Into the Blue

Blue Hole, Dahab, Egypt

Entering through a narrow crevasse in the reef, one by one, we descend through a space just wide enough for one diver. Hemmed in, and viewed through the dive mask, you get the feeling you are riding down a magical glass elevator, with jagged rocky outcrops coming out at you from all directions. Looking closer, you realize that each rocky ledge is filled with all kinds of life. Juvenile fish darting out of the way, a trigger fish picking at algae and coral off an edge, and a lone lionfish lying still in wait for its next meal! Reaching a depth of about 28 meters, we come to a natural arch in the rock. Swimming under the arch which acts like a doorway, we enter into the big blue abyss. In front of you, an unimaginable expanse of deep sapphire blue, and in a distance, faint shadows of schools of large fish. Turning around, you are faced with a sheer vertical underwater cliff – the geographical boundary of the African continent! Rising all the way up to the water's edge, and plunging to a depth of over 800 meters, while spanning to the left and right as far as the eye can see, a wall of living breathing coral and an explosion of colorful fish greets you! This is the Red Sea, and I am at the outer cliff face of the Blue Hole dive site in Dahab, Egypt.

The Red Sea is famous for supporting a huge amount of marine life, and Dahab, Egypt, a backpacker's haven along the eastern shore of the Sinai peninsular, is particularly known for its excellent diving. With no rivers running into it, and closed in with deserts all along its perimeter, the Red Sea boasts a very high salinity content, second only to the Dead Sea!

Together with Dec and Tuni, both in the British Military on break after a tour in Afghanistan, we follow our dive guide Paddy, a certified Dive Instructor with the Red Sea Relax Dive Center as we swim south along the cliff face. This was our fifth dive together, and in my opinion, the most spectacular one so far! Every square inch of the cliff face is covered in an burst of colorful life. From Blue and pink tipped staghorn coral stretching out, yellow and white soft coral waving with the current, bright orange sea anemones with a family of resident clown fish nesting in its tentacles, to huge yellow lettuce coral spanning some five meters across. Competing for our attention with the wall of coral are schools of brightly colored fish in every imaginable color! A Green Trigger Fish biting off chunks of coral, bright blue and green Parrot Fish grazing on a rock, yellow and electric blue Royal Angelfish moving slowly through branches of coral, and countless Butterfly Fish, Lionfish and lone Moray Eels poking out of their little holes. Moving effortlessly with the current, schools of bright orange fish with blue eyes swim right up to our dive masks and dart away, seemingly as curious of us as we are of them!

Swimming over a little ridge along the reef known as 'The Saddle', we enter into the infamous Blue Hole, a spot known to have claimed over 70 diving deaths. A roughly oblong hole hugging the shoreline, the Blue Hole is a natural sinkhole on the sea floor about 100 meters across at its widest point and drops to a depth of 120 meters. Almost all diving accidents in the Blue Hole occur because the divers go deeper than the recreational diving limit. We remained at a shallow 15 meters as we swam along the northern rim of the hole. Coincidentally, the Aida BBH Freedive Competition was going on in the Blue Hole at that time, and we witnessed freedivers swimming down along a guideline, disappearing into the big black chasm below with only the air in their lungs and without any tanks!

All too soon, it was time to surface, and I had to leave this magical watery world behind! For any traveler to Dahab, I would highly recommend the Red Sea Relax Dive Center, and in particular, our guide and instructor, Paddy, for his enthusiasm, sense of humor, knowledge of the local topography and marine life, and focus on safety! Taking one last look out into the blue expanse before getting out of the water, I quietly vow to myself that I shall return...and hopefully, it would be sooner rather than later when I do.

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The Curse of Baksheesh and Overcharging

Author's note: I have met plenty of friendly and honest Egyptians throughout this trip, some of whom have even been mentioned in this blog in previous posts. However, Egypt's economy largely remains dependent on tourism, and in many of the more popular tourists sites, a few bad apples amongst the population still regard tourists as a walking money machine. Here are just some of my personal experiences and annoyances that I've had with them.

