking around.

I walk back with Simon to the hotel. Of course we get slightly lost, but manage to get back in time. We even have time to get the necessary last minute stuff, Simon needs a diary to write down his adventures, and I need a new flashlight because I already lost mine at the airport. There was a busy street market at the square near the hotel, so we decided to go there. While in Europe you can buy those small LED flashlights everywhere, here they are well hidden. Most of the stalls sell batteries, socks, combs, toys and some unidentifiable things. We try to explore the streets around the market and see a alley with small shops, including a shop that sells agendas. So in the hope that they sell blank diaries we turn into the alley.

Suddenly three teenagers start shouting at us and making violent gestures. And then I immediately see why. The green tarp we are walking on is a prayer mat, there is a man kneeling on the corner of it. We jump off the tarp and apologize quickly. Woops. Down the alley we finally find what we are looking for. At a street stand in the small courtyard I find a dusty small torch. I'm ready for haggling to get the price down, but when he makes clear it costs 1,50 pound (18 eurocents), I'm so astound that I pay the "full" price. The batteries set me back 8 pounds...

Happy with my new purchase I return to the hotel, right in time to depart to the train station. Tonight we will take the overnight sleeper train to Aswan, all the way in the south of Egypt. My last experience with sleeper trains was not that positive, tossed around in my bunk bed while moving from Greece to Istanbul, together with grumpy customs officer waking me in the middle of the night. Hopefully tonight would be a bit better.

With a van we arrive at train station. Without many problems we find the correct platform, it is not so hard since all the platforms are empty except one. We merge with the large group of waiting people. A interesting collection of people, people from all walks of life with one thing in common, a huge amount of luggage. I am really starting to wonder how everybody was going to fit in the train.

We walk to the end of the platform, where it is a bit less crowded. And suddenly a train enter the station, right on time, I thought. It was not our train... Though this train is also going to Aswan, it is a seatertrain. Apparently on paper it belongs to our train, but all classes are on separated trains. So we are not sure when our train arrives. Another train enters the station, hope rises and quickly disappears after Luke inquires at the conductor if this was the correct train.

While waiting on the platform, it gets colder. We are all hungry since we expected to have dinner on the train that should have left 2 hours ago. The discomforts of the cold and hunger are joined with the sound of a jackhammer a few meters away. A bit surreal feeling standing there in the ever darkening platform with the noise of the jackhammer mixed with all the Arabic chatter on the background. Meanwhile bags with snacks, bought at Ahmed of course, appear from the backpacks, it lightens the mood a bit.

Coming from a safety conscious country, I am amazed to see people hanging out of open door in moving trains, and even people jumping into moving trains. I wonder how many people die or get injured every year doing this. The answer is probably quite a lot of people. Right at the moment I am thinking this, a man shows up with a large box chasing the just departed train. He manages to throw the box into the open door. He tries to grab the handhold of the door to pull him in, but he misses. Like in slow-motion he losses his balance and falls forward. The man's body has already half disappeared in the gap between the train and the platform, when suddenly another man in the door opening grabs his jacket. With a loud metallic shriek the emergency brake of the train is activated and halts the train. The man who was inches from death was pulled out of the gap, and amazingly he ok. A bit shaken he dusts off his clothes and steps into the stationary train. "Did you see that??!" I ask one of my travel companions excited, "What?" she answers slightly confused. Apparently most people on the platform didn't even see it happen.

Another 4 trains pass before our train finally arrives. Inside the train there were nice cabins for two. And on top of that, dinner was served by the train attendant right after we departed. After playing some cards, most of the people wanted to get to sleep. A small sign in the cabin got my attention, it mentioned something about a belly dance competition in the bar carriage. So I decide to check out the bar before I go to bed. It was a bit disappointing; in the bar there was only a group of Chinese tourists who were drunk on Jack Daniels, no belly dancing at all. Time to go to bed.



Ehh... what?!




Arriving in Aswan

It was far more comfortable to sleep in the train then expected, but I still woke up early. With my foot I slide open the curtains a little bit, expecting to see spectacular desert scenery. The scenery is indeed spectacular, but totally different then expected. Instead of endless sand dunes there are lush green fields, palm trees and farmers. The sun has just risen, but there are already many farmers busy in the fields. Most of them kneeling down in the fields fiddling around with the crop, others are loading up a donkey. Donkeys seem the primary source of transportation, every few minutes we pass a fully loaded donkey walking down the sandy path next to the track. As we pass the mighty Nile river, I see small fishing boats mixed with tall feluccas.


To wake up and see this view is great


Green fields and donkeys




Aswan is just a small city, and so is its train station. With a van we are driven to our hotel that is located just of the main street. Despite it is February, it is quite hot outside. I am happy to plunge down on one of the sofas in the hotel lobby. Cold welcome drinks are passed around. The handful of birds in the lobby are very competing to be the loudest, but it is a welcome sound after the constant traffic noises of Cairo.

Check in is quickly arranged and I step out to explore the neighborhood. The unpaved street is not more then an alley. A few steps next to the hotel is a fish stall, accompanied with the complementary smells. The man behind the counter tries to sell me his wares, but I refuse politely and walk down the alley. Many men are wearing their traditional long robes, like the farmers this morning working along the railroad. The younger men tend to wear the more western style jeans and shirts.

I'm welcomed by eager vendors as I turn into a shopping street. Though not as aggressive as in Cairo, there is still the constant shouting of "where you from?", "please come look at my store, it's free!", "very nice price for you!". I take my time and stroll down the street and replying all the questions with smiles. There are hardly any locals in this street, until I reach the end of the street where the nice paving changes into dirt again. Dozens of people are queued up in front of a bakery, in between them are men walking around with large baskets on their head filled with bread. This is the place where the locals get their bread for subsidized prices, for just one pound you can get an armful of bread. Strangely enough the bakery seems to be closed. As I look in, I see all the staff kneeled down the on floor. It is prayer time. Since muslins have to pray five times a day, the bakery has to close during the day to let the employees to pray. The customers are all used to it and are waiting patiently outside.

On the way back to the hotel I'm approached by another vendor. He has a spice shop he desperately wants to show me. I make clear I am not going to buy any spices, but he insists I see his shop. I have still got 15 minutes to kill before I have to meet up with the rest, so I oblige and enter his shop. Three walls are filled with jars, from the ground up to the ceiling. All kinds of spices, oils and unidentifiable stuff are in the jars. He is eager to show me his perfume section, especially his own copy of the famous Chanel perfume. I'm no expert, but it didn't smell too bad. He continues to show me other spices and lets me guess what it is. All in all a very friendly conversation, even when I leave he gives me a gift, a incense candle. I promise him if I am going to buy spices, I will do it at his place. I never did buy any spices in Egypt.


View over the city, again going for the "just bombed" look


Streets in Aswan


The busy Nile river, healthy mix of modern cruiseships, small ferries and old feluccas


Back at the hotel we were getting ready for a boat trip on the Nile. From the window of the hotel lobby I spot someone walking around in a bright orange sweater with "Holland" printed on the back. He walks towards the hotel and enters. It is Ali, he will take us to the boat. He is excited to hear I am from Holland and immediately wants to try out his Dutch sentences. He only knows two sentences, but that doesn't stop him from using them all the time.

At the river bank we're waiting for out boat to arrive. In between the large luxury cruiseboats we step onto the small "Jamaica Family", owned and run by JJ. He is a big guy dressed in a long white robe, with a constant smile on his face. Besides Ali, there is also a old man sitting in the corner. With his large cane and traditional clothing he radiates knowledge and wisdom. He will be the guide of today and explain the rich Nubian history. He is not just a random guide. Oh no, he is mentioned in the Lonely planet, and he is clearly proud of it, he knows the exact page on which he is mentioned.

While Ali pushes us off, we start on the lunch. On the table in the center there are a few pots with awful tacky decorations, but with good tasting content. There is a mix of soup and stews that taste excellent. Meanwhile we are drifting along the busy Nile river. This part of the river is packed with other ferry boats, fishing boats, feluccas, rowing boats and large cruise ships.

We sail passed Elephantine island towards a more quiet section of the river. On the river banks children are playing, women are doing the laundry and cattle is grazing. There are no large luxury cruise ships in this section of the river, only traditional feluccas and small rowing boats. We pass a kid in a extremely small boat that floats low in the water, he has 2 pieces of plastic he uses as oars. He is too busy to wave back at us.


Local transport. I just hope we don't have to take that kind of local transport.


Enjoying the scenery


Watery Nile and the sandy Sahara meet


Fishermen on the Nile banks


The "Lonely Planet" guide

On one side of the river there is a green line of palm trees and a road, on the other side looms the Sahara desert. Old defensive structures are scattered high in the hills along the river. The large sandy hills drop steeply into the river. We stop at the Sahara side of the river for coffee. We walk up the hill and see a small café hidden between the palm trees. It is almost empty except for a few locals. Under the thatched roof we sit on a few pillows. This place is abundantly decorated with colorful tarps, scarves, straw hats, paintings and other unidentifiably paraphernalia. Our Nubian host is preparing a traditional Nubian coffee for us. He places a few clay kettles filled with herbs and coffee on the hot coals in front of him. This traditional way of making coffee is interesting to observe, I have to accept that inhaling the suffocating smoke of the coals is just a part of this experience. The coffee is filtered with a small bunch of straw and is served boiling hot. After the coffee stop we board the boat again and sail off to most cliché thing to do in Africa, riding camels.

Camels are tall animals and sway quite a lot when walking. I found this out after we departed straight into the Sahara desert. Nothing to do except hold on to the small stump on the saddle. The desert is not full of soft sand to fall on, rather full of sharp rocks everywhere. During the walk I get the hang of it and sit more relaxed in the saddle, enjoying the sandy views. On the background the young camel drivers are singing songs to fight their boredom of walking the same trail day after day. With the view on a old monastery we stop for a photo opportunity. The camel drivers are eager to run around and help us taking photos, probably with the anticipation of a large tip. We continue walking down towards the river. My hands are cramping up from holding myself on the swaying camel. I decide to walk the last section. So I strolled down the Sahara desert towards the Nile river...


Part of the monastery




JJ had a surprise for us. He invited us over to his house in Elephantine Island, something he almost never does. On the island we find a typical Nubian village, narrow streets, mud brick walls hiding small court yards, kids playing around, women cooking in their small kitchens and brightly painted houses. The kids are not shy to approach us, they see it as a opportunity to practice their English skills, which consists only of "Where you from?" and "What is your name?". Interacting with them is fun, they are happy to pose for a photo.

We take place in the living room. There is just enough room to fit us in. White lace is everywhere, hanging down from the mint green wall, on the couch and on the tables. JJ is keen to show us his wedding photos and wedding video. While sipping from a cup of tea we watch the video, narrated live by JJ. He talks about the heat, the many visitors from villages around and all the dancing. After more questions from our side, JJ is happy to continue explaining about Nubian marriage traditions and how he and his wife met. When the girls have gotten a few henna tattoos, it is time to leave. JJ takes us down to the dock to takes us across the water, almost forgot we are still on an island. It is already dark outside; it adds an extra dimension when walking through this village.


Interesting to peek over the mud walls and into the open doors


Elephantine Island after sunset


Everyone was hungry so we decide to hit up the first restaurant we see. A large barge functions as a restaurant. Though almost empty, we still decide to eat here. A confusing hour follows, orders are wrong, waiter asks US to borrow him money, little kid waiter is trying to get under the skin of another waiter and much more. Highlight was when we left, the head waiter wanted to speak to our tour leader. He explained that we didn't left a tip. Our tour leader Luke kindly explained that on the menu and on the bill 20% extra was already charged for tax and service. All he got was just a confused look of the waiter. Luke continued explaining that service charge is the same as a tip. The disappointed head waiter immediately took all the menus and crossed out "service charge". We left laughing. Not the first time, and definitely not the last time we encounter "funny English".

The Africa Cup had just started when we arrived in Egypt. And tonight Egypt is playing Sudan. Of course it is a fun idea to go out and watch the game. With a football game there should be a beer. Luke knew a hotel bar where we could get a beer and watch TV. Via a elevator located in a back alley we end up in the bar, which is almost empty. Just a few staff members clutched to the TV and an elderly French couple. A bar with alcohol is not very popular in this country. We empty their beer supply and enjoy the match; Egypt beats Sudan with 3-0.

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Volgend hoofdstuk: Meer avonturen in Egyptische taxi's, tempels, felucca's en vliegtuigen.

Gelukkig dat er mensen zijn die het lezen en het waarderen Ik probeer het wel zo vermakelijk mogelijk neer te zetten, meer te focussen op kleine interesante gebeurtenissen dan het uitgebreid beschrijven van hoe een pyramide eruit ziet.

quote:

Op donderdag 15 mei 2008 17:23 schreef flipsen het volgende:
Zekers dat ik alles lees

Vraag me wel af wat nou die 2 Nederlandse zinnen waren die Ali sprak

"Hallo, hoe gaat het met jou" en "Waar kom jij vandaan?"

Abu what?

