Felucca? Felucca you!

Nov. 25th - 27th

As we left the ship, we were directed to the "Arrival Hole"(no joke!), and swiftly made our way through inspections. As we were walking through the winding corridors, we saw Ahmed being interrogated by some Egyptian soldiers. We continued to the train station and expected Ahmed to be released within minutes. After waiting for some time, we figured we'd just meet him in Aswan instead. Martin had already jumped ahead and planned on taking the train, but the next departure was only in a few hours, so Chris, Robert, Martin and myself, therefore decided we would just split a cab and check-in to a hotel.

Robert had already visited Egypt on several occasions and was very familiar with Aswan and the expected costs for pretty much everything. We soon got a taxi driver to agree to a fair price and he quickly sped down the highway towards central Aswan. We got out of the cab near a Robert-recommended guest-house. My immediate reaction to Aswan was one of astonishment to these unfamiliar surroundings: there were all these camera-toting, khaki-shorts wearing people everywhere. Could it be? Tourists? Coming from the Sudan, an overabundance of tourists felt quite foreign to me, but after so long on the road, I almost welcomed it. Almost.

Aswan is essentially centered by a tourist-infested Souq, or market, with bright lights, over-priced food and drinks; and souvenir shops galore. Making our way along this Souq, we were constantly bombarded by propositions to sell us pretty much every conceivable souvenir. We kindly said "no thank you" or "la shukran" and continued on towards the hotel. Once in the hotel, Martin, Chris and myself would share one room; while, Robert, Jens and Rene would share another.

Both Martin and Robert had some of their own plans, so Chris and I decided we would do some leisurely exploring. Due to the blaring heat, we didn't stray too far from the souq and spent the majority of our time sitting on various benches, commenting on how weird it is to see so many white people. Eventually, Chris and I met up with Ahmed, who we just bumped into in the streets and he said that he had been held at the arrival hole for 5 hours! I can understand a shady foreigner or Sudanese coming into Egypt being interrogated this way, but a young Egyptian?

That night, the seven of us went out for dinner. We made sure to find the only restaurant with no foreigners in it and had a great meal for a fair price. After our meal, we decided to grab a beer, which even in the tourist-laden country of Egypt, is not as easy as you might think. We finally ended up in a hotel bar where the rest of the clientele were middle-aged to older Egyptian men, reeking of stale cigarettes; sitting by themselves and slowly pouring their beers into an accompanying glass, one ounce at a time, drinking each shot down before pouring another. We were soon all pretty exhausted, and after two beers, we decided to call it a night.

Besides the souq, Aswan is renowned for it's corniche, or main road which follows this impressive stretch of the Nile. To contrast Egypt to Sudan: in Sudan, even when you are in a city, there is no doubt that you are still in the desert. In Aswan, despite the fact that across the Nile are immense sand-dunes and ancient ruins; a stroll around the city, with it's paved roads and sidewalks; and buildings constructed with crazy materials like brick and cement, you would be hard-pressed to imagine that you were anywhere but a westernized city.

This particular portion of the Nile is stunning, probably the nicest portion along it's 6650 km length. There are countless scenic lookout points and benches to sit and gaze at the river which is responsible for the prosperity and longevity of two such enduring civilizations (Egyptian and Nubian, who still forms a large population in southern Egypt). It would be an extremely peaceful experience if only you weren't continually pestered to take a goddamn felucca ride every 2-seconds! A felucca is a small sailing ship, and there are scores of them in Aswan. And for every boat, there are at least 5 felucca touters trying to get you to take a ride on theirs.

Chris and I eventually caught on to a method of avoiding a long and arduous dead-end negotiating session, by simply remembering where the felucca would be taking us and stating we had already been, and how beautiful it was. It worked surprisingly well.

We still needed a break from the touters and decided that the desert located on the other side of the Nile seemed like a good place to escape to. We took the local ferry across and were soon faced with the aforementioned sand-dunes and ancient monuments.

These impressive structures were tombs of Nobles, but had a measly admission price that Chris and I still did not feel like spending since our next destination was to Luxor, with it's incomparable Karnak temple and Valley of the Kings. Instead, we decided to walk through the desert to a "nearby" monastery. After 20-30 minutes of walking on dunes, and talking to a man that said the building we were looking for was 3 to 5 kilometers from our current position, we decided it was not worth the effort. Instead, I was going to climb up towards the tombs to take some pictures of Aswan. Chris, however, was going to wait for me at the bottom.