In addition, the Egyptian currency is the Egyptian Pound. Any references to 'Pound' in this post refers to the Egyptian Pound (as of this writing US$1 = E£5.54), and 100 piastres make 1 pound.

Any traveler to Egypt will quickly learn the word “Baksheesh”, the request for a tip, or a hand-out for services rendered. While I have no problems tipping generously when when good service is provided or when a staff member goes above and beyond their call of duty to assist, I get terribly annoyed when baksheesh is requested or expected, sometimes even forced upon you, when little to no service was provided.

Take the toilets at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo for example. Coming out of the bathroom stall, I find the attendant standing up against the door of the stall, blocking me from exiting with a hand outstretched asking for baksheesh! Feeling intimidated, I hand him one pound, and went about my business. Right outside the bathrooms, I see a sign in English I hadn't noticed before: “Please do not tip the bathroom attendant. - Cairo Museum Management”. Feeling a little stupid, I treat this incident as a lesson learned.

Another time where baksheesh is frequently requested is at a historic monument, where guards will let you into 'closed areas' for a little baksheesh. However, it is hard to tell if the area was actually closed to the public, or if the guard simply put a stick across the entryway to make it seem inaccessible, only to earn a few extra pounds by letting willing tourists into these so-called “forbidden areas”. I have to admit that I've succumbed to the pressure and paid more than a few guards a few pounds, only to get access to that perfect picture, or a closeup view of the wall paintings on a few occasions. Almost every time though, I feel bad afterward for encouraging this bad practice and behavior. I guess we, the tourists, are part of the problem as well!

The one time I refused to pay any baksheesh was inside of the tombs in the Valley of the Queens. Because I visited the site on a bicycle, and timed my arrival in between waves of tour groups, I found myself alone in many of the tombs with the guard standing inches from me, breathing down my back. All of them were eager to explain every symbol, and image on the walls to me for a little baksheesh. As soon as I realized what was going on, I flat out told them that I have my trusty Lonely Planet guide with me, and that it does a great job of explaining most of the highlights of each tomb. “You can stand there and explain all you want, but I am not giving you any baksheesh!” I said. Most leave me alone after that!

What is probably worse than the constant asking for baksheesh is the blatant over-charging of tourists and the lack of fixed prices for anything. In the morning, a bottle of water could be 2 pounds, and in the evening, the same bottle in the same store will cost 5 pounds! The best felafel sandwich I've tasted in Egypt is from a little street-side stand in the souk (bazaar) in Aswan. However, for three days in a row, I paid a different price for the felafel each time! On the first day, I asked for one felafel and was charged 2 pounds for a sandwich made with half a pita. The next day, I ordered two felafels and was charged 5 pounds for two halves of a pita sandwich. On the third day, I was back again, and ordered one felafel and without waiting to be told how much it was going to be, I just handed the guy 2 pounds. This time, in return, I received two halves of a pita sandwich! Perplexed at the seemingly inconsistent prices, I later asked a local working at the hostel front desk how much a felafel should cost. And his answer: One felafel consists of one pita (two halves of a pita sandwich) and it should cost 1 pound! Oh well!

My biggest pet peeve right now is the practice of short changing. And this has happened to me on several occasions, from street side stores, to seemingly nice and reputable restaurants, and even at a museum ticket booth! Handing over a 200 pound bill at the Temple of Kom Ombo for a ticket that should only cost 60 pounds, I was casually handed a ticket and change in the amount of 40 pounds. I was ready to just pocket the change and walk off, when at the corner of my eyes, I notice the ticket agent hiding something under the ticket booklet. Something felt wrong and I took the extra effort to count my change at this time, realizing that I was 100 pounds short. I immediately questioned the agent about it, and only then, with a slight embarrassed smile for being caught, he pulls out the 100 pound bill from under the ticket booklet and hands it to me!