Abu Simbel, never heard of it until I got offered the opportunity to go there today. Sure why not. I had the option to drive or fly the 300 kilometers southwards. If I want to drive there, I had to join the convoy around 3:00 at night, I don't think so. Plane it is, though I am not sure about the timetable, the receptionist promised me three times already to find out the exact timetable.

It takes me a full minute to realize I am not dreaming and it is the phone in my room ringing, wake up call. Around 7:00 in the morning I'm waiting with Simon in the lobby for our ride to the airport. To my surprise the driver is on time. As a true Egyptian driver he drives around like a drunk. I'm starting to get used to it, but there is one action I still don't understand. At one point on a 2-way road he veers on the opposite lane and drives straight towards an oncoming vehicle. Though we slow down, he still drives on the wrong side of the road towards the other vehicle. There we are, 2 cars facing each other on the road. When we stop, and forcing the other vehicle to stop, our driver lowers his window and starts shouting angry to the other car. Simon and I look to each other in confusion. The other vehicle backs up and drives around us. Without saying a word, we drive on, this time on the right side of the road.

Last night, when searching desperately for an ATM machine to pay for the flight, Simon and I fantasized about a small, with duct tape fixed African plane. There was a slight disappointment to see a modern Airbus waiting for to make the short Aswan – Abu Simbel hop. With a matrix printer printout we receive our boarding passes and join the group of waiting tourists. The flight was not more different then other flights, just the view makes it totally different. Instead of seeing endless stretches of sand dunes, there is water, a lot of water. Apparently someone dammed up the Nile River south of Aswan and created this large reservoir. We follow the water mass south towards Sudan, and then suddenly the temples loom on the lake banks.






The plane lands a few kilometers north of the temples with such a large smack on the tarmac, I thought we'd just crashed. Since we have no luggage, we pass through the small terminal quickly. And then we are outside, expecting at least some signs on how to go to the temples, but no, this is still Egypt thus no clear signs. There we are, outside this small terminal alone, a few miles from the Sudanese border, feeling a bit lost. It takes a few minutes for the other tourists to pour out of the terminal, and they are herded into a bus that looks like a shuttle bus to the temples. We decide to follow them.


Help, I'm lost

It is the correct bus and it goes to the temples. The bus takes us through the small adjacent village, which seems to be not more then a collection of shabby shops and tea drinking men. But there is no time to stop, the plane is leaving in 2,5 hours again.

The temples seems to be taken straight out of a movie, they look surreal. Four statues, each ten meters tall, have been carved from of the rocks guarding the temple entrance. A small doorway in the middle leads to the inside of the temple. I raise my camera to take a photo of the statues and colorful hieroglyphs inside, unfortunately the security guard stops me. "No photos inside" he kindly mumbles with a strange accent, "but you can take picture from here" as he points to the doorstep. With my feet just outside the door, I lean in to take a photo. Despite the photo was a failure due to the lack of light, I thank the security guard and walk in again. Again he stops me. In a less kind voice he demands money for his advice. Yes, everyone here is fighting for some baksheesh. I reply with a confused smile and step around him. Inside the temple I continue to explore the many rooms and gaze at the amazing hieroglyphs and drawings. As soon as I reached my daily dose of ancient Egyptian culture, I head back outside. There is a second temple that looks like a smaller copy of the first. It takes just a few minutes to also explore this one. We still have another hour before the bus departs back to the airport. The clear blue sky and the warm temperature invite us for a walk around the peninsula. Not before long we end up at the lake banks. We sit down, enjoying the view over the water, relaxing in the sun and thinking about the cold weather back home...


The larger temple


"Inside" the temple


At the lake


Another semi crash landing brings us back in Aswan. In the hotel we see a few others who took the car this morning, well actually it was last night. They are knackered from the long drive over the Egyptian roads. The koshari in Cairo was well received, we head to out to find some more for lunch. Though we are still in Egypt, the food is different from Cairo, there is almost only Nubian food here. There are enough small restaurants, but none serve the koshari. Finally at the river bank we find a small restaurant where we use our feet and hands to make clear what we want. Hoping the waiter understood us we sit there in this peculiar restaurant. Actually restaurant is not the correct word for this establishment. A small food stall with a few white plastic lawn chairs in front of the door, and inside there is not more the 2 tables, an antique coke fridge and lots of flies. The waiter came with our food. Slightly surprised we see that it is the correct food, and tasted good. We made a small mistake though, negotiate about the price before ordering. We manage to get the bill with tourist prices down to half. Still the owner and us parted happily.

Something I promised myself not to do is check my email when traveling. Nothing is more horrendous on a trip then reading you almost missed a deadline, or some bad news from back home. I was too tired to walk around the city more, but too restless to go to sleep, so I went into the internet café. This immediately reminded me about my job applications I just sent out before departure. And there was the email with confirmation of a job interview 2 days after I return from this trip... I promised myself again not to check my email anymore for the rest of the trip, which proofed not to be difficult because for the next 2 weeks the internet was cutoff in the Middle East. I spend the rest of the day on the roof of the hotel, watching the sun set over ancient Aswan. Surrounding mosques are lit in a warm yellow light and the evening prayer is being called.

That evening after dinner the most of us went out for a beer, which is more difficult then it seems in first place. We walk through the busy tourists streets to the other side of town. I love how the shop owners try to convince you to come and look at their shop. Shouting "No hassle, please come look! No hassle" while grabbing your arm is a bit strange though. There is even a sign offering a no hassle service for a few extra pounds. It is all part of the game and I enjoy it. The bar is located in a back alley, literally. We are led into a darkened back room where we finally can get a few beers. This is one of the most depressed places ever where I had a beer, it comes close to that grunge basement bar in Russia a few years ago. The light is probably dimmed on purpose to cover up the dirty old tables, the cracked tile floor and the crawling critters on the walls. There is no music or other customers, every now and then a few heads peak into the room to see the alcohol drinkin foreigners. Few beers later it is time to go to sleep.


Gone sailing

Due to the early departure yesterday, the breakfast then consisted of a few eggs and some old rolls from a cardboard box. Today it was much better. While sitting on the hotel rooftop we got served a delicious breakfast with pancakes and fresh rolls. Today would be a relaxing day, sailing a felucca over the Nile. We are going to sail north till sunset and spend the night on the river banks.

All packed up we walk down to the river. JJ and two assistants are already busy with the preparations. With care we board the boat via a narrow plank. The felucca is slightly bigger then the feluccas we saw yesterday, I guess 12 meters long and 4 meters wide at the widest point, ample space for the 13 of us. Almost the whole deck is covered by a large mattress, and the roof prevents us from standing up, so there is nothing to do but lie down and relax. JJ is not joining us and let the sailing be done by his 2 assistants. With a big push we set out to middle of the Nile.

The sails are hoisted and the wind accelerates us northwards. From nowhere Ali appears in the "Jamaica Family" boat. He spotted us from the banks and took the boat to say goodbye to us. He shouts goodbye in Dutch to me, and I reply in Dutch which is received with a big smile.

Once out of the city the river becomes much more tranquil. But we are not there yet, there is a mandatory check at the river police station. “Just a formality, it takes only a few minutes” the captain assures us. On the one hand, I’m not surprised it takes longer then just a few minutes, on the other hand, I didn’t expect it because of a safety inspection. Safety in Egypt? I read in the morning paper that another bus of tourist has crashed in the desert, safety appears to be non-existent utopia here. It takes over an hour before the papers are checked, the life jackets counted (which are conviently stowed deep inside a unreachable spot in the hull) and other safety equipment has been checked. Finally we can set off.


Typical scenery







The scenery stays quite the same, on the left the Sahara desert abruptly stops, and on the right a strip of palm trees and lush green fields. Kids are playing on both sides of the river, men are working in the fields and women are doing laundry in the water. Slowly but surely we head north. There is a good wind blowing, unfortunately it is blowing in the wrong direction. I was too optimistic when I decided to only wear a t-shirt on the boat, the desert wind was colder then expected. It promised to be a cold night.

While one of the sailors was on the rudder, the other was cooking lunch on deck. We stopped at a green patch on the western bank for lunch. It was a typical Nubian lunch with mainly vegetables and soup. A great culinary discovery for me was the baba ganoush, a unpleasantly looking mash of eggplant, but with wonderful taste. Our noise of laughter and chatter attracted a few local kids. They stay on the banks staring at us. After we have stuffed ourselves, the 2 sailors take the leftovers and share it with the kids who waited patiently and probably knew what was coming. The beers are taken out, but most of us wisely to wait until the evening. There is no toilet on the boat and the next stop is at sunset… We push of and sail further. Landscape remains quite the same, green on the one side, sand on the other side. While seeing the scenery drift by slowly, I lie down, read my book, talk a bit and write in my journal.

A few hours later the sun is low on the horizon, the temperature drops and we start searching for a open spot on the banks. Near a stone quarry we find a good camping spot. Via the slippery and quite wobbly plank I make my way to shore. I take a look to the workers at the quarry, they pick up a large rock and carry them to a pontoon. Hard labour, and apparently it doesn’t end till sunset. While there is still some light, we need to gather wood for the fire. Because we ended up on the sandy side of the river, there are hardly any trees. A twig here and a palm leave there, but nothing substantial. I walk inland, plowing through the loose desert sand. I spot a small group of palm trees that have been burned down recently. As I come closer to this “oasis”, I notice a few large unburned bits, perfect for a campfire. I try to drag the top of a medium size palm tree, it is way to heavy to drag it back to camp. Ok, the little palmtop will do. In the Western world a “palmtop” is known as a handy device that is easy to carry around. A palmtop here is a bulky piece of fuel found in the desert.

What an image it is, there I am in the desert, dragging a blackened top end of a palm tree. A small hill separates me from the campsite. The palm tree is not cooperating and is digging into the sand. I grab one of the pointy branches and try to pull it up the hill. As I am almost over the hill, the branch breaks off, leaving me on top of the hill with a piece of wood in my hand and the rest rolling down the hill… My second attempt is more successful and I manage to get everything back to the river bank.

Meanwhile dinner was ready. With improvised candleholders we sit on the boat eating a rice, vegetables and soup while the sun goes down. I’m still not comfortably sitting on the floor eating with no table, and I’m not the only one, everyone is struggling to fold away their legs and sitting comfortably.

After dinner the campfire is lit and percussion music starts. A bit of singing, a bit of banging on the bongos, the crackling of the fire, stars are appearing in the sky, a night on the Nile. The air smells sweet from the burning palm tree top I dragged to camp. There is not much more wood and it is getting cold now. A few tarps are raised around the deck to shield us from the wind, though there is still a cold breeze seeping through it. As I prepare to go to bed, I decide to put on all the clothes I had brought with me on deck, all 7 layers. Last time I slept in the open air, which was a few months ago also in a desert, I almost froze to death. Not very comfortable I crawl in my sleeping bag and try to sleep.

Het schrijven gaat momenteel iets langzamer, te druk met andere werkzaamheden. Maar hier het volgende deel

En we zijn pas op 1/3 van de trip, gaat wel een erg lang verslag worden Kan het bijna in boekvorm gaan uitbrengen, watch out Michael Palin


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Day 6: going to Luxor

Seven layers of clothing and a sleeping bag, and I’m still cold. I manage to get a few hours of sleep, and spend the rest of the night peeking under the tarp to the night sky. The slow rocking of the boat is comforting, the not-so-soft deck is not. I’m really happy to see sunlight appearing from the east.

Leftover bread and pieces of cheese form the breakfast this morning. As we eat, we hear the men have already started to work in the neighboring quarry, true from-sunrise-till-sunset working hours. Not much sailing this morning, we just cross the Nile to join the convoy to Luxor. There is no path from the river bank to the road, so with our backpacks we have to walk through the crop fields to reach the road. As we exit the green fields and reach the road, the magic of overnighting in the desert disappears.

A van picks us up and we head out to meet up with the rest of the convoy. With other tourists we head to Luxor. As we pass many small villages, we also pass a few security check points. They are quite serious about these, soldiers armed with AK47’s and jeeps with large machine guns mounted on top. And escorting us are a few jeeps with armed soldiers. It gives a double feeling, I feel safe because there is so much security, but I also feel very unsafe because there is so much security.


Typical village along the road

We make a mandatory coffee stop along the road. There is not much around, a coffee shop, a few souvenir shops and some toilets. I see young Egyptian kids rushing to the toilets with toilet paper under their arms. They block the entrance a try to sell a piece of toilet paper for a pound. A well, what is a few cents anyway. There is a organized chaos at the coffee counter. I manage to order a tea and find myself next to Luke. Price of the tea is of course a close kept secret. The local drivers pay the normal price, tour guides who speak the language pay double, unaware tourists pay 5 times the price. Next to us a French tourist has no problem paying for the overpriced tea. Is it fair to point out that she is paying too much, or is it stealing potential money of the bar owner?

A pickup truck passes us on the crowded road. In the front 3 men, in the back 3 cows. Three skinny cows are packed in the back of a small pickup truck, for me not a every day sight. "If cows on my farm were in this state, I would shoot them" Simon from Australia says. As we pass another colorless village, we see a small cattle market. All the other cows and goats are not much better. We pass many villages that look the same, grey, no paved roads, no cars only donkey carts, but surprisingly many houses have satellite dishes on the roof.