In addition to it's beautiful nautical landscape, Aswan also has another main draw: it being the closest major city to the magnificent temples of Abu Simbel. The temples of Abu Simbel are located 230 km southwest of Aswan and are actually only 40 kilometers from Wadi Halfa in Sudan, but due to the impossibility of public transportation between Sudan and Egypt (other than the ferry), you need to backtrack in order to see these impressive monuments.

Despite the fact that you need to get there in a police-escorted bus convoy, wake up and leave before 4 am; and we were accompanied by a couple from rural Ontario, who for the first time, made me ashamed to be associated with them as Canadians; and a supposed human-trafficker from the Ukraine who has been traveling for 6 years "without working"; it was still absolutely worth it!

Because we had travelled by convoy, our usual stay-as-long-as-we-feel attitude was forgotten and my race-to-see-every-conceivable-nook-and-cranny-in-the-shortest-time-possible approach took over. We were only given an hour or so to explore, so time was of the essence. We nevertheless had ample time to explore both temples rather thoroughly, and even find a good vantage point to snap some awesome shots of these immense shrines.

The two temples, that of Ramesses II (the Great Temple) and Nefertari (the Small Temple) are located only 100-meters apart and were completed in 1224 B.C. Guarding the entrance to the Great Temple, are four 20-meter (65-foot) statues of Ramesses II.

The Small Temple showcases two 10-meter (33-foot) statues of Nefertari near it's entrance, and not to be outdone, four more statues of Ramesses II in case someone forgot who was responsible for building these amazing temples. Despite lacking the gender-equality we are used to in our society, this is the only example in all of Ancient Egypt, where a statue of a Pharaoh and his Queen are the same size! Hey, it's a start!

Adorning the interiors of these two shrines are incredibly intricate hieroglyphs detailing every conceivable aspect of Ramesses' exploits in battle, and providing offerings to various deities. Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures from inside either temple because I actually respected the 'No Photos in the Temple' signs, despite the innumerable amount of tourists taking "subtle" snaps as they walked around these expansive structures.

One final note on these temples. It is hard not to be impressed by the colossal statues and delicately detailed interiors, however, the fact they are still intact at all is an achievement all by itself. The temples of Abu Simbel were originally built in an area now flooded by Lake Nasser. With the impending construction of the Aswan High Damn and rising waters in Nubia, the survival of Abu Simbel was of utmost importance. An international team of archaeologists therefore devised a plan to cut the temple into smaller blocks, transport them to higher ground, and then meticulously reassemble the monuments. Believe it or not, these temples were painstakingly moved 65 meters higher and 200 meters back from the shores of the Nile. Pretty astonishing if you ask me.

Upon our return to Aswan, our friends were already planning their next course of action. Martin had booked an overnight bus-ride to Cairo, which was leaving very shortly.

Rene still had to await the arrival of his truck from the vehicle-ferry, Jens was still planning to rest a few days before continuing his ride towards Cairo, and Ahmed would be going directly to Alexandria. Robert would be heading to Luxor that evening, and Chris and I, content with our stay in Aswan, decided that we would follow our Czech friend to the world-famous city, with it's many temples and countless tombs. Did I mention that Robert had once dreamed of being an egyptologist and could therefore vividly recount the entire history of Egypt, it's temples and tombs with stunning accuracy and zeal? No? Well he could. Chris and I were in for a real treat!

Ma'a Salama Sudan, Marhaba Egypt!

Nov. 20th - 24th

As hard as it was to leave Rami and Karima behind, it was still nice to have a change of scenery; even if that meant having to get our bearings in yet another scorching-hot, desert city. Dongola, the next city on our voyage through the Sudan, was larger than Karima and seemed to be better kept, although I was quite skeptical of meeting characters worthy to be mentioned in the same list as Girgis and Rami.

