From: pf@info.ucl.ac.be (Pierre Flener)
Subject: Egypt - Jordan Trip Report [1/2]
Organization: Computer Science Department, Catholic University of Louvain
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 1992 19:08:51 GMT



		   Egypt - Jordan Trip Report


	    Copyright by Pierre Flener, October 1992



Introduction

This is a report of a trip to Egypt and Jordan, undertaken during
May  1992  by  myself  (from Luxembourg) and my best friend, Marc
(from Belgium).

I have compiled this from my travel  notes,  often  omitting  ir-
relevant  stuff  such as where we ate or slept, who was sick with
what, how we organized the getting away from each place,  and  so
on, but adding some afterthoughts and hindsight.

This journey was  totally  improvised,  reservations--except  for
flights--being  a  concept  totally alien to us. Of course we did
some homework beforehand, so as to know the must-sees.   Valuable
information  sources  were  The Rough Guide on Egypt (UK, sold as
Real Guide in North-America; solid value), the  Lonely  Planet  -
Travel  Survival  Kit  for  Jordan  and Syria (Australia; a great
classic, although the 1987 edition is aging badly; we met the guy
working  on the update, so stay tuned), and Le Guide du Routard -
Egypte, Jordanie, Israel, et Yemen (France; so-so).  Descriptions
are  kept  informative  enough  so that those who have been there
should recognize the places, while those who'd like to  go  there
should  be able to locate them. This report is not intended to be
a crash course on Ancient Egyptian or Middle Eastern history.

This journey was a shoestring-budget trip, a mattress to crash on
and  a  shower  being  all  that is needed when constantly on the
move. Round-trip  flights,  visas,  inoculations,  medicine,  and
souvenirs excluded, we had a daily maintenance ratio of about $12
each, covering accommodation, food, drinks,  transportation,  and
(student)  entrance  fees.  This has to be relativized though, as
Jordan is significantly more expensive--about 30%--than Egypt.

All views expressed here are mine, and you are the judge  whether
they  are witty insights, total misunderstandings, or unspeakable
truths. Comments are welcome. Enjoy,

                                               - --  ___@ 
                                             ---- __T\  \_ 
      Pierre Flener (pf@info.ucl.ac.be)     - -- / /\_>/\ \
_________________________________________________\__/__\__/______


Key to Abbreviations

	$       US$
	LE      Egyptian Pound  (in May: worth about $0.3)
	JD      Jordanian Dinar (in May: worth about $1.5)

_________________________________________________________________


Foreword to the readers of the "rec.travel"
		and "soc.culture.arabic" newsgroups

Please note that I have a next-to-zero news-feed on  these  news-
groups, so please email any follow-ups to me.

Also, as reading ASCII texts is admittedly not very  pleasant,  I
have  deposited  a  FrameMaker3.0 version, and its PostScript and
ASCII translations, in a directory where you can retrieve them by
anonymous ftp.

Here is the relevant part of the ~ftp/pub/misc directory listing:

	-r--r--r--  1 pf   46502 Oct 13 18:43 EgyptJordan.ASCII.Z
	-r--r--r--  1 pf   76539 Oct 13 18:43 EgyptJordan.ps.Z
	-r--r--r--  1 pf   70859 Oct 13 18:43 EgyptJordan.trip.Z

Here is how to retrieve the file you're interested in:

	ftp info-sparc1.info.ucl.ac.be
			(or:  ftp 130.104.2.23)
	anonymous
	<your email address>
	cd  pub/misc
	binary
	get  EgyptJordan.trip.Z
			(or: get EgyptJordan.ps.Z)
			(or: get EgyptJordan.ASCII.Z)
	bye
	uncompress EgyptJordan.trip.Z
			(or: uncompress EgyptJordan.ps.Z)
			(or: uncompress EgyptJordan.ASCII.Z)

Please don't contact me when you  don't  know  how  to  use  ftp,
FrameMaker,  or a ps printer (that's what your local systems peo-
ple are for). The pages have been formatted  for  A4  paper,  but
should print OK on US paper.

If you know any Jordanians (as far as I could  figure  out,  they
are not organized within a mailing list), please forward this re-
port to them in case they are interested, but do not have  access
to these newsgroups.

_________________________________________________________________


			Part I: EGYPT


Day 1: Brussels --> Cairo

Marc and I get to Cairo on separate flights, as we ran into trou-
ble  with  our  late attempts at finding cheap tickets: we forgot
that low season implies less flights. Immigration and customs are
pretty  straightforward,  though  slow.  The visa only costs $15,
which is a real bargain compared to the $35 the Egyptian  Embassy
in Brussels wanted to charge us. Declining all offers for a taxi,
we ride a minibus (#27) to downtown Cairo, getting off  at  Midan
Tahrir  (Liberation Square), the pumping heart of Central Cairo's
traffic. It's 11pm, and many budget hotels are already full. They
are  mostly  on the upper floors of office buildings, and after a
series of juddering--suicidal?--rides in  ancient  elevators,  we
eventually  spot  a  safe haven for the next nights, somewhere on
Midan Talaat Harb.


Day 2: Cairo - Islamic Cairo, Old Cairo, Coptic Cairo

In the morning, we stroll towards  Islamic  Cairo,  starting  our
visit with the Al Azhar Mosque (970), one of the oldest universi-
ties in the world, a stronghold of Sunni orthodoxy, and a  hotbed
of  Egyptian politics. From its ramshackle roofs, we enjoy a good
view over Cairo. We also assess how much this city  suffers  from
air  pollution:  one  day  in  Cairo is said to amount to smoking
thirty-five cigarettes.

On Sharia (Street) el-Muski,  past  Khan  el-Khalili,  the  over-
touristed  souk,  and  into  its surroundings, we enter a totally
different world. This is Marc's first encounter with a  medieval,
Islamic  city-heart:  narrow  dirt  roads,  shoulder  to shoulder
crowds, itinerant or squatting street vendors, music blaring from
the  tape  shops,  air filled with incense or  spice-scents here,
but stench there, garbage being dropped where it occurs,  begging
cripples,  deteriorated  houses, the odd car insisting on driving
through this labyrinth, men in floating galabias, heavily  veiled
women,  and  so on, mark our every step to the Northern Gates and
back. The people definitely exhibit a lot of humor and ingenuity.
We  shortly  peek  into Khan el-Khalili, facing all the tricks of
the hustling sellers who try to help us get  rid  of  our  money:
leather  jackets,  gold and silver jewelry, perfume essence (that
is often diluted in oil), exotic spices  (saffron  is  incredibly
cheap),  handicraft (such as mother-of-pearl inlaid cedar-boxes),
and (ugly) T-shirts are on sale here for package tourists.

