Egypt; Aswan and Luxor, Tombs, Temples and Taxis... and "No, I don't want a horse ride, a felucca trip, or anything else you are trying to sell me!"

View across the Nile from Aswan McDonalds

We checked out of the ‘luxury’ of our Aswan hotel (hey, if I have a toilet and shower that I can use without protective gear or walking outside, it’s luxury!) 14 of us headed down towards the river to find our felucca, a traditional Egyptian sail boat. We were all pleased to see that there was no seats onboard, just a big, bed, sort of like a giant version of ‘the beach’ on the truck, but room enough for everyone and it doubled as our dining room. After zig-zagging up the Nile for a short time we had to stop at a police checkpoint, seems they are even on the river! We have a super-close viewing of the hull of one of the large cruise ships which sail up and down the Nile with hundreds of scantily clad European tourists in swim wear which should be banned, sunning themselves on the deck of their top level pool. Luckily we turned just in time, and continued our zig-zag course, which I believe is called ‘tacking’ up the river. We stopped by the side for lunch; flatbread with all the trimmings. After a conversation centred around ‘just how far Allison walks to go to the toilet’ (honestly, I think I have done more squatting in my lifetime than 99% of people!, but obviously still have hung onto my prudish ways! Unbeknown to me, my toileting walks have been the talk of the truck) We continue on our merry way, most people sucking down Stella beers and me being a grumpy ass about NOT sucking down stella beer! We ‘park’ our felucca on the side of the river near a sandy bank, with a toilet which has seen way too many s&*ts and far too few cleans in it’s very long life span. A couple of people jump off the felucca for a swim, a few head off to the river bank for some photos and a ‘nature walk’ whilst others remain in laying luxury of the felucca, watching the waters of the Nile pass by.

Mosque, Aswan

Aswan, taken from the roof of Hathor Hotel

Abu Simbel

Artwork, Abu Smbel

Abu Simbel

Felucca as through the fisheye

Felucca passes under a bridge

Me, relaxing on the felucca

Spencer drinking his Stella

Jules, Jen and Ish stike a pose

Felucca on the Nile

Our 'Campsite'

That night we headed into the local village for dinner, We sat on the floor of a villagers house and devoured more flat bread, this time with different trimmings, and removed ourselves outside. We started getting smashed by sandflies and the conversation turned again to photography, much to the disappointment of those amongst us who are not into photography (they number about three). Kyle points out that my red crocs are surrounded by black sandals in the doorway so I attempt to take a photo, which turns out to be many photos due to my attempt to use my flash unit with a fish eye lens...hmm, the flash only illuminates a part of the almost 180 degree view of the fisheye! A couple of men sitting inside beckon me in and ask me to take their photographs, now this is quite amusing as I have the fisheye lens on, which turns out some wicked distortions at times, these guys have possible seen as many cameras on as many occasions as I have been wrong, so they were quite amused with their partially distorted images on the LCD screen.  From there I attempted to get their address so that I can mail them some photos when I get home, not an easy task with little English on their side and no Arabic on my behalf, I hope that I got the address right.

Dinner on the floor in the village

Love the red crocs

Two men who were very amused to see themselves through the fisheye

We were then invited into the adjoining house to take photographs, initially we thought that the ladies were shy as they scurried off when we appeared looking like the paparazzi, they had their head coverings off and quickly went to affix them and put on some make-up! One lady was more than happy to sit on the bed whilst her young child was sleeping whilst I took a photo, even the flash firing didn’t make the child stir, much less the noise of 5 or 6 ‘photographers’ or the excitement of the women.

Mother and child, local village

Myself with local lady

m&m man tries his hands at sailing

We slept on the felucca, the waves from the passing luxury liners rocking us to sleep nicely. Our alarm clock sounded at 4.50am to the tune of ‘allah, allah, allah....arrr, arrrggg, ahhhh,  allah’. , like seriously is there nowhere in this country where you can escape the speaker range of a mosque? Honestly, we could see no infrastructure from our Nile camp, so how the hell could allah dial a direct line into our felucca at 4.50am? We had a leisurely breakfast and then floated across the river, following the direction of the current until it was swimming time (we were about 100m away from camp!). The water was fantastic, after three laps around the felucca came the hard task of climbing back into it; well no one told me that! Once back in we drift another short distance before lunch is served, the staple flatbread with a slightly varied set of trimmings this time around.  That afternoon we set up camp in the felucca on the shore of the Nile, seemingly a mile away from anywhere, still not far enough to escape the clutches of allah, though... Sleeping on the felucca was a very comfortable affair, for anyone wanting to try it my advice is to gain a front row pew, feluccas are widest at the front, meaning that you will not be kicking (or being kicked) by the person on the other side of the felucca. The down shot of the front row is that the food will need to be passed over your bed so you need to sit up at least three times a day!

Lunch onboard the felucca

Spencer looking like he is working

Lunchtime!

After departing from the felucca we boarded a mini van, (well, lose use of the word boarded, more likely we breathed in and slammed the door before someone spilled back out!) Honestly, can 14 people, one esky, 44 beers, 6 boxes of water and all gear for three days really fit into ONE Toyota hiace? Of course! There was even room for one more, and possibly a chicken or two if required!

We stopped at Ombo to see the Temple of Haroeis, then continued on to Edfu where we visited the Temple of Horus, one of the best preserved temples in Egypt. Walking around Horus, it became apparent that Horus wasn’t the main tourist attraction, the tourists themselves were, and they were all entered into a competition to find the worst dressed tourist of 2010. Honestly, some of these people really need a good amount of time in front of a mirror to sort out their image. There is a huge difference between the attire of a tourist on a one country trip to Egypt and Africa overland travellers; one is functional, the other is not.!

