Dahab and Petra

The trip to Dahab took six hours through barren, sandy landscapes with very occasionally an area where bore water allowed for some fruit trees or leafy crops. We followed the path of the powerlines, eventually winding through a ravine. Steep mountains of rock, with rivers of stones cascading down them, rose on each side with only a narrow snake of sand and stone on either side of the road. Occasional piles from excavations for mines and coils of barbed wire reminded us that this area had been a war zone in the six day war with the Israelis in the 1960s. Between Cairo and Dahab we stopped at many checkpoints where our drivers were questioned about our nationality. We did not have to show our passports because the drivers were regulars and their word was accepted.

The beeper on the bus indicating that the speed limit had been exceeded sounded so continuously that it could have been part of the music playing. We survived the hair-raising passing of two and more vehicles on bends with little visibility, occasional night driving without headlights and speeds we would never consider on a winding road.

Our hostel at Dahab was like a set out of a hippy movie. Set right on the edge of the red sea, cats wound their way between the lounging guests who relaxed eating and drinking and gazing seaward to catch sight of an occasional flying fish. This was definitely a town based on the tourist trade with a variety of prices to suit different customers. A large part of the foreshore is devoted to restaurants which go right to the water’s edge but there is access for swimming at some points. The walking area is lined with shops and restaurants with people touting for custom. In 2006 terrorists set off bombs in three places in the centre of the tourist area and many people were killed and injured, hence the concern about visitors and the number of checkpoints.

We spent a fascinating day visiting St Catherine’s Monastery, set in a rugged and isolated area at the foot of Mt Sinai. The monastery is the oldest continuously used Eastern Christian church. It has never been damaged or pillaged due to being granted protection by each set of rulers and even by Israel during the war. The burning bush, from which God spoke to Moses, asking him to negotiate freedom for the enslaved Israelites with the Pharoah, grows within the monastery walls. The sense of the place was lost a little for us by being in a tide of tourists, but the museum of icons and treasures was much quieter and fascinating. There was a network of monasteries who exchanged gifts from as far away as Poland.

The ascent of Mt Sinai was not attempted by many of the people there. Bedouins offered camel rides to help us along the 7 ½ km track rising steeply to the summit but we were confident that we could make it. It was pretty slow going with the air thinning as we gained altitude. We were walking with a German man who made and excellent companion. The path deteriorated for the last section so we were climbing natural stairs of varying heights. By this stage the sleet had turned to snow and it was extremely cold. At last we made it, and after a photo and a look at the dense mist we started the descent down more than 3000 steps.

The highlight of the following day was snorkelling at Dahab. Incredibly coloured and diversely formed fish swam around us over an amazing array of corals. Thankfully we had squeezed ourselves into wet suits since it was very cold after about half an hour. Every day we have eaten Egyptian food which is very cheap and delicious. It is served in many small dishes and accompanied by dip and pitta bread. Keith generally drinks black tea and I have enjoyed the freshly squeezed lemon juice. The breakfast menu is not so different to the meals that we eat at other times of the day. The Egyptian currency is called Egyptian pounds with one pound being about 20 cents Australian. A meal in Dahab cost us about 8 – 16 Egyptian pounds but it was possible to have a meal in Cairo for 1 Egyptian pound. There are lots of cats and quite a few dogs everywhere and they are tolerated by everyone. The cats even stroll into the restaurants and help themselves to anything under the tables.