For dinner, we try fatir (Egyptian pizza) at  Fatatri  el-Tahrir,
and  like  it a lot. At dusk, we walk to the Nile, cross its full
width twice on Tahrir Bridge, and  stroll  southwards  along  the
corniche, past Roda Island, through Old Cairo, on our way to Cop-
tic Cairo. The Copts are orthodox  Christians,  and  form  a  15%
minority  in  Egypt. A very congenial atmosphere reigns here, and
we simply enjoy the street-life, rather than focus on the various
churches  or  convents.  A wedding is being celebrated on a side-
road. Weddings are quite a thing in Egypt. The bride  and  groom,
dowry and gifts are on display, while music, singing,  hand-clap-
ping, and the women's ululations provide the auditive background.

Eventually we spot the subway station, and  head  back  to  Midan
Tahrir,  while  a  young  Copt  gives  us--in  fluent  French--an
enthusiastic crash course on his people and religion.

Traffic

There is a maddening traffic around the clock. A  total  lack  of
discipline  and  global thinking by drivers and pedestrians alike
creates one merry  traffic  jam  after  the  other,  turning  the
streets  into  an open-air hooting cacophony, where light-shows--
oops, traffic lights--are  merely  decorative.  Crossing  streets
resembles  a  kamikaze  trip, but foreigners soon get the hang of
elegantly weaving, lane by  lane,  across  streets.  It  actually
turns out to be quite safe, as drivers are alert, and speeding is
difficult anyhow. Donkey or horse-drawn carts  are  frequent,  as
well  as  (motor)cyclists.  I saw an old man riding his bike one-
handed, while balancing a huge tray of breads on  his  head,  and
negotiating in perfect serenity a difficult crossing.

Riding a bus can be a quite harrowing experience, unless you  get
on,  and leave, at terminals. First, bus-drivers merely slow down
at stops. And it's amazing to see even elder people  jump  on  or
off.  Second, Egyptians have this funny game of trying to board a
bus before passengers can get off. It's not  uncommon  to  do  so
across  windows,  or  where  windows should be, so legs are often
seen dangling around. Last, these buses must have been  operating
since  the  Middle  Ages,  and you find yourself praying that you
won't fall through the floor, into the engine or onto the road.

Riding a taxi is the  ultimate  experience,  transforming  Disney
World's  Space  Mountain  into a kindergarten attraction. Special
taxis, operating within towns, make you feel as if in the  middle
of  the  500  Miles  of Indianapolis. Service taxis, operating on
fixed routes between agglomerations, tend to speed on the  oppos-
ing  lane,  oblivious  of the dangers that blind curves might en-
tail.

Strange, isn't it, that these people are the most relaxed you can
imagine, and yet turn into monsters once behind a steering wheel.
At night, everybody drives without lights, but switching on their
high-beams when encountering cars or other obstacles. We tried to
figure out what the rules were for hooting. It's  definitely  not
to  say  "Asshole!",  but rather to say "Watch out, I'm coming!".
Many people outside urban areas are totally untrained  to  coping
with traffic, and cross without looking. Some drivers mechanical-
ly hoot every  x  seconds,  even  in  the  absence  of  potential
dangers.


Day 3: Cairo - Old Cairo

We set off where we left yesterday, from  Coptic  Cairo's  subway
station. Past Amr's Mosque (641), we stroll along the Fustat, the
original Islamic Cairo, which today looks as if the Egyptians had
performed  some  nuclear  experiments there, and where the unfor-
tunate sift through Cairo's garbage for edible or recyclable  ma-
terial.  On to the Southern Cemetery, which is actually inhabited
by hundreds of thousands of poor people. Street-wise kids  accom-
pany  us, and we teach them English words in exchange for lessons
in Arabic. Some adults think we are being pestered by these  kids
and try to chase them away, although we insist that we appreciate
their company. Next, we climb onto the Citadel  (1176)  with  its
imposing  Mohammad Ali Mosque (1830), for another smog-laden view
over Cairo. Across Midan Salah al-Din,  and  between  the  Sultan
Hassan Mosque (1362) and Rifai Mosque, we head back to our hotel.

Most tourists only come to Cairo because of the museums, the  py-
ramids,  and at best a few mosques. But there is much more to it:
although sometimes nerve-racking, Cairo is a fascinating oriental
city,  with  still  one  foot  in the Middle Ages. After a while,
mosques and palaces all look alike anyway, so just walk  off  the
beaten  path and you'll discover a wealth of interesting details.
Watch the people,  possibly  talk  to  them.  Cairenes  are  very
friendly,   good-natured,   despite  the  often  depressing  cir-
cumstances. It speaks a lot for them that quarrels actually never
get really started, because passersby or friends are always quick
to temper bad moods.

We spend the evening with Dina, a friend of mine from my stay  in
the  USA,  who has recently moved back to Egypt. She takes us out
to the Al Omdah  Restaurant,  in  Mohandiseen,  for  a  delicious
kushari  dinner  (rice,  macaroni,  lentils,  and  a spicy tomato
sauce) complemented by the usual appetizers (hummus, tahina,  and
babaghanoush  dips,  plus  torshi,  that is pickled carrots) plus
some great pastry for  desert.  All  together  for  a  ridiculous
price, showing us how badly we have been overcharged so far.

Queuing

British discipline addicts must die of heart-strokes in Egypt. As
said  earlier,  boarding  a bus precedes unboarding, and both re-
quire considerable skill and strength. Even in banks, or at  cus-
toms,  the  unwary  are  merrily skipped over from all sides, and
most clerks don't give a damn whose turn it actually is.  So  you
have to be quite aggressive within queues that actually look more
like crowds: the one who shouts  loudest  will  be  served  next.
Don't  even consider leaving a polite gap to ensure the confiden-
tiality of your  predecessor's  operation.  Women  have  absolute
priority,  if not separate queues, although foreign women have to
be assertive to use this privilege.