It didn't take long, maybe a total of 2 minutes, before we were welcomed by one of the few English speakers in this Nubian community. His name was Abdul and he was incredibly enthusiastic about promoting the tourism industry in Dongola and eagerly handed us his business card. We gladly accepted it because Abdul had just shown us to the finest hotel in all of Dongola. We stowed away our bags and joined him for tea. He explained his objectives in starting a tourism company. Although the idea was great, after spending several minutes in this city, I really couldn't understand what would draw tourists here other than the fact that it was a logical stop along the route from Khartoum to Wadi Halfa.

As in Karima, the hotel would not let us check-in until we had registered. After stopping and asking for directions from numerous hotel clerks and a plethora of friendly Sudanese, we finally found the office after an hour in the brutal heat. We sauntered back to the hotel and did not move for the rest of the sun-lit hours.

To be honest, other than wandering around the abandoned streets and eating falafel every few hours, we really didn't do much in Dongola. The friends we had met in Khartoum, Martin and Dina, had arrived a day after us, but the draining sun and lack of places to drink or even smoke shisha (it was banned here as well), left very little to do after dinner. We enjoyed our conversations with the two Europeans, but they would be short lived, because Chris and I would be heading to Abri, on the recommendation of Abdul and Isa, a Korean expat who is in the process of opening a Nubian guesthouse, to visit the historically significant Sai island.

In a few days, Martin would be joining us in Wadi Halfa to take the same weekly ferry to Egypt that we would be taking. Dina, on the other hand, would be going back to Khartoum to try to work out the problems she had been experiencing in trying to obtain a Visa for Ethiopia: apparently they (Ethiopia and Lithuania) have no diplomatic relationship with each other and are therefore not letting her into the country!

The following day, we left our hotel, said goodbye to Randa and her husband, a lovely Sudanese couple currently living in Saudi Arabia, but visiting/working at our hotel in Dongola; and went to catch the microbus that Abdul had gotten us seats on.

The drive to Abri was relatively short, and before we knew it, we had arrived in that two-camel town. We immediately went to the bus station and reserved our tickets for a bus leaving the following day to Wadi Halfa, our final stop in Sudan. Once the lazy-eyed man at the front desk assured us that we would not miss the bus the following day, we now had to find a place to stay. This didn't prove to be very difficult, due to the fact that Abri only has one lokanda. Because of Eid, the accommodation was completely empty, which was fortunate for us, in that we could choose which out of the terrible rooms available would be the least abhorrent to sleep in. In fact, we initially refused to stay there due to the condition of the rooms and the inflated price, but were forced due to the lack of any other place to stay.

Our next mission was to make our way to the public ferry which is located approximately 3 km from Abri, and would drop us off on Sai island. This proved to be more difficult than we had anticipated and we finally managed to haggle with a truck driver to drive us there for an almost fair price. Once there, we found out that the public ferries had already stopped for the day, but we could hire a local boatman who could take us across.

The man told us a price that was a rather inflated version of what Abdul and Isa had told us it should cost, but we had come all this way and therefore gave in to his apparent swindling. Once we arrived on the island, we approached two young men who were just lounging around. They claimed to be police officers and asked for a 20 Pound (7-dollars) admission fee. Since there was absolutely no signs posted anywhere, no tickets and both these guys were dressed in plain-clothes, we promptly refused. They continued to insist until I asked one of them to show me his police identification. He said that he didn't have it on him, and I stated that unless he went to get it, we were not going to pay. He took his dirt-bike and returned shortly after, showing me the I.D. Since I don't read Arabic, I still couldn't tell if it actually was a legitimate claim. By this point, I had stopped caring, paid them the money and was finally going to see me some damn ruins!

Sai Island covers 12-km from north to south and 5.5-km from east to west and is one of the largest islands in all of the Nile valley. It's strategic location made it an ideal location for settlements and there is an abundance of ancient ruins to prove it. The earliest of which is from Ancient Egypt's southern expansion dating from the middle of the second millennium B.C. It continued to be an important site for thousands of years, and even the Ottoman Empire had built a fortress on top of the Egyptian ruins in the 16th century A.D. What is particularly impressive regarding this site, is that you can actually see the stratification of Ottoman and Egyptian ruins, one on top of the other.

After wandering around the ruins for a while and taking our picture with the few Nubian children near the ruins, Chris and I sat and stared at the beautiful Nile river while the sun reflected off the copper-coloured mountains in the distance. Despite the difficulty to get there, and the seemingly incessant swindling that was taking place, it was actually a very stunning place.