Temple of Horus

                                 

For those of you that know me, you know that I do not pretend to be into fashion in any way, by either wearing it or taking an interest in it. Regardless of this fact, I still think that I have something to offer the general Egypt traveller in the way of fashion advice and here it is...

1. There is absolutely no need for stilettos of any colour, size, shape or design whilst walking in the Valley of the Kings. The Kings are not going to care whether your shoes match our outfit (which is possibly on it’s own level of ridiculousness) and Tutankhamen’s eyes were dried up too moons ago to notice your footwear
2. If you are fair skinned and live in a country where you get five minutes of sunshine a year then it’s just poor fashion sense to wear a green singlet when you are going to be in the sun all day long. It’s an old one but it’s still good “red and green should never be seen” needs to be adhered to, especially when in such royal company, AND when that royal company does not care much for Christmas decorations!
3. If you are over the age of 40 and you are NOT in the 0.10% of the population who’s butt is genetically (or surgically) not prone to drooping, then wear respectable length shorts. No one except sleazy Egyptian men want to see sagging middle aged ass cheeks hanging beneath the hem of your shorts. This crime is heightened by a high waistband, anything above the belly button went out in the early nineties, and that’s the way it should stay!
4. White, frilly and lacy dresses have two uses; 1. On your dolls, when you are like 8 years old. 2. on your wedding day. A day of sightseeing should not be confused with either of the above situations, for most people who are not mentally challenged, it should be apparent that they are not getting married at that ancient temple or that they are not a doll living in a huge stone dolls house. Leave the frills at home girls! For the good of the universe and just to help out our fellow human beings, it’s a great idea to help these poor, lost souls out by informing them that it’s NOT their wedding day, for best effect, ensure a large crowd is nearby.
5. There is no need to wear matching shirt and pants (unless you are being paid for your presence at a workplace)There is also no need for team uniforms in any marriage, AND THERE IS DEFINATLY NO NEED FOR HUSBAND AND WIFE, TOP AND BOTTOM MATCHING UNIFORMS! (well, maybe there is a need; entertainment value, the initial sighting, the photo shoot and laughing with fellow travellers and posting the photo online for the world to see (well maybe just the 150 odd people who view this each week! He he he
6. You can never have enough red zebra t-shirts for travel (or home or work for that matter), they are a functional, sensible addition to any wardrobe, especially when teamed up with a pair of red crocs. Safety note on the crocs, many African toilets have large amounts of a liquid that I hope to be water on the floors, wearing crocs with a worn down sole is an extreme sport in this setting

See? no need for matching uniforms!

                                                        

We finally arrive in Luxor, clamber out of the minivan, some of us with luggage permanently embedded into our ribs, to appreciate the new sign writing on the truck and appreciate the new lights fitted tot he passenger cab (the truck now doubles as a disco hall) Our taxi driver stands around hoping that one of us is going to pay him a tip, nope, way too many Aussies and Kiwis in this minivan! The driver eventually tries to extract money from Mark, another Aussie, still no luck!

The following day Spencer is on cook group so heads out with Hendrick in search of food for that night and the following morning. We then set out to purchase a ‘teacher card’ which enables us half price entry into most sites in Egypt, after an hour on this task, and one McDonalds session later we head back to camp without the cards so that I can go fishing that afternoon. Now maybe I am used to decent fishing gear, or maybe I am a fishing snob, along with being a fish snob, but I must sat that I was not at all impressed when handed an eggbeater reel that had to be hand fed out and hand fed in on a crappy rod with a hook hanging of the end of a monofilament line, no leader, no sinker, no floater, no worm....yep, worm, it wasn’t on the hook then, but it sure was in a minute. Apparently the Egyptians put their worms on a little different than us (Nah, f&*k off, who fishes with worms, apart from those afflicted with the intestinal type), the second mate openly laughed at how I had impaled my worm, and finished the little bastard off by impaling it from head to (almost tail) on the hook, then ripping the poor thing in half and throwing the rest overboard....burly anyone? After trolling my worm carcass for 20m I give up in disgust and decide to take up drinking again. Burbs caught two tiny fish, like 3cm, but with a little creative photography and a whole lot of Photoshop may look promising!, Kenji also pulled in a whale sized catch...well maybe in 40-60 years!

We drift back across the Nile (seriously we haven’t even moved out of sight from where we departed from!) and take a swim, after washing my bikini that morning and rushing to organise myself for fishing, mine is hanging off the tent, so I decide to do the underwear swim. After four cans of Stellar beer we pull back into the wharf and I announce that I need to go tot he toilet, and what a great decision! I used the most fantastic toilet, it was clean, sparkly, had soap, toilet paper, marble floors AND handtowels, but not the paper hand towels, it had REAL handtowels, YES the real ones that you use and put in the little basket to be washed...well not mine....I acquired that to aid with my hygiene routine whilst in the western desert! (No I am usually not so wound up in bathrooms, and I have used many great bathrooms in my years, just not THIS year!, this one was like sight to a blind man!)

 From there six of us headed into a bar for more beers and some sheesha. We started to walk the couple of kilometres home but after being offered a horse ride, (about the 100,000th for that day) and getting all six of us in the carriage for 10 Egyptian pounds, ($1.60AUD) we took up the offer. Arriving back at camp we find dinner on the table, fish and chips, or ‘fush ‘n chups’ for the kiwis, have another beer, talk some s&%t then clamber into our tents.

The following day Spencer and I managed to purchase our teacher cards, for 95 Egyptian pounds; the first people to buy there’s paid 85, the next paid 90, then we were charged 95?.....reason, recouping of lost profits, they had overcharged Jen the previous day by 10 pounds, when he asked us where we were staying he added the 10 pounds onto our price! AND THEN...asked us to get Jen to bring the extra change back...hmmm, now that was an instruction which was lost in translation!