Around midday we arrive in Luxor. I'm sharing the room with Frank, the Vietnam veteran and architect from the US. We heard there was a restaurant on the roof of the hotel, so why not take this opportunity to eat with a great view? The elevator should take us to the 8th floor. It should, but somewhere between the 4th and 5th floor it stopped. Great.

It takes a few minutes fiddling with the elevator door to open it. We crawl out the elevator and make our way up, via the stairs this time. The view is worth the climb, the city on one side, the Nile on the other side banked with the characteristic green fields and yellow sand dunes. Except for a naked Russian guy sunbathing, there is not much up here. Also no restaurant. But the the Egyptian poolboy is kind enough to arrange some food delivery to the roof.




In Luxor, formerly known as Thebes, stands the large temple complex of Karnak. I love to use the ancient names of cities, gives much more drama to it, like Constantinople instead of Istanbul. Only a small part of this huge complex is open for the public, nevertheless there is a lot to explore. This is one of those tourist traps, busloads of tourists are lined up to enter the site. Well, I came here to see a bit of the ancient culture, so lets join the crowd. A grumpy looking guy, named Achmed, shows us around a bit. While walking between huge statues, columns and hieroglyphs, Achmed proves to be a guy with humor. His favorite thing to do is mess with Americans. The sentence "Where is this America you speak of, I never heard of it, are you sure it is a country?" leads to hilarious attempts of Americans to convince him that the USA is a real country.











The site is big enough to wander of alone between the old walls full of hieroglyphs. I can type that it is so special, spiritual, serene to immersive myself in this tangible history, but somehow it was not. Sure, it was carved by workers with great care 4000 years ago; it would have been full with worshippers, priests and workers walking over a perfectly polished marble floor. Even when the sun is casting her last rays over the site and swaying palm trees, I still can't grasp this place. Maybe it is the overkill already on historic sites, maybe I'm to annoyed by the other tourists who run around and take useless snapshots of every statue, maybe it is the school class of children climbing around everywhere, or maybe my mind can't comprehend it is al real and I'm not in Disneyland.

As we walk back to the center of Luxor, the sun is setting over the Nile river. The street is filled with carriage drivers, looking for the next couple who want to make a romantic sunset tour. I notice an imposing building down the street, it is the Winter Palace hotel. This 120 year old building from the British occupation era looks inviting. What are the chances that we, five travelers dressed in shabby t-shirts and shorts, are allowed to see the inside? We have to try. As soon we set foot inside, we are approached by the concierge. I guess we don't look like the folks who stay in this 5-star hotel. The concierge is friendly but he can't allow us to linger in the lobby or the rest of the hotel, we are not wearing the "appropriate attire". However, we are very welcome to look around the botanical garden in the back. The garden is a lush and green oasis, the perfect place to cool down after a long day in the sun.







Having someone with you with local knowledge helps, especially when trying to find the good places to eat. Luke took us away from the tourist infested Nile embankments. While walking away from the river, the scenery changes. Less and less tourists around, souvenir shops turn into grocery shops, the street vendors aren't speaking English and are not approaching you anymore. It is a bit like the wet dream of any intrepid traveler, away from the tourists and seeing the local life, this is how it feels. Even the restaurant feels "authentic", but the English menu and the large group of Russian tourists on the next table pulls me rudely out of this dream.

To expand my list of different transport types, I decide to take the balloon flight next morning. It should fit in perfectly in the list of transport types we will be on this trip. At the end of this trip we will have been on camels, donkeys, a normal car, taxi, motorboat, small ferry, large ferry, felucca, minivan, in the back of a pickup truck/taxi, metro, antique VW bus, a coach, 4x4 jeeps, and even on the back of a Fijian soldier. So why not a hot air balloon?

Day 7:Another day in Luxor

Ain't that fun, getting up at 4:30 in the morning, crossing the river in the dark and waiting for 1,5 hour in a crop field for a hot air balloon ride. The weather isn't cooperating and everything is cancelled. At least I saw a beautiful sunrise.



I meet up with the rest to explore the Valley of the Kings. My donkey riding skills are not optimal, I opt to drive into the valley instead of riding a donkey over the mountains. Even with the old pick up truck, I would arrive in the valley way earlier then the rest. The old pick up truck has been converted to a kind of taxi, benches and a roof has been installed in the back to provide some "comfort". So Achmed, the same guy as yesterday, invited me for a cup of tea at his cousin's place. We drive into one of the many small villages in the hills. His "cousin" has a large house with a workshop next to it, like many others here. I'm taken into a lounge, where an elderly man in robes is sitting. He introduces me to his cousin and leaves to get some tea. The cousin doesn't speak any English, so we watch TV instead. A black car with red lights in the front races across the screen, it is KITT. Haven't seen "Knight Rider" for a long time. The cousin points and says "David Hasselhoff!!" with a big smile on his face. Another man walks in and introduces himself also as a cousin of Achmed. He spots Knight Rider on the TV, and it sparks off an interesting discussion about American TV shows from the 80's.

After the nice conversation it is time to drive up to the Valley of the Kings. A winding, but well maintained, road takes us to the hidden valley. In the distance I can see the others walking down the mountain. We meet up in front of the tomb of Tutankhamen. Achmed gives us the story about the valley and the tombs. One of the girls asks if they are still digging here for new tombs. A loud crash answers that question. I turn around just in time to see a large boulder rolling down the mountain. There is a group of people with shovels and pick-axes digging high up the mountain side. That are the archeologists, Achmed explains. Somehow I never imagined archeologists looking like these guys in grey robes and turbans. Indiana Jones messed up my world view.



A few of the tombs are open for the public. Steep stairs lead to the entrance. Memories of the narrow and hot tunnel in the Pyramids resurface. Fortunately these tombs are much wider. Long tunnels lead deep into the mountain. The walls and ceilings are surprisingly colorful. Hieroglyphs and paintings in bright colors attract all the attention. The rest of the tomb is empty, I guess everything that was here before, is now in the British museum.

When I'm outside again, waiting for others to finish their exploration tour, I notice the amusing battle between vendors and soldiers. The young vendors enter the valley via the steep mountain sides; unfortunately for them they are not allowed to sell anything to tourists here. Soldiers, with AK-47's of course, are here to prevent this. Every time a vendor is spotted by a soldier, the vendor runs back onto the mountain side, unreachable for the soldier. If one soldier is brave enough to give chase a bit longer, the vendors just climb higher on the mountain to sit there and laugh at the soldier. As soon the soldier gives up the chase, the vendors run back into the valley trying to sell their stuff. This process repeats itself all day.

With everyone packed in the back of the pick up truck, we head to another temple. Nothing special compared to the last temple, more columns, statues and hieroglyphs. So I start making photos of hieroglyphs resembling faces... fun.













All this cultural stuff makes us hungry. Achmed takes us back to his village, where his wife has prepared a proper lunch. While this is a standard part of the tour, it is still nice to have a lunch inside Achmed's house. A long table is prepared in the living room. Their favorite color is mint green, as all the walls have this color. His wife and children bring out the pots and pan full of food. Under the watchful eye of the national football team and the president of Egypt, whose pictures are hanging on the wall, we start eating. Politics and family life seems to be doing well as discussion subjects.



The food tasted excellent. It is a nice village. A few sweaty guys across the street are working hard on building a new house. Achmed and I discuss the housebuilding market a bit. He is surprised to hear the prices from back home. Kids are playing around and are chasing us while we drive away. Via a quick stop at a papyrus museum, we end up at the alabaster workshop next to the house where I was this morning. A few men sit in front of the workshop working on alabaster vases. It is kind of a mandatory stop for the guides to make some extra money. We're led in the adjacent shop. I'd rather hang out at the workshop. Surprisingly the workers speak a bit of English. They are keen to talk to us about their work. It is quite interesting to see the different steps of the creation process of an alabaster vase. There is a nice buzz around the workshop, kids playing, men talking, some other working on a old motorcycle. Sure it is kind of a tourist trap, but a nice one.




It has been a long day. We squeeze ourselves into the back of the pick up truck again and drive off. And again, the scenery is gorgeous. The sun is low and radiates a warm yellow light. As we drive on a dirt road between the green fields I just can't stop looking out of the back.





Tonight we are leaving Luxor, back to Cairo by a overnight train. But first, we have some time to kill, and Egypt is playing Zambia. A hotel nearby serves beer AND has a TV with the game on. Well, that is the evening program planned.

At the train station it is another waiting game. However, there is enough entertainment. A shoe polish kid desperate to find a customer drives a hard bargain with one of our Aussies. A newspaper salesman sells yesterdays newspaper and runs off with the change. But the best show was still to come. A passenger train stops at the opposite platform and a few guys start unloading the baggage car in the typical Egyptian pace. So not surprisingly it takes some for them to unload, too much time it appears. As they start to unload bags with money, the conductor blows the whistle. Inside my head I'm thinking that the train would surely not drive off while they are still unloading? The panic on the faces of the loaders tells me a different story. A scene taken directly from a slapstick movie follows, they start to unload much faster, but they are too late as the train starts to roll. The men are running beside the train, pulling bags of money from it and put it on a cart. As the train speeds up more, the men can't keep up. The last loader, who was still on the train, does the desperate thing... and start tossing bags of money out of the train. So, bags of money are flying out of the train and men running along the tracks to pick up the bags, you can't buy that kind of entertainment.

To experience another type of local transport, a overnight seater train is chosen instead of the luxury sleeper train. A sleepless night follows.

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quote:

Op maandag 26 mei 2008 16:24 schreef flipsen het volgende:
Hij is weer fijn Jammer dat de balonvaart niet doorging, had ook mooie foto´s opgeleverd I´m sure (wat voor camera gebruik je eigenlijk?).

En die smilies van 4000 jaar oud zijn natuurlijk geweldig

Hoe wist je dat het zakken met geld waren die uit de trein werden gemikt? Waarom zijn er uberhaubt zakken met geld in een passagierstrein

ik gebruik een canon powershot G7, een compact camera die aan de top end zit. Bewust niet voor een DSLR gekozen omdat het dan te groot word. Deze powershot past perfect in een broekzak en je mist dus bijna geen kans

Het waren zakken met muntgeld die in de bagagekar tussen de loc en passagiers rijtuigen zit. Je hoorde het leuk rinkelen en navraag bij een van die gasten bleek het idd om geld te gaan. Echter de muntjes zijn haast waardeloos, ik dacht een halve pond ofzo = 5 cent

quote:

Op woensdag 28 mei 2008 21:42 schreef k_man het volgende:
Ik heb alleen ff de foto's bekeken (voor nu).

Ik zie dat kennelijk bijna alle Arabische steden er (buiten de bezienwaardigheden) hetzelfde uitzien. De plaatjes van 'the just bombed look' en 'chaos' kun je bijv ook maken in Damascus, waar ik onlangs was. Ik vind dat wel charmant. Het is niet mooi, maar de sfeer in die steden bevalt me wel. Zolang je maar niet overal aangeklampt wordt. In Syrië gebeurt dat niet, in Egypte volop, begreep ik?

Een van de lokale gidsen vertelde mij dat de reden achter de verwaarloosde daken een of andere wet is. Zolang je gebouw nog in aanbouw is, hoef je er geen belasting over te betalen. Dus wat doen ze? Ze bouwen een heel gebouw, maar de bovenste verdieping laten ze dan half af. Daken zijn dus nooit netjes afgewerkt en ziet er altijd crap uit. De rest is gewoon verhuurbaar, maar er hoeft toch geen belasting voor het bezit van die gebouw te worden betaald. Rare regel? Zeker. Verbazingwekkend? Niet in Egypte.

Het draag zeker bij aan de atmosfeer in zo'n stad. Je hoeft het inderdaad niet mooi te vinden, maar ik kan het zeker op een of andere manier waarderen. Hetzelfde geldt voor het constant lastig worden gevallen door verkopers in bepaalde gebieden. NAtuurlijk is het niet altijd leuk, maar ik zie het als part of the game. Met beetje relaxte instelling kan je gewoon genieten van zulke praktijken Overigens vind dit alleen plaats in de toeristische plekken, zodra je een paar straten verderop bent, dan spreekt geen hond Engels en komen ze niet naar je toe. Hun altijd aanwezige vriendelijkheid komt dan ook wat oprechter over omdat ze niet meteen op een sale uit zijn (of ben ik nu naief?).


En bedankt voor de complimenten Ik probeer het meestal mijn eigen mening/ervaring in elke alinea te stoppen, hoe ik het heb beleeft. Er moet wel iets "unieks" in elke alinea zitten, op een recht toe recht aan verhaal van "we gingen van punt A naar punt B, daar hebben we dit en dit gezien." zit niemand op te wachten, kan je net zo goed een reisgids gaan lezen

En weer verder, met de trein terug naar Cairo om vervolgens de Sinai schiereiland op te gaan.


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Day 8: Back in Cairo

I managed to get a couple of minutes of sleep. The light was on all night, people constantly walked by and the train itself was not the most quiet one. Let's list this under the header "been there, done that" experience and move on.

