290808 – Jordan, Petra to Madaba
The morning felt like a hangover.
I think everyone had been suffering a bit of dehydration after the last two days exploring the dry city, most of us having a return of gastro problems. The simple breakfast was monotonous, but served its purpose, and soon all of us were on the bus.
A drive of several hours through countryside that I simply can't remember was highlighted by two features.
The first was a stop at Karak, a crusader's castle that was in various stages of restoration and ruin. It was on the tip of a triangular shaped hill, featuring a moat and heavy fortifications. The entire hill had been fortified at one time and there was some interesting history about the place, having a number of disreputable owners.
Tales of attacks during wedding parties (with the bombardments directed away from the honeymoon suite) and sieges, we walked through the expansive corridors. While in the UK, I had seen a fair number of keeps an castles. This had the most impressive interior by far, with great barracks, kitchens and hallways big enough to drive trucks down. Suitably poetic photos later, a number of us waited in the town near the visitors centre. Buying a coke, I did my best ignoring the local vendors before FINALLY finding the same type of silver bracelet I'd seen in the desert. Bargaining it down to half of the price I'd heard from both sellers, my small prize was secured.
The second highlight was us stopping by the side of the road. About 50m further down was a Mercedes with the bonnet up, adjacent to us was a sign.
“Sea Level. ZERO METRES”
Behind us was the tall hill that we had just descended, stretching into the distance was a great valley reaching all the way to the horizon.
The rest of the day picked up from there, we descended to the level of the Dead Sea, took photo's of the “Pillar of Rock” that had once been a biblical woman ignoring her husband, did our part to save the dead sea by throwing a rock into it and feasted on a most impressive buffet lunch. Satisfying our cravings for meat and fish, we caused a respectable amount of damage to the ladened tables, I for one avoiding the breads and eggs as much as possible. I think I've seen enough bread and boiled eggs to last a life-time. I felt like I'd had my first real meal in over two weeks.
Moving onto the “swimming resort” we rented lockers and towels before the mad-dash across the hot sand to the Living Water of the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea, I believe, was primarily fed by the river Jordan. In recent times, Israel dammed the river in order to better define the boarders and assist in improving the mineral mining across the plains surrounding the Dead Sea. Currently situated at 400m below sea-level, the dead sea is shrinking at 1 metre per year due to the dam. In order to combat this, the Jordanian government is building the “Red-Dead canal” or the “Dred canal” to fed the inland sea from the Red Sea. Without this effort, the Dead Sea will be all but gone by 2050.
Swimming in the dead-sea is a mind-boggling experience. If you float on your back, it is almost like a giant fluffy bean-bag. On your front, it is a real challenge to get your legs below your waist, leaving you to “crawl” almost on top of the water. The saltiness is so extreme that a single drop in your mouth will make you screw up your face and look for fresh water. Every cut or chafe really needs to be covered up or sealed before entering. Even then, you can get some “interesting burning sensations” in places that could only be described as “strange and unusual”. Under no circumstances should you put your head below the surface.
Retreating from the boyant water, we showered nearby and jumped in the pool next to the change-rooms. In complete contrast, we could barely keep our heads above the water! Over the next hour we returned to both waters a few times and had a “Dead Sea mud-bath”.
Back on the Air Conditioned bus, we escaped the 40 degree heat and 90% humidity and made our way up, out of the low-lying plane. Sarah-british was silent for almost this entire trip, motion sickness having saddly turned her into what we call on the Leeuwin, a Mushroom. She was really suffering for this stage.
A mid-afternoon stop was held at the Jesuit monastery that is believed to be the site of Moses' grave. The walk up and around the hill included some mosaics and part of the ancient buildings, the main sections were closed for renovations. Photos and stretching done, we pressed on to Madaba, arriving there in the late afternoon.
A big day of travel done, the bus went past Faisels failed marriage proposal. Hissing and booing at the unresponsive building, we stopped a few minutes later at the hotel.
Hotel Mariam is nice enough, located about 5-10 minutes walk from the town centre. Featuring cold swimming pool (that could use a little heating) and not-so-big rooms (that could use more than a little cooling), we settled in until the dinner meeting. Snoozing, showers and utilising the free WiFi from a nearby transmitter, I whiled away most of the afternoon.
Dinner time arriving, Faisel took us for an orientation walk of the town. Nerves growing thin, I wasn't the only one wanting to bite the head off of one of the two “louder” members of our group. Finally Faisel declared that we would have tea and coffee at his home, once we'd been through the tourist district. My heart sinking that dinner was a long and boring wait away, I know I wasn't able to appreciate Faisel's hospitality at all. Doing my best to stay awake and occasionally glance at the bulk of family photos that were passed around, I realise most of the group were getting a real kick out of the experience. I just wanted to have some bland dinner, a lot of cold refreshing drinks to wash down my tablets, and an early night. It's just as well I didn't bring my back-pack or I might have used its contents to set fire to the place.
Goodbyes MERCIFULLY done, the group went back up into the main town and found a “Mystic Pizza” (safe enough). A glare that possibly scorched her eyebrows later, one of the girls swapped me away from the louder member of the group who had been slowly plucking my every last remaining nerve. Sarah's mercy was followed with pizzas and at least one cold refreshing lemon drink. I hurried through my portion of the meal and then the bill and bolted for the exit before the red-rage took hold. Following one of the other Australians (who also confessed a desire to break every piece of furniture in the place), we made our way back to the hotel while trying to stay in close enough proximity to the girls so they wouldn't be hassled.
A hurried descent into sleep, I hoped that tomorrow would be easier to manage.
300808 – Jordan, Baptism site to Amman
Getting up around 9ish, I gorged on pancakes for breakfast and finalised the plans with Nick and Sarah-british. We would be going to the site of the Baptism of Christ in a private car, returning to the hotel and then on into Amman. In only a little better mood than before I went to bed, I did my best not to glare while a hung-over Nick and a frazzled Sarah got ready to leave. Mercifully away from much of the group, I looked forward to a chilled trip to the world-changing site. Deciding that complaining about how bad they thought Emam and Linda were, I tried staring out the window. 10 minutes later, a deep breath and counting to 10, I calmly asked that they stop whining about shoddy service, getting ripped off, complaining about EVERYTHING and deal with the cards they'd been dealt instead of whining all the time. Please, change the topic.
Growling done, we arrived at the Jordan river in a much better frame of mind (well, hey.. at least I was, and they were talking about much more fun things). If they hadn't let it go, at least they were quiet about it, which was enough for me. Sarah had growled at the driver briefly, which had resulted in a slightly less break-neck pace.
The site of the Baptism of Christ is pretty much a big nothing. Buying a ticket and hopping on the back of a small truck, we were driven through the Jordanian military area towards the river-site. Only recently re-discovered, there were ongoing excavations and construction. The river itself no longer runs by the site, the digging yielding a muddy green trench that certainly doesn't look particularly pious or holy. There are ruins of churches and mosaics, a short walk taking you away from the real site to the actual Jordan river. Passing a pretty little baptism font full of clear water, you can walk down next to the green-brown stream that separates Jordan from Israel by less than 5 metres. Taking photos and stopping by the new church at the top of the hill to light candles and by small vials of water, we headed back. The gift shop is quiet impressive, with some beautiful, reasonably priced gifts. I bought some “official” holy water while Sarah got a little cross. Exiting the shop, we began the return journey.
The summary of this visit was that there were no impressive monuments, no great monasteries or churches. Nothing but the significance of the site. For me, this simplicity was absolutely priceless, highlighting the true nature of much of the region. Each and every place only holding as many memories and as much importance as you choose to give it. I found this site whole-heartedly worth while, witnessing the site where Jesus was recognised as the Son of God is nothing to sneeze at.
After a much more peaceful ride home, the afternoon was sure to be trying. We traded Nick for Debbie and set off for Amman.
The afternoon going to Amman was somewhat challenging. Keeping up with Debbie was difficult for both Sarah and I. I spent most of the trip there and back with my head stuck out of the window. In Amman we saw the Citadel and the Amphitheatre, other than that we just drove past the Mosque and the shopping district. One thing that amazed us all was the sheer density of living. Looking up into the residential areas, it was building upon building upon building, bearing all the way down upon you. No matter which vantage point you used, it was astounding how packed in the houses were. Like an impenetrable forest of apartment blocks.
We returned to the hotel mid-afternoon and exhausted. Sarah-british and I wandered into the town for snacks in the form of extremely rich and sweet Turkish pastries, two small pieces of Balkava and some of a similar sweet that was suggested but not formally introduced.
The rest of the day revolved around snoozing, relaxing by the pool and then dinner in the town. this was the “Farewell Dinner” at a restaurant that Faisel suggested. There was an “excellent local singer” who appeared at 830 (shortly after we were seated) and we ordered drinks and dishes for a good few hours. I don't think that this was the kind of place that any of us were looking forward to, but we were beyond the stage of arguing with something that did not require us to organise ourselves. Tonight was a celebration in part, Debbie had announced that she had passed her exams as a sign-language interpreter.
Dinner done, Faisel was tipped and took us to a nearby ice-cream shop. Refreshments of the frozen dairy type was absolutely most welcome.
The return to the hotel and decent into sleep was only delayed by sticking my head into the “drinkers room” to say hello, tending to teeth and other such requirements. I'd begun to dose myself again due to the return of “Nasty-Butt”. It may have been the lingering effects of the original course of tablets, but I just didn't have the energy to suffer through it considering the upcoming flights and trains.
310809 – Jordan, Mabada to Airport
Today was wholly and entirely unremarkable apart from two features, preceded by one point.
Point one, sleeping in exceptionally late, saying multiple goodbyes and venturing into town for lunch at a street-side sandwich shop that Debbie had found. Relaxing by the pool and utilising the free internet for most of the morning.
Feature one, Dinner with John, Troy, Sarah and Scottish at the same restaurant as yesterday after drinks in the cafe downstairs. We ordered the more extravagant meals (steak and the such), which was a little more passable than the local items on the menu. It was a very pleasant meal for everyone involved, with fireworks in the distant city and photos all-round.
Feature two, an attempted scam at the hotel.
On return to the hotel to collect my bag, there was a ~little~ trouble... The receptionist had decided that I was an illegal tenant. The owner was called just as we were waiting for the airport transfer to arrive. The owner decided that calling the Tourism Police and blocking my exit at the airport would be a good idea unless I paid for an extra night.
Needless to say, none of us were impressed. Scottish immediately fired up and it was here that I could see why he is entrusted with tens of millions of pounds back home...
Keeping it brief and civil, Troy and Sarah, Fraser and myself sat in the reception while the owner ranted. His opinion was that because my backpack had been left in the room that I shared with Fraser, it had prevented the hotel from having another guest (Fraser had paid for the room for an extra two days as he was staying on) and that I must pay extra. He threatened to have me stopped at the airport, the tourism police where on their way.. blah blah blah..
We all smelt a bit of a scam...
Troy and Sarah were most eloquent in expressing their displeasure while Fraser argued, ducked and weaved like a debating champion. Probing and testing his every interpretation of “the rules”, the three of them argued in perfect synchrony. It could almost have been choreographed. I made a point of remaining quiet, as I felt I'd already caused problems for these friends that were staying on for at least one more night.
With the owner appearing a little more frustrated and bogging down amongst the logic, and the time for the airport transfer to arrive drawing close, I piped up by pointing out that I hadn't used any of their facilities, I hadn't changed anything thing in the room and that I hadn't tangibly cost the hotel anything.. The cheap shot of bad-cop, good-cop seemed to work as he appeared to grudgingly settle on this and “phoned to tell the tourism police not to come”.
Saying thankyou and that I was very sorry for being so thoughtless as to not tell the reception that I would be leaving my bag in the room, the owner continued to rant that “this always happened with intrepid” and various examples of rooms being tied up for almost entire extra days... Sarah and Fraser started to bare their teeth again by pointing out to take this up with Intrepid.. I apologised again and that appeared to be the end of it.
While something of the frustration in his face told me that he was genuine about having had significant problems with Intrepid Tour guests in the past, I got the unmistakable impression that the owner had though he would recoup those losses through us.. “Retrospectively teach those westerners a lesson”... oops...
Had he presented us with an acceptable compromise, I would have happily paid the difference. As it was, my bag had been in an already occupied room and it was out of the question to pay for an entire extra room at a premium rate for that privilege. It had definitely started out as a scam.
That said, had this little drama gone on for another 10 minutes, I would have paid the $50USD (or whatever the equivalent was) to avoid missing my flight. I think the owner realised that it would not be an easy win for him. Our little presentations would have also communicated that if he pressed us much harder, he might have gotten his little bonus but that we would have made sure that Intrepid never used them again.. In this attempted fleece, the sheep had sharp teeth and claws..
All four of us were wildly impressed with each others displays of diplomacy, logic and argument in the face of this fiasco. There was still some waiting for the airport taxi after the owner glared his way off out the door. Debbie and John appeared before long, John had smelt blood on the wind and wisely hidden in Debbies room lest the owner try a similar act on him. Debbie had paid for a whole extra day beyond what she was staying (a golden bullet we hadn't used in the argument yet).
We shortly said our goodbyes, with promises to stay in touch. Debbie, John and I boarded the cheap mini-van and departed. This driver was different the the excellent one we had used earlier that day, “he is sick” or some such story. This driver took an agonisingly long time to drive to the airport, I did my best to be amused by Debbies dialogue with John.
Arriving at the airport with only a little time to spare, I rushed to the correct terminal after a guard pointed out that I was in the wrong building. Amazingly, I beat Debbie and John, who had given the driver the correct directions. Rushing through several security checks and jumping the line into the business class check-in, I did the mad run to the gate. Mournfully by-passing the gift-shops containing the last two or three little souvenirs that I wanted for myself, I got frisked for a third time and sat at the gate, my ticket processed.
I sat for nearly an hour...
So much for the rush.. those last little bits of Jordan that I wanted to display at home on the other side of the security glass, mocking me for nearly the whole wait..