Avenue of Sphinxes

From there we headed to the Luxor Temple an amazing place. The avenue of the sphinxes once had 730 human headed lion stone carvings; it was amazing enough to see the 50 odd that remain! We dodged and weaved our way through the busloads of tourists clad in matching uniforms, short shorts, short tops and everything else which constitutes as a fashion crime.

Luxor Temple

Luxor Temple

Later that afternoon saffa (South African) Robert and I headed off on our food mission for cook group, armed with a cooks.com curry recipe and a recipes.com.au golden syrup dumplings recipe we head in the direction of the market, turning down the countless offers of “taxi”, and “horse ride”. Arriving at the market we realise at once that it is a Friday afternoon, (Friday is the day of rest here) and that few shops are left open. After walking away from a produce seller after he continued to charge us too much for some potatoes, we added up the price of the 2kg of spuds which had caused the issue, 60cents! We find another produce seller and get some fruit and vegies and a tip off of where to find some meat, we are advised to take a taxi to find the wonderful market where there is a meat counter ‘this long’ (like 5m long), Robert gets the taxi driver to take us for 5 pounds, down from the initial asking price of 20 pounds, he assures us that he knows where we want to go, Robert has memorised the name and keeps saying it, after two left hand turns it’s apparent that he does not know of the meat counter ‘this long’ and we pull over for an interpreter. Ahh, it’s not ‘hafallll it’s hafalll’ he says... hmmm, sounds the same to me! We turn left, again, and again and I think maybe another 20 times and I am bamboozled, I announce that I have no idea which direction I’m facing and that I would have no way of finding my way back to the camp. Then we pull up out the front of the same supermarket where Spencer and I had got food for lunch, it’s a long way to walk home with food for 20 people! We purchase all required gear for the feast, only substitution was a date syrup instead of golden syrup, which turns out to be an excellent substitute if you can source any date syrup at home! And get the bloke from the supermarket to drive us back to camp for 3 pounds, bargain!

The Muslim lady on the check out gives me a funny look (or maybe I’m just paranoid), but I think she was wondering how in the space of three hours I had shopped with one bloke, then returned to do another shop with another, this one about 5 years younger than the first! Tea was good, dumplings seemed a hit and the mess was all cleaned up pretty early. This was only the second time I have had to cook since Nairobi, I will possibly not have to cook for another two weeks, luxury!

After a breakfast of pomegranate, banana, pineapple, oranges, yoghurt, flatbread and cereal Spencer, Kaye and I head to the West Bank of the Nile in search of the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens. We manage a private boat across the Nile for one pound each, although this took a bit of negotiating and a couple of walk-offs. Once at the other side, we set out on foot for the ticket office and then to Valley of the Kings. On the way we come across a taxi driver and hire him to take us to the ticket office for 2 pounds, he turns lemons into lemonade and manages to sign us up for a full day of private taxiing for 80 pounds, he also tells us to go first to the Valley of the Queens as the tour buses start off at the Valley of the Kings. Valley of the Queens has three tombs open currently, there is absolutely no photography at any of these sites, but I can tell you that there is some amazing artwork adorning the walls of the tombs.  I am still not sure why the Bangles had a hit song called ‘Walk like an Egyptian” I am still to notice anyone walking in the manner of the film clip, and the only strange thing I could say is that in all the artwork, every Egyptian is shown standing with their legs straight and feet both facing the one direction; a very uncomfortable looking sideways!

Valley of the Queens

Temple of Hatshepsut,

Myself at Temple of Hatshepsut,

We then head to the Valley of the Kings, a much more impressive version of the Valley of the Queens. What amazed me the most was the mountain range in which you could not find one blade of grass, or bush or tree, it’s just nothing...expected when it hasn’t rained here for over 2 years!

I coughed up the extra money to pay a visit to the mummified body of Tutankhamen and his tomb, Spencer couched up the money to see the Ramses IX tomb, then we viewed Thutmosis, Siptah and Ramses  III. Which were all very impressive in their own way, We arrived back at the taxi late to find the taxi driver was not at all happy about being kept waiting, or paying the 5 pound to re-enter the car park in search of us! Last historical stop for that day was the funary Temple of Hatshepsut, which is a huge building carved out and built in sandstone into the limestone hills. This is the place where 60 odd people were murdered by Islam extremists in the 90’s, although you wouldn’t know it today, there is no memorial or signs, just the part of the temple where the atrocities occurred (people were tortured and disembowelled) remains closed.

We manage to find a boat to take us back for one pound, this time we managed to find a boat with three crew who were all stoned off their faces and offering us joints, err, no thinks, just sail! Now had I any hesitations about how stoned they were, I had confirmed the fact when the man said we had paid ‘too much’....hello, we are in Egypt, nothing is ever too much!


The following morning we were up at 5am, this wasn't an issue as the calls of Allah roused us at about 4.40am! Into a taxi, onto a boat to cross tot he west bank, another taxi and then we piled into our balloon. Spencer and I managed to secure a corner spot, the basket contained smaller pens, each for 3 'bigger' or 4 normals...we were in the normal category! We drifted slowly over some amazing sites, and many that we had seen the previous day, sighted Valley of the Queens, and lifted up to 1000m to see the Valley of the Kings. The view over the Nile was amazing, it is like a great big green snake, weaving it's way through a barron desert. Even the desert was better from the air, you could see all the areas where water would run off with rain, not that it occurs often! It had been quite cool overnight, but the gas burners kept us warm, too warm! I had to turn my face away when we were rising as it felt like my skin was melting! We had a smooth landing, in our brace positions, I ended up behind Spencer as there was not enough room in our basket to go side by side, so I was glad that the basket didn't tip as I would have been squashed beneath him and my camera bag was in the mix somewhere too!