The trainstation is not far away from the hotel, so we walk. Now the benefits of having a backpack instead of a suitcase becomes clear. It is immensely crowded in the streets, even this early in the morning. It takes some elbow work to reach the hotel. The rooms are already available, so first thing is to take a hot shower. But of course, when you most want it, it's not there. No hot water in the hotel today... Sleep deprivation and traveling seems to be intertwined, I'm getting used to it. After a quick nap, it is time to explore Cairo once more. I tag along to the Coptic area of Cairo.

The Coptic area in Cairo seems to be a different world, less people on the street and of course a Coptic Church instead of a mosque. First thing first, a cup of coffee is needed before exploring the area. There is enough choice, and we choose a small place in a side street next to the church. A good choice it seems, there is a small garden hidden in the back. Also entertainment is provided. The owner keeps coming back with a small flask with oil in it and started a guessing competition. The girls were hesitant at first, but what could really happen when a stranger puts a strange liquid under their nose? It was fun to fool around with the oils a bit, and I even managed to get a keychain out of it.










At the Coptic Church we walked around a bit with a guide we met there. There is basically a bunch of churches built in a Greek Orthodox style. One is called the hanging church, which is suspended over ancient Roman ruins. A small glass pane in the floor shows the ruins underneath. This is such a different world compared to the rest of Cairo. The guide did a good job on explaining things about the church. He left us with some advice to get the a taxi to our next stop, the citadel. The guide predicted exactly the whole haggling process of getting a taxi. When walking towards the main street, we are going to be asked if we want a taxi, and of course this happened immediately. Then the negotiations for the price starts, first they'll ask 100 pound, then 70, then they will walk away angry, and finally they come back and accept the initial 50 pound bid.

The Citadel reminds me of the Acropolis in Athens, a large hill in the middle of a city with an impressive sacred building on top. The hill provides a great view over the large city. A brownish haze covers the buildings. A neighborhood nearby looks absolutely dreadful, I joke to one of companions not to visit that area. It takes me about an hour to explore the large mosque on top and the adjacent buildings. Not much special here, except for the large groups of Egyptian school kids. The boys are not shy, especially when there are blonde girls with us. Two kids are brave enough to ask ME if they can get a photo with the girls. Kinda strange to ask me, but I don't see any problems with it. The girls don't mind too, and that leads to a long photo shoot with all the kids around. Every boy wants his photo with one of the ladies. Me and the other guys try to charge them a few pounds for it, but we don't succeed in that.












There supposed to be some kind of museum nearby. With just a lonely planet as a guide we try to find it. But as usual, we get lost. The lack of any English written street signs gets us confused. The local street vendors are not very helpful, they just reply with a blank stare. A random direction is chosen and we start walking away from this extremely crowded area.

At the next intersection we are approached by a middle aged man who speaks perfectly English. He introduces himself as a English teacher on a nearby high school. He asks if we are lost. Well, we are all surrounding one Lonely Planet and walking in circles, so yes, we are a bit lost. "Why not visit one of the oldest original mosques in Cairo?" he asks. It is nearby, in the oldest part of Cairo. He has some time, he could take us there. Hmmm... scam alert alarm bells are going off in my head. "No, no, I don't want your money, I just want to practice my English". We are with 7 people, he is alone, so why not.

Just a few streets away a whole new world opens up. The streets are getting more narrow, almost no cars, just a few scooters racing by, small shops everywhere and laundry hanging out of the windows. Our friendly English teacher explains a bit about this neighborhood. He encourages us to take photos, people here appreciate the interest in their streets, and indeed many people respond with smile when taking photos. In contrary to the city center, there are a lot of workshops. There are many furniture workshops, but also a few alabaster workshops. In front of one the workshops a guy is sanding a alabaster vase. He is whiter then a ghost, he is covered from top to toe in white alabaster dust. His big smile reveals his strong contrasting yellow teeth.








There are many gates blocking the path to the courtyards. One is open, and I take a peek around the corner. A familiar sound reaches me, and then I see three pool tables and a snooker table. It is a pool hall! Well not really a hall, it is the open air and small thatched roofing protects the tables from the occasional rain. Pool tables are leveled by scraps of cardboard; the dirt floor doesn't really help. It doesn't prevent the kids from having fun on the tables, they are dancing around the tables with a lot of noise.

Via many narrow streets we reach the mosque. It's old indeed, and inside we meet the imam and talk about the mosque. According to him it is the oldest mosque in Cairo, something I could not confirm in online later, so I'm still not sure if it was the truth. Before we entered the mosque, the teacher asked us to make a donation to the imam. Now he suddenly reveals that the donation has to be double from what he first mentioned, oh and that price was for students, others have to pay even more. Hmm... for me the money is peanuts, but for their standards it is quite a lot. But for that money we can have a look on the roof and climb up the minaret.

While the imam summons one of his helpers to get the key, we walk around the mosque a bit. It is totally different from the large touristy ones, the paint is almost falling from the walls, large cracks in the wall and a very sad looking tree in the courtyard. With the large metal key the imam opens a wooden door leading to a small winding stair. Once up there, the view is great. In the fading sun light the minarets of other mosques are clearly sticking out and the citadel provides a nice backdrop. Here I really have the feeling of exploring the real Cairo. There is also a nice view on the busy streets below. Men with carts racing through the crowd and noisy scooters in their slipstream.









Our new "friend" the teacher has to leave. I was still wondering if it was a sincere man who wants us to show Cairo, of someone who worked together with the imam to scam us out of some money. Despite constantly claiming not to ask money from us, at the end he comes up with a great story. He has to go home because he just got a new kid, scam alarm bells go off again in my head. "Can you please give some money for my kid and wife?" Normally I would not doubt him, but it just the 4th time I hear the exact same story in a week... He is very persistent and is clearly not satisfied with the 20 pounds we give him. To bad it has to end like this, but I still enjoyed my time on the roof and walking around this area.

Without the help of our "friend' we now have to find our way out of this maze. Knowing that the sun sets in the west is helpful in cases like this. There was no time for lunch this afternoon, so everyone is starving. An open air bakery looks inviting; all kinds of sweet rolls and bread are displayed on large metal plates. Someone got the genius idea of getting a few pieces of everything, yeah why not taste everything. For less then a euro we get 2 large bags with bread and pastries, and it forms a delicious delayed lunch.

It takes over an hour and some fierce negotiating with the taxi driver to get back to the hotel. Unfortunately there is still no hot water in my room. "Tomorrow morning, hot water" the desk clerk promises me; I'm not getting my hopes up. Normally I don't really care about hot water, but this time with the anticipation after the long train ride, it is a bit disappointing.

Koshari for dinner and a quick visit to Achmed, who still remembers us, fills most of the evening. A few beers in the hotel conclude the last evening in Cairo.



Day 9: Driving to St Catherine.

Another big drive today. In the early morning we leave Cairo for a drive eastwards to Saint Catherine, in the middle of the Sinai peninsula. Though we have a private van, the space is limited. Half the luggage is tied on the roof, and the rest is squeezed in the van with us. I have to fold my legs in an awkward way for the 7 hour journey.

In the morning we pass the Suez Canal. Again expectations don’t match the reality. In the middle of nowhere (I have a tendency to end up in these places) we stop. Nothing to see here except the lonely road and sand dunes. The patch of sand next to the road is covered in white crystals, I’m not sure if they are salt crystals or ice crystals, at least it is cold enough for the latter. It doesn’t really matter, it still looks nice and unexpected. We climb the sandy embankment and try looking for the canal. As I reach the top, the canal itself is not visible, but the large containerships are. This resulted in a strange scenery, flat and bare desert with large ships magically moving across the sand. We move on, still a long drive to go. Of course during the coffee stop ridiculous high prices are demanded for basic necessities like coffee and tea. Paying the regular 5 pounds per drink instead of 50 results in a angry looking owner, but he accepts it without too much problems.








As we pass more security checkpoints, the landscape changes from flat sandy desert into a more mountainous desert. We talk about how it is remarkably similar to Arizona, except for the camels and nomads of course. Large layered rocks with a reddish pink color, deep valleys, small villages and the sporadic single traveler along the road.

Saint Catherine is located 1,5 km above sealevel and is lodged between the mountains. It is quite cold as we arrive at the lodges. It is not that surprising to see ice on the stairs leading to the reception building. It is not that common to have sub zero temperature, and the employees are puzzled about what to do about the icy stairs. They have tried hot water to remove the ice from the stairs, resulting in more ice… Suggestions to use salt are received with a suspicious look.

We settle in our freezing cold lodges. There is no proper heater, that’s going to be cold night. While we wait for lunch, I start talking with the owner. He has lived in the Netherlands for a while. We talk about life here and life there. I ask him why he returned back to Egypt while he is so positive about the Netherlands. Apparently he married 3 different wives. All at the same time. As a result he got deported back to Egypt. At least, this was his story.

After lunch we would climb the famous biblical Mount Sinai. The mountain where Moses supposedly got the ten commandments of God. The plan was to hike up the mountain and see the sunset. Because we head back in the dark, it could get cold, so I stuff my backpack with clothes. A really short drive of 2 minutes brings us to the entrance of a valley. We walk up the valley passed another historical landmark, Saint Catherine’s monastery. No time to linger here, tomorrow we would have to opportunity to explore this place.

There are 3 options to get up Mount Sinai, a short route walking up via a set of stairs carved in the rocks by a monk, walk up via a longer route but less steep, or take a camel. The steep stairs didn’t sound attractive and taking the camels was to easy, the long less steep route it is.

With the three of us and a local Bedouin guide, we started walking to left, while the rest was heading to the right for the stairs. It is almost a vertical kilometer we have to climb, but the path is easy. The guide is keen to point out interesting places, like a small chapel for monks who want to seek a period of solitary. There are not a lot of people on the mountain, sometimes we pass a handful of Egyptian tourists resting at one of the few tea houses along the trail. It is tempting to sit down and have a nice hot cup of tea, but we have a deadline to catch, the sun will not wait for us. In the sun it is quite warm, but once out of the sun we get a little taste of what is awaiting us higher up the mountain. The first patches of snow are appearing left and right.











The benefit of climbing mountains is the higher you get, the better the view. In the distance we can see a small Bedouin village. I ask our guide if it is his village, it is not, but he has family there. There are many small villages spread out in the mountains. Our guide grew up in the mountains, and it shows, while we are breathing heavily, he walks up the mountain with extreme ease. We have backpacks with extra clothes, bottles of water and all kinds of snacks, he just has a coat that he hangs casually over his shoulder. Well, he climbs the mountain 3-4 times a week.

In just 1,5 hour we reach the point where the 2 paths meet. From here it is another 750 steps to the top. The steps are roughly cut and are flanked by snow and ice. It's a good cardio work out. We pass a group of totally exhausted Egyptian students. They have been climbing for 6 hours already; it has been a tough climb. They are doing a true pilgrimage. I don't have much air to spare for a long conversation, so I say goodbye and leave them with their friend who is about to collapse of exhaustion.

The top is not far away, and the sun is still an hour away from setting, so there is time for a hot cup of tea at one of the teashops. The two girls with me opt to sit inside on the comfortable pillows and the guide is chatting with the owners, but I didn't walk all the way to just sit inside a tent. I choose a comfortable rock to sit on and start sipping on my hot tea and enjoying the view. People are passing me on their way up to the top. I wave to the group of Egyptian students who are passing on a slow pace. They are followed by two Japanese ladies with white dust masks. The two ladies are panicking a bit, they have lost their group and with their worst Engrish they try to ask for directions to the top. I just point to the top and they scurry of, funny bunch those Japanese people. And finally two soldiers from Fiji, they insist I come their way to make a photo with them. I can't refuse these two big guys, build like rugby players and carrying a big smile.

The summit, not as spectacular as Mount Everest or the K-2, but it definitely has it charms. On the top there is a small Greek Orthodox chapel, unfortunately not open for public. It is built on the exact spot where Moses got the ten commandments. There are quite some people on the summit. We have the group of Egyptian students, the Japanese and of course us, I think in total 25 people.







After the obligatory photos the wait for the sunset begins. It is getting cold, and I decide to put on every piece of clothing I managed to drag up the mountain, but it is still cold. That promises a cold walk down. One of the Aussies gets the idea to start a bet on when the sun sets exactly, sure why not. As he is taking bets for 1 pound, the Egyptian students are starting a prayer on the background. Hmm, maybe not the most suitable place to be gambling.

The sun sets and I didn't win the bet. Time to head down while there is still a little bit of light left. And yes, walking down is almost as hard as walking up, especially in fading daylight. It is getting harder and harder to see where I put my feet. The small torch I bought in Cairo can barely light the ground one meter in front of me. At least that is more then what the Japanese have. They have come unprepared and almost none of them have torches. It takes just a few minutes before it becomes pitch black. The Japanese group descends in a extremely slow pace and is blocking the whole path. There are times to be polite and times to be impolite, and this is one of them. With a gentle push I manage to get passed the group.