Since that incident, I always count my change before I leave any store, and I've found waiters to be the most prevalent at the practice of short changing. Even when service and taxes have clearly been added to the bill, I have caught waiters short changing me anywhere from 5 pounds to 30 pounds. While on the way to catch a bus out of Luxor, I stopped to purchase a to-go or take-away meal for the bus ride. Two days ago, at the same eatery, I bought this same meal for 10 pounds, but this afternoon, the bill came up to 12 pounds! Too tired to argue over what really amounted to a few cents back home, I let it slide and handed over a 20 pound bill. At first, the cashier handed me back five 1 pound notes. I looked at him, shook my head and demanded three more pounds. He opens the drawer, picks out two more pounds in 50 piastres denomination and handed the coins to me. Still short of 1 pound, I shook my head again, stood my ground, and demanded one more pound! Ordinarily, I wouldn't have cared, and would have let the 1 pound go, but after constantly being over-charged and short changed for the last month, I have had enough! Furthermore, I know I've been over-charged for this meal already, did he really think he could short change me as well? Only when I refused to move did he finally relent and pulled a 1 pound coin out and handed it to me! Unbelievable!

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Tour de Luxor

West bank of Luxor, overlooking the Valley of the Kings

Thebes, once the greatest and richest city in the ancient world, capital of the New Kingdom, and religious cult center of the God Amun. It boasted some of the largest and grandest temples ever built. From the sprawling Temples of Karnak, with its 134 massive towering pillars in the great hypostyle hall, a 3km long avenue of Sphinxes linking it to the Luxor Temple on the east bank, to the treasured royal tombs of Pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings and Queens on the west bank, present day Luxor has been hailed as the largest open air museum in the world!

If you are like me, and adverse to large tour groups and crowds, the best way to visit all of the sites around Luxor (in a very budget friendly way) is by bicycle! A bike will only set you back by E£10 (about US$2) per day, and you can take the public ferry across the Nile to reach both banks for E£1 each way. (DO NOT pay for a round-trip as round-trip tickets on the ferry do not exist, and it is a trick by the operator to cheat tourists of a few pounds!!!)

Taking in all there is to see in Luxor is best spread out over a few days. On day 1, I decided to stay on the east bank, visiting the Temples of Karnak, Luxor Temple, Luxor Museum and Mummification Museum. Day 2 was spent on the west bank visiting the Valley of the Kings, Temple of Hetshepsut, Ramesseum and the Colossi of Memmon. And on day 3, I went back to the west bank again to finish off visiting the Valley of the Queens and the Temple of Habu (Medinat Habu). All of the monuments open their doors at 6am, so I was up at the crack of dawn, rented a bike and peddling uphill towards the valley at first light! Not only was it much cooler to be riding at that time of the day (current mid-day temperatures in Luxor reach a high of 40ºC or about 100ºF), but I was able to time my visits to each of the monuments, arriving between the waves of tour buses, and was rewarded with a full 30 minutes in the tomb of Amunherkhepshef by myself, slowly admiring every detailed paintings on the richly decorated walls.

Pictures are not allowed in any of the tombs, but here are some pictures and a brief description of some of the sights around Luxor where pictures were permitted.

The Temples of Karnak site stretches for over 2 square kilometers. This is one of the side chapels within the Temples of Karnak complex.

Avenue of Ram headed Sphinxes in theTemples of Karnak.

Great Hypostyle Hall - Temples of Karnak. Covering 5500 sq meters, with 134 massive towering pillars, it is considered one of the greatest religious structures ever built. Notice the scale of the pillars relative to the people at the bottom of the picture.

Active archaeological sites can be found all over Luxor. Here, sphinxes are being dug out and reassembled to form a 3km long "Avenue of the Sphinxes" linking the Temples of Karnak with the Luxor Temple.

Part of the "Avenue of Sphinxes" laying haphazardly in ruins on people's front yard!

Backed by ruggard linestone cliffs, the Temple of Hatshepsut is dedicated to Hatshepsut, the first female Pharaoh in Egypt's history.

Temple of Hatshepsut

Temple of Hatshepsut

Ramesseum - Another one of Ramses II's great temples

 

Ramesseum

Colossi of Memnon - All that remains of the Memorial Temple of Amenhotep III, which if standing would be the largest temple complex ever built in Egypt!

