Last Day

I last saw Kristi twenty one and a half hours ago. The airport had a glass walled security area surrounding the ticketing area so we were surprised to have to say goodbye so soon, and time didn’t allow us to linger. Just a quick hug and she was through, following her luggage which I had hoisted on to the x-ray conveyor. For twenty minutes I watched her through the glass as she waited in line, checked her luggage, and was handed her boarding pass. One last quick wave and there was nothing for me to do but go outside—back into waiting Egypt, and catch a cab home. My driver was probably disappointed for my haggling was insistent but without all the theatrics that make it satisfying once the deal is struck. By the time I fell into bed, Kristi’s plane was certainly in the air flying away from me at 500 miles per hour.

Somehow the pyramids had been shunted off to the last day. We were going to see them at the front end but ran out of time, and likewise, yesterday morning, we decided to push them off yet again. The things have been there for over 3000 years. Surely they will still be there the next time we find ourselves in Egypt again. We decided not to stress ourselves with a long haul out to Giza and confined our day around downtown. I made a persistent attempt to give Kristi a basic tour of campus but was thwarted by the “no visitor” policy (which was so frustrating let’s not talk about it). We re-visited Fishawy’s coffee shop and Khan Al Khalili to pick up some Egypt supplies for Kristi to bring home: Sahlab powder, saffron, Egyptian whisky (tea), scarves, shoes, scarves, shoes, and a nice Turkish coffee pot. At sunset, while Kristi was packing upstairs I walked over to Taboula, one of my favorite restaurants here—a Lebanese place, tasteful, very classy, very inexpensive—to make reservations. We were there 30 minutes later enjoying an array of middle eastern dishes and the cozy, quiet atmosphere. During dinner we both noticed ourselves struggling under a background heaviness. It’s like the day came with a shadow. Like we both knew something terrible was going to happen, and it was inevitable. OUR trip, the one we had both been looking forward to, preparing for, even dreaming about was now completely behind us. It was what it was and there was very little left to make of it. Not that we wanted to change anything, or make it better than it was. We both embarked with little or no expectations and very simply enjoyed each other and our time together. It was more that the opportunities to create memories together were dwindling and soon would be gone. The-2007-Egypt-Visit would soon be fixed in the past, and we would be apart again with only the task of reflecting and appreciating at a distance the depth that is hard to grasp within the thrill and happening of life.

Kristi finished packing. We took another swing by Café Zahara for conversation. A walk over the Nile. Picture business. Then the bags needed to get in the elevator. Call a cab. “Nathhab Illa Matar, Min Fundhlik” Wrong terminal. Wrong building. Running late. Departure Hall. Then we suddenly found ourselves stumbling into the very last part. Almost by surprise.



PS. we're getting married.

Cairo, Khalas

Kristi and I just got in from Café Zara here in Cairo. Café Zara is lovingly referred to by us at the house as “The Poor Café.” This is because we can all go there for coffee(.50cents), fresh juice(65cents), sahlab(60cents), and shisha(40cents) and walk away not much poorer than we already are. The place is staffed by waiters who genuinely enjoy their work and always have a little bit of conversation or banter as we’re always the only foreigners there. Actually, “place” is not the best term as Café Zara is mostly a collection of tables and chairs snaked through a conjunction of two alleys hidden behind Talat Harb square. This secret little gem was Kristi and my spot to unwind after a long day of travel from Israel.

The border crossing was a piece of cake. Again. We got through with no clear method to get back to Cairo, but it was immediately apparent we didn’t need one. Once we stepped past the last check point and entered Egypt free and clear and mentioned Cairo, we were greeted by a middle aged man who explained he was driving to Cairo and offered to take us along with his family for 300LE. We asked about the bus and tried to bargain him down once we found out it was leaving in about an hour for 150LE. In the end he came down to 200LE ($35) and we agreed.