Getting ready for lift off

Nearing the Valley of the Queens

The gas burner is unbelievably hot

Temple of Ramses

Jen and Jules were in the rainbow balloon on the right of this photo

Pasture land

 

 

Nile river makes an interesting contrast against the desert

 

 

 

Packing up

From here we head out to the Western Desert tomorrow to check out some more desert and the oasis's, then onto Cairo and Giza!  

“Walk like an Egyptian”.....errr, more like "Push and Shove like an Egyptian"!

After a ‘mission’ to buy a hat and some dinner from the supermarket which went less smoothly than expected, I am possibly not in the best mood to be typing this....however it may make for more amusing reading for you lot!

So I find myself, after four days in the country amazed by the amount of pushing and shoving that occurs every moment of the day, both on the roads, on the foot paths and in the shops. Unbelievable, it’s worse than a public school canteen line when the teacher ‘forgets’ their yard duty!

So how is it that you handle yourself in a country where ‘pushing in’ is not just culture, not just a pastime, not a national obsession, not even a way of life, it’s just NORMAL? Honestly, lining up is as foreign to Egypt as 10mm of rainfall! I even witnessed our driver pushing his bus in to get in front of the bus ahead of us whilst we were in an armed convoy! Like we were going to get anywhere faster! Tonight at the supermarket I ended up with two boxes of biscuits being thrust almost up my nose and imbedded into my brain by a lady wanting to be served before us, and our groceries were half way scanned! She did manage to push well in front of the 20 other people with outstretched goods, a respectable effort some would say!
Walking down the footpath is a slower version of what occurs on the roads, there is no noticeable side to drive or walk on, just the side that looks the best at any given moment. Foot traffic has a habit of stopping still, halting traffic flow or veering wildly without indication, just like on the roads. Kids are a law onto themselves (well that’s true in every country!) But I cannot resist telling you of the kid who couldn’t see me in my bright yellow t-shirt with bright green zebras on it, like six of the stripy animals, wearing my bright red crocs and carrying my bloody huge yellow and black bumblebee looking camera bag and crashed right into my hip, yeah collected straight onto the hip bone with his skull bone making a thud, now it hurt me, but he must have concussion! I just dread the day when he starts driving...possibly in two years!

So for anyone travelling to Egypt soon, here is the benefit of my experience of pushing with the best of them (I have accumulated three bruises in learning the following)-

1. Sharpen your elbows, seriously, if you are spending more than one month here, you may want to consider a surgical procedure to make the point of your elbow sharper
2. Get a big bag, preferably with sharp edges, and a handle which allows maximum control for swinging wildly at people
3. Aim for the parts that hurt; kidneys, ribs and the neither regions on males are the only areas to bother landing an elbow, suitcases are ideal for shins and thighs and work remarkably on ribs and heads; although be wary of taking out anyone who has their head at a height where you can easily smash it with a suitcase, either they are a midget and you will be accused of discrimination, or someone else has hit them before you and you may get accused of laying injuries that you just didn’t dish out
4. “Cant beat them join them”... this is the pure reason why Egypt has adopted a national sport of pushing and shoving. No one person will ever change how things are, not even you! You can stand back and be civilised, but you will die of starvation or old age right there! Get your elbows out and get ready if you want to see anything in this country!

After you have pushed and shoved your way into the country (yep, customs at the border was still the worst ‘shove-fest’ that I have been a part of, I’m still cleaning the man sweat from my arms!) you then need to contend with the millions of sleazy men in this country. I am not sure if the sleaze is due to the excitement over a white female who is showing more than her eyes to the world, or if it is the erotically shaped coke bottles in these parts (I know that coke bottles are designed to look like a woman’s torso, but these are just unbelievable, closer to Barbies proportions than a normal coke bottle! AND only hold 191ml, now what use is 191ml when it’s 40 degrees?) It is common practice for men to hit on females, I wonder if they are surprised when foreigners actually say ‘no’! Just be careful not to stand in the back of a shop as most shop keeps are males and the shops always seem to have a small entry and exit area where the shop keeper tends to stand in, blocking you in!

I am missing the relative peace and quiet of Sudan, Egypt being a tourist country has perfected all the tourist trap tricks like over inflated prices and the old “where are you from?” Like you really give a s&*t where I am from? You didn’t even listen when I said I was from China and you just told me you were from China too! You just want to get my money out of me quickly! So far today we have been asked if we were from Slovakia, Ireland, South Africa, China, Australia, Ireland again, and Slovakia again, People didn’t flinch when I said I was from Slovakia and New Zealand, but I’m not sure what the bloke who asked if I was from Ireland was on, way to tanned for that!

Yesterday Morning we were up at 2.30am to board a bus at 3am for Abu Simbel The twin temples were originally carved out of the mountainside during the 13th century, the complex was relocated in its entirety in the 1960s it was cut into blocks and removed and placed back together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. The relocation of the temples was necessary to avoid their being submerged during the creation of Lake Nasser, which is the lake we took the overnight ferry from Sudan to Egypt on. It is a massive artificial water reservoir formed after the building of the Aswan High Dam on the Nile River. Still amazed that you have to take a ferry from Sudan to Egypt, I did hear the conspiracy theory that the ferry company was paying off the roads authority to NOT build a road connecting the two countries to protect their earnings!