Oh well, iPod will console me with sweet sweet music...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
260808-280808 Jordan
260808 – Jordan, Aqaba to Wadi Rum
Rising the next morning and avoiding breakfast, we had another group meeting before getting on the bus. Sarah-british had been to the hospital across the road with Linda, an elderly doctor there had agreed that it was fire-coral and provided suitable prescriptions.
Lingering next to the hotel, I sent and received some last emails through the free WiFi before buy some extra water and boarding the bus for a quick drive through Aqaba. So far it is the nicest and most modern city I have seen in the Middle East, everyone agreed that it was worth staying there to recover.
Driving into the desert, Faisel told us about the history and make-up of Jordan. He ellaborated on local groups and customs, particular those relating to dating and marriage. Having been recently knocked back on a marriage proposal because he wasn't wealthy enough, I was a little worried that this might be a trend for the rest of the trip..
One thing that is particularly striking about Jordan is the national loyalty to their King. His photo is EVERYWHERE, it is required to be in every place of business and there is a genuine love for him by all of his citizens. Faisel told us the stories outlining his progression to the throne (which wasn't entirely welcomed by the new monarch), including how he used to sneak out of the palace to be amongst his people as a commoner. Tourist, foreigner, businessman, one time that he had been acting as a taxi-driver, he started asking a Bedouin if he thought the king was a bad man by making accusations. The Bedouins are PROFOUNDLY loyal, on hearing his beloved king being slandered, he attacked. Pulling out hair and punching, the angry Bedouin was hauled from the car by the Royal Personal Guard who were never far behind.
It is really something, when a Monarch is almost killed out of loyalty because he bad-mouthed himself :p
Passing through the dessert, and a suitable number of check-points, we arrived at the gates to Wadi Rum and the Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Historically important due to its ties with Lawrence of Arabia, we stopped for photos and a toilet break. Having already transferred our gear, we mounted 4WDs and took off for the overnight stay in the dessert.
The vehicle I took with 3 others was driven by Sheik Zaaied. He was the leader of his broader family, having been educated throughout Jordan for many years, operating a tour company through Wadi Rum, and being friends with the King. We stopped for “Strong-Water” (frozen bottles) and snacks before leaving the sealed roads and entering the sand.
We stopped for Bedouin tea in a tent next to Lawrence Spring. Bedouin tea is a mix of Wild Sage, Mint, Cinnamon and other herbs that is served very sweet. It is absolutely breath-taking, but something I would never be able to get back into Australia. Almost haunting in flavour and extremely refreshing, it will be one of my favourite memories of Jordan and the Middle East as a whole.
While at this little Bedouin camp, there were some pieces of silver Jewellery for sale. The price was a little high and I was concerned about the quality, but I regret not buying a silver bracelet that caught my eye for Jenny. I spent most of the rest of the trip before finding one like it.
Moving on, we drove past Lawrence's House, an outpost that had been badly damaged in the last major earthquake. We didn't go inside, but the view of the surrounding region was astounding.
Next was a canyon-cave that had ancient carvings throughout it. We walked the 20-30 metres into the mountain, photographing inscriptions and etchings of camels, men, women giving birth. A short drive later we were at a great sand-dune, where the others climbed to the top while Debbie and I recorded their break-neck speed decent from the base.
Having finished the tour, we finished at the Sheik's camp at one of the marked “Sunset” locations and “Ocean of Ten Thousand Stars”. After more Bedouin tea and a short climb, we watched a sunset that was spectacular indeed. After the deep red and orange of the sky left us yearning for more, we wandered back in the gently progressing dark towards dinner.
Bedouin “Sand Cooking” reminds me of a mixture of a technique I saw in an SAS survival book and “Cooking with Wool” that my mum occasional performs. A multi-level circular platform is buried in the sand under a large round disc in the ground. On each level of the device is a different food type, for ours it was Chicken on top and Onions underneath. Below the whole device is a mound of hot coals. Over the course of 2-4 hours, the heat from the coals cooks the food, before the Bedouin chef finally shovels and then sweeps the sand from the top of the round cover and raises this little time-capsule of delicious cuisine from its brief grave. The meat is exceptionally tender, the onions below benefiting from the exudate from it's upstairs neighbour.
Dinner done and cleared away, Sheik Zaeid collected the bones and placed them at a strategic position outside of the camp. Over the next hour, we shone lights and whistled as the foxes came down heralded with glowing eyes. The Sheik would occasionally say “Fox” loudly, which was responded to with a “yes?” by Scottish and a several pairs of glowing beacons out in the dark.
The rest of the night was filled with drinks from what appeared to be an alcohol-free bottle of Egyptian Rum accompanied by Bedouin singing from our Friend the Sheik and classical opera by Sarah. Late into the night, the gas lights were put out and we slept on matresses under the Ocean of Ten Thousand Stars. The little droplets of light slowly joined their friends into riverlets, then streams, ponds, rivers and finally the grand ocean as our light grew accustomed to the dark. Beneath the spectacular majesty of the universe, we drifted to sleep under a rolling ocean of gentle light that could only be described by poets.
Punctuating this astounding display were the regular prods of “Steve, you're snoring”
270809 – Jordan, Wadi Rum to Petra
Rising the next morning to complaints of my own nocturnal musical performance, we had a breakfast of tea, flat-bread with oil, herbs and jam. We broke away from the camp and 4 of us rode in the open roll-cage of a ute, back to civilisation and the air-conditioned bus.
Travelling through the morning light, the dessert was a beautiful series of light and dark as we traversed the shadows beneath the mountains that had been painted by nature with iron oxides and sulphides. Passing camels and goats, along with an assortment of camps, we made our way back into town, our vehicle running out of petrol (or possible vital essence, considering its condition) only 50 metres from the bus.
Goodbye to the Sheik and back on the road, we started the long journey to Petra. We stopped on the way to photograph the wild valley that remains as un-touched nature in the heart of Jordan. Filled with Jackals, bears, wolves and wild-dogs, we viewed the valley from a nearby mountain top. Faisel said he didn't have the certifications required to take us in there and that it can easily take a year to gain permission from the government with an official guide.
After several hours of driving, we arrived in Petra. Photo's from a suitable look-out preceded the decent into the town down street that would rival Assisi for gradient. Stopping in the city proper, still halfway up the hill, we stocked up on water and dozens of falafels for lunch at the discounted prices. Making the final decent, the prices had doubled before we even got to our hotel.
The Silk Road Hotel is astoundingly well appointed. The rooms are large and comfortable with hot AND cold water along with barely functional air-conditioning. We rested for several hours with showers and naps, Sarah-British once again displaying her war-wounds, before regrouping to visit Petra.
After congregating and being instructed, Faisel guided us to the entrance to the archaeological site. Sourcing our tickets and maps, we progressed to the gate and made our way into antiquity.
The initial walk is surrounded by carved tombs, into the hillside and even within free-standing boulders. There are honestly too many to count and many of them are particularly small. After passing over the small bridge spanning the main path of Petra's ancient water source, we entered the 1.2km long canyon that leads down into the main sights. Either side of the canyon features the remains of a small hand-carved aqueduct, about 10-16cm in diameter. These two small channels reached the entire way into the city and provided water to it's residents in a time at the birth of history. The Canyon itself is 3-6 metres is width, with multiple tiers almost out of sight. These ledges and this narrow canyon offered a security to the citizens, successfully repelling every attempted attack. At places along the canyon there are various features carved into the rock, including two camel trains reminding us of the history of the region, niches for idols, at least one significant alter and a nearby small cave for animal and human sacrifices.
As we approached the end of this long hallway, Faisel instructed us to walk along the right hand wall. Telling us to stop abruptly, he had us face forward and then take a step to the left. This little dance routine summoned the great Treasury building into sight, bursting from the walls of the canyon in a way reminiscent of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
Passing from the final confines of the canyon, we approached the Treasury in awe of its splendour. This ancient tomb facade is ABSOLUTELY breath-taking, by far the most impressing monument of our extensive travels. It is a sight that the mind can comprehend, yet utterly awe-inspiring. Over 40 metres high and carved directly into the rock, it had previously been buried beneath 6 metres of silt. The bottom level barely visible through the wire grill beneath our feet. Of all of the wonders of the world, on first viewing it is certainly the most magnificent, though the recent century of erosion has degraded it badly.
Photos aside, we progressed on through the necropolis, stopping at a variety of tombs, into acropolis and city. Avoiding merchants and multitudes of Bedouins who were either trying to sell anything that wasn't nailed down, hearding “taxi's” (Camels, donkeys and horses), or beating the day-lights out of each other, we scaled a hill to an ancient Christian Church that was being restored. Petra had once been the capital of this entire region of Asia Minor. An earthquake that is well known throughout antiquity destroyed almost all of the city and damaged the water management system in a way that was never repaired. A vital room in a side chapel within this church had been saved beneath the devastation, filled with scrolls it offers scholars a reliable window into a past that has been otherwise lost and forgotten.
From this vantage point over what remained of the great city, Faisel ended the day. From 3pm was free time, with some people returning to the hotel, exploring sights of the city. A small group of us decided to brave the 800 stairs to make the ascent to the Monastery.
This climb was particularly hard, rivalling Mount Siani in intensity. The stairs were VERY VERY badly worn from centuries of rain, foot-falls and neglect. This climb should not be attempted without good footware and DEFINITELY not after dark. At the end of the climb is a Facade carved into the rock that almost rivals the Treasury. The Monastery is another tomb that also served as a chapel and pilgrimage location. Coming over the hill would be impressive, if you had not had to pass by the Treasure earlier. Continuing to climb past the Monastery is a panorama that offers the viewer sights of Jordan and Israel. John made this final ascent, but the entire rest of the group could not find the energy. Even promises that it was worth the climb for the view alone could not make us turn back to make the additional 200-300 metre scale.
As the sun was setting behind us, and being refreshed from the drinks acquired from the small cafe opposite the Monastery, we spent another hour returning to the valley. Fraser and I were overtaken by the group as we negotiated for a horse and cart to return us to the entrance. Deciding that 30 Dinar was daylight robbery, we offered 10D (about $16AUS) which was refused by the group of drivers. One gentleman over to one side motioned us towards him, amidst yells and screams of protest by his tight-fisted competitors. We mounted the cart and were spirited away, heralded by howls of rage.
Shortly overtaking our group, we were saluted on all sides by dirty looks as we flew past the pedestrian tourists the whole way to the entrance. Fox and I literally had to restrain ourselves from laughing out-loud at some of the filthy glares that we got! Having gotten back to the hotel feeling almost refreshed, we each took our time with showers before meeting our weary companions for the dinner party.
The group dinner was a buffet at a nearby restaurant. Beer was expensive but of high alcohol content, the food consisted of staples we were sadly accustomed to. The Jordanian food was taking its toll.
A cake and singing was gifted by the restaurant staff for Linda's birthday, though she refused to tell us her age (I've got reliable authority that she is a little older than me). Dinner and desert done, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was played, with everyone cheering the whole way through. None of us remember it being so slap-stick, it seemed so serious when we first watched it years ago.
The evening complete, we meandered back to the hotel with full tummies and growing sweat. The heat and humidity is astounding throughout the Middle East. Back in reception, I fled to the toilet, fearing a return of the “Nasty-Butt”. On reappearing, I was informed that my room-mate had left seeking more alcohol... never a good sign.
Retreating to the room and reinforcing myself with a long shower, I prepared for bed. Several aspirin and some massage to ease the ache in my legs was all that delayed the decent into bliss.
280808 – Petra
Rising late in the morning, I was only just in time to catch breakfast. Fraser Scottish had been carried home by the bar staff at the restaurant where everyone had been the night before. Stumbling into the room at about 3AM, he had slept in the bath and was in an appropriate state on his bed by dawn. I couldn't see him going anywhere for most of the day.
Breakfast had the option of squishy cornflakes with warm milk and the usual break-stuffs. I took off to the ancient city with the two american guys sometime before lunch.
Deciding to be a little more adventurous, we diverted from the main path when we got to the bridge at the entrance to the canyon. Walking to the right, we entered the long series of canyons and tunnels that made up part of the ancient water system. The next two hours consisted of clambering around and down steep faces and boulders, me being careful of my knee and the other two careful of their flip-flops. It seems that their sneakers had disintergrated during the Monastery ascent yesterday.
Finally reaching the junction at the end of the first canyon, we heeded Faisels advice from the briefing and turned left.
“Turning right will get you lost” even though the map made it look like a fairly simple path.
From here on, the next kilometre or so was much easier going than the first. We came across openings that had idol niches carved in and could see ledges far above that might once have provided a vantage point for defenders.
Finally we made it out into the sunlight at the end, into the vicinity of a ruined dam. Tumbled from an ancient earthquake, the destruction of this and it's sibling waterways had ended the city. We braved the hot sands and made our way back to the main thoroughfare, planning for drinks and to maybe see the museum.
A long hot walk later, the three of us met up with Sarah-british and our guide, Linda, on the approach to the museum. We all agreed to find drinks and backtracked to the series of eateries. Cold beverages and toilet stops later, Sarah and John scaled the stairs and walkways on the opposite side of the valley while the rest of us made plans. On their return, Sarah and
I conceded defeat and went back to the hotel, while the others started the climb to the “High-place of sacrifice”.
Once out of the main entrance, leaving Petra to it secluded antiquity, we ran across Scottish. Looking sheepish, he advised us on lunch and made his way to see some more of Petra. Going our separate ways, I went to see how much I could get ripped off for lunch..
By the time we all met up for the evening meeting, most of us had eaten, showered, slept, or performed multiples of the above. Sarah, the young americans and myself were late to the meeting, having found “Mystic Pizza” nearby. While munching away on the “interesting” interpretation of “Pizza”, Sarah-british and Scottish left with the two guides to watch Petra-by-Night. Described as “Silently walking down to the ancient city in candle-light, listening to music played by the Bedouins”, Fraser later said that it was full of loud, obnoxious tourists who were obsessed with camera-flashes. He said that once the crowd had left, obviously missing the point, he wandered out alone. Embracing the serenity as the candles flickered out one by one.