Day 4: Cairo --> Saqqara --> Giza --> Cairo

"Was it worth the trouble getting to Saqqara?" (it's  about  30km
south  of  Cairo), somebody asked me later. "No", I replied, "but
the trouble getting there was worth it!". Let me explain why.  In
order  to  avoid the scalping taxi-drivers, who might furthermore
rush us through the sites, we decide to use public transportation
to  get  to  Saqqara.  Thus a subway ride to Helwan, the southern
terminal, then a minibus to the Nile, a ferry to  its  west  bank
(where  the  sun  sets,  thus the right side for a necropolis), a
stroll to el Badrashein, a minibus  to  Saqqara  village,  and  a
small  baksheesh  (tip) to the driver to drop us a few km further
on, at the gate to  the  North  Saqqara  necropolis.  This  time-
consuming  and  awkward approach overshadows a thousand times the
actual site. Indeed, wherever we appear,  dozens  of  kids  cloud
around  us,  and we feel like being the first-ever travelers get-
ting to these places. Many people just want to talk  to  us,  and
our  few words of Arabic come in very handy. Near the ferry, some
women come surprisingly close to us, eager for a chat,  but  then
the  menfolk chase them away, and express disbelief that we might
be interested in talking to such worthless creatures...

We visit the site only very briefly, as most things are in  total
ruins,  if  not  closed.  Only the famous 60m high Step Pyramid--
built by Imhotep--on Zoser's Funerary Complex is worth  it,  plus
the  fine views to the pyramids in South Saqqara and Giza. That's
where we head to in a taxi. The road goes through a  paradisiacal
countryside, the Nile "oasis".

A host of camel-drivers assault us  while  we  approach  the  big
three  pyramids  of Cheops, Chephren, and Mykerinos, but we shake
them off with our indifference to their pleas. The  Sphinx--under
repair--is  much  smaller (20m) than it looks like on most (care-
fully angled) pictures. It's hot today, and the crowds are large,
so  we  relax  in the shade of the Chephren Pyramid (136.5m), the
one with the intact summit, and that actually looks  taller  than
its  neighbor. Marc is eventually conned into a camel-ride around
the pyramids. Why not? After all, sooner or later you've  got  to
try  this  anyhow. We have to forget our pledge to climb onto the
Cheops Pyramid (140m), not because  it's  forbidden  (most  rules
have  been invented so that baksheesh can bend them), but because
it is very steep after all, and we both suffer from vertigo  even
after the first few steps. Unfortunately, all pyramids are closed
in addition. In the early evening, we  shoot  the  few  classical
pictures. A bus (#901) gets us back to downtown Cairo.

After a Chinese dinner at Fu  Ching's,  we  stroll  up  and  down
Sharia  Talaat Harb, where elegant young Cairenes do endless win-
dow shopping at the fashion shops. Selling shoes must be the most
difficult  business  here,  as dozens of look-alike shops compete
for customers.

Egyptian women

Egyptian women are a difficult issue for a  foreigner.  At  first
sight,  if Western society is over-sexed, then Middle Eastern so-
ciety is under-sexed. Little girls are  dressed  up  like  beauty
queens,  in  colorful  dresses, until puberty. Then, according to
religious beliefs and social  standing  of  their  parents,  they
disappear under the hijab (veil) and heavy black chadors, or sim-
ply cover their hair with head scarves. I ignore to  what  extent
women have disapproved, and do disapprove, of this condition. But
I have noticed that the more "adventurous" among them, even  some
with veils, are quite flirtatious when travelers turn their heads
at them, and they know very well how to "seduce"  a  man  with  a
smile,  a  look, a sexy walk. These things are inherent to women,
and can't be bred away  by  centuries of  veil-wearing.  It  even
seems that veils are mentioned nowhere in the Qur'an.

Islamic society is very safe for women, as rape or sexual harass-
ment  are  little-known  crimes.  Women have separate quarters in
mosques, subways, and so on, and have priority  in  queues.  They
don't  seem  used to gallantry, and are embarrassed when you hold
doors open, or sidestep onto the road to  let,  say,  a  pregnant
woman pass by.

At least in public, men often treat (their) women with total  in-
difference,  if  not shocking disdain, at least for Western stan-
dards. I guess and hope, though, that in the intimacy of a house-
hold,  a  man  shows  more respect to his wife, and treats her as
more than just a baby-breeder and house-maid?

There is little open courtship, and arranged marriages still pre-
vail in rural areas. But love is a recurring theme in music, poe-
try, and movies: there is an abundance  of  habibi  (darling)  in
lyrics.  Maybe love is just a pre-marital fantasy, but not an in-
gredient of marriage, which is rather seen as a  social  contract
to get along with each other? I don't know.

Egyptian women are very beautiful, even  if  you  often  have  to
judge  from  their  eyes  only. These eyes...! So one might argue
that's one good reason to veil them, as there will be no  tempta-
tion.  OK,  but what about the women's perspective on this "solu-
tion" to male craving?!  And  who  invented  belly-dancing,  this
highly erotic entertainment? Although it seems that this is rath-
er inauthentic, as developed entirely for satisfying Western fan-
tasies about the Orient. Contradictions?

Muslim women are expected to be virgins at their wedding, but men
are  not. So guess who's paying the price for all this suppressed
sexuality of young (male) Muslims? Female  tourists,  of  course,
who  have  to cope with blunt invitations, fondling, and grabbing
(see below). Next, (purely sexual) male homosexuality seems  ram-
pant  as  well, judging from proposals we had to reject. Somebody
confided to me that some young divorcees and widows  are  "avail-
able"  for  quickies. And adultery is not as unusual as one might
believe, according to other sources. Lastly, prostitution is very
much alive, though usually not on the tourist circuit. After all,
a pretty "normal" society, eh?


Day 5: Cairo - Egyptian Antiquities Museum; Cairo --> ...

We spend the whole morning exploring every  single  room  of  the
Egyptian Antiquities Museum. It's fabulous, though exhausting, as
every object comes in at least twenty different versions. And the
crowds  are  obnoxious too, though some groups are guided by gor-
geous young Egyptian women, whose explanations we listen to while
admiring  them, rather than the objects. Other highlights are the
Tut-Ankh-Amon collection, the  mummy  room,  pyramidions,  sarco-
phagi, chariots, and various exquisite statues.