Medinat Habu - Memorial Temple for Ramses III

Beautiful carvings and hieroglyphics set among ruggard cliffs at the Medinat Habu

19th century graffiti left by tourists and treasure hunters at the Medinat Habu

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Cruising Down the Nile...Cleopatra Style

Sitting on the side of the felucca, I let my feet drag along the clear, emerald green waters of the Nile. Looking down, seaweed and water grasses sway in the current, and little fishes dart between their foliage. After a quick swim in the waters to cool off, lunch is served. Today, it would be fresh Nile Perch, caught by Nubian fishermen barely hours ago, with a side of rice and a salad of fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and arugula. Cooked and served fresh on board, the meal is capped off with Karkady – a sweet delicious Hibiscus flower tea. With a full stomach, the gentle rocking of the felucca as it sails along makes my eyes heavy. Soon, it would be time for a nap. While I drift off to sleep with the sounds of lapping waves against the side of the felucca, I hear the attendant loading the cooler with beer and ice, ensuring that they will be perfectly chilled when I awake. Ah...even Cleopatra never had it this good!

Meeting up with Dairn and Yolanda (Yodi), the Canadians I met in Siwa, and joined by Christa, Yodi's sister, we arranged for a private cruise down the Nile from Aswan to Edfu on a felucca, a traditional wooden sail boat popular in the eastern Mediterranean region. For three days and three nights, we sailed and floated, stopping to swim in the cool, clean waters, visiting remote Nubian villages and islands and marveling at the temples of Kom Ombo and Edfu. The captain of the boat, Morad, a laid-back easy-going Nubian, owns his own felucca and would only take independent travelers on his boat, refusing to work with tour groups and Egyptian guides. Always smiling, he would constantly ask us if everything was good and break out singing the Bob Marley classic, “Everything's Gonna Be All Right" while smoking his sheesha.

All along the banks of the Nile, a lush green belt of palm, fruit trees and papyrus grasses hug the water's edge, slowly giving way to brown, barren, desert hills. Occasionally, ancient ruins would lay crumbled and abandoned along the banks, marking the spot where they have stood for thousands of years! It is not inconceivable to image Mark Anthony wooing Cleopatra with this very same view while on a romantic cruise down the Nile.

With an ungraceful belly-flop splash, we all make a running dive into the Nile from a pristine sandy beach off the Western bank. For an instant, the air is sucked out of your lungs and your skin tightens with pins and needles all over. The water is surprisingly cold, perhaps made worse when contrasted with the warm, dry breeze blowing from the North. Our daily swim in the Nile offered us a chance to wash off, and gain relief from the mid afternoon heat. Captain Morad was always ready to comply with our requests for a swim, and would anchor the felucca at some of the best swimming spots along the way. Aside from the occasional plastic bottle and trash floating by, I was pleasantly surprised at how clean and clear the water of the Nile is, with visibility of about 2 meters, it is teeming with fish and other wildlife.

Being a Nubian, Captain Morad would stop at various Nubian villages along the Nile to visit his friends. Greeting us with a welcome party of village kids chanting “Hello!...Hello!”, the friendly villages would invite us on shore for a picnic lunch of stewed fish and bread, and show us small facets of traditional Nubian life, including their baby pet crocodiles! These little farming communities grow a variety of fruit crops, from mangoes to bananas, and various vegetables – still relying on traditional farming techniques such as cow-powered water pumps and donkey-powered plows.

One of the biggest highlights of the trip was visiting the camel market in the town of Daraw. Every weekend, camels are brought in from Sudan to be sold and traded to buyers all over Egypt! Hundreds, possibly thousands of camels lie waiting in herds while their owners huddle with potential buyers, negotiating and bargaining for the best possible prices. Those animals that get sold are led off in long caravans on foot, or loaded onto trucks to be driven to their new homes (or to the slaughterhouse).