The rest of us spent the night drinking heaps of water and watching the kid's movie “The Goonies”. A couple of mad dashes to the toilet heralded the return of “Nasty-Butt”, which seemed to be pretty common in the group at large, so I'd been planning to go to bed early. A frantic banging on my door and one of the American guys bellowing “GOONIES!!!” changed the plan, Evie joining us in the boys room for the movie.
Fraser returned from Petra in a sober state and described his experiences. Having tested the water at the meeting to see if I would tolerate a drunk room-mate two days in a row, I'd calmly informed him that a repeat would result in me “Putting you in a sleeper hold and then gaffa-taping you to the flag-pole outside. Naked”. So, in all, it was a most pleasant night for everyone.
Rising the next morning and avoiding breakfast, we had another group meeting before getting on the bus. Sarah-british had been to the hospital across the road with Linda, an elderly doctor there had agreed that it was fire-coral and provided suitable prescriptions.
Lingering next to the hotel, I sent and received some last emails through the free WiFi before buy some extra water and boarding the bus for a quick drive through Aqaba. So far it is the nicest and most modern city I have seen in the Middle East, everyone agreed that it was worth staying there to recover.
Driving into the desert, Faisel told us about the history and make-up of Jordan. He ellaborated on local groups and customs, particular those relating to dating and marriage. Having been recently knocked back on a marriage proposal because he wasn't wealthy enough, I was a little worried that this might be a trend for the rest of the trip..
One thing that is particularly striking about Jordan is the national loyalty to their King. His photo is EVERYWHERE, it is required to be in every place of business and there is a genuine love for him by all of his citizens. Faisel told us the stories outlining his progression to the throne (which wasn't entirely welcomed by the new monarch), including how he used to sneak out of the palace to be amongst his people as a commoner. Tourist, foreigner, businessman, one time that he had been acting as a taxi-driver, he started asking a Bedouin if he thought the king was a bad man by making accusations. The Bedouins are PROFOUNDLY loyal, on hearing his beloved king being slandered, he attacked. Pulling out hair and punching, the angry Bedouin was hauled from the car by the Royal Personal Guard who were never far behind.
It is really something, when a Monarch is almost killed out of loyalty because he bad-mouthed himself :p
Passing through the dessert, and a suitable number of check-points, we arrived at the gates to Wadi Rum and the Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Historically important due to its ties with Lawrence of Arabia, we stopped for photos and a toilet break. Having already transferred our gear, we mounted 4WDs and took off for the overnight stay in the dessert.
The vehicle I took with 3 others was driven by Sheik Zaaied. He was the leader of his broader family, having been educated throughout Jordan for many years, operating a tour company through Wadi Rum, and being friends with the King. We stopped for “Strong-Water” (frozen bottles) and snacks before leaving the sealed roads and entering the sand.
We stopped for Bedouin tea in a tent next to Lawrence Spring. Bedouin tea is a mix of Wild Sage, Mint, Cinnamon and other herbs that is served very sweet. It is absolutely breath-taking, but something I would never be able to get back into Australia. Almost haunting in flavour and extremely refreshing, it will be one of my favourite memories of Jordan and the Middle East as a whole.
While at this little Bedouin camp, there were some pieces of silver Jewellery for sale. The price was a little high and I was concerned about the quality, but I regret not buying a silver bracelet that caught my eye for Jenny. I spent most of the rest of the trip before finding one like it.
Moving on, we drove past Lawrence's House, an outpost that had been badly damaged in the last major earthquake. We didn't go inside, but the view of the surrounding region was astounding.
Next was a canyon-cave that had ancient carvings throughout it. We walked the 20-30 metres into the mountain, photographing inscriptions and etchings of camels, men, women giving birth. A short drive later we were at a great sand-dune, where the others climbed to the top while Debbie and I recorded their break-neck speed decent from the base.
Having finished the tour, we finished at the Sheik's camp at one of the marked “Sunset” locations and “Ocean of Ten Thousand Stars”. After more Bedouin tea and a short climb, we watched a sunset that was spectacular indeed. After the deep red and orange of the sky left us yearning for more, we wandered back in the gently progressing dark towards dinner.
Bedouin “Sand Cooking” reminds me of a mixture of a technique I saw in an SAS survival book and “Cooking with Wool” that my mum occasional performs. A multi-level circular platform is buried in the sand under a large round disc in the ground. On each level of the device is a different food type, for ours it was Chicken on top and Onions underneath. Below the whole device is a mound of hot coals. Over the course of 2-4 hours, the heat from the coals cooks the food, before the Bedouin chef finally shovels and then sweeps the sand from the top of the round cover and raises this little time-capsule of delicious cuisine from its brief grave. The meat is exceptionally tender, the onions below benefiting from the exudate from it's upstairs neighbour.
Dinner done and cleared away, Sheik Zaeid collected the bones and placed them at a strategic position outside of the camp. Over the next hour, we shone lights and whistled as the foxes came down heralded with glowing eyes. The Sheik would occasionally say “Fox” loudly, which was responded to with a “yes?” by Scottish and a several pairs of glowing beacons out in the dark.
The rest of the night was filled with drinks from what appeared to be an alcohol-free bottle of Egyptian Rum accompanied by Bedouin singing from our Friend the Sheik and classical opera by Sarah. Late into the night, the gas lights were put out and we slept on matresses under the Ocean of Ten Thousand Stars. The little droplets of light slowly joined their friends into riverlets, then streams, ponds, rivers and finally the grand ocean as our light grew accustomed to the dark. Beneath the spectacular majesty of the universe, we drifted to sleep under a rolling ocean of gentle light that could only be described by poets.
Punctuating this astounding display were the regular prods of “Steve, you're snoring”
270809 – Jordan, Wadi Rum to Petra
Rising the next morning to complaints of my own nocturnal musical performance, we had a breakfast of tea, flat-bread with oil, herbs and jam. We broke away from the camp and 4 of us rode in the open roll-cage of a ute, back to civilisation and the air-conditioned bus.
Travelling through the morning light, the dessert was a beautiful series of light and dark as we traversed the shadows beneath the mountains that had been painted by nature with iron oxides and sulphides. Passing camels and goats, along with an assortment of camps, we made our way back into town, our vehicle running out of petrol (or possible vital essence, considering its condition) only 50 metres from the bus.
Goodbye to the Sheik and back on the road, we started the long journey to Petra. We stopped on the way to photograph the wild valley that remains as un-touched nature in the heart of Jordan. Filled with Jackals, bears, wolves and wild-dogs, we viewed the valley from a nearby mountain top. Faisel said he didn't have the certifications required to take us in there and that it can easily take a year to gain permission from the government with an official guide.
After several hours of driving, we arrived in Petra. Photo's from a suitable look-out preceded the decent into the town down street that would rival Assisi for gradient. Stopping in the city proper, still halfway up the hill, we stocked up on water and dozens of falafels for lunch at the discounted prices. Making the final decent, the prices had doubled before we even got to our hotel.
The Silk Road Hotel is astoundingly well appointed. The rooms are large and comfortable with hot AND cold water along with barely functional air-conditioning. We rested for several hours with showers and naps, Sarah-British once again displaying her war-wounds, before regrouping to visit Petra.
After congregating and being instructed, Faisel guided us to the entrance to the archaeological site. Sourcing our tickets and maps, we progressed to the gate and made our way into antiquity.
The initial walk is surrounded by carved tombs, into the hillside and even within free-standing boulders. There are honestly too many to count and many of them are particularly small. After passing over the small bridge spanning the main path of Petra's ancient water source, we entered the 1.2km long canyon that leads down into the main sights. Either side of the canyon features the remains of a small hand-carved aqueduct, about 10-16cm in diameter. These two small channels reached the entire way into the city and provided water to it's residents in a time at the birth of history. The Canyon itself is 3-6 metres is width, with multiple tiers almost out of sight. These ledges and this narrow canyon offered a security to the citizens, successfully repelling every attempted attack. At places along the canyon there are various features carved into the rock, including two camel trains reminding us of the history of the region, niches for idols, at least one significant alter and a nearby small cave for animal and human sacrifices.
As we approached the end of this long hallway, Faisel instructed us to walk along the right hand wall. Telling us to stop abruptly, he had us face forward and then take a step to the left. This little dance routine summoned the great Treasury building into sight, bursting from the walls of the canyon in a way reminiscent of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
Passing from the final confines of the canyon, we approached the Treasury in awe of its splendour. This ancient tomb facade is ABSOLUTELY breath-taking, by far the most impressing monument of our extensive travels. It is a sight that the mind can comprehend, yet utterly awe-inspiring. Over 40 metres high and carved directly into the rock, it had previously been buried beneath 6 metres of silt. The bottom level barely visible through the wire grill beneath our feet. Of all of the wonders of the world, on first viewing it is certainly the most magnificent, though the recent century of erosion has degraded it badly.
Photos aside, we progressed on through the necropolis, stopping at a variety of tombs, into acropolis and city. Avoiding merchants and multitudes of Bedouins who were either trying to sell anything that wasn't nailed down, hearding “taxi's” (Camels, donkeys and horses), or beating the day-lights out of each other, we scaled a hill to an ancient Christian Church that was being restored. Petra had once been the capital of this entire region of Asia Minor. An earthquake that is well known throughout antiquity destroyed almost all of the city and damaged the water management system in a way that was never repaired. A vital room in a side chapel within this church had been saved beneath the devastation, filled with scrolls it offers scholars a reliable window into a past that has been otherwise lost and forgotten.
From this vantage point over what remained of the great city, Faisel ended the day. From 3pm was free time, with some people returning to the hotel, exploring sights of the city. A small group of us decided to brave the 800 stairs to make the ascent to the Monastery.
This climb was particularly hard, rivalling Mount Siani in intensity. The stairs were VERY VERY badly worn from centuries of rain, foot-falls and neglect. This climb should not be attempted without good footware and DEFINITELY not after dark. At the end of the climb is a Facade carved into the rock that almost rivals the Treasury. The Monastery is another tomb that also served as a chapel and pilgrimage location. Coming over the hill would be impressive, if you had not had to pass by the Treasure earlier. Continuing to climb past the Monastery is a panorama that offers the viewer sights of Jordan and Israel. John made this final ascent, but the entire rest of the group could not find the energy. Even promises that it was worth the climb for the view alone could not make us turn back to make the additional 200-300 metre scale.
As the sun was setting behind us, and being refreshed from the drinks acquired from the small cafe opposite the Monastery, we spent another hour returning to the valley. Fraser and I were overtaken by the group as we negotiated for a horse and cart to return us to the entrance. Deciding that 30 Dinar was daylight robbery, we offered 10D (about $16AUS) which was refused by the group of drivers. One gentleman over to one side motioned us towards him, amidst yells and screams of protest by his tight-fisted competitors. We mounted the cart and were spirited away, heralded by howls of rage.
Shortly overtaking our group, we were saluted on all sides by dirty looks as we flew past the pedestrian tourists the whole way to the entrance. Fox and I literally had to restrain ourselves from laughing out-loud at some of the filthy glares that we got! Having gotten back to the hotel feeling almost refreshed, we each took our time with showers before meeting our weary companions for the dinner party.
The group dinner was a buffet at a nearby restaurant. Beer was expensive but of high alcohol content, the food consisted of staples we were sadly accustomed to. The Jordanian food was taking its toll.
A cake and singing was gifted by the restaurant staff for Linda's birthday, though she refused to tell us her age (I've got reliable authority that she is a little older than me). Dinner and desert done, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was played, with everyone cheering the whole way through. None of us remember it being so slap-stick, it seemed so serious when we first watched it years ago.
The evening complete, we meandered back to the hotel with full tummies and growing sweat. The heat and humidity is astounding throughout the Middle East. Back in reception, I fled to the toilet, fearing a return of the “Nasty-Butt”. On reappearing, I was informed that my room-mate had left seeking more alcohol... never a good sign.
Retreating to the room and reinforcing myself with a long shower, I prepared for bed. Several aspirin and some massage to ease the ache in my legs was all that delayed the decent into bliss.
280808 – Petra
Rising late in the morning, I was only just in time to catch breakfast. Fraser Scottish had been carried home by the bar staff at the restaurant where everyone had been the night before. Stumbling into the room at about 3AM, he had slept in the bath and was in an appropriate state on his bed by dawn. I couldn't see him going anywhere for most of the day.
Breakfast had the option of squishy cornflakes with warm milk and the usual break-stuffs. I took off to the ancient city with the two american guys sometime before lunch.
Deciding to be a little more adventurous, we diverted from the main path when we got to the bridge at the entrance to the canyon. Walking to the right, we entered the long series of canyons and tunnels that made up part of the ancient water system. The next two hours consisted of clambering around and down steep faces and boulders, me being careful of my knee and the other two careful of their flip-flops. It seems that their sneakers had disintergrated during the Monastery ascent yesterday.
Finally reaching the junction at the end of the first canyon, we heeded Faisels advice from the briefing and turned left.
“Turning right will get you lost” even though the map made it look like a fairly simple path.
From here on, the next kilometre or so was much easier going than the first. We came across openings that had idol niches carved in and could see ledges far above that might once have provided a vantage point for defenders.
Finally we made it out into the sunlight at the end, into the vicinity of a ruined dam. Tumbled from an ancient earthquake, the destruction of this and it's sibling waterways had ended the city. We braved the hot sands and made our way back to the main thoroughfare, planning for drinks and to maybe see the museum.
A long hot walk later, the three of us met up with Sarah-british and our guide, Linda, on the approach to the museum. We all agreed to find drinks and backtracked to the series of eateries. Cold beverages and toilet stops later, Sarah and John scaled the stairs and walkways on the opposite side of the valley while the rest of us made plans. On their return, Sarah and
I conceded defeat and went back to the hotel, while the others started the climb to the “High-place of sacrifice”.
Once out of the main entrance, leaving Petra to it secluded antiquity, we ran across Scottish. Looking sheepish, he advised us on lunch and made his way to see some more of Petra. Going our separate ways, I went to see how much I could get ripped off for lunch..