So we get on the bus to be told “sometimes I drive left, I drive right, I drive left, but don’t worry” by our driver….way too early in the morning for such statements! Besides after four months in Africa, I don’t really need to be told that we are going to be careening from one side of the road to the other, it’s a given! We follow seemingly hundreds of buses of every colour more suited to an haawain shirt than a bus, into a parking lot. Before we are able to enter the underside of our bus is checked with the torch and mirror set-up, we are then allowed in and start to form up our convoy for the three hour drive to Abu Simbel. The buses travel in convoy through the desert for protection from hijackers or terrorists. Sitting in one of over one hundred buses, I figure the odds of something happening to our bus were less than 1%, with 24 people on our bus, odds of us getting hurt approximately .02%, with this peace of mind I fell asleep in my basic “fly catcher position” for most of the journey, waking up just to watch the sunrise over the desert. An African sunrise still fails to disappoint me, just how do they make the sun look so bloody big in the sky? Surely it’s the same sun that we watch in Australia at, like half the size! Yeah, Yeah, I know it’s something to do with the dust in the atmosphere, the best sunrise that I have ever seen was the one at Johannesburg and I recon that had something to do with the pollution!

So we arrive at Abu Simbel to check out the temples and stand in awe that these giant structures could have ever been relocated! I was also very amused at some graffiti on the walls, dated 1879! That’s a hundred years older than I am, but still recent history in these parts! After tripping over camera wielding tourists in some of the worst attire ever sewn (seriously there must have been a convention of bad fashion and unfortunate looking people on in Abu Simbel that night; whoever was waving ‘the ugly stick’ had been really busy!) we make our way inside the temples, disappointed that I couldn’t take any photos, but super impressed with the hieroglyphics and the good lighting illuminating the insides. The day just got hotter and hotter, and inside the temples was surprisingly hot, but that may have had something to do with the ridiculous amount of people dressed in terrible fashion crammed into a small space! (and you all know that I am not one to speak of fashion, or care about it much, or know much about it, lets face it I have survived in the same three t-shirts for the past 4 months…..but, these people were dressed sooo badly, that even I noticed!) After trying to get photos outside whilst dodging tourists we headed up to have a cool drink on the grass before getting back on the bus and leaving with the convoy. If you ever get to Abu Simbel, stay at Abu Simbel and check the place out in the afternoon, all the tourists who come from Aswan all spend the same hours there and leave in the same convoy, it’s deserted for the rest of the day!

That night was Sonya’s 30th birthday, we adjourned to the roof top pool dressed as Arabs to celebrate over beer and pizza. Well just Pizza and one beer for me as I am still off the booze. Even Spencer dressed up, which I calculate to be the second time in the almost 9 years I have know him to dress up. He wore the traditional Arab white flowing gown, I wore a dark blue with red embroidery frock with an aqua and silver scarf covering up any hint that I was a female. Now these head coverings are darn hot, and I still had my face out! Not to mention dangerous, they are held together with pins, and not of the safety variety! Whilst in the shop, where the man said I could have the scarf cheaper if I gave him a kiss, sleaze! He tied and pinned it to my head, over my other head covering (it’s way too taboo for a man to take off a woman’s head cover!) and then got me to look into the mirror, as though it was a dress, not a scarf that was taking away my identity! He then got me to try my sunglasses on with it! I guess looks are important!

The Arab night went really well, we have decided to have an Arab day out in the western desert on one of our ‘driving days’, although I will leave the headwear in the locker and just wear my frock which resembles a grannies bed wear!, but useful in the heat. I was even considering that it would make a good Darwin dress, sweat could just roll down to your ankles without hitting a hint of material!

Tomorrow morning we board a felucca (boat) to cruise up the Nile for three days, stopping to check out temples etc arriving in Luxor, after five days in Luxor we are off into the Western Desert, more sand!
(Don't get too used to regular blogs, just taking advantage of great internet connections lately!)

Swinging Elbows, Out of Control Luggage and the "Dodgy Red Shirted Creepy bloke" on the Overnight Ferry

So I’m going on a different tangent with this blog, it’s the ‘how to’ approach from Wadi Halifa in Sudan to Aswan in Egypt, hopefully someone follows in my footsteps and finds this useful!

How to S&*t in a Sudanese Toilet

Yeah, we all think we know exactly how to s#%t in a toilet, but we all have to admit that we could improve our toileting routine, especially whilst in Sudan. Here are the steps I found most effective for disaster prevention in this area-

