One of those "days"
Well really my second day in Aswan was a long continuation of my first day in Aswan and my last day in Cairo...I got in about a 2 hour nap before it was time to head out to catch the bus and convoy to head down to Abu Simbel.
The police convoys started out as a way to assure tourists a certain amount of security in northern Egypt and between the well-traveled Luxor-Aswan route...especially after the bombing of the Hatshepsut Temple in Luxor a number of years ago (sorry, checkout wikipedia, I'm tired). Anyway, these convoys soon became more of an hinderance than anything else. Two or three lightly armed military personnel accompanied shiploads of tourists who were forced to travel according to the government's specified times and their schedules--in order to keep these guys employed. The few milit guys try and prove their machismo by driving as fast as they can in a type of "Abu Simble Grand Prix"...that forces every other convoy driver to go as quickly as they can to stay with them. Soon you have buses, microbuses and all manners of trucks, cars, transport cutting each other off on single-lane roads. Not only that, but if some Islamic insurgent did want to do something...they would have the exact times and regular schedules of dozens of tourists, all in one spot. That's Egypt!
Oh yes, and Egypt also has the highest rate of car accident deaths in the world. I have no doubt of the veracity of that fact.
Anyway, we sped over to Abu Simbel--the convoy left at 4 a.m. (we had to be up at 3 a.m.), and we got there around 7:30 a.m. On the bus I met about 11 other people that I would end up running into, meeting up, hanging out, or traveling along with...for what looks to be...the rest of my trip. The low-season tourist group in Egypt (of independent backpackers, that is), seems to be quite small, and we own the Aswan-Luxor-Hurgada-Sharm el Sheikh-Mt. Sinai-Dahab route (the rest of my route, in case you were wondering).
Abu Simbel itself was everything you've heard and more. Unfortunately, the site was moved because of the dam...however, it's still as awe-inspiring when you see it. Too bad I was running on very little energy when I did. I barely had enough energy to hold conversations with my other fellow travelers (I was not very social, we'll see), in addition to try and sightsee and take photos. As one fellow traveler put it while taking my picture: "That is the saddest fake smile I've ever seen in my life."
Well, after Abu Simbel, and a look at the High Dam, which spurred the Suez Crisis through it's building...(that Nasser...), we finally headed back to Aswan where I tried to take a nap (again, only two hours), before waking up, using the Internet and contemplating whether or not I should go to meet up with Ahmed again. When I last left off here, I had decided against doing so...
But of course, that wasn't the end of the story.
For some reason, I was feeling a bit restless (despite the fact that I would have to be up at 7:30 a.m. the next morning for a felucca trip, and that I hadn't slept much). And so, I decided perhaps it would be nice to see Ahmed one last time and say goodbye, especially since I hadn't had a chance to properly thank him for all he had done. As I start walking over in the direction of the hotel these taxi men start making comments and laugh as I yawn (without covering my mouth)..."Fatiguee?" they ask me in French, to which I respond "Ouai..." and that was it, I was French for the night.
As I continued walking some guy kept calling after me, abnormally though, and when I turned and asked him what was going on he told me he was offering me a taxi. I said I had no money to pay a taxi and was walking (all in broken English/French). But the guy said it was no problem, that he'd take me anyway. I shrugged and said what the hell, and went. As I'm sitting in his car, while he is pulling away, the original taxi man who first made comments to me walks over and with the most lecherous, disgusting and creepy smile tells me he'll be waiting for me when I get back. I'd read in my Lonely Planet guide that many Arabs think that Western girls are all prostitutes, especially if they get into random strangers' cars, even taxi drivers, alone. Indeed. My skin was crawling.