By the time we all met up for the evening meeting, most of us had eaten, showered, slept, or performed multiples of the above. Sarah, the young americans and myself were late to the meeting, having found “Mystic Pizza” nearby. While munching away on the “interesting” interpretation of “Pizza”, Sarah-british and Scottish left with the two guides to watch Petra-by-Night. Described as “Silently walking down to the ancient city in candle-light, listening to music played by the Bedouins”, Fraser later said that it was full of loud, obnoxious tourists who were obsessed with camera-flashes. He said that once the crowd had left, obviously missing the point, he wandered out alone. Embracing the serenity as the candles flickered out one by one.
The rest of us spent the night drinking heaps of water and watching the kid's movie “The Goonies”. A couple of mad dashes to the toilet heralded the return of “Nasty-Butt”, which seemed to be pretty common in the group at large, so I'd been planning to go to bed early. A frantic banging on my door and one of the American guys bellowing “GOONIES!!!” changed the plan, Evie joining us in the boys room for the movie.
Fraser returned from Petra in a sober state and described his experiences. Having tested the water at the meeting to see if I would tolerate a drunk room-mate two days in a row, I'd calmly informed him that a repeat would result in me “Putting you in a sleeper hold and then gaffa-taping you to the flag-pole outside. Naked”. So, in all, it was a most pleasant night for everyone.
250808 - Siani to Jordan
The morning was ending with a sleep-in followed by a panicked packing. We settled our bills, which I was certain mine was under-charged, and then paid cash for a breakfast of pancakes with banana. Fraser had had a particularly big night last night, having to resort to Hair of the Dog to become active. One of warm beer in, he felt better. Two cans in, he felt great. I left to get my things before the inevitable. Packs were humped to the van and a final toilet stop is all that delayed the departure.
Having practised the art of Hurry-up and Wait, we got to the Ferry terminal in a rush and then did nothing for about 2 hours.
The boat was late, so were our tickets.
I felt bad for Emam, this portion of the trip is Tipping-time. Many of us were running low on funds and so I'm sure that our contributions were not as large as she deserved. One of the couples in the group had taken care to point out that they had no intention to offer a large tip, everyone else deciding to tip individually or in small groups so as to make sure that Emam could see the gratitude of those she had guided, leaving those who felt no need to show appreciation to do as such.
John, Aaron and I each put in as much as we could afford and Emam looked temporarily overwhelmed at our thanks and took little notice of the small fold of bills that we passed her. She was glad to feel appreciated, this had certainly not been the easiest group for her.
Goodbyes and promises to email were made after the protracted passage through security, customs, security and immigration control. We slouched out to the boat and waved goodbye as our packs were man-handled into a pile against the rear railing.
Once we had found seats, gone looking for nibbles, and returned to our seats, the boat got under-way. It became rapidly apparent that the air-conditioning hadn't been “off because the engine was off”, it just wasn't working. As the DVD started playing, a crew-member walked to the front of the cabin and opened the two windows onto the bow. He returned to his station amidst cheering and applause by the passengers.
The journey up the coast to Aqaba took about 1-1.5 hours. The DVD was shockingly bad (“Rush Hour 2”) and the disc must have been in even worse condition than the dialogue, every 5-25 minutes into the film it lost its track and restarted. Taking the opportunity to stare into space, I whiled away the time until we arrived at our destination.
JORDAN
Aqaba was a welcome change to Egypt. Once we had found our guide and gotten our bags (a nail-biting activity of crew-members passing them over the water rather than using the walk-way), we boarded the bus.
Our guide was Faisel, a Jordanian from Madaba (the terminus of our tour). He had been a communiations specialist in the Jordanian Army for 6 years, 2 months, 1 day and 1 hour (or there-abouts... he had been very specific) before getting out and becoming a tour guide. Speaking with an accent that appeared to be normal for the region, the bus took off to the hotel.
The trip from here on in appeared to make a change for the better. The bus was much bigger (piloted by Captain “Drizzle”) and had excellent air-conditioning. The hotel we arrived at was very nicely appointed, definitely a step above what we had been used to. Indeed it had air-conditioning AND hot water.. just no cold water to go with the hot. Still, getting our rooms, I settled down for a nap.
Dinner time was to be directly after the orientation walk. Being guided through the main tourist district of Aqaba, Faisel directed us to money exchanges and banks as necessary. The majority of the group went to sea-food restaurant, Scottish left before too long. Having noticed the after-effects of the night before, despite the temporary remedies that morning, for most of the day, he decided it wiser to retreat to the hotel.
The fish at the restaurant has to be some of the best that I have ever eaten. It was almost still swimming when it hit the plate and came with a strong lemon sauce that it had recently been married to in a beautiful ceremony by the chef. There were drinks all round and we all left, feeling satisfied and hunting for desert.
Wandering through the streets, Sarah-british found a pharmacy and asked for suitable treatments for her fire-coral injury which was getting worse. Continuing on down to the end of the street, we saw the corner leading to the beach. Heading back, we found some icecream in a store that seemed dedicated to deserts. Laddened with water and icecream, we licked our way back to the hotel.
With new confidence, having succeeded in the hunting expedition, I went looking for internet access. There was a small, dodgy, store that offered “ADSL” just behind the hotel. Entering into the hot, smoke-filled room, I wasn't entirely filled with hope that I would be able to get my iPhone fully functional, or that I'd be able to get my various tasks completed.
I wasn't too far off...
About 3 hours later, I wandered back to the hotel. 3 computers had blown up on me, at least one of them releasing its precious blue-smoke from an over-heated powersupply. I had succeeded in sending an email (after re-typing it 3 times) and checked my banking. I'd given up on my phone for the day, after 3 partial attempts. It was on the way home that I found some free access just adjacent to the hotel. Standing out on the street at 1AM, I completed the emails and banking from my phone.
Victorious, I hurried off to bed.
Having practised the art of Hurry-up and Wait, we got to the Ferry terminal in a rush and then did nothing for about 2 hours.
The boat was late, so were our tickets.
I felt bad for Emam, this portion of the trip is Tipping-time. Many of us were running low on funds and so I'm sure that our contributions were not as large as she deserved. One of the couples in the group had taken care to point out that they had no intention to offer a large tip, everyone else deciding to tip individually or in small groups so as to make sure that Emam could see the gratitude of those she had guided, leaving those who felt no need to show appreciation to do as such.
John, Aaron and I each put in as much as we could afford and Emam looked temporarily overwhelmed at our thanks and took little notice of the small fold of bills that we passed her. She was glad to feel appreciated, this had certainly not been the easiest group for her.
Goodbyes and promises to email were made after the protracted passage through security, customs, security and immigration control. We slouched out to the boat and waved goodbye as our packs were man-handled into a pile against the rear railing.
Once we had found seats, gone looking for nibbles, and returned to our seats, the boat got under-way. It became rapidly apparent that the air-conditioning hadn't been “off because the engine was off”, it just wasn't working. As the DVD started playing, a crew-member walked to the front of the cabin and opened the two windows onto the bow. He returned to his station amidst cheering and applause by the passengers.
The journey up the coast to Aqaba took about 1-1.5 hours. The DVD was shockingly bad (“Rush Hour 2”) and the disc must have been in even worse condition than the dialogue, every 5-25 minutes into the film it lost its track and restarted. Taking the opportunity to stare into space, I whiled away the time until we arrived at our destination.
JORDAN
Aqaba was a welcome change to Egypt. Once we had found our guide and gotten our bags (a nail-biting activity of crew-members passing them over the water rather than using the walk-way), we boarded the bus.
Our guide was Faisel, a Jordanian from Madaba (the terminus of our tour). He had been a communiations specialist in the Jordanian Army for 6 years, 2 months, 1 day and 1 hour (or there-abouts... he had been very specific) before getting out and becoming a tour guide. Speaking with an accent that appeared to be normal for the region, the bus took off to the hotel.
The trip from here on in appeared to make a change for the better. The bus was much bigger (piloted by Captain “Drizzle”) and had excellent air-conditioning. The hotel we arrived at was very nicely appointed, definitely a step above what we had been used to. Indeed it had air-conditioning AND hot water.. just no cold water to go with the hot. Still, getting our rooms, I settled down for a nap.
Dinner time was to be directly after the orientation walk. Being guided through the main tourist district of Aqaba, Faisel directed us to money exchanges and banks as necessary. The majority of the group went to sea-food restaurant, Scottish left before too long. Having noticed the after-effects of the night before, despite the temporary remedies that morning, for most of the day, he decided it wiser to retreat to the hotel.
The fish at the restaurant has to be some of the best that I have ever eaten. It was almost still swimming when it hit the plate and came with a strong lemon sauce that it had recently been married to in a beautiful ceremony by the chef. There were drinks all round and we all left, feeling satisfied and hunting for desert.
Wandering through the streets, Sarah-british found a pharmacy and asked for suitable treatments for her fire-coral injury which was getting worse. Continuing on down to the end of the street, we saw the corner leading to the beach. Heading back, we found some icecream in a store that seemed dedicated to deserts. Laddened with water and icecream, we licked our way back to the hotel.
With new confidence, having succeeded in the hunting expedition, I went looking for internet access. There was a small, dodgy, store that offered “ADSL” just behind the hotel. Entering into the hot, smoke-filled room, I wasn't entirely filled with hope that I would be able to get my iPhone fully functional, or that I'd be able to get my various tasks completed.
I wasn't too far off...
About 3 hours later, I wandered back to the hotel. 3 computers had blown up on me, at least one of them releasing its precious blue-smoke from an over-heated powersupply. I had succeeded in sending an email (after re-typing it 3 times) and checked my banking. I'd given up on my phone for the day, after 3 partial attempts. It was on the way home that I found some free access just adjacent to the hotel. Standing out on the street at 1AM, I completed the emails and banking from my phone.
Victorious, I hurried off to bed.
Friday, August 29, 2008
230808-240808 Saint Katherine to Red Sea
230808 – Saint Katherine to the Red Sea
After a suitable sleep, we ran through our morning routine and left for a long day ahead. Breakfast was a buffet, Pancakes were on offer along with a chocolate fountain. The norm here has wild deviances, there have been a few breakfasts that have involved softdrink. I would murder for a real coffee.
Those of us who had previously suffered “Nasty-butt” stocked up on various medicines while a pharmacy was at had. I took advantage of the price to buy some Cipro at about 18EGP (about $3.50AU). I'm still blown away by the approach to medicine in this part of the world, you're just as likely to go to a pharmacist for a diagnosis as a doctor! “Here, use this” :p
We got to the Monastery of Saint Katherine and toured the grounds. Emam gave us a very brief rundown of the history and various points of significance. Saint Katherine Monastery is the longest active monastery in the region (or possibly the Middle East). It has been a religious centre since about the 6th centuary and there were monks and priests wandering around while we were there. It is quite a bit larger than the original grounds. It has the largest collection of historical religious texts, second only to the Vatican Library.
The legend is that Katherine was a roman nobel who was very well educated. She converted from Pagan to Christian, upon which the King sent a great many scholars (12 or 30, I can't remember) to argue with her and change her back to the state religion. Katherine converted all of the scholars to being Christian, which resulted in the King executing them. Katherine was sentenced to wheel torture and death, but when she touched the wheel with her finger it broke apart. Hence, she was beheaded. The legend continued that her body was transported by God to the top of Mount Saint Katherine (the highest mountain in the region) and was miraculously preserved. We went through the main chapel and saw what was meant to be the finger bone of Saint Katherine. It was impressively large, I thought it looked more like part of the elbow joint, Nick was undecided.
After the main chapel, we saw what legend said was the burning bush through which God spoke to Moses. The species only grows in this part of the world and Emam said something along the lines of “X-rays of it are lit up, but it will not burn”.
A couple of us went through the museum for 20EGP, there were a lot of impressive texts. Many of the books and artifacts are absolutely spectacular. There is the original letter from Napolean Bonapart, giving the monastery protection, as well as two facsiimilies of the letter written by the Prophet Mohammad saying the same.
There was also part of a copy of the “Sianaticus Codice”. Only 50 copies of this document were ever produced. One was “borrowed” by a european scholar under the guise of getting it published. Instead, the mongrel gave it as a gift to the Russian royalty. The monks have been asking for the stolen documents to be returned for the last few hundred years.
The pages that I saw were over 1,500 years old.
On the way out, we saw the Chapel of Skulls. This is where the bones of all of the monks who lived in the Monastery remain. There was an over-abundance of rude German tourists who ruined this part. They seemed to think that losing the war means that they can jump queues and push everyone around, jamming video cameras into places where it is not entirely appropriate and many of the younger women wearing atire that would be more suited to a strip-club.
I hope they got an eduring case of “Nasty-Butt” to take home with them. Selfish mongrels.
After toilets and stocking up on water and souveniers, we were back on the bus and heading for the Red Sea. There was no convoy for this part of the trip, but check points were extremely frequent. Also, we had a Tourism Policeman in a cheap suit with a machine-gun under his jacket and the various bulges that spoke of either a very poor diet or body armour. Emam told us at the end of the trip that he'd used his position to score a free trip with us, she was pretty cross that he'd imposed on the already cramped mini-van.
Arriving at the beach, we were greated with welcoming drinks and allocated a hut per person or couple. The grounds and scienery was spectacular. Pristine smooth sand (which they tend to every morning to remove foot-print), the main building had low tables and cushions everywhere, there was a pool table for those suitably inclined and the menu was reasonably varied while modestly priced. A pad was passed around for alcohol orders, with Fraser and Nick putting impressive numbers in each column.
Once the logistics and dumping of packs had been taken care of, we all settled in for some hard-core relaxing. Many people read or snoozed on the couches, a couple went for a walk or a paddle. At 430PM about 6 of us went snorkelling with the owner.
We had to walk about 300M down the coast and then out into the water about the same in order to skirt the reef. The water was incredibly shallow and was VERY warm for the top 6 inches no matter how deep it was below you. The only goggles and fins that would fit me were both damaged and difficult to work with but that was to be expected.