Going on a felucca cruise is without a doubt the best way to see the Nile and the communities that live along its banks. We were indeed fortunate to have found Captain Morad as other travelers we met after our cruise told us of unscrupulous feluccia captains who would quote ridiculously low prices to lure the unsuspecting budget traveler, only to nickel and dime their way through the entire cruise by providing only the most basic of necessities, and charging extra for everything else! Captain Morad however, was upfront with the costs. There was never any hidden charges and he provided us with some of the best home-cooked food at all-you-can-eat quantities. Spending three days on a felucca is definitely not for the faint-hearted. There are no facilities on-board, and do not expect to be able to take a hot shower. Using the bathroom means doing what ancient Egyptians have been doing for all eternity, and yes, mosquitoes do come out at night! But for those brave enough, they will be rewarded with relaxing days sailing on the peaceful Nile, breathtaking views with scenery unlike any other, and a glimpse into a disappearing culture and lifestyle of the ancient Nile settlers that have changed little since the Arabs invaded Egypt, ushering in an era of Islam, over a millennium ago.

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Great Temple of Ramses II

Carved out of solid rock, the Great Temple of Ramses II with four giant seated statues of the Pharaoh himself guarding the entrance is without a doubt one of the greatest monuments in southern Egypt. The real treasures however, lie in the interior of the temple. More huge statues carved into the pillars, reliefs and hieroglyphics depicting the Pharaoh at war and of his family and the gods carved onto every square inch of the interior walls! It was indeed unfortunate that pictures were not allowed inside the temple.

The only downside to visiting the Great Temple of Ramses II and the Temple of Hathor next to it, is that because of terrorism in the past directed at tourists in southern Egypt, security is tight, and the only cost effective way to travel to Abu Simbel (where these temples are located) from Aswan is to follow a tour and ride in a police escorted convoy to see these sights. Getting up at 3am, a tour bus picks you up and gather at a staging area with about 50 other buses, coaches and vans. The convoy is then broken up into smaller groups of 5-10 vehicles, and escorted 300 kilometers south to Abu Simbel. While they do a good job at staggering the arrivals so that the wait at the entrance wasn't too bad, you still have about 50 buses worth of tourists arriving at the site and trying to see the same thing all at once! Because the convoy has to leave together, escorted back the same way we came, you are only allowed a little less than two hours to visit the site. While the time was sufficient to see everything, I felt rushed, and the constant stream of people entering the temples made the interiors unbearably stuffy, reeking of sweat and body odor.

All in all, the temples were spectacular, and I am glad I made it all the way this far south to see it. However, I wish I could have stayed longer, and experienced it at my own pace and at my own time.

Temple of Hathor

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Life on an Oasis

After eight perilous days trekking through the desert, all food and water had just about run out. Parched and blistered by the scorching sun, the small expedition of several men pull out a tattered papyrus map, and confirm their position with the help of the constellations. Far out on the horizon, a faint glimmer appears. Was it just a mirage? A trick of the mind? Slowly, as the sun rises over the eastern sands, the silhouette of palm trees begin to show. They did it! They made it across the desert, and found the Oasis of Siwa. It was 331 BC and with them, the young conqueror of Egypt, Alexander the Great had set out to Siwa to consult with the Oracle of Amun, who would later declare him the son of Zeus - solidifying him as the rightful ruler of Egypt.

2341 years later, in the year 2010, on Sunday April 4th to be exact, I am deposited at a dusty little mud-brick bus stop just off the town square. Groggy and tired from an all night bus ride from Alexandria, I orientate myself and confirm my position with an iPod touch loaded with a map of Siwa, and the latest PDF version of the Lonely Planet guide. Trekking the last few hundred meters into the center of town, I find a room at the recommended Palm Trees Hotel. I did it! I made it across the desert, and found the Oasis of Siwa.

Located far out on the western Egyptian desert by the Libyan border, Siwa had been isolated for thousands of years, developing their own unique Siwi language and culture that still exists today. The first paved road into the town was only completed in the 1980s. Many of the families that live here continue to practice sustenance farming, growing their own fruit and vegetables on family owned plots of land. It is not uncommon to be invited into homes for a cup of tea, laced with a sprig of fresh mint from the gardens. A predominantly Muslim town, this outward pouring of hospitality is brought about by the teachings of the Qur'an, where guests are to be treated as a messenger from God himself. 