While we're driving to the hotel I engage in a mind-numbing broken English small-talk that would make you want to kill yourself because of it's monotony...He gives me his phone number as he drops me off telling me to call him if my friend who is staying there cannot drive me back (all part of a story). I tell him okay, with the full intention of never seeing him again. However, five minutes later I learn that Ahmed will actually not be done with work for a while--at least 30 minutes, and as I looked around there was not a taxi in sight...in fact, not a person in sight. This was not a place I wanted to hang out. I called up the taxi driver who came right over. He told me it was a good thing that my friend was not available and soon he was taking me to stop by while he got a blackmarket drug for his neckache, and then off to get pizza (his treat), and then tea and sheesha (also his treat), plus a bottle of water. Throughout all of this he tried to convince me to go meet his mother at his house (no), to stay out longer (no), to eat, drink (no, no)...for the last two he wouldn't take no for an answer, saying he would get the food and give it to me in the car (so I let myself be persuaded for the two things in open public). I told him I was tired and wanted to go to sleep early. I never felt really in danger with him because I knew that I was in a crowded enough area by then and could just go on my way. As he is driving me back to my place he asks me for a kiss, and I reply in exaggerated horror that my Muslim-Iranian-fiance back home (another carefully constructed story) and I did not do much more than hold hands--if that! Then I asked him to take me home quickly please. He apologized profusely and said he didn't mean anything by it, just wanted to ask, that I shouldn't be afraid and that he'd take me right back. Good.
The thing was, I'd read up a bit on Egyptian culture as well as spoken with some Egyptians, and in Egypt boyfriends and girlfriends don't do much more than hold hands. Ever. So everything fell into line, so to speak. To the guy I was a law-abiding, conservative Muslim, despite my Western clothing. Off bounds, for real. Well, as much as possible. Sigh.
Anyway, I was dropped off right where he'd first seen me. However, as I was about to get out that shady guy with the lecherous look came strolling over, grinning scarily...I told the guy quickly--pretending panicky French (which, if you haven't noticed, he understood a lot of) that the "Monsieur" from before was coming...
The guy saw my mock terror (as real) and he said he'd drop me off elsewhere. He did so. I got out of the car and thanked him...ran up to my hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. Humdell'Allah.
The police convoys started out as a way to assure tourists a certain amount of security in northern Egypt and between the well-traveled Luxor-Aswan route...especially after the bombing of the Hatshepsut Temple in Luxor a number of years ago (sorry, checkout wikipedia, I'm tired). Anyway, these convoys soon became more of an hinderance than anything else. Two or three lightly armed military personnel accompanied shiploads of tourists who were forced to travel according to the government's specified times and their schedules--in order to keep these guys employed. The few milit guys try and prove their machismo by driving as fast as they can in a type of "Abu Simble Grand Prix"...that forces every other convoy driver to go as quickly as they can to stay with them. Soon you have buses, microbuses and all manners of trucks, cars, transport cutting each other off on single-lane roads. Not only that, but if some Islamic insurgent did want to do something...they would have the exact times and regular schedules of dozens of tourists, all in one spot. That's Egypt!
Oh yes, and Egypt also has the highest rate of car accident deaths in the world. I have no doubt of the veracity of that fact.
Anyway, we sped over to Abu Simbel--the convoy left at 4 a.m. (we had to be up at 3 a.m.), and we got there around 7:30 a.m. On the bus I met about 11 other people that I would end up running into, meeting up, hanging out, or traveling along with...for what looks to be...the rest of my trip. The low-season tourist group in Egypt (of independent backpackers, that is), seems to be quite small, and we own the Aswan-Luxor-Hurgada-Sharm el Sheikh-Mt. Sinai-Dahab route (the rest of my route, in case you were wondering).
Abu Simbel itself was everything you've heard and more. Unfortunately, the site was moved because of the dam...however, it's still as awe-inspiring when you see it. Too bad I was running on very little energy when I did. I barely had enough energy to hold conversations with my other fellow travelers (I was not very social, we'll see), in addition to try and sightsee and take photos. As one fellow traveler put it while taking my picture: "That is the saddest fake smile I've ever seen in my life."