WOW
The aquatic life in this area is astounding. During the 30 minutes of snorkelling, we'd seen stone-fish as bit as a foot-ball. About 3-4 massive Lion Fish with their plumage flying through the water, swan through constellations of small blue fish that looked like Tetras. The coral was bright, multicoloured and prolific. I saw far too many sea urchins, spiny parapets fending off the breathing world. I hope the urchins were indigenous and not feasting on the coral, I've heard of the problems on the Great Barrier Reef...
With a yelp that being under water didn't dampen, tragedy struck. British Sarah had gotten a little too close to the coral and scraped her back and arm against the colourful aquatic resident. One of the american guys said they saw a portion break off, so it was definitely coral that caused the injury. Almost in tears with agony, Sarah refused to cut the swim short and go to shore, the guide took that at face value and we continued on for the last 10 minutes. Sarah was doing a good job at masking the pain as we all, much more cautiosly, paddled less than 6 inches above our new foe-with-vibrant-fronds until it was suitable to stand and walk the rest of the way in.
Back on shore, Sarah thought I was being a jerk when I said she should put vinegar on her wounds (or have someone pee on them). By now they had come up in hives and were bright red. She later conceded to have a warm to hot shower, but “almost scalding water” was out of the question.
This AMAZED me, Sarah had an Advanced Open Water SCUBA licence, Nick and Rachel both had Open Water SCUBA tickets.. but everyone looked confused at the idea of heat or acidity to treat the coral stings, which is what I'd been taught for aquatic injuries. I think I must have explained it about two or three times before Sarah went and had a shower, which she said helped dramatically.
The hives were still angry and red, Nick suggested an antihistame and pain killers. Sarah was still being strangely resistant, much of which would remain for the rest of the trip.
Dramas aside, we rest of the evening was pleasant enough. The drinks arrived and we all shared pizzas and beers. Fraser had started on his merry way to being drunk and I quizzed out Emam on some different aspects of local culture and customs. As usual, religious discussion was in the fore-front.
When the plates were cleared away and most of the bottles were half-empty, we all made our way back to our huts. A lot of the people shifted their mattresses outside to escape the heat, but one look at the size of the local cockroaches had me retreating under the mosquito net.
240808 – Red Sea
By the time I'd surfaced, Nick and Rachel had left for their SCUBA adventure up the coast, the breakfast menu was on its last legs and Sarah had started a follow up inspection of her coral injuries. She'd started dosing herself with anithistames and Aloe to try and settle it down, but it was still looking pretty nasty.
Breakfast and chilling out seemed to be the norm for what remained of the morning. Philosophical and ecconomic debate seemed to be order of the day. Lunch arrived with what remained of the drinks from last night, Nick and Rachels return also turned interest to another “drinks list”.
I would have liked to have gone snorkelling again today, but the lack of suitable equipment wieghed in with how comforable everyone felt after lunch and afternoon drinks. As the hours dwindled into twilight, the lights came on, tables came out and dinner became the topic of interest. Drinks stretched into the night.
When the generator was switched off, I slept out on a beach chair until the moon was as bright as daylight. Wandering back to my hut, the night was overly warm and sleep was quick to follow.
After a suitable sleep, we ran through our morning routine and left for a long day ahead. Breakfast was a buffet, Pancakes were on offer along with a chocolate fountain. The norm here has wild deviances, there have been a few breakfasts that have involved softdrink. I would murder for a real coffee.
Those of us who had previously suffered “Nasty-butt” stocked up on various medicines while a pharmacy was at had. I took advantage of the price to buy some Cipro at about 18EGP (about $3.50AU). I'm still blown away by the approach to medicine in this part of the world, you're just as likely to go to a pharmacist for a diagnosis as a doctor! “Here, use this” :p
We got to the Monastery of Saint Katherine and toured the grounds. Emam gave us a very brief rundown of the history and various points of significance. Saint Katherine Monastery is the longest active monastery in the region (or possibly the Middle East). It has been a religious centre since about the 6th centuary and there were monks and priests wandering around while we were there. It is quite a bit larger than the original grounds. It has the largest collection of historical religious texts, second only to the Vatican Library.
The legend is that Katherine was a roman nobel who was very well educated. She converted from Pagan to Christian, upon which the King sent a great many scholars (12 or 30, I can't remember) to argue with her and change her back to the state religion. Katherine converted all of the scholars to being Christian, which resulted in the King executing them. Katherine was sentenced to wheel torture and death, but when she touched the wheel with her finger it broke apart. Hence, she was beheaded. The legend continued that her body was transported by God to the top of Mount Saint Katherine (the highest mountain in the region) and was miraculously preserved. We went through the main chapel and saw what was meant to be the finger bone of Saint Katherine. It was impressively large, I thought it looked more like part of the elbow joint, Nick was undecided.
After the main chapel, we saw what legend said was the burning bush through which God spoke to Moses. The species only grows in this part of the world and Emam said something along the lines of “X-rays of it are lit up, but it will not burn”.
A couple of us went through the museum for 20EGP, there were a lot of impressive texts. Many of the books and artifacts are absolutely spectacular. There is the original letter from Napolean Bonapart, giving the monastery protection, as well as two facsiimilies of the letter written by the Prophet Mohammad saying the same.
There was also part of a copy of the “Sianaticus Codice”. Only 50 copies of this document were ever produced. One was “borrowed” by a european scholar under the guise of getting it published. Instead, the mongrel gave it as a gift to the Russian royalty. The monks have been asking for the stolen documents to be returned for the last few hundred years.
The pages that I saw were over 1,500 years old.
On the way out, we saw the Chapel of Skulls. This is where the bones of all of the monks who lived in the Monastery remain. There was an over-abundance of rude German tourists who ruined this part. They seemed to think that losing the war means that they can jump queues and push everyone around, jamming video cameras into places where it is not entirely appropriate and many of the younger women wearing atire that would be more suited to a strip-club.
I hope they got an eduring case of “Nasty-Butt” to take home with them. Selfish mongrels.
After toilets and stocking up on water and souveniers, we were back on the bus and heading for the Red Sea. There was no convoy for this part of the trip, but check points were extremely frequent. Also, we had a Tourism Policeman in a cheap suit with a machine-gun under his jacket and the various bulges that spoke of either a very poor diet or body armour. Emam told us at the end of the trip that he'd used his position to score a free trip with us, she was pretty cross that he'd imposed on the already cramped mini-van.
Arriving at the beach, we were greated with welcoming drinks and allocated a hut per person or couple. The grounds and scienery was spectacular. Pristine smooth sand (which they tend to every morning to remove foot-print), the main building had low tables and cushions everywhere, there was a pool table for those suitably inclined and the menu was reasonably varied while modestly priced. A pad was passed around for alcohol orders, with Fraser and Nick putting impressive numbers in each column.
Once the logistics and dumping of packs had been taken care of, we all settled in for some hard-core relaxing. Many people read or snoozed on the couches, a couple went for a walk or a paddle. At 430PM about 6 of us went snorkelling with the owner.
We had to walk about 300M down the coast and then out into the water about the same in order to skirt the reef. The water was incredibly shallow and was VERY warm for the top 6 inches no matter how deep it was below you. The only goggles and fins that would fit me were both damaged and difficult to work with but that was to be expected.
WOW
The aquatic life in this area is astounding. During the 30 minutes of snorkelling, we'd seen stone-fish as bit as a foot-ball. About 3-4 massive Lion Fish with their plumage flying through the water, swan through constellations of small blue fish that looked like Tetras. The coral was bright, multicoloured and prolific. I saw far too many sea urchins, spiny parapets fending off the breathing world. I hope the urchins were indigenous and not feasting on the coral, I've heard of the problems on the Great Barrier Reef...
With a yelp that being under water didn't dampen, tragedy struck. British Sarah had gotten a little too close to the coral and scraped her back and arm against the colourful aquatic resident. One of the american guys said they saw a portion break off, so it was definitely coral that caused the injury. Almost in tears with agony, Sarah refused to cut the swim short and go to shore, the guide took that at face value and we continued on for the last 10 minutes. Sarah was doing a good job at masking the pain as we all, much more cautiosly, paddled less than 6 inches above our new foe-with-vibrant-fronds until it was suitable to stand and walk the rest of the way in.
Back on shore, Sarah thought I was being a jerk when I said she should put vinegar on her wounds (or have someone pee on them). By now they had come up in hives and were bright red. She later conceded to have a warm to hot shower, but “almost scalding water” was out of the question.
This AMAZED me, Sarah had an Advanced Open Water SCUBA licence, Nick and Rachel both had Open Water SCUBA tickets.. but everyone looked confused at the idea of heat or acidity to treat the coral stings, which is what I'd been taught for aquatic injuries. I think I must have explained it about two or three times before Sarah went and had a shower, which she said helped dramatically.
The hives were still angry and red, Nick suggested an antihistame and pain killers. Sarah was still being strangely resistant, much of which would remain for the rest of the trip.
Dramas aside, we rest of the evening was pleasant enough. The drinks arrived and we all shared pizzas and beers. Fraser had started on his merry way to being drunk and I quizzed out Emam on some different aspects of local culture and customs. As usual, religious discussion was in the fore-front.
When the plates were cleared away and most of the bottles were half-empty, we all made our way back to our huts. A lot of the people shifted their mattresses outside to escape the heat, but one look at the size of the local cockroaches had me retreating under the mosquito net.
240808 – Red Sea
By the time I'd surfaced, Nick and Rachel had left for their SCUBA adventure up the coast, the breakfast menu was on its last legs and Sarah had started a follow up inspection of her coral injuries. She'd started dosing herself with anithistames and Aloe to try and settle it down, but it was still looking pretty nasty.
Breakfast and chilling out seemed to be the norm for what remained of the morning. Philosophical and ecconomic debate seemed to be order of the day. Lunch arrived with what remained of the drinks from last night, Nick and Rachels return also turned interest to another “drinks list”.
I would have liked to have gone snorkelling again today, but the lack of suitable equipment wieghed in with how comforable everyone felt after lunch and afternoon drinks. As the hours dwindled into twilight, the lights came on, tables came out and dinner became the topic of interest. Drinks stretched into the night.
When the generator was switched off, I slept out on a beach chair until the moon was as bright as daylight. Wandering back to my hut, the night was overly warm and sleep was quick to follow.
220808 - Mount Siani
220808 – Mount Siani
We rose and made the necessary preparations for the trip ahead. It was quite early and were provided with the standard packed breakfast. Scottish, Nick and Rachel had gone to watch the belly-dancing last night and got home at about 3AM.
The verdict had been “BellyDancing was pretty poor, the girls were very pretty though”. Whole families had been there, offering a very different view of the culture. All three of them felt it had been the first time that they had actually looked in on the culture, rather than watching from a tour-bus.
On the bus, we all tried to sleep. Emam provided some pointers about the history and current status of the area we were passing through. There were a great many check-points and I noticed a lot more Army and Police facilities (including a row of artillery about 2 kilometers back from the road). We stopped at the last service station before the Suze Canal for toilets and snacks, then passed beneath the water-way into Siani.
Over the next few hours, we saw the Canal at times. It eventually widened quite a bit. Often times the actual water was obsquered by the hieght of the sand. Seeing a Natural Gas tanker aparently “sailing through an ocean of sand” was quite... odd...
We arrived at our accomidation in Saint Katherine for a late lunch after checkin. We were all very tired and badly worn from the morning of travelling and minimal sleep. Everyone freshened up and ate, some people went for a walk or snoozed until it had cooled. We got onto a smaller bus and made our way to the Monistary about 430PM. Today we only walked past the outside of the fortifications, Emam promised us that tomorrow was the real tour.
This afternoon was dedicated to climbing Mount Siani.
There had been much discussing about this leg of the trip, everyone had no doubt that it would be the most athletic. Debbie had opted not to come, instead making use of the hotel facilities. Emmam and I both took camels, the rest of the group chose to walk.
Mount Siani is scaled by first taking a series of rocky and sandy pathways up about “2000 steps”, you are often doubling back at a higher level and there are multiple rest spots at distances just enough to be inconvient and then too frequent (the Bedouin seem to accumulate towards the top of the mountain). The majority of the canteens we passed were closed. As you pass from the Monastery up the first slope, there is a white chapel at the top of what appears to be an impossibly high and steep hill. While there is some significance for this building, I can't remember it and we don't pass nearby. The View over the monastery grounds starts to become reasonably impressive before disappearing behind the folds of the first mountain, the needle like trees standing watch between the fortifications and the nearby slopes. As we passed clockwise around the waist of the mountain now concealing the ancient building, the edge drops away quite steeply to the left. In the valley VERY far below and some kilometers away, we can see a number of local buildings and a large impressive structure that Emam tells me is a school.
Long before we lost sight of the Monastery, we had also lost sight of all but the last two members of our group. It appears that on mountain paths, human feet are faster than the “ship of the desert”. From the start, the camels had been complaining loudly and I'd had to swap from my particularly comfortable initial mount to a second and then a third that had a saddle with a great deal less padding. By half way, overlooking the school far below, I'd thought about just getting down and walking (the Benduoin guide had already had me dismount about 5 or 6 times to tighten the saddle), but Emam insisted that it would now be faster to just stay on our rides. By the end of this leg of the adventure, I would certainly be glad for not over exerting myself too early on.
Following the first “2000-2500 steps” (depending on who is telling the story), there is a pass through a crevace in the mountain that is preceeded by a steep climb. The pass saddles two mountains, we cross across this such that we exit with the mountain on our left and steep rockface dropping away to our right. Just before the pass there is a canteen, along with another one about 100M before where we said farwell to our disgruntled, humpy sources of transport. At the canteen directly before the pass, Emam took a seat and declared a rest with promises of following shortly “maybe”. From here I took another, final, brief look at the scenery that I'd been gazing across. The white chapel that had seemed so impossibly high was now atop its own little mountain, several kilometres away and at half our hieght.