The boatman called us a cab and we took it back to Abri. Once in Abri, we wandered around looking for some food. Eid once again proved to be our enemy, in that everything was closed. We managed to find a convenience store and I bought several Stims (a malted, apple-flavoured beverage that was to die for) and we waited for a nearby grill to open. The man only offered fried fish and bread, but it was good enough for us. As we were eating, a Sudanese man approached and addressed us in surprisingly fluent English. He introduced himself as Magzoub and wanted to know what we thought of Abri and Sai island. We stated that it was very nice, but that we were being ripped-off by everyone offering us pretty much anything in this small town.

I had made the mistake of using the expression "fucking us over", because then Magzoub had asked me who it was that had offered us such prices, and upon hearing their names (everyone knows each other), vowed to fuck each and every one of them. I know it's obviously not what he meant, but I still found it quite hilarious. To make it up to us, Magzoub had invited us to attend a traditional Nubian wedding with him that evening. Chris, who was absolutely fed up with Sudan at this point, kindly refused, but I decided I would check it out.

I then followed Magzoub through the sprawling streets, away from Abri's central core and we were soon on our way to the wedding. Magzoub made sure to stop at several homes along the way and introduce me to his family and friends, who all offered me shisha and some form of Nubian delicacy. I gladly obliged and found myself quite fond of Nubian cuisine and hospitality. Once at the wedding, I stood in the outer circle looking at the participants as they danced and sang in frenzied unison. I quite enjoyed the Nubian music blasting over the loudspeakers, but still struggled to figure out what was going on. It didn't help that every few seconds someone would come up to me and ask me where I was from, but it comes with the territory being white in northern Sudan! After around a half-an-hour, I told Magzoub that I wanted to let him enjoy the wedding and that I should be on my way. He helped me get back to familiar territory and I went to the hotel to enjoy a good-night-sleep.

Magzoub had arranged for a microbus to pick us up and drive us to Wadi Halfa, our final destination in Sudan. It arrived shortly after we woke up and once again, we were on the open road. We both got the front seat and had to listen to Islamic sermons for the entirety of the ride, but being in Arabic, I could tune them out quite easily. By midday, we had arrived in Wadi Halfa, and had checked into a wonderful hotel called Kilopatra. Compared to the "Al-Fucker" (pronounced this way, definitely not spelled this way) hotel, this place was the Ritz: it's clean rooms, ceiling fans and proximity to restaurants made it an oasis in the barren desert wasteland we were used to by this point.

Another change of pace from the other cities we had visited on our two week voyage through northern Sudan was the abundance of white people. Since Wadi Halfa is both the entrance from Egypt and the exit from Sudan into Egypt, it sees it's fair share of overlanders coming through. Rich Europeans drive their ridiculously huge off-road vehicles, campers, motorbikes or a combination of every conceivable gas-guzzling vehicle, through this town on their quest to reach South Africa. There are far fewer travelers who start in the south and make their way north, and even fewer who do it by public transport.

Because of all this traffic, Wadi Halfa actually has all the amenities you could ask for, ranging from several good restaurants, to Internet cafes and shisha houses. By the end of our first afternoon, we had already already gathered a small posse who would be joining us on our ferry towards Aswan in Egypt. The first guy was Rene, a professor from the Netherlands, who was just completing a drive around the perimeter of Africa in his Toyota 4-Runner. The stories he had to tell after his nearly 2-year adventure were uncanny. I had actually met him several days before on my final night in Karima. We were also joined by Ahmed, an Egyptian from Alexandria, who was doing an exchange program in Sudan and who is planning on eventually cycling from Alexandria into the Sudan. Robert, a Czech anthropologist who Magzoub told me to say hello to, also joined our group. Jens, a German artist and cycling-enthusiast who had started cycling in Ethiopia and had planned on finishing in Cairo was the next to join our group. The final member to join us was Martin, the Italian NGO worker we had met in Khartoum.

Since Rene had his truck and Jens had his bike, the remaining five of us had decided to meet before the ferry departure and walk there together. We were very fortunate to have met Mazar, a Sudanese man who helps foreigners arrange their passports and paperwork in order to leave Sudan. Apparently, Mazar helped Ewan McGregor while he was doing his overland Africa trip in 2007.