It is pitch black, walking goes slowly. Halfway down I need a short break. I turn off my torch and look back to the mountain. Small flickering torch lights dot the mountain side. The view above the mountain is even more amazing. There is no light pollution and the sky is clear. The silhouettes of the mountains are clearly visible with the star filled sky behind it. It is the most spectacular view so far on this trip. I have to move on; I don't want the Japanese group to overtake me. It takes me another hour to get back to the monastery, I'm tired and longing for that hot shower.


Camera could not catch the impressive view, a paint substitute has to do


I'm happy to find out that there is hot water back at the cabin, my first hot shower in days. Dinner gives me two things, first a new friend in the form of a cat, and secondly it gives me food poisoning. I turn in early for a freezing cold night.


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En we zijn halverwege

[ Bericht 0% gewijzigd door ETA op 30-05-2008 01:43:58 ]

quote:

Op vrijdag 30 mei 2008 04:29 schreef flipsen het volgende:
Hij´s weer fijn! Maar geen foto van die containerschepen door de woestijn? Leek me juist zo leuk...

Helaas geen mooie foto van. Maar dan blijft er tenminste nog iets over voor je eigen verbeelding

quote:

Op vrijdag 30 mei 2008 11:47 schreef AKnynke het volgende:
Zo. Even rustig op het werk dus helemaal gelezen! Erg tof ETA! En volgens mij zat je in een groep waar je heeel veel vrijheid had om zelf dingen te ondernemen enzo, dat lijkt me toch wel fijn als je met een groepsreis meegaat. Waren het vooral jonge mensen?

Opzich wel jonge lui, maar iets ouder dan verwacht. De meesten begin zijn begin 30, dus iets ouder dan ik ben. Niet iedereen gaat zomaar richting het Midden Oosten, en vooral niet met deze soort reis, dus je krijgt wel een bepaalde type mensen mee. Meestal iets avontuurlijker en meer open voor nieuwe ervaringen, dus dat creeert al snel een onderlinge band.

Het heeft even geduurd, maar het volgende deel is af. Nogal druk gehad met het vinden van werk, wat ik net succesvol heb gedaan, en het boeken van nieuwe reisjes naar Krakau, London en Barcelona. Het zijn maar korte trips, dus daarvan komt geen reisverslag


Helaas niet het meest spannende gedeelte van de reis, maar wel de meest relaxerende gedeelte. In dit hoofdstuk gaan naar het strand en dan verruilen we Egypte voor Jordanie.

Het volgende hoofdstuk is een stuk spannender, we trekken dan weer de woestijn in, hebben onverwachte ontmoetingen, overnachten bij de nomaden en belagen woestijnvossen ons kamp.


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Day 10: Time to relax

Stomach cramps and single digit temperatures in the room haunted me during the night. The sky is clear and the sun is shining brightly outside. The sun warms me and gives me the needed energy.

Busloads of Russian and Polish tourists have been dumped in front of the monastery. The only entrance, which is a small doorway, is clogged up. The serene atmosphere we felt yesterday, when we passed it on the way up to Mount Sinai, is gone. Inside the monastery there are a few important biblical things, like the burning bush and the well of Moses. I'm am more impressed by the building itself and the gardens. It definitely has some character to it. The green gardens are a stark contract to the yellow dusty desert, it is almost like oasis.









There is another long desert drive on the menu, we are going eastwards through the remainder of the Sinai desert toward the Gulf of Aqaba. There is a sense of loneliness when driving through this part of Egypt. There is no talking in the van, everyone is tired and trying to get some sleep. Outside there is rocky desert, with the occasional village. The villages look deserted, windows and doors seems to be optional in the houses. Sometimes the only remaining sign of civilization is the road cutting through the barren sand. At those moments it is intriguing to encounter locals along the road. A mom and her son are walking hand in hand next to the road, their destination behind the horizon. The lone shepherd with his flock of goats. A couple of loaded camels with a driver pushing them on.




The sudden sight of the deep blue sea revives everyone. Slowly we are rolling into Nuweiba, a small coastal town at the Gulf of Aqaba. Nuweiba is not the most exciting town, the suburbs are a mix empty pink apartment buildings separated by rocky dirt patches and poorly constructed grey houses with goats running around. We're supposed to get the tickets for the ferry for the day after tomorrow, but unsurprisingly the computers are down at the ticket office and are asked to come back tomorrow.

Our final destination today is a small beach camp somewhere north of Nuweiba. It is a nice scenic road along the blue sea. At first sight, it seems to be a popular tourist area. The whole beach line is filled with resorts, beach camps and hotels. After a closer inspection, I notice most of the resorts and hotels are only half build. With a few exceptions there is no evidence of building in process, I wonder if they are just abandoned. The beach camps are not much better, it looks like a storm has just hit them. Huts are missing walls or roofs and junk everywhere. It is a bit like the twilight zone, buildings everywhere, but not a living person around.

We continue driving north. It should take about an hour to reach the camp, but we are already driving for an 1,5 hour. Luke is sleeping in the front seat, but I assume the driver knows where it is. Before I can ask, we get distracted by 2 car wrecks in front of us. They have smashed right into the railing and are a meter shorter then before. One of the cars is still smoking when we pass. Our driver seems doesn't take any notice of it and just continues driving on.






Luke finally wakes up and asks us to watch out for a sign with "Sawa Beach Camp". There is no sign for the beach camp, but there is a sign for "Taba – 15 km". One of the Aussies looks worried and asks Luke: "Isn't Taba the border to Israel?". The face of Luke says enough. We quickly turn around and head back. Ending up in Israel, might be fun for another time.

After almost ending up in Israel, we finally arrive at the beach camp. It’s really the perfect place to relax after the tiring days traveling through the desert. We will have 2 days in this place. There is a small straw hut for everyone, the huts are literally 10 steps away from the sea. Inside the hut there is just a mattress and a naked light bulb. Besides the huts there is not much around here. There is a main "building" with a thatched roof, it houses the kitchen, a lounge area and a very old pool table.

The whole beach is almost deserted. Besides one couple, we are the only ones around for a few kilometers. The couple belongs to another group of trekkers, but they are the only ones left on the beach. The rest has taken refuge in the nearby Grand Hyatt hotel. Apparently they were also in Saint Catherine's couple of days ago when it was freezing, after that adventure they couldn't cope with more cold nights in straw huts.

For the first time on this trip there is time to lie down in the warm sand and read a book with a cold beer next to me. There are 8 employees walking around serving the 10 of us, what a luxury.






Where tourists gather, vendors gather. Even on this deserted beach there are vendors. Two ladies dressed in a black burqa spread out a large blanket a few meters away from us. They slowly start unpacking dozens of small plastic bags with beads, scarves, necklaces, cloths and other paraphernalia. Patience is one of their strong points, with just the 10 of us lying uninterested on the beach, they just wait until we approach them. For more then 2 hours they sit there in the burning sun, occasionally waving with necklaces and white cloths to attract our attention. At last two girls can't resist the shiny glitters anymore and made the long wait of the vendors worthwhile.

The rest of the day and evening is filled with playing cards, relaxing at the campfire and a sea view dinner. I retire early to my hut and go to sleep on my "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" mattress.



Day 11: Another day on the beach

I tried to wake up before sunrise to see to the sun emerging over the mountains, which should give the sea a red glow. I missed it. The sunlight is already seeping through my thatched roof and wakes me up. It is still early and quiet, just the sound of the sea. I literally roll out of my hut onto the beach and notice no one is up yet. The employees are awake though, slowly smoothing out the sand with a large rake. Fresh juice, coffee, pancakes, feta cheese and my feet in the still cold sand, that is breakfast on the beach.

I'm happy to say that the day was a uneventful day, just relaxing in the sun, doing absolutely nothing. The doing nothing part is briefly interrupted by a football match and a some frisbeeing, which I abruptly ended by graciously flinging the Frisbee onto the roof.








Day 12: the long wait

Today we leave Egypt for Jordan. We are not out of Egypt yet, and the Egyptians are doing their best to present us the final dose of chaos and confusion.

After another breakfast on the beach, it is time to pack the bags and head to Nuweiba for a short 2 hour hop with the ferry to Aqaba. Luke told us to prepare for a long day, the 14:00 departure time of the ferry is subjected to Egyptian influences, meaning that it might or might not depart at 14:00. So the question of "when do we arrive in Aqaba?" is answered with "we probably make it to Jordan today". The scheduled arrival of 16:00 in Aqaba is apparently very optimistic, we'll see what happens.

We swing by the ticket office in Aqaba, hoping the computers work again so we can get our ferry tickets. Yes, they work!! It will take just 10 minutes... So almost an hour later we have the tickets and head for the terminal. A quick glance by the immigration officer grants me access to the waiting terminal. Rows of wooden benches are filled with other waiting passengers, mostly Arabic looking men, with an occasional backpacker in between them. There are hardly any windows, there used to be a lot of windows, but all the window frames are now filled with AC-units. TL-lights are now lighting the terminal. In a corner, in front of a huge painting of the Egyptian president, we find a few empty benches with the least flies around it.

The wait begins.

It's 14:00, no sign of a boat. I just finished my book, so nothing else to do but write this and look around. Kids are running around, producing quite some noise. Their parents aren't bothered by it; they are vast asleep on the benches.

An hour goes by. Luke asks one of the attendants if the ferry has arrived. "Not yet, it will arrive in a hour". The Aussies immediately start a wager, will the ferry be here within an hour or not? No one believes the ferry will arrive within an hour.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to predict that the ferry hasn't arrived after one hour. The attendant promises again that we will depart within one hour, inshallah.... Highlight of this hour are two blonde western girls walking in. All the heads turn, even from the women.

An hour later no ferry. The attendant promises that we will get to Jordan today. Batteries of my mp3 player are empty now. The card game Uno is the ultimate timekiller then. I notice two elderly couples, they stick out from the crowd. Neatly dressed, a matching set of suitcases and a worried look reveals that they are not the standard intrepid Middle East traveler. They identified Luke as our leader, and ask him what is up with the ferry, they can't understand the Arabic speaking attendant. Luke explains a bit and finds out more about the two couples. With a smile he returns to us, "You never guess how much they paid for the same trip as us!!". Despite having paid ten times as much as us, the two couples have been dumped at the ferry terminal and left on their own to take the ferry.

It's getting dark outside. And finally around 19:00 the ferry has arrived and is ready to depart, it's just 5 hours late... Tourists get a special treatment here, we and the few other tourists are led to another doorway where a luxury bus is waiting for us to take us to the ferry. Nice, but the bus is full, so back in line for the "normal" bus. This bus deserves mentioning, looking like a normal bus from the outside, but more like a cattle car from the inside. We are herded in with the masses, there is no such thing as a line or getting on the bus in a orderly fashion. Pushing, shoving, elbowing, all is needed to get in the bus with my large backpack. Inside the bus there are no seats and the floor is elevated, it is impossible to stand straight up. I'm standing in an awkward bended position with my backpack still on, I'm not the only one.

Together with the masses we board the ferry via the car deck. Luggage we have to dump in a corner of the car deck and then join the long queue to show our tickets. Once upstairs, the boat is quite comfortable, rows of seats in a airplane configuration. We take up the only open space with comfortable couches.



There is just one more thing; we have to get visas for Jordan. There is a immigration officer on board where we can get the visas. Because everyone leaves Jordan on a different date, we have to get individual visas. In the front of the ferry two long queues have formed behind improvised desks. Despite having 3 persons working per desk, it goes slow. Probably that is because only one person is actually working, the second one is supervising him, and the third one is supervising the second one. While waiting a man shows up in plain clothes, he walks up and down the queue and approaches a man who is obvious a tourist. They are having some kind of discussion, can't really follow it because they are too far away. At the end the tourist hands over his passport. Kinda strange. The man is clearly picking out the tourists, he ignores the Arabic persons in the queue and walks up to me. "Do you need visa for Jordan?" he asks. I confirm this and then he tells me to hand over my passport. He will take care of it and I'll get my passport back once we arrive in Jordan. Now I know why that other tourist looked so suspicious, I'm not comfortable giving my passport to a un-uniformed person without a badge. "But I will give you this receipt" he tells me while handing me a piece of paper. The piece of paper is just a vague photocopy of a piece of Arabic text. This whole process looked so amateur-like, if this was a scam, it would be one of the worst prepared scams I've seen. Fortunately Luke was there on time to confirm that it was all legitimate.

Now we can finally relax on the comfortable couches, much better then the wooden benches in the terminal. The rest of the trip was relaxing and uneventful, except for the staring of other passengers while we were playing cards with loud voices.


Bye Egypt, hello Jordan. It takes another bus ride and an hour in the immigration office, but then we are in Jordan. A couple of taxis take us to the hotel. I'm amazed by the smooth road surface. Only now I realized how bad the roads were in Egypt, the smooth and well lit roads in Jordan are absolute delights, it feels like arriving back to civilization. There are even safety belts in the taxi!!

We have a quick dinner at a nearby restaurant, and then it's off to bed, it has been a long day.