The afternoon is spent on some  souvenir  hunting,  plus  grocery
shopping  for  the  forthcoming train ride. After checking out of
our hotel, we head for the Ramses  Railway  Station.  What  looks
like  a  relic from Death on the Nile times on track #11 actually
turns out to be our train to  Aswan.  Trains  are  dirt-cheap  in
Egypt,  so  we  afford  a 1st class ticket (LE26, including a 35%
student reduction) for the 900km haul to Aswan. The carriage  has
A/C, and only 1+2 armchairs in each row, but it is very dusty. No
overbooking, and we actually leave on time. It's late, and we try
to make ourselves comfortable for the night. I manage to sleep on
the ground, under the sofas, so as to stretch  out  fully,  while
Marc stretches out across our facing sofas. The ride is juddering
and noisy, and the mere fact that the seats are not bolted to the
floor  gives  me  the creeps when considering the consequences of
sharp braking, or, even worse, of a crash...

The pros and cons of being from a small country

As a native of Luxembourg, you'd consider that  you  can  happily
announce where you're from, because absolutely nobody can pretend
disliking the foreign policy of your country. Right so.  But,  on
the  other  hand,  it's amazing how many doors you close by being
honest about such origins: most people won't know what  or  where
your country is, and thus don't know where to start the conversa-
tion. "Feyn?" (Where?) "Ana  min  Luxemburg."  (I'm  from  Luxem-
bourg.)  "?", and they drop you like a hot potato, turning to the
more "interesting" guests from imperialistic powers like the USA,
England, France, or Germany. Marc has less problems with Belgium,
mainly because of some Belgian soccer stars, so whenever  I  feel
like it will help, I overcome my national pride, and also pretend
to be a Belgian. At other times though,  you're  quite  happy  to
state  that  you're  from Luxembourg, namely when you're stuck in
one of these business-oriented discussions, starting with a ques-
tion  about your origins. If the answer is that people from there
are good, even when you pretend being from  Disneyland,  Lichten-
burg,  or  Finmark,  and that they have a brother there, then say
good-bye.


Day 6: ... --> Aswan

We breakfast on our delicious pastry, plus peanuts, and order tea
from  the  steward. The country-side is very interesting to watch
from the train, as we go through the fellaheen (farmer) villages,
pastures, and fields of the Nile valley. Everything is ingenious-
ly irrigated, and a lush green color dominates the scenery.  Many
houses proudly feature hadj (pilgrimage to Mekka) paintings, dep-
icting the journey, the seven  circuits  around  the  Kaaba,  the
kissing  of  the Holy Stone, the praying near the Mount of Mercy,
the drinking of water from the wells of Zamzam,  the  sacrificial
killing of a sheep, and other rites.

We make friends with the US couple from across the corridor,  Su-
san  and  Steve. They've been on the move, all across Asia, for a
full year now, escaping the recession, and are fun  to  talk  to.
There  also  is an Egyptian engineer, who is very nice to us, but
shy to use his few words of English.

Of course, the train is late, only 3 hours though, but we eventu-
ally get to Aswan in the late afternoon. It's still very hot, and
the various travelers have no trouble  locating  hotel  rooms  in
this  low  season,  where  heavy discounts are available. After a
well-deserved shower to wipe off the dust, we stroll to the  Nile
corniche,   arguably  the  best  in  Egypt:  Elephantine  Island,
Kitchener Island, and the various funerary monuments on the  west
bank  offer  a  great  panorama,  not  to speak about the elegant
feluccas (sailing  boats)  gliding  noiselessly  over  the  Nile.
Caleche  and  taxi  drivers,  felucca captains, and various other
con-men are very anxious, if not aggressive,  for  business.  But
we  soon  figure  out  the  correct  prices, and sign up at Hotel
Marwa's trips for the next few days.

Spelling

When crafting signs or pamphlets for tourists, in both an  alpha-
bet and a language alien to them, Egyptians often don't bother to
ask native English speakers about correct spelling.  The  results
are  sometimes very funny phonetic approximations of their inten-
tions. Here's a sample  assortment:  "buisenes"  for  "business",
"hotle"  for  "hotel", "pitsa" for "pizza", and so on. Most words
seem to be Arabic-to-Latin alphabet transcriptions  of  what  the
Arabic  spelling  would be. But this can't work since some sounds
are missing. For instance, the "p" is  absent,  and  often  turns
into  a "b". Especially my first name, Pierre, seems unpronounce-
able to most. Too bad I didn't know that Boutros (like the Coptic
UN Secretary-General) does the job perfectly well.


Day 7: Aswan - Kitchener Island, Elephantine Island

Captain Hassan and his aide take us (for LE10 each) on a half-day
cruise  to  Aswan's  landmarks  on  his  felucca  called Pyramid.
Kitchener  Island--"given"  to  the  same-named  British  Consul-
General  in  reward for his exploits in the Sudan War--features a
beautiful Botanical Garden with trees and flowers from  all  over
the world, plus a colorful bird life.

On the west bank, we visit the Agha  Khan  Mausoleum,  where  the
48th  Imam  of  the Isma'ili Shi'ites is buried, while his caring
widow, the Begum, makes sure that a fresh rose  is  deposited  on
his  tomb every day. Due to the heat, and the wealth of things to
see in coming days, we decide not to hike over to the St.  Simeon
Monastery,  nor the tombs even further beyond, and we get back to
our felucca.

On Elephantine Island--so called because of  the  smooth,  round,
dark  rocks lying around, looking like bathing elephants--we have
a look at the Nubian Museum (which  features  a  skull  featuring
proven  traces  of  live surgery, or trepanation), the Nilometer,
and the ruins of the fabled  Yebu  town.  Whoever  delivered  the
building  permit  for the Oberoi Hotel, and whoever designed this
airport-tower-like horror marring the spectacular beauty  of  the
north  end  of this island, should be posthumously issued a fatwa
(sentence of death).

The rest of the day is spent in laziness, and at dinner  we  meet
our  two  US-ians  again. They too are eager for a longer felucca
cruise, and we give them the coordinates of Hotel Marwa  so  that
they  sign  up  for  the same trip as ours. Just four more people
like these two, and we should  have  a  perfectly  blended  team.
Insh'Allah (if God wants).