1. Before leaving your hotel room, tent or entering the toilet roll the legs of your pants up and gather toilet paper, ensure that you have eaten before this stage as the following steps will kill any appetite that you may develop in the next five to eight years
2. Start a seek and find mission for the water tank or water tub (sometimes in the form of a 44 gallon drum), and full your ‘poo pourer’, which is basically a little watering can which most likely has poo on the handle, take this poo pourer into the ‘toilet’ with you
3. Upon entering the ‘toilet’ you will see my use of the ‘, calling some of these concrete enclosures a ‘toilet’ is abuse of the word ‘toilet’, in my book a ‘toilet’ has certain qualities, like ventilation
4. Don’t ever, ever, ever close the door fully, you put yourself at risk of two things; 1. Suffocation from the fumes laying in that concrete enclosure. 2. Being forever entombed in the concrete enclosure as it’s a rare door latch that works in this part of the world! Basically, the best thing that can happen is that someone sees your ass mid squat! Worst, death by poo fume suffocation....leave the door open!
5. Enter carefully, checking the walls for smears, the floor for coils of poo and puddles of urine waiting to cling onto your clothes that will possibly not be washed for weeks and possibly trip you over in the worst place to fall, the poo pile!
6. The next step is the solving of a dilemma; to face forwards or backwards. Many people feel better about being sighted whilst over the hole facing away from their sighter, where no eye contact is made, whilst others prefer to face the door, and their possible sighter! With the door open, I believe that facing the said door offers more air flow than facing the back will, which is usually covered in shit splatters anyhow
7. Spread your feet wide, and then wider still, something about Sudanese ‘toilets’ (or just a hole in the floor) causes way too much splashback for feet to be too close to the hole
8. I am not going to go into exactly how to shit, if you can read this, hopefully you have worked it out by now, what I will say is that scientific research has found that squat toilets are much better on the human insides than the pedestal (otherwise known as European toilets). And that you need to make sure you ass hole is over the hole, and this is vital for everyone else who uses the hole after you!
9. After you finish your ‘business’ ensure you drop your paper in the right place, this could be one of two options. If the toilet smells really, really bad, then the plumbing is shit (pardon the pun) and toilet paper is not to go down the hole, there will be a basket for the used toilet paper, it will look like a brown and white smashed up cat in a poo covered basket!, if the plumbing is OK, drop the paper right near the hole, this will minimise the amount of water needed to flush away your ‘job’ and reduce the time spent in the concrete enclosure and so reduce the amount of poo particles that you inhale into your lungs
10. After leaving,  roll your pants legs down and check your feet for telling ‘splatters’ and find some form of water to wash your hands as well as possible, but always follow up with an antibacterial hand wash or savlon type rinse; honestly our bodies were just not designed to take in the germs that you will find in some of these s^*t houses
11. Return to travelling companions and talk about the details of your poo house visit, compare with their recent poo house visits and look forward to the next instalment of the poo house story.

How to ‘shower’

Regardless of how many showers you may have undergone in developed countries and underdeveloped countries, you will find that you need to adopt a different method of showering in Sudan. A lack of water and shonky pipes means that you will find yourself in a concrete enclosure with a decrepit shower head that hasn’t worked for the best part of a century and a few buckets, what to do-

1. Prepare yourself as much as possible before leaving your room, if the distance to the shower is not great and if there are few people around you may wish to ‘towel it’ to the shower, this will depend on the size of your ass and the size of your towel, me, being a prude, does not ‘towel it’ to the shower. Watches, hair bands, hair coverings all need to be left in the room, along with moisturisers, deodorants etc; there is time for these later!
2. Choose your concrete enclosure carefully, if they are in a line with the toilets, choose the one furthest from the toilet to hopefully minimise the poo fumes coming up from the drain, in choosing your enclosure, you want to make sure that there is a door lock of some  description, a clean floor and adequate drainage.
3. Hunt down the water tank, use a smaller jug to bucket water to fill the buckets up, carry into your enclosure. Ensure you have a smaller jug to use to rinse yourself.
4. Take off your clothes and hang them strategically ie; in order of what you will put back on first, make sure your towel is easy to access.
5. Think very, very carefully about your order of events from here. What is not acceptable is to wash the poo from the toilet from your feet into the water that you are about to wash your hair, you need to be smart about this. I usually wash my hands first, ensuring that I do not spill any water back in with the clean water, then I wash my face, then dunking my head into the bucket, shampoo and condition my hair, then lather the grime of the rest of the body, rinse off with small jug, then wash the feet last.
6. Before dressing, roll up the legs of your pants so as not to drag them in the water, get dressed and complete the finer details of moisturizer and deodorant in your room.
7. Enjoy the clean feeling until you have to touch anything, walk anywhere or get covered in dust by a rogue wisp of wind! (this is about 5 minutes at most!)

How to come to attention of the Authorities by photography

Most of you would have read my previous blog posts about photography in Sudan, it’s a touchy subject. To ensure that you draw maximum attention to your photography, try the following-

1. Make sure you are carrying your photo permit at all times in Sudan
2. Climb up a small knoll (hill) in the middle of a small town on dusk
3. Set up a 100-400mm lens on a full frame camera body on a seriously sturdy Manfrotto tripod (not mine, but I sure wish it was!), for the full effect, put a hood on the 100-400mm lens so that it really looks like a bazooka!
4. Aim the said lens in the direction of the military base, but don’t take photos, they are prohibited, instead snap a few photos of a kid playing soccer in the street in front of the military base
5. Ensure you aim the lens at many local people in the street and take their picture, just so they feel the lens ‘drilling’ through them
6. Make sure you stay on the hill for sunset, so that you are silhouetted with the bazooka set-up (it helps if you have another photographer with their own bazooka set-up for the full effect
7. After the sun has gone down, turn on your torch and climb down the knoll without an injury
8. Look surprised the next day when word filters back to you that your driver was told to pass on the message of ‘no photos in town’ to the people on the hill the night before taking photos of the military base!

Once you have the above ‘mission’ completed successfully you are qualified to travel on the ferry between Sudan and Egypt, instead of a step by step guide to this I will let you benefit from my experiences whilst on the ferry...

The bus came and picked us up from our ‘hotel’, use of the ‘, due to a place of rope beds, stray cats and concrete floors really not being a ‘hotel’. After attempting to fit about 30 people in a mini van, with all our luggage, someone eventually decides (but not before we had all crammed in and were sitting on laps, the floor, bags) that the bus would make two trips to the ferry terminal. Mark had employed a ‘fixer’ a local man that sorts out odds and ends, like buying cheap water, ferry tickets, buses and getting us through customs. We make our way into the ferry terminal; it looks like a bloody huge train station with 90% of the worlds biggest suitcases jammed into it! We fight our way to a seat, arrange our luggage near us to be told to move down the end, we move down the end, arrange our luggage and then ourselves onto the floor, to be told to move away from our luggage “no f&*king way!” I keep my camera bag on me, leave my sleeping gear and sit in a seat reading the Da Vinci code and trying to block out the conversations around me that had to be at yelling volume instead of talking volume and the endless announcements in Arabic. There is not a bin In the place so I am forced to litter intentionally for the first time in my life. Eventually Mark arrives with our passports and tickets and three other sheets of documentation which we filled in that morning. The ‘fixer’ heads over to the customs desks, and sorts our way through easily..or so I thought. Airports are relatively easy to manage if there is no English, let’s face it, a check in counter looks like a check in counter wherever you are in the world; from there you go through the scanner, which always looks the same, etc etc. Now this ferry terminal was something else, a dead end row of desks with officials on one side and people elbowing their way with passports held out waving to get them stamped, after you got through the different desks, there was no order, and no set combination of events and everyone did the process differently...you had to fight your way back through all the happy elbowers.