Siwa is the kind of town that runs on its own pace and on its own time. Most shops stay shuttered till well past 10am, and during the Friday afternoon prayers, don't expect any businesses to be open! The main industry here are date and olive plantations, and now increasingly, tourism. While much of the local population still travel by donkey cart, they are now forced to share the road with a growing amount of jeeps and buses catered for the tourists.

Drawing tourists to Siwa are its pristine fresh water springs that bubble out of the desert sands. Over 300 springs feed the many pools to bathe in, irrigate the land, and fill the massive (salty) lake Siwa just outside of the town center. My days in Siwa were spent eating some of the freshest and sweetest fruits and dates, swimming in Cleopatra's Spring and Fatnas Spring, both easily accessible by a short bike ride from my hotel, and visiting the many ruins and tombs around town, including the famed Temple of the Oracle. The Oracle of Amun, here in Siwa, was once regarded as the most powerful Oracle in all the ancient lands, prophesying the rise and fall of many great world events and Pharaoh dynasties over the centuries. Alexander the Great was believed to have made several trips here to Siwa during his reign to consult with the Oracle.
 

 Temple of the Oracle

After about four days of doing basically nothing, I was about ready to leave town and see the rest of Egypt. On my first attempt at buying a bus ticket out, I was turned away and told to come back later in the afternoon. I never made it back to the bus station that day, so I stayed another night.  The next day, I was on my way to try the bus station again when Omar, a friendly Egyptian from Cairo stopped me on the street and asked if I wanted to go on a desert safari, splitting the cost with him and his girlfriend, Frea from Holland, and two Canadians, Yolanda and Dairn, whom he met earlier in the day. With nothing to lose, I agree to this serendipitous invitation, and stay a few more days. Siwa is turning out to be Hotel California: We are all just prisoners here, of our own devise!

Sitting on the edge of a huge sand dune, our daredevil driver Tash Tash turns around, gives an evil laugh, and guns the engine, dropping the Toyota SUV over the edge. Like riding in a roller coaster, blood rushes to your head, and your stomach sinks. Cheers and laughter abound (with some squeals of fear), we race down a near vertical drop at top speed! The dunes here are part of the Great Sand Sea, a vast expanse of sand dunes that stretches 800 kilometers south-west into Libya. Aside from this thrill ride, the desert safari brought us to various hot and cold springs, and a prehistoric seabed littered with shells and fossils embedded in a bedrock of limestone and salt. These minerals in the sand turn many of the lakes in the area salty, and at Lake Shiatta, where we stopped for lunch and a swim, it is so salty you could float on your belly with your hands and feet in the air!

Unfortunately, Siwa is not going to stay this way for long. The increase in tourism has brought about irreversible change, from pollution to cultural dilution. The native Siwi language never had use for the world “stealing”, until it was added recently, and the traditional way of building using blocks of limestone and salt sealed with mud, keeping the interiors cool in the desert heat, is giving way to modern techniques using brick and cement, which are unsuitable for that climate. However, the last straw for Siwa, and its many historic monuments might in fact be climate change. Increased rainfall in the last 20 years has eroded and dissolved more of the mud-brick fort and Temple of the Oracle complex than any war or natural disaster ever did over the last 3 millenniums! 

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Wrong Way to Nowhere!

Since leaving India, I have been sick. Sickened first by diarrhea at Rishikesh, and then by an onset of a cold soon after. Even as I was leaving Delhi, on the way to Cairo, I was nursing a splitting headache, a sore back, and intestines that churned and gargled every couple of hours, feeling like they could explode any minute! And arriving in Cairo, with its smog filled air, noisy streets and sweltering heat, provided no reprieve at all. That was when I realized that I needed to rest. The last month was spent moving at light speed across India, and now, I needed a time to recharge, to eat right, and to get some much needed sleep!

Setting my sights on the Siwa Oasis on the far western fringes of Egypt by the Libyan border, I was drawn to tales of crystal clear springs, endless date palm, olive and fruit groves, and a town where donkey carts outnumber motorized vehicles. Being the most remote, and purportedly most tranquil and beautiful of all the Egyptian oasis, I knew that this was the place for me to recuperate.