Once through the pass and down a short track there is a small “village” of about half a dozen canteens. About 200M down the mountain side there was another monastery surounded by a wall with a handful of buildings, also flanked on the southern edge by tall needle like trees as sentinels. It was in the village that I now stood that marked the beginning of the 700 Steps. The steps were reputedly constructed by a solitary monk as a form of repentance, though I'm sure that they've seen a great deal of care and attention in more recent history considering how squared the first hundred were and the volume of concrete securing them.
The 700 steps vary from almost regularly shaped and distanced stairs to long stretching terraces of rock. Some are particularly high, others not so much, many of them treacherous. Though not the most comfortable of footware, my hiking boots would have saved me in ways that I will be very glad to never know. I'm not sure if the particular layout of the village is intended to mislead travellers, I later heard that the lead team of our group had actually gone down to the nearby monastery and had had to take a more difficult route up in order to avoid a complete double-back. I had actually walked the length of the little street and started looking for stairs before a local turned me around and got a boy to direct me. Looking back, there is very little doubt that there may be a ploy for tipping in this... none the less, I was back on the right track.
As the stairs stretched and doubled back, held steady and then jumped into a steep climb, I passed more than a few pilgrims on their way down. Encouragements of “only 10 more minutes”, “you are almost there” and the like offered as much revitalisation as the frequent rests atop particularly large rocks (which at times turned from “seat” into “next step”). There was no doubt, without the uncomfortable camel ride I would have never have made the ascent.
Finally, I made the last turn and the dash to the summit amid the cheers of the rest of the group. Sunset was about 10-15 minutes away. The view and the setting sun took away your breath as much as the altitude. At two and a half kilometres above sea level, that is no small statement.
There are two chapels at the summit of Mount Siani, the original chapel of Saint Katherine and the much larger and newer chapel. Both were locked. The older one is quite small from the outside, with a stairwell reaching underneath the building. The larger one is more along the lines of what you expect for a chapel. Out the front there was a fairly large, flat courtyard lined with a low wall to seperate it from the narrower stone terrace-platform below, in turn with its own low wall to keep back the immediate drop. The raised top of the wall was occupied by a handful of Bedouin and their opened suitcase stalls. On a tiny outcrop just below the original chapel, there was a particularly nasty out-house. All of the boys behaved as such, taking the opportunity to use the darkening mountainside as a latrine-to-remember.
Building these facilities would have been no mean feat, additionally I know very few priests in a fit state to perform Sunday mass atop this hand that reaches to the roof of the world. Looking across to Mount Saint Katherine, I can barely imagine the formal procession required to reach whatever stood at its summit. It is the highest point in Egypt and thankfully doesn't cheapen our current expidition by dwarfing us, it is simply “a little higher”. There is supposedly a chapel on top of that mountain too. Building any of these structures, let alone the stair in antiquity , is something beyond the imagination for such a remote region.
The glow of sunset left the mountain top with us, we had barely made it down a quarter of the steps before flashlights came out and the rate of decent decreased. Darkness had arrived as we walked into the lights of the little village, we passed on quietly through the mountainous crevace. By now the group had once again stretched out to those faster and more reckless at the front, us lame and crippled at the rear. Emam was waiting for us at the canteen where I had last seen her, having decided to remain well situated with snacks and drinks. Restocking on sugary snacks, chocolate and softdrink to try and invigorate tired legs, we tried to get the less functional torches in retreat party working. I ended out giving my backup light to John, who couldn't get the dead cells out of his torch. He and Emam motored off before we got to the next canteen, I hung back a little with Troy, Sarah and Aaron. We took turns in waiting for each other as we needed a rest. My knee held up admirably, but I was in no mood to stress it. Troy suffered on quietly the whole way down the mountain, his back would not have survived the camel ride up but the walk had punished him most cruely. By the next canteen, we had started to discuss just paying to stay there for the night.
By the time we had reached halfway, I was onto my second set of batteries and the torches Troy and Sarah had purchased that afternoon were almost dead. I passed my mini-mag onto Troy as he preferred to stay at the back (his back and ham-strings were torturing him by now) and I was doing quite well between pulsing his old light on and off, or sticking to the bright halo of Aarons torch.
We continued on with frequent breaks as time ticked by, starting to discuss if the others had already gotten the bus back to the hotel or if they were waiting for us. I was really starting to wish that I'd hung onto my spare light. As we passed beneath the white chapel that I'd seen on the way up, Sarah treated us by breaking into song. Opera singers in the mountains are ASTOUNDING. With needling by the others, I offered an off-key verse of “Hey Mister Tell-i-man, bring me a banana.. daylight come and me wanna go home..” cut short by coughing from the amount of dust I'd picked up on the trip.
We finally made the last turn around the apron-strings of the last mountain and the light of the monastery sprang into view. Still at the end of the valley, it was a bit of a walk away but at least home was in sight. This leg was particularly confusing as there were an abundance of lights at places all the way up and down each slope from the Bedouins and there were dozens of paths leading to the multiple climbs that visitors can do. A good half an hour later, we approached the end. The Bedouin guide who had left us behind met us about 300 metres out from the monestary, having seen our lights coming in. We were received with cheers by the rest of the group who had waited for us.
Walking on the gravel road down to the checkpoint at the enterance to the monestary valley, we exchanged stories and reclaimed loaned equipment. A short bus ride later, we were back at the hotel sitting in front of a buffet dinner that everyone was too tired, dehydrated or exhausted to make the most of. Forcing down several litres and a plate of food, I quietly retreated for a shower and as much sleep as I could get.
We rose and made the necessary preparations for the trip ahead. It was quite early and were provided with the standard packed breakfast. Scottish, Nick and Rachel had gone to watch the belly-dancing last night and got home at about 3AM.
The verdict had been “BellyDancing was pretty poor, the girls were very pretty though”. Whole families had been there, offering a very different view of the culture. All three of them felt it had been the first time that they had actually looked in on the culture, rather than watching from a tour-bus.
On the bus, we all tried to sleep. Emam provided some pointers about the history and current status of the area we were passing through. There were a great many check-points and I noticed a lot more Army and Police facilities (including a row of artillery about 2 kilometers back from the road). We stopped at the last service station before the Suze Canal for toilets and snacks, then passed beneath the water-way into Siani.
Over the next few hours, we saw the Canal at times. It eventually widened quite a bit. Often times the actual water was obsquered by the hieght of the sand. Seeing a Natural Gas tanker aparently “sailing through an ocean of sand” was quite... odd...
We arrived at our accomidation in Saint Katherine for a late lunch after checkin. We were all very tired and badly worn from the morning of travelling and minimal sleep. Everyone freshened up and ate, some people went for a walk or snoozed until it had cooled. We got onto a smaller bus and made our way to the Monistary about 430PM. Today we only walked past the outside of the fortifications, Emam promised us that tomorrow was the real tour.
This afternoon was dedicated to climbing Mount Siani.
There had been much discussing about this leg of the trip, everyone had no doubt that it would be the most athletic. Debbie had opted not to come, instead making use of the hotel facilities. Emmam and I both took camels, the rest of the group chose to walk.
Mount Siani is scaled by first taking a series of rocky and sandy pathways up about “2000 steps”, you are often doubling back at a higher level and there are multiple rest spots at distances just enough to be inconvient and then too frequent (the Bedouin seem to accumulate towards the top of the mountain). The majority of the canteens we passed were closed. As you pass from the Monastery up the first slope, there is a white chapel at the top of what appears to be an impossibly high and steep hill. While there is some significance for this building, I can't remember it and we don't pass nearby. The View over the monastery grounds starts to become reasonably impressive before disappearing behind the folds of the first mountain, the needle like trees standing watch between the fortifications and the nearby slopes. As we passed clockwise around the waist of the mountain now concealing the ancient building, the edge drops away quite steeply to the left. In the valley VERY far below and some kilometers away, we can see a number of local buildings and a large impressive structure that Emam tells me is a school.
Long before we lost sight of the Monastery, we had also lost sight of all but the last two members of our group. It appears that on mountain paths, human feet are faster than the “ship of the desert”. From the start, the camels had been complaining loudly and I'd had to swap from my particularly comfortable initial mount to a second and then a third that had a saddle with a great deal less padding. By half way, overlooking the school far below, I'd thought about just getting down and walking (the Benduoin guide had already had me dismount about 5 or 6 times to tighten the saddle), but Emam insisted that it would now be faster to just stay on our rides. By the end of this leg of the adventure, I would certainly be glad for not over exerting myself too early on.
Following the first “2000-2500 steps” (depending on who is telling the story), there is a pass through a crevace in the mountain that is preceeded by a steep climb. The pass saddles two mountains, we cross across this such that we exit with the mountain on our left and steep rockface dropping away to our right. Just before the pass there is a canteen, along with another one about 100M before where we said farwell to our disgruntled, humpy sources of transport. At the canteen directly before the pass, Emam took a seat and declared a rest with promises of following shortly “maybe”. From here I took another, final, brief look at the scenery that I'd been gazing across. The white chapel that had seemed so impossibly high was now atop its own little mountain, several kilometres away and at half our hieght.
Once through the pass and down a short track there is a small “village” of about half a dozen canteens. About 200M down the mountain side there was another monastery surounded by a wall with a handful of buildings, also flanked on the southern edge by tall needle like trees as sentinels. It was in the village that I now stood that marked the beginning of the 700 Steps. The steps were reputedly constructed by a solitary monk as a form of repentance, though I'm sure that they've seen a great deal of care and attention in more recent history considering how squared the first hundred were and the volume of concrete securing them.
The 700 steps vary from almost regularly shaped and distanced stairs to long stretching terraces of rock. Some are particularly high, others not so much, many of them treacherous. Though not the most comfortable of footware, my hiking boots would have saved me in ways that I will be very glad to never know. I'm not sure if the particular layout of the village is intended to mislead travellers, I later heard that the lead team of our group had actually gone down to the nearby monastery and had had to take a more difficult route up in order to avoid a complete double-back. I had actually walked the length of the little street and started looking for stairs before a local turned me around and got a boy to direct me. Looking back, there is very little doubt that there may be a ploy for tipping in this... none the less, I was back on the right track.
As the stairs stretched and doubled back, held steady and then jumped into a steep climb, I passed more than a few pilgrims on their way down. Encouragements of “only 10 more minutes”, “you are almost there” and the like offered as much revitalisation as the frequent rests atop particularly large rocks (which at times turned from “seat” into “next step”). There was no doubt, without the uncomfortable camel ride I would have never have made the ascent.
Finally, I made the last turn and the dash to the summit amid the cheers of the rest of the group. Sunset was about 10-15 minutes away. The view and the setting sun took away your breath as much as the altitude. At two and a half kilometres above sea level, that is no small statement.
There are two chapels at the summit of Mount Siani, the original chapel of Saint Katherine and the much larger and newer chapel. Both were locked. The older one is quite small from the outside, with a stairwell reaching underneath the building. The larger one is more along the lines of what you expect for a chapel. Out the front there was a fairly large, flat courtyard lined with a low wall to seperate it from the narrower stone terrace-platform below, in turn with its own low wall to keep back the immediate drop. The raised top of the wall was occupied by a handful of Bedouin and their opened suitcase stalls. On a tiny outcrop just below the original chapel, there was a particularly nasty out-house. All of the boys behaved as such, taking the opportunity to use the darkening mountainside as a latrine-to-remember.
Building these facilities would have been no mean feat, additionally I know very few priests in a fit state to perform Sunday mass atop this hand that reaches to the roof of the world. Looking across to Mount Saint Katherine, I can barely imagine the formal procession required to reach whatever stood at its summit. It is the highest point in Egypt and thankfully doesn't cheapen our current expidition by dwarfing us, it is simply “a little higher”. There is supposedly a chapel on top of that mountain too. Building any of these structures, let alone the stair in antiquity , is something beyond the imagination for such a remote region.
The glow of sunset left the mountain top with us, we had barely made it down a quarter of the steps before flashlights came out and the rate of decent decreased. Darkness had arrived as we walked into the lights of the little village, we passed on quietly through the mountainous crevace. By now the group had once again stretched out to those faster and more reckless at the front, us lame and crippled at the rear. Emam was waiting for us at the canteen where I had last seen her, having decided to remain well situated with snacks and drinks. Restocking on sugary snacks, chocolate and softdrink to try and invigorate tired legs, we tried to get the less functional torches in retreat party working. I ended out giving my backup light to John, who couldn't get the dead cells out of his torch. He and Emam motored off before we got to the next canteen, I hung back a little with Troy, Sarah and Aaron. We took turns in waiting for each other as we needed a rest. My knee held up admirably, but I was in no mood to stress it. Troy suffered on quietly the whole way down the mountain, his back would not have survived the camel ride up but the walk had punished him most cruely. By the next canteen, we had started to discuss just paying to stay there for the night.
By the time we had reached halfway, I was onto my second set of batteries and the torches Troy and Sarah had purchased that afternoon were almost dead. I passed my mini-mag onto Troy as he preferred to stay at the back (his back and ham-strings were torturing him by now) and I was doing quite well between pulsing his old light on and off, or sticking to the bright halo of Aarons torch.
We continued on with frequent breaks as time ticked by, starting to discuss if the others had already gotten the bus back to the hotel or if they were waiting for us. I was really starting to wish that I'd hung onto my spare light. As we passed beneath the white chapel that I'd seen on the way up, Sarah treated us by breaking into song. Opera singers in the mountains are ASTOUNDING. With needling by the others, I offered an off-key verse of “Hey Mister Tell-i-man, bring me a banana.. daylight come and me wanna go home..” cut short by coughing from the amount of dust I'd picked up on the trip.
We finally made the last turn around the apron-strings of the last mountain and the light of the monastery sprang into view. Still at the end of the valley, it was a bit of a walk away but at least home was in sight. This leg was particularly confusing as there were an abundance of lights at places all the way up and down each slope from the Bedouins and there were dozens of paths leading to the multiple climbs that visitors can do. A good half an hour later, we approached the end. The Bedouin guide who had left us behind met us about 300 metres out from the monestary, having seen our lights coming in. We were received with cheers by the rest of the group who had waited for us.