During the bus ride to Nuweiba to catch the ferry to Aqaba in Jordan, we had an interesting experience. The bus driver drove very slowly, making the one hour trip take double the time. He insisted that Keith sit beside him and explained many interesting things about Bedouin culture. We learnt that they can have more than one wife although the ceremony is prohibitively expensive since you have to invite everyone. Many Bedouins now rely on tourists to make a living, and while they are Muslim, they are allowed to drink alcohol. After about an hour and a half he pulled over beside the road at an abandoned building. We and our fellow Korean passenger had no idea what was happening and were a little alarmed when Keith was told to get out and the driver grabbed Keith’s bag and appeared to be lifting it out. This feeling of being unsure and at the mercy of others because you have no idea what is going on is becoming a common one for us. Luckily Keith was not abandoned in the desert and we were just having a compulsory and unsolicited tea break. The driver found a gas burner and tea things under the bags and took us into the courtyard where we had chai, one at a time from a small glass cup. He offered to give our companion a twenty minute Bedouin massage but she said her legs already felt good. After at least half an hour we set off for the final ten minutes of our journey. It was a very pleasant interlude and we would have agreed if asked, but we realised that the role of driver had been subtly changed to that of guide and provider of tea and entertainment, requiring a suitable monetary reward.

The wait for the Nuweiba ferry was interminable with a moment of anxiety at the end. We hadn’t realised that we had to have our passport visas stamped for departure from Egypt since we had already handed in our passports and paid departure tax when we purchased our tickets. Selecting a window seat proved futile as the trip finally got underway at dusk, inexplicably (to us) two and a half hours late.

Petra

Our kind driver to Petra, Farez, shouted us cake and tea on the way since we had no spare Jordanian Dinars, drove strictly to the road rules and chatted in reasonable English. We were shocked to see such an orderly city (Aqaba) with footpaths and wider shop fronts with no-one sitting out the front.

One great thing about our trip so far has been the camaraderie of travellers. A small group of us met at Nuweiba and supported each other with information, stories and sharing of plans. None of the others are at our hostel but when we see them in the street the greetings are warm and friendly. There are many different stories – short trips, long term travel covering the whole world, return to childhood homes long since emigrated from and family reunions.

The modern township of Wadi Musa, running down hills into the valley, spreads out from a few main shopping streets to terraces of flat roofed cream houses. A boy of about ten served us in the tiny supermarket whose sign proclaimed it sold ‘everything’. He asked us the cost of Australian lamb per kilo and said that they sold it in their shop for about 3 dinar per kilo (about A$5). He was a first class entrepreneur, chatting in English and showing us all his options. He is currently on school holidays. We bought items for a picnic and then it was off to Ancient Petra at last.

What an experience! We entered the 1.2km long siq, sometimes called the womb of the world, which is a narrow passage way formed by the cliffs rising 100 metres on either side having been torn apart. The path winds and occasionally broadens out, allowing you to come upon amazing geological and manmade forms. There are many vivid colours running down and swirling around the rocks. The siq opened up onto a broad rock walled courtyard with the enormous tomb, El Khaznee, carved out of the sandstone cliff, dramatically appearing before us. This is one of many tombs, variously eroded, which include carved out columns and elaborately decorated facades and numbers of vaults. The tombs do not extend far into the cliff face and are at different heights above the ground around the hills and cliff faces. Small rooms and doorways are carved out everywhere as well.

This city was home to the Nabataeans, a nomadic people who operated commercial caravan trains over a wide area, trading and carrying goods. The geological formations at Petra provided a readily secured and protected place for accumulated wealth and eventually, over 600 years from about 312 BC, the city evolved and agriculture and a complex hydraulic water supply system were set up.

The city shows many influences including Iraqi, Greek and Roman and it was finally annexed by the Romans in 106 AD.

Only a small part of the site has been excavated so interesting finds and increased understanding of the culture is still occurring. Bedouin children and adults are met on every track, offering jewellery (1 dinar), tea and donkey and camel rides (taxi).

It was about 5◦C so the poor stall holders were huddled around fires in cave shelters. We bought a 3 day ticket and spent the whole day climbing to the monastery, strolling along the street of columns and imagining life as it once was there. We absolutely loved it, except for the rain and finally the hail which chilled us to the bone.

Next morning we set out again but the snow, driving hail and whistling winds sent us back to the hostel for a day of relaxation.

We had dined the night before with a group from the hostel and, adding two French men to our band, we watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on our tiny computer. There was no audible sound but a basic commentary from Chris, an Englishman who had seen it, enabled us to make it through the plot to the few minutes featuring Petra. The others were all planning to leave today but the roads have been declared impassable due to mist and snow, so we are all marooned here.