Time

Most Egyptians are without notion of time. No wonder,  as  little
has  changed  over  the  millennia, and all that mattered was the
Nile's behavior. So it comes as little surprise  that  foreigners
clash  with  locals  over  temporal  issues. For instance, at the
telephone office, when you want to place a domestic long-distance
call,  the  clerk  lets you wait for 1.5 hours, and yet tells you
happily that he tried once when you enquire about why  you  don't
get the call. Or on a ferry whose departure is being delayed by 6
hours, although it is already boarded, and people have to sit  it
out  in  the  blazing  sunlight,  nobody complains. Malesh (never
mind). Fatalism is king. Bukra  (tomorrow)  is  another  favorite
when  things  don't  realize as expected. So don't even ask about
times, as Egyptian minutes are very flexible: if they say a  walk
takes  5 minutes, be prepared for a 30 Western minutes hike; if a
physician tells you on the phone he will be right there in a  few
minutes,  you'd  better  not  be in a serious condition. The same
holds by the way for Egyptian kilometers: they range anything  in
between 0.2 and 5 Western kilometers.


Day 8: Aswan --> Abu Simbel --> High Dam --> Philae --> Aswan

A short night, as we have to get up at  3:30am.  Cramped  into  a
minibus  with  eight other travelers, we have a boring 3.5hr ride
south, across the desert, to Abu Simbel.  At  the  edge  of  Lake
Nasser  (created  by the High Dam, see below), two rock-hewn tem-
ples were here salvaged by the UNESCO in 1968,  when  the  rising
waters  threatened  to  drown  this  monumental  site.  Ramses II
(1304-1237 BC) had these majestic temples erected  at  the  south
entrance to Egypt, so as to show the might of the Egyptian nation
to anybody (Nubians, ...) coming in from  there.  So  the  temple
complex was cut into pieces, and reassembled some 61m higher. The
great Sun Temple, depicted on the LE1  bank-note,  has  a  facade
dominated  by  four  20m high enthroned colossi of Ramses II. The
Hypostele Hall and Sanctuary within the mountain are  pretty  im-
pressive,  too. The smaller Hathor Temple of Queen Nefertari, his
favorite wife, features two statues of  Nefertari,  each  between
two  statues of Ramses II himself. We also peek behind the setup,
namely the False Mountain. Across Lake Nasser, we can see the Su-
dan.

Another long bus-ride back, but in the scorching sun now. We stop
for  tea  somewhere  in  the desert where the Tropic of Cancer is
supposed to pass. Visiting the High Dam turns out to be a rip-off
as  we actually have to pay, and as it is not interesting at all,
except maybe for the Soviet-built heroic-socialist-realist  monu-
ments  of fraternity. It is heavily guarded by military commandos
and anti-aircraft missiles: a dam burst  would  wash  45  million
people  into  the  Mediterranean Sea. Completed in 1971, this dam
created the 6,000 sqkm Lake Nasser, stretching well into the  Su-
dan. Its benefits--regulation of the Nile, electricity, more cul-
tivated land, more harvests, more rain--are said to outweigh  its
drawbacks--need  for  fertilizers,  appearance  of bilharzia. The
great losers were the 120,000 Nubians, whose entire land has been
submerged by Lake Nasser, and who subsequently had to be relocat-
ed, within Egypt as well as to the Sudan (which is bad luck,  be-
cause of the drought and civil war).

Marc and I get off the minibus at the east end  of  the  Old  Dam
(1902),  and  head to the motorboat dock. We split a ride with an
elder Dutch pair to get to Philae Island, where the rescued  Tem-
ple of Isis is awaiting us. This one is especially bewitching.

It's very hot (40+C) by now. What kind of heroes  come  to  these
places in July or August, considering that the difference between
40C and 50C is exponentially worse than the one between  30C  and
40C?

Eventually, we head back to Aswan, storming the Aswan Moon's  bar
for  a  cold Stella beer. We're down to two meals per day, break-
fast and dinner, because organizing  lunch  is  tricky  with  all
those  visits. But our bodies easily accommodate to this diet, as
it would be difficult anyhow to eat much when the weather  is  so
hot.

In the early evening, we again meet Susan and Steve, on their way
to Hotel Marwa for the final agreements on the felucca cruise. We
meet Roseanne (Canada) and her boyfriend  Alan  (Australia),  who
also  sign  up for the trip, and who blend in perfectly. Two Ger-
mans are announced to complete the team.

After dinner, we meet the Egyptian engineer who was on the  train
with us: he invites us for some hot kerkadeh drinks (Hibiscus in-
fusion) with friends of his, and helps us on souvenir shopping in
the  souks. What a nice chap. He is so eager to assist us that he
gives us all his addresses and phone-numbers in Egypt, so that we
contact him in case of trouble, and he would join us if need be.

Children

Egyptians love (their) children, and they treasure family life in
a  way  long-forgotten in the Western world. In the evenings, you
see fathers loading up to five small kids onto their  motor-bikes
for  a  ride  around  town.  Children are all over, helping their
parents, raising the younger kids, doing odd jobs in the streets,
crowding  around  travelers. Some want baksheesh, pens, or candy,
while others try to sell you handicraft they designed themselves,
such  as dolls made from rags, cobras made from grass, and so on.
Those in touch with tourists often have a useful babbling of  En-
glish,  and  it  can  be  quite fun to spend some time with them.
Indeed, after some smiles and greetings in  Arabic,  most  forget
what  they initially wanted from you. Some critics say that birth
control is a must for Egypt, as its population gains one  million
every nine months.


Day 9: Aswan --> ...

Dagmar and Thomas, the two Germans, indeed complement  our  homo-
genous group very well. Just before setting off, we have the cra-
zy idea of taking Stella beer along. This amounts to a major  in-
telligence  act  in a Muslim country, where beer is mostly avail-
able from bars only, which of  course  sell  only  at  exorbitant
prices. But after a long chain of friends' friends, a taxi-driver
organizes a crate of twenty 1l bottles, at the reasonable cost of
LE5 each, including the various bribes.