Walking on the gravel road down to the checkpoint at the enterance to the monestary valley, we exchanged stories and reclaimed loaned equipment. A short bus ride later, we were back at the hotel sitting in front of a buffet dinner that everyone was too tired, dehydrated or exhausted to make the most of. Forcing down several litres and a plate of food, I quietly retreated for a shower and as much sleep as I could get.
Monday, August 25, 2008
200808-210808 - Egypt - Luxor-Cairo
200808 – Luxor
This morning was an acceptable start, 7AM for most of us. Scottish went for a hot air balloon ride through the Valley of the Kings at 430AM. We had breakfast boxes on the bus with our local guide and picked up Fraser at the “Collosus” (a couple of “large” statues).
We arrived at the Enterance to Valley of the Kings. Considering the temperature, we decided not to do the extra tombs. I'm sure that they would be worth it, but it's just so oppressive in the valley. We did 3 tombs, which I'll need to double check the names of when I get home, and tried to dodgy the locals working on flogging their cheap merchandise.
The tombs that we did included the oldest one in the valley.
The first two corridors of this corridor where steep stairways that were very roughly cut, which was intentional to dissuade theives. These initial “dissuassions” became remarkably less polite by ending in a sudden drop into a 10m deep pit, designed to convince the more “persistent” of theives that they were wasting their time.
The artwork in this tomb was particularly simplistic, predominantly stick-figures that covered most of the interior surfaces. The burial chamber was a large room with 4 smaller side chambers. The sarcophagus was of modest size, probably not weighing much more than about 10 tons (I'll need to check that up as well).
Retreating from the heat and humidity of the tomb, the group moved onto the next two tombs (also particularly hot and humid). Much larger and more impressive, these two tombs were carved in the manner that we were used to from the other temples. Additionally, the scenes were painted.
3,000+ years old and the paint might have been put up less than a year or two ago. It is still quite vibrant and VERY well preserved. The level to which this site is still intact is hard to believe. Trying to wrap your head around the age of the place, of all of these places, is incredibly difficult to reconcile. I continually wish that I'd studied all of this much more before I left.
The rooms and chambers of these two tombs were awesome. The size and layout, with scenes and collumns, were mind blowing when you remembered that the builders only had water, fire, wood and copper tools. We weren't able to go to the end of the last tomb, because of damage to the last corridor. The other sarcophagii were at least twice the volume of the first one... I can only imagine the weight.
Having completed the Valley of the Kings, I would definitely like to come back here sometime. In winter when it is cooler. Any time that there were fewer tourists. Part of me does wish that I'd done the tour of the tombs of Tutankamen and Ramses VI. Considering the heat, humidity and number of tourists, I don't think that I could have put up with another two tombs without trying to trap a fat, loud american in the sarcophagus and knocking out the wooden chocks...
Back on the bus, we went for lunch at the house of our local guide. I'd been looking forward to this lunch, to see what life was like for locals and what they consider “home” to be.
To paint the picture, the side streets of these towns are predominantly dirt with a very liberal assortment of debris. This debris can range from plastic litter to corrugated iron and engine parts. The walls are usually very dark mudbrick that appears unfinished. These buildings appear to usually have a common continuous front wall for extended stretches of the street (though the one family may own all of the building owning that wall, I'm not sure), businesses are adjactent to homes but may have a roller-door rather than the sparce, dark, iron door that encloses a dwelling.
To be unfair, an Australian would look at the street and consider it “developing” or under-privaleged. If I hadn't driven past the townships of South Africa, I would have considered it almost “urbanised third world” (I'm being VERY unfair here).
Please keep in mind that this section of town would have been relatively oppulant, our guide has a very good job with a very good company. There appeared to be many businesses in the area and this was towards the middle of the town.
Inside the home, it was tidy and conservatively decorated. Our guide had his brother and his wife serve us lunch and his two children were playing nearby. The ground floor was made up of what appeared to be a kitchen and stairwell off to the side (I didn't get the chance to look through to the kitchen room), the main room was filled with LARGE couches that might have doubled as beds, a large low table for eating around and a standard high dining table to the back (assumedly for doing work from), there was a small bathroom to the rear of floor. It was a very pleasant house, but for some reason I'd imagined it to be palaces behind the dark mudbrick walls.
After lunch, our guide wrote all of our names in Arabic and in Heiroglyphs. He then went on to show us silver jewellery that we could have our names on. Being a little pricy, I avoided temptation.
Some of us went onto the Papyrus Museum, where it was meant to be authentic papyrus (rather than the banana leaves that they supposedly sell in the markets). The papyrus was a little more expensive than some of the members found later on, but it was of high quality and from a reputable company. In a spending mood, we took off to see “Mr Lovely” who was a friend of the guide.
Mr Lovely owns a company that sells authentic alabaster and carved stone. It was very interesting and I bought some very nice pieces that I felt I'd haggled a good price for.
Regardless, I'm SURE we were badly ripped off. At the same time, all of our purchase came with expanations of how each piece was made and how to prove them authentic.
We caught a ferry back to the east bank and wandered back to the hotel. Internet, shower, pool on the roof. End of a good day.
Emam took us deep into Luxor for dinner at a pizza place. The food was nice enough and there was free WiFi (resulting in many of us checking email and banking using my iPhone).
Back at the hotel, Fraser, Evie and I went to a nearby hotel that had a bar. A british pub underground with Aircon strong enough to assist in mummifying an elephant. IT WAS EXCELLENT. We had to catch the bus to the train station at 8PM, which was the only dissappointment. It would have been nice to kick it up at this bar, but it was not to be..
Much to our disgust (especially those of us that went to the bar) we had to wait at the trainstation for 2 hours before our train arrived.. 2 hours of stinking, sweaty heat, at extortionate station prices with every man in 50 metres staring at the girls in our party. For most of the people, they felt that this was the low point of the trip. With everyone tired and fed up, wilting from the heat, I think the Australians fared the best. If you took away the physical exertion, heat and humidity didn't feel that different to Perth on a bad day.
The train to Cairo was heavily airconditioned, but not sleeper compartments. The chairs were similar to what you would find in business class on a plane. The train car was a little too noisy, the egyptian mothers feeling that their children playing “screaming games” was appropriate for 11pm at night.
With a little effort, I drifted off to sleep and appeared to sleep through the worst of it. Many of my companions complained that the air con was too cold at parts and that they didn't sleep. I seemed to get off lightly.
210808 – Cairo
Getting back to the same hotel at about 9AM, most of us showered and got a couple of hours sleep. I met up with John, Aaron and Evie in the reception to go check out some parts of Cairo we'd missed the first time around.
Additionally, today was Evies birthday. Emam was organising a dinner for tonight.
While waiting for the others to show up, I called the bank and put through the dispute of claims on my withdrawals in Aswan.
20 minutes... ARGH
I officially hate phone-banking.
We got lunch at an overpriced local eatery (they had raised prices in the english menu, on the page opposite to the arabic prices..), out of protest, most of us didn't tip. Bad form, but we were unimpressed.
The train was interesting enough, reminding me a lot of the Paris network. We got off at Coptic Cairo and had a look around. We saw the chapel of the holy family and the Hanging Church, which was absolutely beautiful. Evie and I went to see the Coptic Museum, which had some impressive artwork and two pages of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
We had snacks and drinks at a nearby cafe, where Evie declared that it was her birthday and that we had to “stop being so negative” especially with our whining about the prices. Fair call :p
We stocked up on water and caught a taxi up to the citidel. This was a fortification built to protect against the crusaders and I believe was the place until the royal family was expelled. There are two mosques there, one ontop of the hill which is ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDING. We had a quick look around the palace, including the throne room and bedroom.
We wandered past the Military museum, but didn't have the time to go in properly. Instead we just took very boyish photos of the different cannons, guns and catapults displayed in the courtyard, to Evies ultimate annoyance.
Taxi back to the hotel, we refreshed and went to dinner at an american restaurant. Hamburgers were a VERY welcome relief.
Emam even bought Evie a cake :D cream-spongue = AWESOME
Outside, Scottish gave the last 2 pieces of the cake to a beggar with a child. Emam seemed a little cranky about that and we all teased Fraser about being a softie.
Back at the hotel, there were more beers. Fraser, Nick and Rachel went off to belly-dancing while there was bed for the rest of us.
This morning was an acceptable start, 7AM for most of us. Scottish went for a hot air balloon ride through the Valley of the Kings at 430AM. We had breakfast boxes on the bus with our local guide and picked up Fraser at the “Collosus” (a couple of “large” statues).
We arrived at the Enterance to Valley of the Kings. Considering the temperature, we decided not to do the extra tombs. I'm sure that they would be worth it, but it's just so oppressive in the valley. We did 3 tombs, which I'll need to double check the names of when I get home, and tried to dodgy the locals working on flogging their cheap merchandise.
The tombs that we did included the oldest one in the valley.
The first two corridors of this corridor where steep stairways that were very roughly cut, which was intentional to dissuade theives. These initial “dissuassions” became remarkably less polite by ending in a sudden drop into a 10m deep pit, designed to convince the more “persistent” of theives that they were wasting their time.
The artwork in this tomb was particularly simplistic, predominantly stick-figures that covered most of the interior surfaces. The burial chamber was a large room with 4 smaller side chambers. The sarcophagus was of modest size, probably not weighing much more than about 10 tons (I'll need to check that up as well).
Retreating from the heat and humidity of the tomb, the group moved onto the next two tombs (also particularly hot and humid). Much larger and more impressive, these two tombs were carved in the manner that we were used to from the other temples. Additionally, the scenes were painted.
3,000+ years old and the paint might have been put up less than a year or two ago. It is still quite vibrant and VERY well preserved. The level to which this site is still intact is hard to believe. Trying to wrap your head around the age of the place, of all of these places, is incredibly difficult to reconcile. I continually wish that I'd studied all of this much more before I left.
The rooms and chambers of these two tombs were awesome. The size and layout, with scenes and collumns, were mind blowing when you remembered that the builders only had water, fire, wood and copper tools. We weren't able to go to the end of the last tomb, because of damage to the last corridor. The other sarcophagii were at least twice the volume of the first one... I can only imagine the weight.
Having completed the Valley of the Kings, I would definitely like to come back here sometime. In winter when it is cooler. Any time that there were fewer tourists. Part of me does wish that I'd done the tour of the tombs of Tutankamen and Ramses VI. Considering the heat, humidity and number of tourists, I don't think that I could have put up with another two tombs without trying to trap a fat, loud american in the sarcophagus and knocking out the wooden chocks...
Back on the bus, we went for lunch at the house of our local guide. I'd been looking forward to this lunch, to see what life was like for locals and what they consider “home” to be.
To paint the picture, the side streets of these towns are predominantly dirt with a very liberal assortment of debris. This debris can range from plastic litter to corrugated iron and engine parts. The walls are usually very dark mudbrick that appears unfinished. These buildings appear to usually have a common continuous front wall for extended stretches of the street (though the one family may own all of the building owning that wall, I'm not sure), businesses are adjactent to homes but may have a roller-door rather than the sparce, dark, iron door that encloses a dwelling.
To be unfair, an Australian would look at the street and consider it “developing” or under-privaleged. If I hadn't driven past the townships of South Africa, I would have considered it almost “urbanised third world” (I'm being VERY unfair here).
Please keep in mind that this section of town would have been relatively oppulant, our guide has a very good job with a very good company. There appeared to be many businesses in the area and this was towards the middle of the town.
Inside the home, it was tidy and conservatively decorated. Our guide had his brother and his wife serve us lunch and his two children were playing nearby. The ground floor was made up of what appeared to be a kitchen and stairwell off to the side (I didn't get the chance to look through to the kitchen room), the main room was filled with LARGE couches that might have doubled as beds, a large low table for eating around and a standard high dining table to the back (assumedly for doing work from), there was a small bathroom to the rear of floor. It was a very pleasant house, but for some reason I'd imagined it to be palaces behind the dark mudbrick walls.
After lunch, our guide wrote all of our names in Arabic and in Heiroglyphs. He then went on to show us silver jewellery that we could have our names on. Being a little pricy, I avoided temptation.
Some of us went onto the Papyrus Museum, where it was meant to be authentic papyrus (rather than the banana leaves that they supposedly sell in the markets). The papyrus was a little more expensive than some of the members found later on, but it was of high quality and from a reputable company. In a spending mood, we took off to see “Mr Lovely” who was a friend of the guide.
Mr Lovely owns a company that sells authentic alabaster and carved stone. It was very interesting and I bought some very nice pieces that I felt I'd haggled a good price for.
Regardless, I'm SURE we were badly ripped off. At the same time, all of our purchase came with expanations of how each piece was made and how to prove them authentic.
We caught a ferry back to the east bank and wandered back to the hotel. Internet, shower, pool on the roof. End of a good day.
Emam took us deep into Luxor for dinner at a pizza place. The food was nice enough and there was free WiFi (resulting in many of us checking email and banking using my iPhone).
Back at the hotel, Fraser, Evie and I went to a nearby hotel that had a bar. A british pub underground with Aircon strong enough to assist in mummifying an elephant. IT WAS EXCELLENT. We had to catch the bus to the train station at 8PM, which was the only dissappointment. It would have been nice to kick it up at this bar, but it was not to be..
Much to our disgust (especially those of us that went to the bar) we had to wait at the trainstation for 2 hours before our train arrived.. 2 hours of stinking, sweaty heat, at extortionate station prices with every man in 50 metres staring at the girls in our party. For most of the people, they felt that this was the low point of the trip. With everyone tired and fed up, wilting from the heat, I think the Australians fared the best. If you took away the physical exertion, heat and humidity didn't feel that different to Perth on a bad day.
The train to Cairo was heavily airconditioned, but not sleeper compartments. The chairs were similar to what you would find in business class on a plane. The train car was a little too noisy, the egyptian mothers feeling that their children playing “screaming games” was appropriate for 11pm at night.
With a little effort, I drifted off to sleep and appeared to sleep through the worst of it. Many of my companions complained that the air con was too cold at parts and that they didn't sleep. I seemed to get off lightly.