Being marooned has been very interesting with a definite Agatha Christie feel to it for me and for others in the group, we were in the Big Brother house. Only Wadi Musa locals have called in and, when we attempted to visit Petra despite reasonably heavy snow on the ground, the government had closed it for safety reasons. On two occasions tourists have died at Petra due to flash floods, with 28 French tourists and 2 local guides perishing in the worst incident. The bookshop and one small tourist shop were open so we sheltered for half hour looking at their goods and learning to put my newly purchased silk and cashmere scarf on in the toasty warm and stylish Bedouin way.

Returning to the hostel from our failed outing, we completed the marooned cast of Chris and Rachel from England, Canadian Bill, Irish Noreen and Pete, French Michel and Philipe, our cheery and playful host, Mosleh, and his Egyptian friend and assistant.

It was a most congenial group.

We spent time chatting, joking, sharing food, making endless cups of Turkish apple tea provided by Chris and Rachel, playing chess, backgammon,

patience and a card game called ‘Oh Hell!’ taught by Bill, writing journals, marvelling at the Australian animals in our book, and using the Internet. I practised my French, such as it is, with the patient Michel and Philipe, who tolerated a conversation in slow motion in which any intelligent thought remained unexplored.

Mosleh, taking responsibility for the weather, cooked us all a beautiful traditional spicy pasta lunch and handed out Jordanian sweets (small fried pastries drenched in suryp).

While we were eating the doors burst open and, to our amazement, some Danish people appeared. “Have you come from the outside?” we asked and Noreen raced down to see if she could catch their driver to take her away. It was like the arrival of Hercule Poirot, or the new arrivals in the big brother house. They were actually Danes, Phillip, studying anthropology and living in Jerusalem and his sister Julie, a theology student in Denmark. They knew all about Tasmania and Princess Mary.

Phillip and Mosleh’s cousin, Ali, discussed the impact of tribal groups on Middle East politics. People have a basic obligation to family and the tribal group which is through patrimonial descent – everyone belongs to their father’s tribe. This includes in all areas of life, social, commercial and political. People must fall in behind decisions made by their leaders and if issues arise caused by one person, everyone is affected and may be expected to move to avoid conflict or to support action taken. Most of the people around Petra, including Mosleh and Ali, belong to the Farajad family, which has been in control of the Petra region for the last 500 years. Ali said that in the 1800s there were two Farajad brothers and one moved to the West Bank in Israel and stayed there, developing a branch of the family. This was such an unusual event that it was worthy of telling. Ali has a kind of nickname, Ali Amoush, which is his own and his grandfather’s first name, to distinguish him from all the other people called Ali Farajad in the Petra region. A strenuous dancing session with Mosleh completed the day.

At last the weather improved, our companions escaped south and we made it back to Petra. We noticed so many more things on the second visit and, having read a guide book, appreciated what we were seeing to a much greater extent. We visited many more elaborate tombs that you could go into and other free standing temples, a Byzantine church with beautiful mosaics of plants, animals and the seasons, and the Great Temple – enormous and incorporating a theatre, water saving cisterns, chambers and religious spaces.

There were remnants of painted stucco showing the vivid colours that the original would have been. We climbed to a high place giving spectacular views of the city and beyond, following wide processional steps to the top. Winding our way home up the steep and still snowy streets of Wadi Musa, we stopped for a delicious meal of special spiced rice, tabouleh, cucumber and yoghurt salad, Arabian salad, pitta bread, freshly squeezed blood orange juice and minted tea.

Cairo

Rohan and Anne had warned us about the driving in Egypt but it had to be experienced to be believed. All the regulations and signs, lights and lanes are ignored and in a bustling city of more than 20 million, the traffic is always dense except on Fridays. Crossing the road means stepping out in front of moving vehicles and crossing one lane at a time while the traffic streams on around you, to the accompaniment of continuous beeping of horns. This was all experienced on our trip from the airport to Cairo to our great alarm but after a few days we realised that such a system has a way of operating based on seizing opportunities, accepting pauses with patience, expert use of the horn for communication and lack of concern about small dints.