The ferry was "scheduled" to leave some time in the afternoon and Mazar recommended that we get to the ferry before noon in order to avoid any setbacks and to grab a place to sleep for all those who had purchased second-class tickets. For once, Chris and I decided to splurge and we had bought ourselves first-class tickets including a meal and closed cabin with bunk-beds to sleep.

As the five of us made our way along the dusty road towards the ferry, numerous Egyptians and Sudanese honked and smiled as they passed. We figured it was a tremendous sight for them to see "rich westerners" walking and carrying their heavy luggage, while they enjoyed the luxury of rickshaws and cars. Once on the ferry, the rest of our crew grabbed spots on the deck to set up their tents or sleeping bags.

As we sailed on lake Nasser, which is largely the result of the construction of the Aswan High Dam, it was surreal to think that Chris and I were entering the final country on our incredible African adventure. It was made official as we heard the ferry's horn bellow repeatedly: we were now in Egypt.

The Adventures of Omar and Shakur

Nov 15th - 19th

The most ironic part of our walk to the desert highway was that we had seen a convoy of passenger buses crossing our path as we approached, however, when we finally reached the roadside, we no longer saw any and were left to flag down any other type of vehicle (i.e. pickup trucks, flatbed trucks and passenger vehicles). After around an hour in the scorching, unrelenting heat; a small hatchback pulled over and offered us a ride. We said we were heading to Atbara and the driver seemed to know the destination. There were already 3 other men in the car, but we still managed to sit quite comfortably in the small hatchback.

Around an hour later, the two other passengers took out their luggage and were dropped off at the side of the road. After another 45 minutes, we were nearing Atbara. Chris and I had decided that we would tip this kind man and as he let us off in Atbara, we offered him the Sudanese pounds which we deemed an appropriate tip. As he took the money, he counted it and asked us for more. It had turned out he was only giving rides to people who payed him, so we coughed-up what he had asked for and left the car.

The subsequent walk around Atbara left little to the imagination: the streets were absolutely littered with garbage and everyone in the city appeared to be quite surprised by our presence. Our futile attempts at finding a lokanda on our own culminated in us dejectedly hailing a rickshaw which brought us to the Nil Hotel.

The Nil hotel was more expensive than we had hoped, although it was well kept, had a television with English channels and a ventilation system that kept the room quite cool despite the staggering temperatures outside. We were only planning on staying one night, but our ensuing discussion with a bus station attendant revealed that we would be forced to stay an extra night because there were literally no buses heading for Karima the following day due to Eid. We therefore used the opportunity to relax, sleep-in and plan the rest of our stay in Sudan.

The following day we wandered the deserted streets in search of food, which actually turned out to much more difficult than we had thought, due to literally everyone enjoying plentiful feasts with their relatives and loved-ones. We did manage to find one restaurant which offered some tasty Arabic fare and spent the rest of our time chilling at our hotel.

When the buses did resume, we were sure to catch the first one leaving towards Karima. Upon our arrival, We asked the driver to drop us off at the Lonely Planet recommended lokanda, however, after knocking on the locked steel doors, we quickly realized that it too, was also closed due to Eid. A short walk led us to the main street where we saw a restaurant emblazoned with Sudanese flags. We entered and a man directed us to another lokanda, but stated that if it was closed, we could come back to the restaurant.

We found the other lokanda but they would not let us check-in until we registered at the nearest alien affairs office. These offices exist in every city, and all foreigners are required to check-in and leave important information with the officers stationed there. It is their way of keeping tabs on all foreigners within their borders.

After having checked-in, Chris and I decided that we didn't really want to stay at the sole lokanda available to us, instead we went back to the restaurant to see what the man could offer. As soon as we entered, he immediately sat us down and gave us some ful (beans in oil and tahini), roast lamb, and bread. He sat with us and we told him we had come from Khartoum and would be heading north to Wadi Halfa, to take the ferry to Egypt.

As soon as he heard we would be heading to Egypt, his excitement could not be contained. This man's name was Rami and he was originally from Cairo. For reasons still unbeknownst to me, he is working in Karima of all places, away from his wife and two young sons, who are still in Egypt. Rami's vocabulary in English probably totaled 10 words or so, still doubling our linguistic knowledge of Arabic. Nonetheless, within hours of signing, drawing and miming what we were trying to express, we actually seemed to understand each other.