The Sea Serpent is a beautifully arranged felucca, complete  with
sunroof,  and  mattresses  across the planks, under which we stow
our backpacks. Captain Hegazi and his  aide  Mohammad  are  great
chaps,  too,  speaking English reasonably well. Both are Nubians,
well-used to Western ways, and self-effacing,  doing  their  jobs
quietly, expertly, and efficiently. Last but not least, they have
a tape-deck. The 3-day-cruise costs only  LE35  each,  plus  LE20
each for food and mineral water.

Tacking along, we sail  downstream  (north),  against  the  wind,
which  always  blows  south: this involves a zigzag course, where
every zig is a slow crossing of the Nile perpendicular to a bank,
and  every  zag is a swift, long diagonal ride to the other bank.
This is of course the ultimate lazy experience. We  get  to  know
each other. We read and exchange our books and magazines. We play
cards. We doze on the mattresses. We take sun-baths. We listen to
our  tapes  (Nubian, al Jeel, Rai, Western). We picnic on bananas
and on sandwiches with falafel,  eggs,  tuna,  feta  cheese,  and
tomatoes.  We  drink  an  occasional cool Stella that we retrieve
from the Nile-borne basket. Steve ties himself to  the  boat  and
body-surfs  behind  it  at full speed during a zag. Everything is
completely quiet, except for the Diesel pumps that  replace  age-
old irrigation wheels, and the occasional cruise-boat.

At dusk, we tie up the boat for the night. A great kushari dinner
is  prepared. It's still extremely hot, and mosquitoes are swarm-
ing all over the place. Why didn't I buy a net? The  night  prom-
ises to be a sweatbox experience worsened by those little beasts.

Drinks

Shaey (tea), kerkadeh (Hibiscus infusion), and ahwa (Turkish cof-
fee)  are the main drinks. There also is a great variety of fruit
juices (lemon, orange, mango, and so on), often served  ice-cold.
These  drinks are very healthy, especially good for your stomach,
because best-adapted to local conditions of temperature  and  hy-
giene. Tea houses are great hangouts if you want to watch the lo-
cal menfolk: they gather here for the occasional drink, read  the
newspaper,  exchange  gossip,  and  discuss  politics, play tawla
(backgammon) or cards, smoke the charcoal-fired  sheesha  (water-
pipe).  Egyptians  drink tap water, or sometimes straight off the
Nile, but foreigners had better stick to  bottled  mineral  water
(such as Baraka). Western soft-drinks are very popular, too: Pep-
si, Fanta, Sport Cola, ..., and some local imitations (Teem,  Mi-
rinda,  ...)  dominate  the market. Surprisingly Coca Cola is not
very present, and the legend goes that they  lost  their  market-
share  because of a rumor accusing their drink of containing por-
cine substances. Alcohol is forbidden by  Islam,  though  readily
available:  most  countries  brew their own beer (since Pharaonic
and Assyrian times), and produce their own wines, in addition  to
all  Western  imports. Heavy-duty liquors are available duty-free
to foreign guests during one month, so Egyptians eager  to  spice
up their parties ask you to help them out.


Day 10: ... --> Kom Ombo --> ...

At 6am, Captain Hegazi unties the boat, and lets  it  drift  with
the  current. I wake up while he prepares breakfast, and silently
slip to the front deck, where Thomas soon joins me, and we  enjoy
a  first cup of tea with Hegazi. We soon understand why he didn't
set sail: there is no wind. So we advance extremely slowly today.

Mid-morning, we dock near the temple complex of Kom  Ombo,  right
on the Nile: what a gorgeous approach. The Temple of Haroeris and
Sobek is interesting,  especially  since  leftovers  of  original
paint can be found all over.

The remainder of the day goes by in slow-motion,  some  telegraph
pole  being  visible all the time. The heat grows oppressive, and
the flies are very obnoxious. At dusk, Captain  Hegazi  estimates
that  we covered an impressive 20km today, as opposed to the 40km
yesterday in 5 hours less time.

Garbage and recycling

Garbage is being dropped where it occurs. Trash cans  are  rarely
found,  except maybe on temple sites. Whole armies of blue-coated
men are constantly sweeping the roads, removing the  accumulating
trash,  as  well  as fighting a Sisyphus battle against the sand.
Most travelers are extremely conscious  about  not  spoiling  the
landscape  with their trash, for instance by asking their felucca
captains not to dump everything in the Nile. But  what  guarantee
do  we  have  that they don't do so after we've turned our backs?
You can see many people sifting through the garbage, looking  for
food  leftovers  and  recyclable  material.  Yes, Egypt must be a
top-ranked recycling nation in the world, as literally everything
is re-used or recycled. Dagmar showed us a nice flower made of...
chocolate wrappings.


Day 11: ... --> ...

Although mosquito-ridden, the night is pleasantly  cool,  and  we
all sleep well. Thomas again joins me on the deck, while the boat
already drifts downstream. After breakfast, the  wind  picks  up,
and  we  efficiently tack north at full speed, past Silsilah, the
ancient quarries for the necropoles.

When we dock in Edfu at 5pm, we actually almost match our initial
schedule,  though  the  local temple complex is closed by now. So
only Dagmar gets off, since she has to be in Cairo tomorrow even-
ing  to  meet her sister. As Edfu itself looks pretty uninviting,
Captain Hegazi offers us to sail downstream with him  and  Moham-
mad,  to  some island on the river, and spend the night there in-
stead. Agreed.

Western women

Many Egyptian men seem to have strange ideas about Western women.
Of  course, from their point of view, a woman traveling alone, or
in a (mixed or not) group, can only be lose, and thus easy  prey.
Garb  is  actually  irrelevant,  most  female travelers conclude:
whether modestly clothed from neck to ankles, or in T-shirt  plus
shorts,  they collect the same blunt declarations like "I want to
f*ck you". Only boyfriends acting as husbands, or (fake)  wedding
rings  in the absence of a (would-be) husband, can make them look
respectable, if at all. They complain about grabbing and fondling
in  crowded  areas.  Though it must be said that a sharp reaction
usually attracts the sympathy of  passersby  who  scorn  the  of-
fender.  Some  young  Egyptians got it all wrong by thinking that
Western women are at any male's every whim: they asked us how  to
proceed,  and how much money was currently needed to pay a random
girl for a quickie. That only prostitutes do it  for  money,  and
that  sluts  are  rather  the exception, and that it's often love
that links sex partners, were totally strange ideas to them.