Egyptian men are very different from the Sudanese in looks and behaviour, they have a much sharper face, but you will only notice that after you have seen their suitcase, because their suitcase will have smashed into a part of your body as they pass. Being an Egyptian male they are much more important than any female, especially a white female, and especially a white female who has any skin showing! After the first elbow struggle, I am permitted some more quite time with Da Vinci and the Arabic announcements distracting me from the storyline! Eventually we have all fought our way up the dead end passage way and back through the throng of elbowing, sharp faced, suitcase wielding arrogant men and are ready to go through to the baggage search. Now the inside of the baggage search area is the closest thing to a human washing machine without water or soap as you can get. You can be polite and let people pass, but you will stand there until after the ferry has left, unfortunately, there is not a civilised bone in some of these bodies, and if you don’t join then they will beat you (well lets face it, you will be beaten, literally in the process, but get a few elbows back at the bastards in the process!) Thank god (or Allah) that I was blessed with sharp ass elbows that are just the right height for an arrogant mans ribs, after collecting the corner of a suitcase in the left ribs and two suitcases in the right shin, I get my elbows out and a man yells something at me in Arabic....too bad, I don’t speak it so it has no effect on the manner in which I am wielding my elbows. The next day Spencer looks at my legs and asks what the bruises were from; having to cover my body so I don’t resemble a female means that I haven’t seen the bruises myself! So we push our way through the bag check, without even getting our bags checked, what chance have the officials got against hundreds of unruly people surging at them?, so they just stick a ‘safety’ sticker on the bag as we pass, without checking the contents and send us on our way....but not Spencer, the official neglected to stick the sticker on his bag, and the next checkpoint made him go back and get the sticker, Spencer walked off swearing his ass off, got the sticker and came back through the gates still without having his bag checked! Thank (allah) that Islamic extremists are not going to blow up one of their own ferries I say! As anyone could have has a tonne of explosives, undetected in their jocks! So we figure that walking down the wharf to the ferry is the better option that waiting for a bus and having a repeat of the earlier performance (or another elbow fracas!), I get to the ferry and realise that my ‘safety’ sticker has fallen off my bag, ho hum...not an issue! The ‘safety’ sticker system seems to be in meltdown, no one at the boat even cares if you have the sticker, as lets face it, it’s a rort anyway, no bags are checked, a fantastic waste of stickers and a cash cow client for the sticker factories!

We finally board the ferry, two and a half hours after arriving at the terminal and about two and a half hours before the ferry left. We got there early as it is usually standing room only, African Style, so we laid our thermarests out on the deck to reserve our place. We had the heads up as to which side to stake out, it was in the sun waiting for the ferry to leave, but once we departed and turned around we were in the shade. We had soon gathered a curious crowd near us. At one stage I was sitting next to Kerry and this man came over and asked to take our photo, hmm, Ok we guessed, next minute he was in between us with his arms around us as his friend was taking the photo, then they swap spots and ‘creepy red shirt man’ is between us and his friend is taking the photo, he decides that I am no good in the photo (well no s*@t Sherlock, that why I usually take the photos!) and waves his finger at me to get out of the photo and gets me to take the photo of just him and Kerry, Kerry is a New Zealander who just the previous day I had told that I thought she attracted strange men! Now ‘red shirt creepy man’ starts a love affair with Kerry from 10meters that lasted the whole night and even to the train station platform in Aswan. By 6pm we was professing his love fore Kerry to another of our travelling companions, this is despite the fact that Kerry and Matt told this man they were married! By 8pm Kerry and Matt had gone for tea and had left their gear with us, the top deck of the boat had not a single scrap of light on it at this stage, Spencer notices that ‘strange creepy red shirt man’ has sat really close to Matts bag and says to me to keep an eye on it. I sit up and aim my head torch right at the ‘freaky creepy red shirted pervert’ to see him sitting with his arm innocently on the railing behind the bag, I keep a close eye on him until he moves off 20 seconds later. When Kerry and Matt return I tell them to check the contents of their bags to make sure everything is still in there, well yes it is, and more....the ‘red shirt pervert’ has left his phone number in the bag!

We are all summoned down to ‘immigration’, females in the dining area and males outside the window of the dining hall, to have our passports stamped. Mark had purchased out Egyptian visas for us, at the grand price of $15 USD, much cheaper than we anticipated, we just had to take the sticker and the forms over to the man to stick them in our passports and stamp it. He opened my passport, flicked past 23 empty pages, to land the sticker, slap bang, in the middle of page 34! Whallah!

A little while on we are all laying in our sleeping bags, the wind on the lake is pretty cool, and I become aware of 8 or so men standing looking in our direction, starting to get a bit pis&%d off, I start telling Spencer about there freaky people around, he points out that just out of my line of vision some of our fellow travellers are watching their photos on the computer, these men were joining in! After ‘safety Sam’ has tied my camera bag to the railing three times and tied Spencers bag to my bag, and my other bag to both of these bags and tied this all to my sleeping bag AND after hiding my passport in my sleeping bag pocket (I am exhausted!) I settle down on solid steel on my thermarest between Spencer and Ish for a good nights sleep, my only real complaint was fly away hair being ruffled by the wind and tickling my face so much that I wore my head torch as a head band. Spencer wakes up the following morning, looks at me and says “you wore your headtorch to bed last night, you looser!” Loving husband that he is!