210808 – Cairo
Getting back to the same hotel at about 9AM, most of us showered and got a couple of hours sleep. I met up with John, Aaron and Evie in the reception to go check out some parts of Cairo we'd missed the first time around.
Additionally, today was Evies birthday. Emam was organising a dinner for tonight.
While waiting for the others to show up, I called the bank and put through the dispute of claims on my withdrawals in Aswan.
20 minutes... ARGH
I officially hate phone-banking.
We got lunch at an overpriced local eatery (they had raised prices in the english menu, on the page opposite to the arabic prices..), out of protest, most of us didn't tip. Bad form, but we were unimpressed.
The train was interesting enough, reminding me a lot of the Paris network. We got off at Coptic Cairo and had a look around. We saw the chapel of the holy family and the Hanging Church, which was absolutely beautiful. Evie and I went to see the Coptic Museum, which had some impressive artwork and two pages of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
We had snacks and drinks at a nearby cafe, where Evie declared that it was her birthday and that we had to “stop being so negative” especially with our whining about the prices. Fair call :p
We stocked up on water and caught a taxi up to the citidel. This was a fortification built to protect against the crusaders and I believe was the place until the royal family was expelled. There are two mosques there, one ontop of the hill which is ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDING. We had a quick look around the palace, including the throne room and bedroom.
We wandered past the Military museum, but didn't have the time to go in properly. Instead we just took very boyish photos of the different cannons, guns and catapults displayed in the courtyard, to Evies ultimate annoyance.
Taxi back to the hotel, we refreshed and went to dinner at an american restaurant. Hamburgers were a VERY welcome relief.
Emam even bought Evie a cake :D cream-spongue = AWESOME
Outside, Scottish gave the last 2 pieces of the cake to a beggar with a child. Emam seemed a little cranky about that and we all teased Fraser about being a softie.
Back at the hotel, there were more beers. Fraser, Nick and Rachel went off to belly-dancing while there was bed for the rest of us.
180808-190808 - Egypt - Felucca
180808 – Egypt – Felucca
This morning started with quite a nice sleep in. After a breakfast of pancakes on the room we all checked out and walked down to the Nile with our packs.
Emam had arranged a very large Felucca called the “Bob Marley” with a large covered cushioned area. Being late to get onto the boat, I was stuck on the sunny side. Feeling quite smug that it was already 9-10AM and I would therefore be in the shade all afternoon, I hunkered down and started to bathe myself in sunscreen.
The boat departed.
WOW
I could seriously have done this for a couple of days.
The entire deck was covered with a cloth roof and padded with a giant matress. We joked about and dangled our feet in the water till lunch time (no crocodiles on this side of the high-dam). Lunch was vegetarian and provided for us by the crew, very tasty. Toilet stops were frequent enough and consisted of ducking behind a tree and digging a hole. We stopped to swim a couple of times in the cool Nile river, floating about in the strong currents before the mad-dash back to the boat to dry off before the next leg. The afternoon was spent laughing over the cross-word in a trashy celebrity mag and watching the amazing scenery float by.
One major win of the day was convincing Optus to enable Global Roaming on my phone, I was finally able to check my messages and felt much less guilty about phoning home.
We camped for the night alongside about 4-5 other feluccas on a small island in the middle of the river. The island was a little fragrant, but we assembled a toilet tent with seat and everything, so everybody was happy. Dinner was on the boat and then a camp-fire was setup for drumming and dancing by the local Nubians (mainly the crew from another boat). There were a couple of other tours, the GAP one looked like lots of young people. We found out the next morning that the lyrics the drummers had been singing had been profoundly and disgustingly lewd and degrading, which was the only thing to spoil the memory of the night.
I wandered off to bed early, after starring at an amazing full moon that looked different to the moon we see at home. Falling asleep, we heard Sarah singing opera in a most fantstic voice, applauded by the howling of every dog within a mile radius who seemed a little less appreciative of the fine-arts.
190808
We woke up with the sun this morning and broke camp. Breakfast consisted of hot drinks and pancakes, my preferance over the steady stream of boiled eggs.
We sailed for a little while and then the crew rowed us to shore, boarded a bus and took off to join the next convoy. We had decided to go to the temples at Edfu and Carnack for today, tonight we would stay at a hotel in Luxor.
The temple at Edfu was ASTOUNDING. It is incredibly well preserved and IN ITS ORIGINAL LOCATION. There is something truly epic about it. Being the second largest temple in Egypt, it was also very popular, swarming with tourists. I was still able to wander through a couple of sections in solitude and attached myself to some of the tours for explanations of the more interesting features.
Tourism Police where EVERYWHERE in Egypt. They are meant to be the first point of contact for tourists who are in trouble and can be found in number at any temple or tourist site and have road-blocks about every 20-70km on major roads, depending on the part of the country. Every hotel in every city seems to have at least one at the doorway. Security checks may vary from a single officer with a metal detector arch that is switched off, there may be a functional metal detector and bag-searchs or an x-ray machine. Some hotels have officers permenantly positioned outside in little concrete columns (think a concrete pipe that is standing upright and reaches to chest-hieght) or lounging behind a bullet-proof panel complete with little window of ballistic glass, mounting brackets for AK47s and the whole thing can roll about on wheels.
Road blocks vary from a boom gate to an obsticle course of concrete filled 44gallon drums, with stretches of “stinger” style tire chains lieing along side the road. The scary ones are more simple, with a little concrete pillbox about 20 feet off the ground (guard gets put up there and the ladder may or may not get taken away till the end of his shift) and a barrel poking out of a window, a boom-gate surrounded by concrete blocks and an armoured car tucked just out of site but lined up with the middle of the checkpoint.
Being highly visible and everywhere, the presence of the Tourism Police offers a great deal of comfort to the various tourists and undoubtably projects us from locals that would otherwise prey on travelers. Often taking advantage of the situation themselves, a suitable “tip” can open up doors and oportunities depending on location. Supposedly, “talking” to a Tourism Cop at Fille could get you a private tour of the upper floors of the temple (unfortunately, I was a little short of egyptian pounds to facilitate such a discussion on the day). At Edfu, a gentleman in a nice suite with a machine gun by his side took two of us through some of the more crowded areas of the temple and pointed out bits of artwork that the ore popular tours were not including. I'm not sure if the “undercover” Tourism Police are meant to be intentionally so conspicuous, they just appeared to be another level of security for the benefit of the tourists. At the least, so many police being so visible will most definitely remove almost all of the opportunities for travellers to get into any real trouble (unless you really went hunting for it).
Back on the bus and a couple of hours later, we arrived in Luxor. The ancient capital of Egypt has an impressive temple complex called Carnack. Here it stuck me more than ever, that we were wandering through what used to be the most excluded, sacred locations of ancient egypt. Taking photos of the holiest of holys, inner sanctums that only the Highest Priest in Egypt and the Pharro would have been allowed to set foot in. 3000 years ago, we would have been executed for even looking at these places.
The temple complex at Carnack is VERY large, housing 20,000 priests during its peak. Unfortunately, much of the temple has destroyed or lieing in ruin. There are still some impressive features like the hall of 134 columns, the Oblisk wieghing 300 tonnes, we all walked around the scarab statue 1, 3, 5 or 7 times dependiing on if we wanted health, wealth marriage or children.
Back at the hostel, many of us slept or did internet. Most of us went and swam in the pool on the roof :D For dinner, 6 of us broke form and went to a british run Indian restaurant for something OTHER than egyptian. Expensive and in small portions, IT WAS GLORIOUS!!! I'd dosed myself for the Nasty-Butt, which had gotten a real attitude following the last day of relief. Those of us with Nasty-Butts went to a nearby pharmacy to restock our supples. Here was a suprise... there are next to no prescriptions in Egypt. There was a sign behindthe counter advertising “WE SELL EVERYTHING OVER COUNTER ANY QUANTITY” and they weren't joking. I was offered everything from Viagra to Vallium at an average of $6AU a pack. Having got my tummy-tablets (and ONLY tummy-tablets), restocked water and supplies, we went back to the hotel.
This morning started with quite a nice sleep in. After a breakfast of pancakes on the room we all checked out and walked down to the Nile with our packs.
Emam had arranged a very large Felucca called the “Bob Marley” with a large covered cushioned area. Being late to get onto the boat, I was stuck on the sunny side. Feeling quite smug that it was already 9-10AM and I would therefore be in the shade all afternoon, I hunkered down and started to bathe myself in sunscreen.
The boat departed.
WOW
I could seriously have done this for a couple of days.
The entire deck was covered with a cloth roof and padded with a giant matress. We joked about and dangled our feet in the water till lunch time (no crocodiles on this side of the high-dam). Lunch was vegetarian and provided for us by the crew, very tasty. Toilet stops were frequent enough and consisted of ducking behind a tree and digging a hole. We stopped to swim a couple of times in the cool Nile river, floating about in the strong currents before the mad-dash back to the boat to dry off before the next leg. The afternoon was spent laughing over the cross-word in a trashy celebrity mag and watching the amazing scenery float by.
One major win of the day was convincing Optus to enable Global Roaming on my phone, I was finally able to check my messages and felt much less guilty about phoning home.
We camped for the night alongside about 4-5 other feluccas on a small island in the middle of the river. The island was a little fragrant, but we assembled a toilet tent with seat and everything, so everybody was happy. Dinner was on the boat and then a camp-fire was setup for drumming and dancing by the local Nubians (mainly the crew from another boat). There were a couple of other tours, the GAP one looked like lots of young people. We found out the next morning that the lyrics the drummers had been singing had been profoundly and disgustingly lewd and degrading, which was the only thing to spoil the memory of the night.
I wandered off to bed early, after starring at an amazing full moon that looked different to the moon we see at home. Falling asleep, we heard Sarah singing opera in a most fantstic voice, applauded by the howling of every dog within a mile radius who seemed a little less appreciative of the fine-arts.
190808
We woke up with the sun this morning and broke camp. Breakfast consisted of hot drinks and pancakes, my preferance over the steady stream of boiled eggs.
We sailed for a little while and then the crew rowed us to shore, boarded a bus and took off to join the next convoy. We had decided to go to the temples at Edfu and Carnack for today, tonight we would stay at a hotel in Luxor.
The temple at Edfu was ASTOUNDING. It is incredibly well preserved and IN ITS ORIGINAL LOCATION. There is something truly epic about it. Being the second largest temple in Egypt, it was also very popular, swarming with tourists. I was still able to wander through a couple of sections in solitude and attached myself to some of the tours for explanations of the more interesting features.
Tourism Police where EVERYWHERE in Egypt. They are meant to be the first point of contact for tourists who are in trouble and can be found in number at any temple or tourist site and have road-blocks about every 20-70km on major roads, depending on the part of the country. Every hotel in every city seems to have at least one at the doorway. Security checks may vary from a single officer with a metal detector arch that is switched off, there may be a functional metal detector and bag-searchs or an x-ray machine. Some hotels have officers permenantly positioned outside in little concrete columns (think a concrete pipe that is standing upright and reaches to chest-hieght) or lounging behind a bullet-proof panel complete with little window of ballistic glass, mounting brackets for AK47s and the whole thing can roll about on wheels.
Road blocks vary from a boom gate to an obsticle course of concrete filled 44gallon drums, with stretches of “stinger” style tire chains lieing along side the road. The scary ones are more simple, with a little concrete pillbox about 20 feet off the ground (guard gets put up there and the ladder may or may not get taken away till the end of his shift) and a barrel poking out of a window, a boom-gate surrounded by concrete blocks and an armoured car tucked just out of site but lined up with the middle of the checkpoint.
Being highly visible and everywhere, the presence of the Tourism Police offers a great deal of comfort to the various tourists and undoubtably projects us from locals that would otherwise prey on travelers. Often taking advantage of the situation themselves, a suitable “tip” can open up doors and oportunities depending on location. Supposedly, “talking” to a Tourism Cop at Fille could get you a private tour of the upper floors of the temple (unfortunately, I was a little short of egyptian pounds to facilitate such a discussion on the day). At Edfu, a gentleman in a nice suite with a machine gun by his side took two of us through some of the more crowded areas of the temple and pointed out bits of artwork that the ore popular tours were not including. I'm not sure if the “undercover” Tourism Police are meant to be intentionally so conspicuous, they just appeared to be another level of security for the benefit of the tourists. At the least, so many police being so visible will most definitely remove almost all of the opportunities for travellers to get into any real trouble (unless you really went hunting for it).
Back on the bus and a couple of hours later, we arrived in Luxor. The ancient capital of Egypt has an impressive temple complex called Carnack. Here it stuck me more than ever, that we were wandering through what used to be the most excluded, sacred locations of ancient egypt. Taking photos of the holiest of holys, inner sanctums that only the Highest Priest in Egypt and the Pharro would have been allowed to set foot in. 3000 years ago, we would have been executed for even looking at these places.
The temple complex at Carnack is VERY large, housing 20,000 priests during its peak. Unfortunately, much of the temple has destroyed or lieing in ruin. There are still some impressive features like the hall of 134 columns, the Oblisk wieghing 300 tonnes, we all walked around the scarab statue 1, 3, 5 or 7 times dependiing on if we wanted health, wealth marriage or children.
Back at the hostel, many of us slept or did internet. Most of us went and swam in the pool on the roof :D For dinner, 6 of us broke form and went to a british run Indian restaurant for something OTHER than egyptian. Expensive and in small portions, IT WAS GLORIOUS!!! I'd dosed myself for the Nasty-Butt, which had gotten a real attitude following the last day of relief. Those of us with Nasty-Butts went to a nearby pharmacy to restock our supples. Here was a suprise... there are next to no prescriptions in Egypt. There was a sign behindthe counter advertising “WE SELL EVERYTHING OVER COUNTER ANY QUANTITY” and they weren't joking. I was offered everything from Viagra to Vallium at an average of $6AU a pack. Having got my tummy-tablets (and ONLY tummy-tablets), restocked water and supplies, we went back to the hotel.
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