So imagine these three women and five men on that  felucca:  what
wild  orgies  they must be having every night. So, not unsurpris-
ingly, whenever we dock for spending the night, the whole menfolk
of  the nearest village crowds the banks, sitting on their heels,
and staring at us for hours. The girls have difficulties changing
their clothes when the nights become cooler, and you can literal-
ly hear the eyes pop out of some heads. Same with nature's calls.
Jane,  a Kiwi, later told me that a fellah once showed her a 1.5m
high mud-brick circle where she could relieve herself. Gratefully
she  stepped in, and in the midst of "delivering" a diarrhea, saw
a dozen adult men staring at her. She forgot to ask for baksheesh
for  this  peepshow...  Hallas,  imshee (stop it, go away)! These
things are unthinkable with the local women.


Day 12: ... --> Edfu --> Luxor

Back to Edfu at  8am,  we  disembark,  but  not  after  a  hearty
farewell  to Mohammad and Hegazi, for whom we write an enthusias-
tic letter of recommendation. The Horus Temple complex is  super-
bly preserved, and overshadows everything seen so far, except Abu
Simbel. We split a service taxi to Luxor, and all check in at the
Grand  Hotel, a famous travelers' haunt, recommended to us by the
Hotel Marwa staff.

The rest of the day is spent on strolling around Luxor: the  tem-
ple  downtown,  though  impressive,  can  almost entirely be eye-
visited from the outside. One  of  its  twin  obelisks  is  today
adorning  the  Place de la Concorde in Paris. The souks are quite
lively and colorful, so that's where we hang around most  of  the
time.  Suddenly,  in a totally untouristed area, a man invites us
for tea. Juma, a Nubian, is a tailor, and insists that he is  not
interested  in  money,  which  is  usually  a bad sign. He sounds
honest, though, and lectures us on his philosophy of life. We ac-
cept  an invitation for tomorrow's dinner with his family. But at
times, he is very weird.

Music

Egyptians are crazy  about  music.  Tape  stalls,  often  selling
pirate  copies,  are all over, and you hear--endure?--the current
smash hits many times every day. On our trip, it is Hakim--a pro-
ponent  of  al  Jeel,  a modern urban music including elements of
disco and rap, like Algerian Rai--whose  album  is  best-selling,
even   among   tourists.   Lu-lulu-lu-lulu  and  Lucky-Lucky-Luck
(phonetic approximations) are omnipresent in our minds. Few  peo-
ple  seem  to listen to more classical Arab music, but they abso-
lutely love you  for  identifying  Umm  Kulthum,  Mohammad  Abdel
Wahab, Farid el-Atrache, or Fairuz on the radio.


Day 13: Luxor --> Theban Necropolis --> Karnak --> Luxor

In order to beat the crowds and the  heat,  we  ride  our  rented
bikes  to  the  Nile in order to catch the first locals' ferry at
6am. Once on the west bank, we cycle across interesting fellaheen
street-life to the student ticket office, just across the Colossi
of Memnon. These are 20m high, heavily withered twin statues sit-
ting amidst corn fields. We purchase tickets for the Tombs of the
Nobles only, but first cycle out to Deir el-Bahri where  we  view
the  famous Hatshepsut Temple from a distance, because it's under
heavy restoration, and the two upper levels are closed.

On to the Tombs of the Nobles, set in limestone  hills  amidst  a
village.  Young  girls insist on selling us their dolls made from
rags, then on giving them to us a gifts, because they "like"  us.
The tombs themselves are a heavily underrated destination, and we
examine the following with great care: Nakht (#52), Ramose (#55),
Userhat  (#56),  Khaemhat (#57), Menna (#69), Sennofer (#96), and
Rekhmire (#100). The artwork includes paintings on stucco featur-
ing earthly life and its continuation in the hereafter. The paint
looks so incredibly well-preserved that we almost ask the guardi-
ans,  who  reflect the sunlight into the tombs with mirrors, when
the paint last got refreshed.

It's not too hot yet, so we scoot around the Ramesseum  (mortuary
temple  of Ramses II) and Medinet Habu (mortuary temple of Ramses
III). Both are heavily deteriorated, so we only  view  them  from
the  outside,  as  more  spectacular  temples are on our program:
we've become quite greedy after Edfu. Near a well, we  spot  some
women  desperately  trying  to  help their donkeys pull the carts
with water-barrels onto the road, but to no avail as the slope is
too steep. So we dismount our bikes, and help them. They are very
grateful: shokran (thanks), and we  move  on  saying  afwan  (our
pleasure).

Back to Luxor at 11am, we have an early lunch  at  the  excellent
New Karnak Restaurant. Then luck is on our side when it turns out
that the Luxor Museum is open in the evenings only. Indeed we de-
cide  to  cycle on to Karnak then, and despite the by now oppres-
sive heat, we're bound to have the time of our live there.  There
is  almost  nobody  else  on the site: it's lunchtime for package
tours. For almost 3 hours, we walk in total awe around the magni-
ficence and leviathan grandeur of the Precinct of Amun. The Great
Hypostele Hall with its dense forest of over a hundred 23m  high,
15m  round columns is so overwhelming that we have to sit down to
take it all in. This is where James Bond (Roger Moore)  and  Anya
Amasova  (Barbara  Bach) have their titanic fight with the steel-
toothed killer in The Spy Who Loved Me. Temples, pylons, obelisks
(one  in  Rome  now),  courtyards,  and hieroglyphics galore. But
eventually, many package tours start flocking in, destroying  the
spirit  of  the  place,  and  we  cycle  home  via  the Avenue of
Sphinxes.

In the evening, we pick up Juma at his store,  and  head  to  his
home  for  the promised dinner. It's a cozy, clean place, and his
4-year-old son Mohammad is a quite happy and  lively  lad.  We're
only  shortly  allowed  to greet his wife, who is self-effacingly
preparing the food in the kitchen, while breast-feeding the baby.
After  the  great  kushari dinner, Juma proudly shows us his many
family pictures, plus photos taken  by  other  travelers  he  has
treated  to  dinner.  But  then  the discussion again turns sour,
around medicine stones, an expensive  pomade  for  Thomas'  knee,
buying  whiskey, and so on. We gracefully withdraw, after compli-
menting the wife on her great cuisine.