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Door een reis naar Krakow en een reis naar London kon ik even wat minder tijd steken in mijn verslag, maar ben nu terug

In deze hoofdstuk gaan we Wadi Rum en Petra verkennen, 2 prachtige plekken in Jordanie. Dan zijn we bijna bij het einde, 1 of 2 hoofdstukken te gaan met o.a. een uitstapje richting de dode zee, een oud kruisvaarders fort en de oude romeinse stad Jerash. Dan is het een kwestie van de dagen uitzitten in Madaba...

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Day 12: Heading back to the desert

I have a few hours before we leave Aqaba. Because of the long wait in the ferry terminal yesterday, I had finished my book. So I combined my exploration tour with the search for an English bookstore. After Egypt, everything looks so organized, lines on the road, no tripled parked cars, no constant honking and normal sidewalks.

Enough bookstores around here, but only one is open. In between all the Arabic books and tourist guides, there is a small rack with English books. There is not much choice, some Dan Browns and romantic novels. At the bottom there is a book by Michael Palin about his travels through the Sahara desert. Interesting and fitting book. While looking through the book, two Italian women walk in. Italians are not known for their English skills, and they were no exceptions. Their attempt to buy an Italian tourist guide is not vey successful, despite using wild hand gestures. I can't resist the temptation to try out my Italian. A few quick words and some surprised looks solved everything. It sparks off a conversation with the shop owner. He talks about his kids who study abroad and the daily routine of selling books to tourists. He's clearly proud at his little shop. I pay for the Palin book and he says goodbye by pinching me very hard in my cheek.

On my way back I stop at the large bakery next to the hotel. Last night they were offloading numerous large bags with flour. I'm curios what they have made with it. It's quite chaotic inside, many people inside trying to get bread. I'm not even sure where the line starts. When apparently it is my turn, I point to random pieces of bread. It's going to be a interesting surprise when eating them for lunch.

Lunch was still hours away, we have another long drive ahead of us. A van would take us to the Wadi Rum desert, famous for its connection with Lawrence of Arabia. Safety is perceived differently around the world, Egypt was a clear example, but also in Jordan it is noticeable. We stop at a gas station at the edge of Aqaba. The driver opens the gas cap, puts in the nozzle and lights up a cigarette. Right....

Driving through the empty desert again. And then quite suddenly a few modern buildings and row of flag posts mark the visitor center. Here we are going to make the switch to 4x4 jeeps to go offroad. The jeeps are a bit late, so there is time to look around the visitor center. When the jeeps finally arrive, they are a bit different then expected. No Land Rover jeeps, but ancient Toyota Land Cruiser jeeps. Wires are sticking out of the dashboard, everything covered in a brown layer of desert sand and holes instead of air ducts. The dials indicate that the car has only driven about 45.000km in his life, I seriously doubt that. Well, despite my seat is not really bolted down to the floor properly, it is more fun to drive in this car then any other modern car.






We drive through the small village of Rum and then there are no more roads, just sand and rocks. After a few kilometers we stop at a spring which is marked by a small tree on a rocky mountain side. One of the drivers is also functioning as a guide and gives us the in and outs of this place. Obviously this is a important place for the locals. There is a small herd of goats nearby sheltering in the shade of the only large tree around, no shepherd though.

As we are looking around, one of the drivers opens up the hood of our jeep. He starts fiddling around and calls for the other driver. Fortunately it was nothing serious, he just fills the radiator with water from the spring and we are ready to go again. Wadi Rum is actually a valley, so the stretch of sand is lined with rock formations on both sides. Between two rock formations there is a small canyon, which was our next destination. We were left free to explore again. It's slippery, wet and cold in the canyon, and it takes some effort to crawl further into it. It required different shoes to safely explore this area, and somehow I did not think about taking climbing shoes into a desert.











It's a short walk to a small Bedouin camp near the canyon. Here we are generously welcomed with tea. This camp is the home of just one man, he lives here most of the year alone. I'm surprised how little the man needs to live here. Besides one tent, an old jeep and a large pile of firewood, there is not much more. One of our group members asks him where he sleeps, he replies by pointing to a corner. "Where do you cook and eat?", he points to another corner of the tent. "Where is your toilet?", he points outside. I think we get the picture. It's not as lonely as we think; he has constantly visitors from friends and family. A teenager, presumably his cousin as everyone is everyone's cousin here, sits in the corner playing around with his oud, the Arabic version of a lute. With his music on the background, I enjoy my lunch that I bought in Aqaba this morning.






We drive around a bit more, visit the old house of Lawrence of Arabia, see some ancient rock paintings which are actually very detailed maps and a natural rock bridge. Here at the natural rock bridge Luke suffers almost a heart attack. One of the Aussie girls decides to climb over the relative narrow bridge, which is about 20 meters high. Luke begs here to be careful because he is responsible to get us back in one piece. And of course she stumbles on top of the bridge, only just avoiding a bone breaking fall. That gets your heart pumping.

Something else that gets your heart pumping is climbing one of the sand dunes. From the bottom it doesn't look that high, but walking up is quite tough. With bare feet I sink deep in the loose sand. I'm slightly out of breath when I reach the top. Besides the nice view, it is even nicer to run down the sand dune. Takes 5 minutes to climb up and just seconds to run, jump and roll down.









Tonight we'll stay in a Bedouin camp in the desert. Between two large rock formations there are three tents, our home for tonight. Again we are received with a hot cup of tea in the kitchen/camp fire tent. After the tea and putting our stuff away, we walk into the desert to find a nice view on the sunset.

The sun is still high, there is some time to wander around. I think the most interesting part is when our American Vietnam veteran discovers a small cave with a skeleton in it. Not a human skeleton though, but still it could be a nice beginning of a random horror story.



The sun is much lower now. In the distance we spot 2 small figures. "Must be Bedouins" I think. Meanwhile the Aussies are running another bookie for when the sun goes down. Yes, he worked for a bookmaker once. The 2 figures in the distance are getting closer. To show off my great zoom on my photo camera, I try to make a close up photo of the 2 figures. It works, and on my lcd screen I notice they are not Bedouins. I'm quite surprised to see two white girls with a small backpack. It takes them another 20 minutes to get closer, and for fun we start waving at them. They wave back and start walking towards us.

The line between being adventurous and just plain stupid is very thin. Ten minutes later the girls have reached us. Two young girls around 20 years old from Denmark. They are happy to see us, they have been lost for a while. Work was promised to them in a camp somewhere in the desert. They left the village Rum this morning, with no map, no camping gear, hardly any water, just a small backpack and vague directions to the camp. With the skeleton in the cave still in my mind, this adventure of them didn't sound really smart. Well, at least they are safe now and they are invited to spend the night in our camp. Surprisingly they do accept the cup of tea, but they insist on continuing on to find their camp. The sun has set now and it's getting dark very fast. Even the offer of driving them to their camp is politely declined. It is not far to their camp, just another 30 minutes walking, but not the smartest thing to do in the dark. We say goodbye and wish them good luck. After they are out of hearing range, we start making bets on when we will see an article about missing Danish girls in the news paper.

We still continue talking about the girls when it is dinner time. One of the drivers says he is going to get dinner and picks up a shovel. Dinner was apparently buried in the ground, in a kind of underground oven. It takes some hard work to uncover the oven, but then a large rack with chicken, vegetables and potatoes appears. We settle down in the main tent to eat in nomad style, so no chairs, only a slightly elevated table. Again it is a struggle to fold away my legs and still be able to reach the table, not really comfortable but an interesting way of eating.






"Have you ever seen desert foxes?" our host asks after dinner. He picks up the food leftovers and walks outside. He puts the food on the mountain slope next to the camp. "And now we wait". It is totally dark outside. Ten minutes later we can hear noises coming from the direction where the food was placed. With my weak flashlight I scan the mountain slope. It's not until someone else uses a brighter flashlight I can spot a few foxes running across the slope. Our host assures us they don't attack humans...

Because the primary sleeping tent is full, I join the chauffeurs in the eating tent. They are already asleep in a corner, I don't think they were too happy about the two of us walking in and waking them up. Ah well, another night in my comfortable sleeping bag.


Day 13: The hidden city Petra

I wake up early when it is still dark. I grab my diary and flashlight and try to crawl out of the tent. Someone has closed off the entrance to the tent and I can't open it in the dark. I manage to crawl out through the sand and via a small hole near the entrance.

The rock where we sat last night seemed a nice place to wait for sunrise. It's quite cold, but I'm too lazy to crawl back into the tent to get my coat. It is also very quiet, almost deafening quiet; there is no wind blowing or animals around. With my feet dangling over a steep drop, I start writing in my diary again.

After breakfast we drive back to the village Rum. Because one of the jeeps has broken down yesterday, we are now driving in the host's open jeep. With the cold desert air running trough my hair I enjoy the last moments in this place.

At the edge of Rum we leave our jeeps to catch the bus to Petra. It is such a small village, there is not much to do except sitting on the small wall next to the road. A few kids pass us, walking towards the only school for many kilometers around. They are wearing camouflage clothes, it is the school uniform according to the guide. The military is sponsoring these schools, kids get free education, free food and accommodation if they want. Well, not totally free, they are expected to serve in the army afterwards.







There are a few shops in the village, but none of them are open. They are decorated with old posters. Dutch tourists must come here frequently, on one of the shops there is a handwritten welcome: "Welkom in mijn winkel". Above that it reads: "All Major Credit Cards Accepted", with hand drawn credit cards next to it.

The mini bus arrives. I'm getting used doing things the difficult way, so we load our luggage via the side window. The bus completes its round through the village and picks up a few more locals and backpackers. To Petra!


It's a long drive to Petra through a mountainous area, but mainly there is just sand and camels to be seen outside. Petra should be one of the highlights of this trip, the hidden city, famous for its cameo in the movie Indiana Jones and the last Crusade. In the afternoon I see the village Wadi Musa appearing on top of a mountain, there should be a comfortable hotel waiting for us there.






Not much time to rest, we're going to explore Petra this afternoon. The entrance to the visitors center is just 5 minutes walking away. Despite being a world heritage site, this place is run by the horse mafia, together with the camel mafia and the donkey mafia. Besides paying the official entrance fee, tour groups are forced to pay extra for "riding horses". No one is stupid enough to actually ride a horse here, but you still have to pay. Untrained horses with untrained kids racing the horses down a rocky trail is not the safest way to get down the canyon.

We walk down the trail to the entrance to the canyon, also known as the Siq. The Siq is a narrow canyon leading towards the hidden city. Eighty meter high pink and reddish sandstone cliffs take away the sun in the 4 meter wide canyon. The canyon continues on for more then a kilometer and occasionally opens up. In the old days there would be small street stalls here and donkey carts pulled around. Carvings and small temples cut out of the rock are evidence for a thriving community, now there are just tourists passing.





Most people walk through the canyon, but there is still enough business for the horse drivers. They race through the narrow canyon with their clients in a cart. Others are continuously offering their services to tourists, "You want taxi, sir?" when pointing to their donkey or camel. Even when you can't see any horses, the sound of hoofs carries through the canyon. It does enhance the Indiana Jones feel, I can almost hear the soundtrack in my head. Actually I am hearing it, our guide has it as a ringtone on his phone.








Everyone who has ever visited this site will remember the last turn before seeing the treasury. The canyon narrows to just 2 meters and gets darker, you hear the people in front of you getting excited, and then when turning the final corner, the finely carved building can be seen in a flood of sunlight.








It's amazing how detailed and well preserved the 2000 year old building is, carved 40 meter high straight from the mountain side. I try not to get distracted by the vendors and shops, and I make my way up to see the inside of the treasury. Two guards in historic uniform are standing at the stairs, they are just dressed up actors who make sure that everyone's photo looks "authentic". The treasury looks better from the outside then from the inside, there is just an empty room, no hidden passage leading to deadly traps and the holy grail.

I only know this building from Petra, so I was a bit surprised to hear that there was more, much more. A path between two rockfaces, next to the treasury, leads to the main part of the city. Impressive temples cut from the rock line the first part, then everything opens up in a immense area. This is where the ancient city of Petra lies. The area is surrounded by mountains, one of its major defense points. Most of the city has disappeared or is buried under the dirt. The only buildings that are left, temples and burial rooms, are cut from the rocks. I climb one of the stairs leading to a temple carved from the rocks. The facade isn't as impressive as the treasury, but the view from the ledge overlooking the city is great. There is no one up here; it is a welcome relief from the crowds down at the treasury. Actually the whole place, except for the treasury, seems to be very empty, it us such a large area.















I explore some more temples and the remains of a Roman street, then I turn around to head back. The burning sun makes it a tiring walk, didn't realized it was such a long walk down. It is easy to forget time when everything is still exciting and new. It takes me an hour to walk back along the burial rooms, temples, the treasury, the canyon, the trail and the Indiana Jones gift shop.

There isn't much choice in restaurants, Wadi Musa is quite a small village. Luke found a nice restaurant for us "downtown". It has more of a family celebration atmosphere then a restaurant, half the staff is dancing or playing on a instrument. Food is good, and they even have beer. It is not something to be really proud of, but building a wall of empty beer cans always attracts attentions.