Well, after Abu Simbel, and a look at the High Dam, which spurred the Suez Crisis through it's building...(that Nasser...), we finally headed back to Aswan where I tried to take a nap (again, only two hours), before waking up, using the Internet and contemplating whether or not I should go to meet up with Ahmed again. When I last left off here, I had decided against doing so...
But of course, that wasn't the end of the story.
For some reason, I was feeling a bit restless (despite the fact that I would have to be up at 7:30 a.m. the next morning for a felucca trip, and that I hadn't slept much). And so, I decided perhaps it would be nice to see Ahmed one last time and say goodbye, especially since I hadn't had a chance to properly thank him for all he had done. As I start walking over in the direction of the hotel these taxi men start making comments and laugh as I yawn (without covering my mouth)..."Fatiguee?" they ask me in French, to which I respond "Ouai..." and that was it, I was French for the night.
As I continued walking some guy kept calling after me, abnormally though, and when I turned and asked him what was going on he told me he was offering me a taxi. I said I had no money to pay a taxi and was walking (all in broken English/French). But the guy said it was no problem, that he'd take me anyway. I shrugged and said what the hell, and went. As I'm sitting in his car, while he is pulling away, the original taxi man who first made comments to me walks over and with the most lecherous, disgusting and creepy smile tells me he'll be waiting for me when I get back. I'd read in my Lonely Planet guide that many Arabs think that Western girls are all prostitutes, especially if they get into random strangers' cars, even taxi drivers, alone. Indeed. My skin was crawling.
While we're driving to the hotel I engage in a mind-numbing broken English small-talk that would make you want to kill yourself because of it's monotony...He gives me his phone number as he drops me off telling me to call him if my friend who is staying there cannot drive me back (all part of a story). I tell him okay, with the full intention of never seeing him again. However, five minutes later I learn that Ahmed will actually not be done with work for a while--at least 30 minutes, and as I looked around there was not a taxi in sight...in fact, not a person in sight. This was not a place I wanted to hang out. I called up the taxi driver who came right over. He told me it was a good thing that my friend was not available and soon he was taking me to stop by while he got a blackmarket drug for his neckache, and then off to get pizza (his treat), and then tea and sheesha (also his treat), plus a bottle of water. Throughout all of this he tried to convince me to go meet his mother at his house (no), to stay out longer (no), to eat, drink (no, no)...for the last two he wouldn't take no for an answer, saying he would get the food and give it to me in the car (so I let myself be persuaded for the two things in open public). I told him I was tired and wanted to go to sleep early. I never felt really in danger with him because I knew that I was in a crowded enough area by then and could just go on my way. As he is driving me back to my place he asks me for a kiss, and I reply in exaggerated horror that my Muslim-Iranian-fiance back home (another carefully constructed story) and I did not do much more than hold hands--if that! Then I asked him to take me home quickly please. He apologized profusely and said he didn't mean anything by it, just wanted to ask, that I shouldn't be afraid and that he'd take me right back. Good.
The thing was, I'd read up a bit on Egyptian culture as well as spoken with some Egyptians, and in Egypt boyfriends and girlfriends don't do much more than hold hands. Ever. So everything fell into line, so to speak. To the guy I was a law-abiding, conservative Muslim, despite my Western clothing. Off bounds, for real. Well, as much as possible. Sigh.
Anyway, I was dropped off right where he'd first seen me. However, as I was about to get out that shady guy with the lecherous look came strolling over, grinning scarily...I told the guy quickly--pretending panicky French (which, if you haven't noticed, he understood a lot of) that the "Monsieur" from before was coming...
The guy saw my mock terror (as real) and he said he'd drop me off elsewhere. He did so. I got out of the car and thanked him...ran up to my hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. Humdell'Allah.
posted by IJW at 12:41 AM
2 Comments:
"Non" est le meilleur ami dans ces pays, et les offres des jeunes hommes sont toujours...take care!
al
"Non" est le meilleur ami dans ces pays, et les offres des jeunes hommes sont toujours...take care!
al
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