Package tourists

Package tourists were our big plight. I know many people  whom  I
can't  imagine  going  to  a  place  like  Egypt without a fully-
organized tour. So such tours apparently serve their purpose, be-
cause Egypt is rightfully a top tourist destination in the world.
But it remains a mystery to me  how  these  people  can  go  home
afterwards,  and pretend having seen Egypt. Shipped around in A/C
buses, trains, and boats,  bedded  in  3+*  hotels,  driven  like
flocks  of sheep across museums and sites, with no time to linger
over details and no option to decide  on  their  own  priorities,
dropped  into the most throat-cutting souks, dined on inappropri-
ate Western cuisine, how can they pretend enjoying  it,  or  even
knowing  anything about contemporary Egypt? Indeed, most look in-
credibly  bored,  and  don't  even  listen  to  their  guides:  I
overheard  a  guide differentiating two deities in some tomb, and
testing her group in the next tomb, but nobody could  distinguish
both gods anymore. Some seem more interested in the lonely widow,
who in turn has a crush on the guide, who actually has an eye  on
somebody's  beautiful 17-year-old daughter running around in pro-
vocative mini-skirts and tight T-shirts.  Package tourists should
be  given  more freedom, and somebody should hand them a pamphlet
on money-spending (see below), modest dressing, and so on,  which
they have to pass a test on in order to be admitted on the tour.


Day 14: Luxor --> Theban Necropolis --> Luxor

Up early again, we walk this time to the Nile ferry. On the other
side,  we  hail a taxi to the Valley of the Kings. The three most
famous tombs (Ramses  VI,  Seti  I,  Tut-Ankh-Amun)  are  closed:
malesh.  So  we decide on Ramses III (#11), which is said to be a
fair consolation price when Seti I is closed.  Almost  30m  long,
this  over  3,000-year-old  tomb  features the classical excerpts
from the Books of the Dead.  Our  next  choice  is  Amenophis  II
(#35),  one of the deepest tombs, and hence with suffocating air.
This 3,500-year-old tomb has  a  right-angled  layout,  and  even
features  defences  against  grave-robbers,  such  as a pit and a
false burial chamber. The quartzite sarcophagus is  still  there,
and  other  than the original mummy, nine others were found here:
they got stashed here as their original tombs turned out  unsafe.
The  last  pick--we  bought  three  wildcards--is Horemheb (#57),
which is quite interesting due to its unfinished  state:  indeed,
the deeper you proceed, the more the paintings actually turn into
stick-figure drawings, showing how the artists proceeded in their
decoration work.

The afternoon is spent in laziness. We then have a  look  at  the
interesting  displays  of  the Luxor Museum. After dinner, over a
good beer, we bid good-bye to Thomas, who will be  leaving  early
tomorrow morning for the Siwa Oasis.

Walking

There must be a law stating that  tourists  are  not  allowed  to
walk. Indeed, it gets very annoying if you have to explain a zil-
lion times a day that you don't need a taxi, caleche, or  felucca
ride: la, shokran (no, thank you). Also, many locals can't under-
stand why a traveler would just like to wander around in  untour-
isted  areas--namely to precisely get in touch with those who are
not spoiled by mass-tourism--and they very eagerly explain to you
that you are way off the path to temple so-and-so.


Day 15: Luxor --> Qena --> Port Safaga --> Hurghada

Today is souvenir shopping day, because it's our last opportunity
for  quality stuff at reasonable prices, and from a decent selec-
tion. It's quite easy to haggle some dealers down by 75%, showing
how  stupid some tourists must be to ever let them try such exor-
bitant first bids. At the same time, Marc shoots a lot of  close-
up  pictures  of the street-life in the souks, asking for permis-
sions of course.

Templed out, we turn our backs to the Nile Valley,  and  board  a
bus  at  4pm  bound  for  Hurghada, a beach resort on the Red Sea
coast, and our stepping stone to the Sinai peninsula, and new ad-
ventures.  But  we  first  say good-bye to Roseanne and Alan, who
will stay in Luxor for a few more days,  and  who  have  been  on
Sinai  before anyway. So our clan of eight is reduced to the ori-
ginal four again: Susan, Steve, Marc, and I. Yalla (let's go)!

The ride across the Red Sea Mountains is very  boring,  and  only
short  stops  in  Qena and Port Safaga allow some leg-stretching.
Once in Hurghada, things become very hectic; actually already  on
the  bus, where hotel touts are desperate for business, and prom-
ise incredible luxury for next-to-zero prices. But we stay  unir-
ritated, and Steve soon whisks us into a taxi bound for My Place,
for which we carry a referral from the Grand Hotel. This place is
managed  by... a young Japanese, and is incredibly clean for low-
budget standards. However, Yoki is unable  to  squeeze  out  four
more  tickets  for  tomorrow  morning's  ferry to Sharm el-Sheikh
(Sinai), because it is already sold-out. And the day after  is  a
Friday  (the Muslim rest day), so no ferry either. Oh well, so we
have the alternative  of  sticking  it  out  in  Hurghada,  which
doesn't  come  with great credentials, for two days, or embarking
on an 18hr service taxi relay all around the coasts of  the  Gulf
of Suez. Too tired for such decisions, we delay this to tomorrow,
and go for a good dinner at Aladin's Lamp.

Movies

Egyptians are crazy about movies, too. And they produce their own
films,  which  they  export  to all of the Arabic-speaking world,
just like their music, thus making the  Egyptian  dialect  under-
stood  everywhere.  Precious few movies ever make it to the West,
mainly because of the mediocre  quality  of  these  assembly-line
mass-productions. We've watched a few in hotel lounges, but I re-
gret not having actually gone to a movie theatre in order to  ob-
serve the crowds. Advertised with aggressively painted huge post-
ers, these movies are kitschy soap-operas, with displays  of  in-
credible luxury and with worn-out classical plots. They are some-
times musicals, with some famous singer playing  the  main  part.
It's  not uncommon that some actors are involved in the making of
several movies at the same time, thus hopping from  set  to  set.
Action  movies are quite popular, too (such as imitations of Ram-
bo), though some stuff is actually imported from India.  Amateur-
ish   play    and   low-budget  special  effects  make  the  non-
understanding Westerner smile at  these  movies.  Western  movies
make it to Cairo, though heavily censored.
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