The end of the trip is getting closer, tomorrow another day in Wadi Musa, and then it's of towards the Dead Sea and Amman, our final destination. For now I can use a good bed after the night in the desert.

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quote:

Op donderdag 10 juli 2008 19:45 schreef spy08 het volgende:

[..]

probeerde je dit te posten?

quote:

Erg leuk dit verslag alleen waarom niet gewoon in het Nl want FOK! is tenslotte een Nl forum.Zo krijg ik een beetje een copy&paste gevoel en dat e.e.a niet van jouw zelf zou zijn. Maar goed, ga door want elk verslag uit een werelddeel dat weinigen kennen is meegenomen.

Ik schrijf in het Engels omdat ik het ook aan vele anderen laat lezen, en deze personen kunnen geen Nederlands. En aangezien iedereen op FOK wel Engels kan, dan is de keuze snel gemaakt. Vertalen kan, maar dat levert wel erg veel werk op.

plagiaat doen we niet aan, volgens mij is er niemand zo gek om zulke lappen tekst uberhaupt te schrijven Volgens mij zijn er wel reisverslagen over Egypte, maar dan vanuit een Sharm/Hurhgarda perspectief

quote:

Op vrijdag 11 juli 2008 02:08 schreef DR878 het volgende:
Ben ook in Petra en wadi rum geweest. Ik zal de foto's maar hierbij zetten als men het niet erg vindt.

Ingang van Petra
[ afbeelding ]

Doorgang van Petra
[ afbeelding ]

Nog eens het pad door Petra
[ afbeelding ]

'Taxi'
[ afbeelding ]

Magisch
[ afbeelding ]

Kameel 1
[ afbeelding ]

Dit trok me ook wel aan
[ afbeelding ]

Kameel 2
[ afbeelding ]

1 van de ruines van petra
[ afbeelding ]

grote ruine
[ afbeelding ]

'Ik zie het licht'
[ afbeelding ]

Van wadi rum kon ik geen goede foto's heb door mijn domme fout de te weinig reserve accus meegenomen.

aardig dat je wat wil toevoegen. No offence, maar de fotos voegen niet veel toe aan het geheel, de helft is onscherp of overbelicht, en van de andere helft is al een foto geplaatst. Ook zijn ze te groot. De foto met de man met zijn zwaard is wel aardig.

Omdat ik net begonnen ben met een nieuwe baan kwam ik niet toe aan het laatste gedeelte. Maar dit weekend nog wat tijd kunnen vinden, dus een maand later alsnog het laatste deel


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Day 14: Another day in Petra

We still have another day to spend in Petra. Not sure what the rest is going to do today, some are going to explore the surrounding mountains, others are going down to Petra. I'm not feeling energetic enough to climb the mountains to see the sights there, I'll just stroll down to the canyon and look around a bit.

It is still early, the large convoy of tourist coaches haven't arrived yet. It is serene and chilly in the canyon down to Petra. The square in front of the treasury is almost empty. I take a seat on the bottom step up to the treasury and start writing down the adventures of the last few days.

Meanwhile the first tourists are arriving. A Japanese women makes a happy shrieking sound after a successful photo. Nowadays there is no clicking sound of analog cameras, just beeping of the digital ones. Everyone has a camera, making the exact same photo. I decide to start a photo project, capturing the infinite standing positions people have to take a photo. We'll see where it will lead too, it kept me busy for another hour.

A Chinese guy is really capturing my attention. He darts around the site, running up and down the stairs to get as many photos as possible. He runs to the guards, takes the guards weapon and shoots a photo of himself. Three more snaps and he jumps down from the stairs and runs into the canyon again.... The guards give each other a confused look, one says something to the other guard, and he laughs out loud back.

I decide to move on towards the other part of the city. Here it is still very quiet; I didn’t notice the two camels behind me and almost get run over by them. The driver doesn't even look back and races on. There is a trail next to the main path, I decide to take that one. It leads to the tombs higher up the mountain face. A penetrating urine smell welcomes me here, I guess the tombs here are not that respected anymore. The view from up here is nice, I can see a large part of the city and the first batch of tourists pouring in via the main path.

A small girl is climbing up the path towards me. She probably wants to sell me stuff, but she just says hi to me and sits down a few meter in front of me. She also looks down to the tourists and turns around to me. "I'm selling jewelry, are you interested?" and she points to blanket in a corner that I hadn't noticed before. I decline her offer to take a look. She looks down to the tourists again. "The Russian tourists haven't arrived yet" she says in perfect English. Russians are the biggest spenders here, she explains. They should be arriving here in an hour. She pulls out a large Twix bar while explaining why this is here favorite bar. She breaks of a large chunk and offers it to me. I'm slightly surprised but I accept thankfully. I guess she is about 11 or 12 years old. "Don't you have school today?" I ask her. "It's Saturday!!" she responds with a smile. I all forgot about which day it is. She is happy to hear that I'm not from China or Japan. According to her, they leave the biggest mess. Petra is her city, though she lives 45 minutes walking away, she spends most of here time in Petra. Her mother makes the jewelry and she sells it in Petra to the tourists, it is a good way to make a living. With pride she tells me she even has her own donkey! When she is older, she will try to rent out her donkey to the tourists. For now she just has to tame the donkey. She shows me her scars proving that the donkey is still a bit wild. We continue talking for half an hour when a old man arrives. With one hand he slowly grabs my arm and with the other hand he rummages in one of his pockets. He pulls out a few old coins and shows them to me. When I tell him I'm not interested he releases his grip and speaks a few words with the girl. "The Russians have arrived, I have to go". We say goodbye and we both head off in different directions.

I've seen enough and start walking back to Wadi Musa. There is not much to do here, so I head into a internet café to check my email, I'm expecting information about a job interview. It looks like a normal café with a few computers in the back. For one dinar I can use the computer to go online. It's not until I click away the browser window I notice the desktop background. Saddam Hussein is standing there with a rifle in his hands, smiling to a crowd. I look to the computer next to me, different photo as background, but with the same person. Things in the Middle East are different from the things at home, so is their perspective on different countries. It reminds me that Iraq is their neighboring country and isn't that far away...

I wrap up my internet activities and start searching for a late lunch. I spot Luke sitting in front of one of the small restaurants, so I join him there for a lunch. While talking and eating, more and more people from our group return from Petra and join us. They tell me the mountains were great and walk up was easy. Ah well, had a nice relaxing afternoon myself.



After resting a bit in the hotel we head out to dinner at the same place as yesterday. There isn't as much music as yesterday, but the food was great again. Luke knew a good bar as usual. Supposedly the oldest bar in the world was here, the Cave Bar. This 2000 year old drinking hole is actually carved into the mountain. Atmosphere enough here, but not the good kind. There are no tourists here except for us. The bar is filled with locals, the locals that run the horse mafia. A group of them is sitting at the bar, quite drunk. They look like they have come straight from the set of Pirates of the Caribean, the same dirty look and ragged clothes. One of them looks exactly like captain Jack Sparrow. He's drunk too. Jack Sparrow keeps staring at our direction, well actually staring at the ladies of our group. The bar itself is great with small alcoves. With a shisha and a whiskey I relax in one of the alcoves. Jack Sparrow is too drunk to make a move, despite his friends pushing him to approach us. I'm tired, not sure if it is from the whiskey, the lack of sleep of just all the traveling. Tomorrow another day, a long day in the car....



Day 15: The final push

I collect my freshly washed clothes from the front desk. The desert and sweat had penetrated in all my clothes, finally some clean clothes again. Today is the last long drive. We will drive up to Kerak to visit an old crusader castle, continue on to take a dip in the Dead Sea, climb Mount Nebo and finish in Madaba.

It is mighty cold this high in the mountains. Small colorless villages occasionally line the road. According to our driver we are lucky, 2 weeks ago Petra was cut off from the world due to snow storms. The whole area was covered in a thick blanket of snow. There is still some snow remaining on the streets, giving a good indication of the current temperature. We drive through small villages. Half build white and yellow houses blend in with the yellowish sand. The dark grey sky doesn't improve the sight. Looks like dark and grim village to me. The driver has a different opinion. "Look at all those big houses, they are very rich here!" Meanwhile we swerve around a man on a donkey who is standing on the middle of the road.







We stop at a bend of the road, from here there is a nice vista over the Dana natural reserve. It's foggy and cold, and not much to see. Luke convincingly tells us that there are really a lot of animals out there. I can't see any of them. The drivers are happy that we are cutting our visit short and join them in the warm cars again. The landscapes still reminds me of Arizona despite seeing donkey carts and lonely shepherds.

Via a few small winding roads we end up at the Crusaders castle in Kerak. We are free to roam this place. Once passed the entrance gate, it looks like there is not much left of this place, just a few walls and buildings. The castle is build on the top of the hill, I quickly climb to the top to have a view over the valley. I'm not only welcomed by the nice sight over the village, but also with the sound of machine guns. I try to find the source of this noise, but I can't see anything. The machine gun sounds accompany us during the rest of the visit to the castle. It reminds me though that we are getting closer to Israel and Palestine.










There are a few stairs leading to underground tunnels, some of them closed off by old barbed wire fences. I enter the first tunnel. Just a few naked light bulbs illuminate the corridor. Small archways left and right lead of to unknown and dark rooms. The temptation of "exploring" dark castle corridors and room is overwhelming. I dig out my flashlight from my backpack and walk into a random archway on my right. It's a small corridor leading to a narrow winding staircase. The steps are worn by time and are very slippery. The stair ends sooner then expected, and I find myself in a room. I can't tell how large the room is, my flashlight can't find the walls. The floor is soft and sloping up. I reckon the room is full with dirt, desert sand maybe? Soon I can touch the ceiling and moving on is getting harder. I can see another archway, just sticking out of the dirt. I can only just crawl through and find myself in another room. The ceiling is very low, I can't stand up. Light case of claustrophobia sets in and I decide to make my way out. The whole underground part of the castle is a maze, tunnels leading to dark rooms, leading to tunnels again. I feel like a kid again while exploring the dusty rooms with my flashlight.

I follow stair leading up to some sunlight and I'm surprised to find myself dead center of the castle. I'm covered in grey dust.

It's back to our car to continue our drive north towards the Dead Sea. There are red signs along the road indicating security posts. During our trip we have encountered many roadblocks and security posts, all with not problem. The driver warns us to take these security points serious, we are nearing the Palestine controlled Westbank. Terrorists frequent here according to our driver. "So no jokes and no photos at the security point!!" he warns us while collecting our passports. Slightly nervous we approach the first security point. He slowly drives to the armed soldier guarding the barrier. Suddenly the drivers opens the door and enthusiastically starts to hug the soldier. He hugs the other soldiers and they exchange a few friendly words. Is this the so-called strict security?? Me and the others in the car laughs sheepishly at each other. The driver gets back in the car and starts driving again. "It was my cousin!!" he happily explains.







We pass the other security points without any hugs and problems. The landscape changes from mountainous desert to a more green scenery. Apparently the Dead Sea provides good soil, though I expected the opposite. Many nomads live in this area, their tents dot the landscape, mixed in between the few houses. Some of the nomads work in the flourishing tourist industry, others work in the fields. I spot many of them sitting along the road selling their freshly plucked fruits and vegetables.

The Dead Sea awaits us, lovely written as "Died Sea" on some of the road signs. Many locals have the same idea as us and have gathered near public showers on the shoreline. We however, are taking the more luxurious path via a resort. Just a small lobby separates the dirty roads from the crystal clear swimming pool lined with palm trees. After a lunch buffet we head down to the beach. I'm not planning to go full out into the water, mind you it is still early February. I can't leave this place without actually going into the water. The shoes are off and I walk into the murky water, from close up the water doesn't look that blue anymore. The salt in the water makes it slightly difficult to walk; it constantly pushes you up making you feel wobbly. That is not the hardest problem; the salt has formed sharp crystals along the shore, making the walk even more uncomfortable. Ok, tried the Dead Sea, ready for the next point of interest. While rinsing of my legs I can see a few vendors again. Not the typical vendors with shiny jewelry or pure white clothes, they have buckets full with black mud to sell. One of them has even covered himself in the supposed healthy black mud. Interesting business, especially when you can spot two others a fifty meters away scooping the mud straight from the sea.




Again a few lonely shepherds along the road to Mount Nebo, some of them not older then twelve and surprisingly there are even a few girls among them. I can't get used to the sight of the occasional tent in the middle of nowhere, seemingly randomly placed on a mountain side.



"Climbing" Mount Nebo is fortunately an easier task then climbing Mount Sinai. The parking lot is just 15 minutes walking from the top. A few years ago Pope John Paul II visited this place. Access to this placed was improved significantly to accommodate the Pope and the media circus following him. A paved road leads up from the parking lot to the top. It's a bit hazy today, so we can't see too much. There is a sign indicating which cities should be visible. The names of the places sounds terribly familiar, these are the places I hear on the news, usually the scene for religious violence, like Hebron, Ramallah. Other cities remind me I am in biblical country now, Jerusalem and Bethlehem. A busload of Chinese people has also arrived, breaking the tranquility of this place. Time of me to make my way down again.