We made our way up the stairs to the seventh floor when we arrived at our hostel and were made very welcome by our wonderful host, Emir. As our first experience of staying in a hostel it was brilliant. The reception area had a couch and chairs facing each other and was the place to sit and chat, so we quickly got to know the other travellers staying there. Advice and experiences were exchanged and comparisons made between different ways of doing things.

On our first evening we went out in the Down Town area and worked our way through the maze of streets in the bazaar. The shops stay open until about 2.30 a.m. and amazingly people were still working, in tiny factories and one room and street mechanics shops, late at night. Cars are parked everywhere and bumper to bumper, so perhaps there is a system where someone has the job of moving them if one is to leave.

Many of the buildings in Cairo are very old and have been damaged so that people are living in the OK parts of very dilapidated low rise buildings, which house many families and have businesses on the ground floor. The footpaths are in very bad repair so everyone is careful and most people walk on the side of the road, since cars are parked on the footpaths anyway.

On our second day we visited the Coptic

Museum and St Georges Church and a little Coptic church which is on the site of some caves where the Holy family hid Jesus to save him from infanticide. This is in the old Coptic section of Cairo and we passed many very poor houses and people. Donkey carts and cars mingled on the roads but only donkey carts could move with ease in the old sector. On our visit to the oldest mosque in Cairo, Emma and I wore green hooded robes and were permitted to go into the women’s partitioned off section while Payam and Keith could only go in the general section. Emma and Payam were Welsh Iranians also staying at our hostel. We visited a Muslim bazaar in another part of Cairo but were fairly overwhelmed by the way the tiny shops, each barely more than the width of a doorway, had someone sitting on front of them. Immediately we would be offered very good prices if we even looked their way. One very enthusiastic shopkeeper even offered us 100% discount!

We walked to the Citadel the next day, ignoring all advice that it would be difficult, and made it using the map and the sun for directions. At first it was a little problem that we kept forgetting that the sun was in the south instead of in the north. On the way we were lured off track and visited a very old mosque and climbed the minarets, paying for the man who took us there, the sheik who guards it and donating handsomely to Cairo’s orphans as well. We enjoyed the visit and became wiser as we analysed the subtle art of seduction. The Citadel, high on a hillside, was a fort which enclosed the Mohammed Ali Mosque which is spectacularly beautiful, with every surface decorated ornately. By listening in to a French guided tour we learnt that there was a gallery for the women surrounding the immense open space of the mosque. A visit to the military museum left us amazed at the struggles that Egypt has endured in modern times, but the highlight was the police museum. They had a room for legal cases from the time of the Pharoahs, an assassination room with pictures and mugshots, a confiscations room full of objects

and a display devoted to finger printing which was used in ancient times by Egyptians. To

complement that there were pictures of unusually deformed hands. We left later than intended and the sun was down well before we were anywhere recognisable or with English street names. The 16 – 20 km that we walked in total allowed us to see every sector of Cairo's commercial life as well as to meet many helpful people who guided us turn by turn back to our hotel.

Setting Off

The great day had finally arrived! Between Christmas and the 19th of January we packed up and cleaned our house ready for our tenant to move in. Luckily Aidan, Kathryn and Florian had put in days to help us prepare the garden for our absence and Joel, Daniel, Holly, Liz and Bruce provided lots of labour and moral support. Waved off by Holly and Joel as we headed for Sydney, we suddenly realised the immensity of what we had undertaken and how we would not be seeing them for so long. A relaxing two days in Sydney with Mum, Allan and Margaret and family and catching up with Neil felt like the first time we had drawn breath for so long. We stopped in Dubai for a couple of hours and arrived in Cairo having had a reasonable amount of sleep and two delicious breakfasts.