While we waited for him to make arrangements we walked a bit into Taba and found a camel. It was tied up on the side of the road, apparently there to graze on some of the irrigated grass that was strewn along the road in patches. He seemed to have cleared his patch pretty well and became quite friendly once I approached with a handful of luscious greenery. Kristi snapped some shots of him. It was nice to not have a owner around to ask us for rides and money. Once I was done feeding him and staring at his hairy nose, it was Kristi’s turn. “No! I’m not feeding that camel,” she retorted in a silly voice, but she quickly agreed and I took the camera up to document and prove that, yes, Kristi has indeed fed a camel. Thankfully without camel slobber.

In a little while we were situated in the back of a white mini-bus with the man, his wife and three kids, and a Syrian man who was obviously paying like us to be taken to Cairo. This time crossing Sinai was done during the day, and the presence of our man’s wife and children in the car seemed to have a positive effect on his driving. We felt safe the entire time (but perhaps we’re merely growing more accustomed to the driving methods here). Six hours later we pulled into Cairo, happy to be done traveling and happy to be home. A nap was the first order of business.

So, we just crossed the 24 hour mark. We’re getting some sleep tonight, then trying to cram as many memories as possible into our day tomorrow before I accompany Kristi to the airport and see her onto the plane with a string of hard goodbyes.

New Jerusalem

Kristi and I are sitting in a Café in the new section of downtown Jerusalem. We just got our bags packed and are on the cusp of checking out of the Anglican Guest House in the Old City. The fact that we only have three days left is close in our minds. Today we will hop a bus to Elat and then see about transport to Cairo. The bus times from the border are unpredictable but it’s about a seven hour ride.

It’s beautiful here. The air is crisp and cool, the surroundings green with floral touches everywhere. Last night we did the walk from the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane. The hill was covered with knarled olive trees and a few landscaped gardens with histories we couldn’t ascertain. On the way down we passed a group of Arab boys playing on an old stone wall. They stopped long enough to give us some fresh picked fuzzy olives. By the time we actually arrived at Gethsemane the sun had set, the city transformed from day to night lights and the garden was closed. With a little disappointment we wandered up a walled road between two church compounds that bled into a huge Jewish cemetery. We stood there on the side of the hill, looking across the small valley to the Dome of the Rock, Al Aqsa mosque, the Golden Gate, and the Temple Mount. As I said: beautiful.

More Pics

Riding in a Sevice Taxi in Hurghada


At the Red Sea, Camel Talk


At an Ahwa Shop in Hurgada


Restaurant in the Luxor Countryside


The Main Throughfare of Karnak Temple


Rooftop of the Main Hall, Karnak


Kristi and Colin in the Main Hall of Karnak


Valley of the Kings, Tomb of Mehetpeteph


On a Felucca on the Nile


On a Felucca


Leaving our Hotel in Luxor


Alcove at Our Hotel

Travel Route

(click to enlarge)

Out of Egypt

We are in Jerusalem. Finally. The past few days have been a crazy whirlwind of travel and adjustment starting with our arrival in Hurghada to find the ferry to Sharm Al Sheikh was cancelled. We were told (and we believed) that the ferry would be down for a two days and if we waited we could catch it eventually and would be fine. The only other option was to get on a bus (which we had just gotten off of) and ride nine more hours around the Gulf of Suez to Sharm. This was not an option as the ferry only took 90 minutes. We looked around for a place to spend the next two nights and make the most of our time in this coastal town. The next two days were spent trying to relax in a place packed with the worst kind of tourists(Europeans). But we managed to find a few places that weren't so gaudy and of course sunshine is the same everywhere.

Unfortunately, on the second day, we discovered the ferry was not delayed for two days, but two weeks. Utter dismay ensued, as we realized the only way out of Hurghada was by bus. The next day we moped down to the bus station at 7am to await the bus to take us to Suez where we would switch to a bus cutting across central Sinai to bring us to the Israeli border at Taba. We immediately gathered from the Arabs that the Suez bus wouldn't arrive until 10:30. We took a minibus downtown for Sahlab (a creamy hot drink with nuts, raisins, and coconut) and returned at ten. The Arabs told us it would now be at 11:30. So we sat at the dingy station cafe for an hour. At 11:40 we learned it would be ten more minutes. The Suez bus arrived at 12:30. A mob quickly ensued and Kristi and I split up. I jammed my way on the coach to find us seats and she stayed back to get our luggage under the bus. Fortunately, I secured two seats in the back and guarded them from other passengers who quickly realized they would be forced to stand for the entire trip. Kristi arrived and we sat there sweating while the bus got its act together.