It's almost dark when we arrive in Madaba, our final place of this trip. There is a red glow over the white houses. As usual we take Luke's advice on where to eat tonight. There is a small place nearby where they serve excellent chicken. Despite being closed, the owner is happy to open up the restaurant for us. Now that is service. After some chicken and fries we continue exploring the town. We end up in a small coffeeshop in the center. One of the few places where they serve alcohol Sisha's are ordered and a beer can pyramid of 6 high is build during the evening, and the Arabic version of Idols is on TV, enough entertainment here.







Day 16: Jerash, Roman remnants in Jordan

Builders who are working on the top floor wake me up in the early morning. There is nothing left on the official program. Today it is a rest day, and tomorrow this trip officially ends. I heard that Amman wasn't the most exciting place, so I decide to spend my free day in Jerash. With a few others we arrange two cars to take us to Jerash.

The ride to Jerash takes us through the busy traffic of Amman, for us a chance to catch a glimpse of the capital of Jordan. It's a mix of wide streets, modern shops and a lot of cars. After all the cities I've seen on this trip, I didn't care about not seeing Amman more. As we drive on the sweet smell of the air freshener in the car makes me a bit sick. I see a sign indicating the Syrian border is just 50 kilometers away. Would be nice to visit that place too, I joke to the driver. "Well, if you really want to do something exciting, there is a bus going to Bagdad from Amman" he tells me. For the next ten minutes I am discussing with one of the Aussies on to take the bus and how to get a "cool" Iraqi border stamp in our passports. That thought leaves our mind when we arrive in Jerash.


The main attraction in Jerash is the remnants of an old Roman city. We are hungry when we approach the gates to the city. Luckily there is a restaurant next to the entrance. Outside the restaurant it is cold, but inside it is even colder, I'm not sure how they have managed that. Anyway, the owner is kind enough to put the heater on. There is no ordinary heater here, just a wood stove in the center of the restaurant. It surprises me how quick and much heat came off the heater. It certainly adds a touch of authenticity to the place.

Ok, we came here for the Roman city. At the entrance gate there are a few guides who are offering their services. From this "meat market" we choose an elderly man with an neatly trimmed grey beard and a immaculate black jacket, which give him a distinguished gentleman look.








I'm happy that we hired a guide, without him this place would be far less interesting. At first there isn't much to see, a few columns here and a few walls there. He shows us one of the rebuild theatres, demonstrating it's great acoustics. Without raising his voice he can be heard from the top ring. He also shows us the columns along a road, which was a market in the Roman times. The columns are resting on high pedestals, but are not fixed to it. The columns are actually swaying in the wind! It is not visible with the naked eye, but you can feel the movement when putting your finger in the slit between the columns and the pedestal. I'm not sure if it is a good idea to put your finger under a moving column which weighs probable a couple of tons, but feeling this thing move was amazing. While the guide explains over the medieval life here, with the busy markets and people visiting the temples, we arrive at the highlight of this place. A incredibly well preserved piece of Roman road. All the Roman roads I have seen before were worn down by water and cart wheels, but this one is incredibly smooth. The slight curvature of the road to drain of the water was even still visible. And I never was so excited to see a ring on a manhole cover. The original ring had survived all that time buried under a layer of sand. Too bad not everyone can appreciate the value of this place. Not too long ago they uncovered undamaged Roman clay drainage pipes next to the road. Last week someone has smashed up this pipe. Preserved for thousands of years just to be smashed up by some kids.










Actually there is tons to discover in this place. Almost 90% of this place hasn't been uncovered yet. I can see top of columns sticking out of the sand, waiting to be dug out. They are in the same situation as Petra, waiting for money to fully uncover and restore the site. Piles of broken columns are stacked next to the road, most of them with detailed carvings. Quite a waste to let them just erode there. What if I can take one piece back home and give it a good life there? Jordanian prisons don't sound too comfortable, so I leave empty handed.

Back in Madaba we prepare for the last dinner together. As we set out, I notice I have forgotten my wallet, first time ever. I head back to the hotel on my own and try to catch up with the rest. I fail and get slightly lost, great. I carefully followed the directions Luke gave me, but no success. It takes me another 15 minutes to find Luke standing in front of a church waiting for me. Somehow everything got mixed up and I got a free self guided night tour through Madaba.

The restaurant is nice, specially chosen for this occasion. There is something remarkable on their menu, it is pork. Only now I notice that there was no pork on the menu in all the other places we have been too. Apparently it is not very popular in the Islamic regions. And that knowledge makes me decide not to go for the pork chops, you never know how long they have been lying in the fridge.

After dinner we end up in the same coffee shop as yesterday. This evening we succeed in rebuilding the treasury in Petra from empty beer cans. The TV was tuned on the Arabic MTV tonight. And they had the same system where you can send a message that will be displayed on TV later. I think Luke went a bit crazy this evening and spend half his paycheck on sending messages. When we emptied the beer supply, it is time to say a final goodbye to everyone. Some are staying an extra few days; others are leaving in the early morning. I'm going to stay an extra night to explore Madaba a bit more.





Day 17: The last day....

I have the whole day to walk around alone. Before I leave, I take a photo of a roundabout with a large portrait of the president. It is located next to the hotel, so when I get lost, I can show the photo to locals to find my way back. This tactic saved me before on other trips. On my way out I see Luke, his job is finished here. He finally decided what to do now he has a few free days. The bus to Damascus would leave in a few hours and he was planning to be on it. I wish him a safe journey and say goodbye. For breakfast I head to the coffeeshop of last night. It has only been 9 hours since I left there. I'm not totally surprised to find a few others of our group enjoying a breakfast there. The atmosphere in this place is great, and they have nice couches to lounge on.

There are a few places I still wanted to visit in Madaba. One of them is the Saint George Church. Inside is the famous 1500 year old "Map of Madaba" mosaic. It shows the ancient layout of surroundings, including important landmarks and early Jerusalem. It helped archeologists to discover more old settlements. The church itself seems to be also an important pilgrimage destination for some. A touring car full with Polish Christians arrives at the same time as me. With a lot of respect they enter the church, say their prayers and walk around. Apparently they have been looking forward to this moment for a long time, once outside they start cheering and giving high-fives to each other.










Nowadays Madaba is still famous for its mosaics. With two others of my group we start looking around the mosaic shops. In one of the shops I see a guy sitting in the back, he is bending over a half complete mosaic. The guy is so concentrated with creating his next mosaic, he does not hear us entering. We are standing right next to him when he finally notices us. He's happy to see us, there are not a lot of customers this time of year. "You want to see how to make mosaic?" he asks enthusiastically. Before we can answer he pushes aside the half complete mosaic and pulls out a large box of ceramic strips. "Look, look" he says as he cuts the strips into small pieces. He continues to explain how to use the small pieces of ceramics for a nice mosaic. He first glues the pieces upside down into a frame and then cements them down. All the mosaics in the shop are made by himself or his father. I have some dinars left, and taken in consideration that my bag is overfull, I choose a small mosaic of a bird. It's cheap, so I don't feel like haggling down the price. But not to make it too easy for the guy, I demand that he signs the back of the mosaic. So if he becomes famous, I'll have a signed piece of him I also ask him to write down in Arabic what the mosaic is. "I'll write it in English too!!" he says while writing 'beard' on the back. With my 'beard' mosaic we leave the shop and try to decide what to do next.

I haven't seen that much of Madaba itself, so I pick a random direction and start walking. It doesn't take long before I find myself between the shopping locals. Small shops along dusty roads, that sums it up basically. There is not a word of English on the signs, so I have a hard time figuring out what some shops sell. They have a few mechanical parts in the window, and that is it. Food and coffee shops seems to be popular here, they function more as a community center then a place where people come to eat or drink. Anyway, I'm a bit too tired to go exploring for long, this whole trip has drained all my energy. I decide to return to the hotel for some lunch, and I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room, resting, reading and writing.







This will be my last night of my trip, and coincidentally it is the same night as the finals of the Africa cup. Ever since we saw Egypt playing in Aswan, we tried to follow the games of the Egyptian team. Tonight they will be playing the final against Cameroon. I had to see it. Plan is to go to the coffeeshop with the last few of my group that is staying longer.

The owner of the coffeeshop is already expecting us. This is the fourth time we are here in just 3 days. He has even reserved a place for us, a few comfortable couches near the TV. A few guys are trying to sit next to us, but are send away by the owner. I assume he is thinking that more of us are coming. But tonight that is not the case, so we invite the guys back over. We are not the only foreigners here, there are 2 girls sitting next to us. I recognize their French as either Canadian or Swiss. Actually it is both, they are Canadians who study in Switzerland. We spend the evening exchanging stories about our travels in this region. It is funny to hear how everyone is almost following the same route through this area.

The game starts and more and more locals pour into the coffee shop. The smell of shishas fill the air and the excitement rises. Since Egypt and Jordan are both Arabic countries, the locals here are supporting Egypt too. So the whole place explodes in cheers when Egypt finally scores. And once the final whistle was blown, the streets filled with celebrating people. Cars and trucks with people hanging out are driving through the streets, making as much noise as possible. I guess everywhere in the world they celebrate football victories the same. After a while everything died down again.

It is a nice end to an adventurous journey. Tomorrow I head back to Amsterdam via Dubai. This trip took me through deserts and over mountains, from drinking tea in small villages to the crowded streets of large cities. I spend nights in the open drifting on the Nile and nights in straw huts on the beach. From walking under a hot burning sun to touching snow in the mountains. Meeting people in ancient cities, children in villages and lost people in the desert. Camels we rode over sand dunes, donkeys pass ancient temples. Eating with the locals, drinking with the locals, watching football with the locals, celebrating with the locals, haggling with the locals, driven in cars by locals, getting conned by the locals, every step was an exciting one.

Can't wait to pack my bags again.

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En weer een verslag klaar 6 maanden schrijven, 50 paginas aan tekst en 2000 fotos.........

Momenteel is het geld voor mijn volgende reis weer bijelkaar gesprokkeld via blackjack tafels, nu rest nog de moeilijke keuze om een bestemming te kiezen. In het laatste jaar al 4 continenten gehad, dus het volgende continent word Zuid-Amerika of Australie. Ik denk dat een Amazone trektocht in Januari wel wat mooie fotos kan opleveren, plus een 50+ paginas tellend reisverslag

quote:

Op maandag 18 augustus 2008 00:02 schreef k_man het volgende:
Ah, leuk. Ik heb (nog) niet de tekst compleet gelezen, maar de foto's zijn interessant. Ik overwoog namelijk om in december naar Jordanië te gaan, maar ik twijfel daar nu toch aan. Ik ben geneigd het eens te zijn met de mensen die vinden dat Syrië meer te bieden heeft dan Jordanië. Waarom nog naar Jerash als je Palmyra gezien hebt? Waarom naar Kerak als je Krak des Chevaliers al bezocht hebt? Aan de andere kant lijkt Petra me nog steeds erg gaaf en zien de foto's van Wadi Rum er ook fraai uit. De Dode Zee is natuurlijk een must see. Ik denk dus dat voor Jordanië een kort reisje voldoende moet zijn.

Ik ben het met je eens. Ik ben niet in Syrie geweest, maar ik kan me best voorstellen dat mensen zeggen dat daar meer te zien is. Krak des Chevaliers is nu eenmaal bekender dan Kerak, en het ziet er ook meer compleet uit. Pamlyra ken ik niet. Maar als ik het google, dan lijkt het op hoe Jerash eruit zou kunnen zien als ze meer geld hadden.

Maar zoals je al zegt, met Petra, Wadi Rum en de Dode zee is er genoeg te zien. Ik wilde eigenlijk ook wel meer landen zien, maar had daar niet de tijd voor. Ideaal gezien had ik de trip Cairo - Istanbul willen maken. Volgens mij krijg je dan een mooi beeld van de Arabische wereld. Jordanie vond ik veel relaxter en moderner dan Egypte, echt een wereld van verschil. Ben eigenlijk wel benieuwd hoe het in Syrie is Schrijf je wel een verslag over je avonturen in Syrie??

Een flinke kick, maar deze had ik ook nog ergens liggen. Vlak voordat ik naar Peru vertrok heb ik even alle korte videoclips van de reis aan elkaar gemonteerd, muziekje onder, en we hebben een bewegend videoverslag

quote:

Op zondag 17 augustus 2008 22:50 schreef ETA het volgende:
knip....

Momenteel is het geld voor mijn volgende reis weer bijelkaar gesprokkeld via blackjack tafels, nu rest nog de moeilijke keuze om een bestemming te kiezen. In het laatste jaar al 4 continenten gehad, dus het volgende continent word Zuid-Amerika of Australie. Ik denk dat een Amazone trektocht in Januari wel wat mooie fotos kan opleveren, plus een 50+ paginas tellend reisverslag

lol, leuk om dit van mezelf terug te lezen. Op het moment dat ik dat schreef, was de Amazone slechts een heel vaag idee, wat waarschijnlijk toch niet ging lukken. En warempel, paar maand later zat ik alsnog in de Amazone (zat er 1 maand naast met mijn voorspelling ).