After consulting the travelers bible (Lonely Planet), I decided on the most reliable route to Siwa, by first taking a train up to the port city of Alexandria, and then catching a scheduled overnight bus west to Siwa. The train from Cairo to Alexandria was fast, clean and relatively inexpensive. At just over 2 hours long, it was a quick ride. Stepping out of the train in Alexandria, I was hit with a blast of cool refreshing air! The Mediterranean was right at its doorstep, and I was beginning to feel better already! But there was no time to enjoy it. I had to get to the bus station to see if there are any more seats left on the last bus that evening to Siwa.

Ignoring all the taxi divers along the platform asking me if I needed a ride, I heading straight to the street in front of the train station, looking for a shared minibus that would take me to the bus station. The ride should only cost E£1 (about 20 US cents), and I was determined to get around on a tight a budget as possible. Stopping by the first minibus along the pavement, I yelled to the driver, “Bus station?” He immediately nodded and signaled me to get in. But before I hopped on, I re-confirmed with the guy manning the door that I want to get to the bus station. He exchanged a few versus in Arabic with the driver, and waved at me to get on.

Twenty minutes into the ride, and I was beginning to worry. Alexandria is not a very big city, and the bus station couldn't be this far away. My worst fears were realized when the city slowly gave way to suburbs, and the suburbs to an endless expanse of desert. I wake the guy nodding off next to me, not knowing if he spoke any English at all, and blurted out, “Where is this bus going?” He looks at me like I am mad, and responds with the one word I did not want to hear: “Cairo!”

“WHAT!?!? Cairo? I don't want to go to Cairo! I want to go to the bus station!!!” I yell. The whole bus is now awake, and the passengers around me are having a heated conversation with the bus driver. A passenger behind me translates what the bus driver is saying, “He says he is taking you to the bus station in Cairo.”

“No, no, no! I don't want to go Cairo. I just came from Cairo. I want to go to the bus station in Alexandria. To catch a bus to Siwa!”

Only after a few more exchanges with the bus driver, translated by the guy sitting behind me, and agreeing to pay the full fare of E£22, did the driver agree to let me off. I was let off at a rest stop, a gas station along the freeway to Cairo with instructions to flag down any minibus going the opposite direction back towards Alexandria.

So here I am, stuck in the middle of nowhere, playing chicken once again as I dart across six lanes of freeway (with backpack and all), to get to the opposite side of the road, hoping that someone would take me back to Alexandria! Fifteen minutes of flagging at every moving vehicle coming at me turned out in vain. Most of the minibuses going by were full, and everyone else was wary of the strange foreign traveler on a freeway in the middle of nowhere. When the Persian King Cambyses sent an army of 50,000 men from Thebes in 525 BC to destroy the Oracle of Amun in Siwa, his entire army vanished into the desert, never to be seen or heard from again. Was I about to suffer the same fate as Cambyses' lost army?

Just as I was ready to cross back towards the gas station and either call for a taxi (if one came out this far), or get help some other way, a figure appears out of the haze of desert dust and freeway fumes - a good Samaritan, who spoke no English at all! With a dose of divine intervention and lots of made-up sign language, I somehow manage to explain my predicament to him. Grabbing my hand, he leads me about one kilometer up the road, to an exit junction on the freeway, where minibuses were stopping to pick people up! He went as far as to stop every minibus in sight, and spoke with every driver until he found a minibus willing to accommodate me and my backpack to the bus station in Alexandria!

Grateful and relieved that I made it to the bus station in one piece, I buy a seat on the last bus to Siwa, and slump down onto a wooden bench feeling exhausted. The bus station was no more than a plot of bare dirt, with a a few broken benches on one end under a makeshift shelter. Staring at the ticket in my hand, it is entirely in Arabic! Does it say destination Siwa? Or someplace else? Learning my lesson, I know I should double check...but that will have to wait. Right now, I'm going to just sit for awhile, and then find some food, and a bathroom. After all this, Siwa had better be worth the trip!

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