The sun was well down, seven hours later when we arrived in Suez: two hours later than normal. There was something seriously wrong with the bus and it wouldn’t top 50mph the entire way. Suez presented a new dilemma. We had to get to Taba, but the only bus was the next day at 3 in the afternoon. We had already decided that we would do whatever we had to to get to Taba that night, even if it meant hiring a car specially to take us there. We haggled the fare down to arbah miyya, khamsa wa ishriin ginea (425LE, $75), and after the crazy day we were glad to just get out of Egypt once and for all. Little did we know we had one more crazy adventure left before the border.

Mohammad worked for the Taxi station boss. And after much talking it obviously fell to him to be our driver for the five hour trip to Taba. We soon found ourselves splayed out in the back seat of an early 80’s Pugot station wagon with him at the wheel, and something was fishy. First there was the detour down a side street. Mohammad parked, told us there was no problem, got out, crossed a set of train tracks, and met with another Arab man, discreetly passing him some folded bills. He came back smiling too much. Then there was the string of phone calls where the only thing I could make out was that something was up. Thirty minutes later, we pulled into a service station and came up behind a Toyota mini bus with two figures perched beside. Mohammad proceeded to explain in Arabic that one of these men was his little brother and actually he would be the one driving us, not in the Pugot, but the Toyota. I think we both experienced an “Ah ha!” moment, because his game was finally unmasked. He was obligated to pay over half of our fare to the Taxi boss but the boss wouldn’t know about the mini-bus, and more importantly the nine to fifteen passengers they would undoubtedly fill it up with on the way back from Taba. After a good show of protest we allowed Mohammad to transfer our bags to the Toyota. Once we got inside an obvious argument ensued outside with the second man. The owner of the bus shooed us out of his bus and drove away. Mohammad took us back to the station wagon with no explanation. We got back into the car. I fumbled with the windows to get one to roll down for the trip and just as we got one down a crack, Mohammad’s brother pulled up, this time by himself, in yet another Toyota mini bus. Oh, so NOT the Pugot? Again? By now the situation was so crazy we were laughing at each other, and complaining LOUDLY to Mohammad. I think he was a bit embarrassed but insisted that now everything would go smooth. One more time, we switched cars, this time saying goodbye to Mohammad and pulling away with his brother Hussain. We soon stopped and picked up another man (“Zoom-leh-ee” Hussain explained, “my collegue”). All the better, Kristi and I concluded. Good to have someone for Hussain to keep him awake during the drive.

We soon learned that Hussain was crazy. The highway through the Sinai desert was uneven, winding, and in many places covered with sand drifts (which we named “sand snakes”). No matter, Hussain plowed ahead at, who knows, 70 miles per hour. All the time passing cars at high speeds, pulling tight corners, turning his headlights off while oncoming cars wooshed by in the other lane, and breaking suddenly on a regular basis. We prayed. I pulled out my Arabic phrase book and frantically searched for how to tell him to slow down. After I explained that he was scaring Kristi, I got him to slow down. A little bit. –An hour went by. Then two. And though our hearts were in our throats and we couldn’t wrench our eyes off of Hussain’s antics, I think our prayers were working, because we were still on the road in one piece. And though we began to trust his driving ability a little more, we never wavered from the opinion that he, as a typical Egyptian driver, was out of his mind.

A little over four hours after leaving Suez, we pulled into the quiet town of Taba on the tip of Aqaba. Hussain dropped us at the border, we rebuffed his pleas for a tip and let him drive away with only the fare. It was 2am. We made our way through customs, out of Egypt—crazy, unpredictable, shabby Egypt—and into a slumbering Israel on the eve of Passover.

Pictures

Kristi at Khan Al Khalili


At Fishawy's in the Khan al Khalili



The Train Station to Luxor


A Train Pulling Through The Station


A Quiet Nile Cruise Aboard a Felucca


Side Grotto in the Temple of Karnak


Relaxing by the Pool at the Hotel