The Sudanese are world-renowned for their hospitality and generosity: it is not uncommon for someone to pay for your bus fare, buy you a cup of shai or offer you some food from their plate; and these are complete strangers! Although Rami was Egyptian, I have never known anyone more generous than this sweet man. Although I know he was not well-off, he would vehemently refuse every offer Chris and I would make to give him money or pay for pretty much anything. When we were in the restaurant, every beverage and food item was at our disposal. The only thing Rami asked for was to pay for bottled water. I'm assuming because it probably wasn't very easy to come by. He even let us sleep on two cots in the back of the restaurant, while he would sleep on a mattress draped over one of the restaurant's tables.

I know Chris and I are incredibly respectful and really make an effort to conform to the practices and cultures of a country, but to be honest, I still don't know why Rami treated us so kindly and never expected anything in return. I have a suspicion that Rami saw Chris and I as older versions of his sons, who he misses so much. His fatherly selflessness and sacrifice were absolutely humbling. I hope that within the time of writing this entry, that Rami will have had the opportunity to return to Egypt and be reunited with his wife and children.

For the three nights and four days we were there, I really enjoyed my time in Karima: Rami was an absolutely splendid host; the population of Karima really took a shine to us, going as far as waving and calling us by name as we walked by in the streets; and the nearby ancient of ruins of Jebel Barkal were utterly stunning.

Jebel Barkal is a very small mountain located just outside Karima. The historical city of Napata lies just at it's base. Napata was the first capital of the Kingdom of Kush and where the Nubians regained autonomy from the Egyptians. It is the site of the temple of Amun, whose many pillars have been reduced to just two.

It is also the site of several Nubian burial pyramids, which are in various states of dilapidation.

Chris and I visited this ancient site on several occasions and even climbed Jebel Barkal with the locals and some tourists, in order to admire the beautiful views of the Nile and the surrounding lush oasis.

Despite my interest and enthusiasm for Sudan, Chris was slowly coming to loathe our stay in this desert country-- with good reason mind you. One evening, as we were sleeping, I was awoken by incessant buzzing in my ears and annoying bites on my arms. Being a light sleeper, I got up, put on some bug-spray and covered myself completely with my Maasai Shuka. Chris, being a much deeper sleeper, failed to wake up and in the morning felt the wrath of those tiny, stinging insects. He literally had several hundred bites on his arms and another 30-50 on his face. The sheer number of bites led to an allergic reaction and he succumbed to a pretty serious fever. Combine this with the unrelenting temperatures outside and you have all the ingredients for absolute fury.

I on the other-hand, had a much better time than my feverish friend. I was thoroughly enjoying my stay in Sudan and Karima in particular. It's cast of characters made any scorching day that much more bearable. From the owner of Rami's restaurant, who could not pronounce Chris or James, so just decided to call us Omar and Shakur respectively; to Girgis, the desperate barber who wouldn't stop asking me to bring him back to Canada with me, simultaneously plucking out my cheek and eyebrow hairs with two cotton strings, while seemingly giving fellatio to the air. Also, the simple task of trimming my beard resulted in the desecration of my month-and-a-half facial hair experiment, leaving me looking like a gay biker. Oh Girgis, I will never forget you! Even Rami, whose continual bashing of everything having to do with Sudan and absolute reverence for everything having to do with Egypt, was also quite comical: I can't count the number of times he referred to the Sudanese as animals.

On our final morning in Karima, Rami had helped us arrange a pick-up to continue north to the city of Dongola. As the sun rose in the sky and the air was still cool from it's nightly absence, I knew we were breaking Rami's heart. He was again losing two sons, and we were losing our Egyptian father.

Before we left for the bus station, Rami gave us a paper with his phone number on it and his father's number, who still lives in Cairo. He said that if we ever needed any help once we got to Egypt, monetary or otherwise, that we would be taken care of.

We thanked him as much as humanly possible, embraced, and left him behind. I think it is no coincidence that the meaning of his name is "loving". He showed us the personification of kindness and hospitality; and we will never forget him. Shukran baba. Shukran.