Actually, that was not my only complaint; call to prayer belts out of every speaker in the boat at 4.40am! “allah, allah, allah....” crickey, then we have a prayer session of white robed men facing mecca happening on the deck around us!

Opening my eyes that morning was an image I doubt I’ll ever forget, many, many robed man staring at us, all sleeping in a line on the deck. Granted they have possibly not seen sleeping bags before, or white people sleep, or women with their heads uncovered sleeping. I then looked around to see the ‘red shirted freaky man’ standing a couple of meters away from Kerry, who was still asleep watching her and then checking his phone and shaking his head (obviously waiting for her to call him!), I just roll over put my sunglasses on and try to get a little more shut eye!

Kaye tells me the next morning about her experience whilst she was in a cabin, (you could pay a little extra for a cabin with two bunk beds in it, only Jules and Jen, Kaye and Mark chose to do this). None of the cabin doors had locks on them, so you could not lock your gear in, or lock others out. Kaye is a 50 year old Aussie who has done the entire west coast and is going to Istanbul on the truck, was in the cabin by herself that morning, lying on the bottom bunk, when this 30 year old Egyptian man rolls into the cabin without knocking, kisses her on her recently shaved head (she has shaved her head for Movember and in memory of her late mother who passed away from cancer) and then proceeded to attempt a kiss her on the lips! She said that he respected her decline of the offer and sent him on his way!

Now I know that Mohammed is the most common name in the world, but there was either a Mohammed on the boat that didn’t farking listen or a whole bunch of Mohammad’s who didn’t listen as there were announcements every five minutes, always preceded by a blowing sound in the microphone!

Once we arrive we sit on the boat for about two hours and witness African organisation at it’s finest! I was certain that I could have organised the same amount of teenagers to clean their cabins, do a cabin inspection, get them off the boat and assembled in lines AND call the roll in half the time as it took to even get the gear off the boat! The porters were pushing and shoving to get on the boat before anyone could get off, and barging into cabins to acquire portering jobs! We eventually think that the throng of people must have subsided enough to risk the corridor, wrong! After several more run in’s with suitcases and some fat, pushy bastard plows past me and up the stairs, inadvertently catching my tripod holder on my camera bag on his bag and attempting to pull me up the stairs! I elbow my way off! Relief!, but not for long, we arrive at the ‘arrival hole’, no s&*t, that’s what two signs called it the ‘arrival hole’ (the translator for that deserves a kick up the butt) but they weren’t wrong, it is a hole, more elbowing and pushing and after accumulating way too much Egyptian man sweat on my elbows and forearms we get through into the hall, get our bags x-rayed and are waved straight through the baggage search! I was so glad to see that the pushy little s&*t who had released half a gallon of his sweat onto my arms was thoroughly searched whilst we went straight through!

From there we are loaded into dodgy old Peugeot station wagons for our trip to the Hathor Hotel...I know, I know, Hat Hore? What the? The station wagons are not in great shape, at one stage we think that we have conked out, no, the driver was just stopping to close the back door, it had flipped open, and lucky we didn’t drop any gear out on the road! The hotel seems more wondrous than the Hilton or Empire, we have been so long in the dust and crap that a clean floor and our own toilet and working shower are almost too much to bear, along with WiFi internet, a window and McDonalds three minutes down the road, we are in heaven! Putting off a shower for a few hours we wander down to McDonalds, on the way finding an ATM machine that does money conversions, yep, chuck your $20USD note in and it will spit back the equivalent in Egyptian Pounds less a service fee! Brilliant! Only it was out on money! He he

So we arrive at the Golden Arches, wow, not usually a huge McDonalds fan, it has been a long time between drinks and I want some of it! I get in the door and order a cheeseburger without the meat (don’t knock it until you try it!), large fries with sweet and sour sauce, large coke, apple pie and caramel sundae. The big killer on this feed was the sizing’s, they are American sizes here, so my coke was 779ml, my fries were 262g!, the burger had a diameter much larger than a normal one! After a discussion of the additives and preservatives I decide that McDonalds could be like a medicine, if you had eaten dodgy food, you could smash a feed of McDonalds into your gut and the preservatives would kill off any dodgy’s that me be lurking in your digestive system!

From there Spencer followed the boys on a ‘beer mission’ (Everything is called a ‘mission’, even a ‘toilet mission’) And I walk back, stopping at a convenience store to announce “Oh look they have ice cream freezers, with ice cream!” before realising what a looser I sounded like! I had a similar moment in McDonalds when I asked what the toilets were like and rushed to use them after being told that they had soap AND toilet paper AND were free!

Have done a stock take on my camera gear, it’s all terribly dirty, but no amount of cleaning will get rid of the dust, not sure if it’s static electricity but it seems to be attracting dirt like a magnet attracts metal! My 24-105mm lens is suffering the worst, it’s been the workhorse and is making all sorts of gritty, scratching sounds when it’s zoomed or manually focused, The lens on the little camera is making sounds similar to nails on a blackboard when it is turned on or off. The 100-400mm is starting to show that the push- pull zoom does bring in dust, but honestly, no more than the standard one. The LCD screen on the other camera has almost given up the ghost and the 5D one seems a little funky too. Just hoping that it holds out another 2 months (yep, that’s all that’s left!) and once I get home it can all head off to Canon for some TLC!

And I am missing school, I am constantly looking for a bloody pen!