Team Jassler

Team Jassler Closes the Circle

2011-05-16T20:44:00.000-07:00

Chris and Courtney, two tough nuts

Our final bike-adventure days came to a close, and we loaded our crazy bike boxes on top of a taxi, heading to the airport. By this time, the airport was empty, traffic halted inbound and many airlines (Delta included) stopped their services entirely. I booked a new flight to Athens with Chris, where I would continue on to America and he would board a bus to Albania.

Loading up the airport-bound taxi

We managed to check our first set of luggage on our (almost empty) OlympicAir flight to Greece without additional surcharges! I think they took pity on us, considering our extremely ragged attire and obvious desperate desire to get on the plane without any problems. We stayed overnight in the Athen's airport, which is surprisingly comfortable compared to others we have "slept" in (and more comfortable than many places we camped during this journey), using the bleak 2-4 am hours to remove Chris' belongings from my box and repack the bikes.

Overnight in Athen's airport, with our crazy luggage

Chris reboxes my bike during low-traffic hours

Getting creative with wheel packing!

Keeping busy in the lounge, ReUsing my bike seat cover to make frankinscence bags!

In the morning I was able to recheck my boxes (with outrageous fees, unfortunately, darn those hikes!) and then help get Chris settled on a taxi to the bus station. Here is where we said goodbye, our first separation in three and a half years.

We made it! 6 months and 8 countries later, what an adventure!

Team Jassler regrets not getting into Libya and Tunisia, however at the same time, I think we are both looking forward to new adventures (Chris' shop in Gjirokaster, my return to my family and America). On the plus side, we will be more prepared for another bike journey back in this region, when the violence of the Arab Spring settles down. Until then....

Protest, Shmotest! I Got Mandarins to Sell!

2011-02-16T09:18:00.000-08:00

The streets of Cairo this time around were ominously calm; most people abiding by the afternoon curfew and staying home. I almost didn't recognize the corner where my favorite pide guy's cart sits; he, like all the other vendors, was no where to be seen.

We returned to Naila's neighborhood, arriving in the evening, though learned en route that she had decided to leave the country and was already out at the ariport. Her two roommates (two guys, one being a Fulbright and the other on a similar American program) had been evacuated days before. Unfortunately, that left us stranded and unable to reach our bags and newly acquired hookahs. Through a stroke of only-in-Egypt coincidence, the landlady's perscription to this problem was to hook us up with another set of Americans who recently moved into the building, until we could figure out how to get a key.

Cairo is a melange of old and new

In toe behind the landlady's sister, we knocked on the Americans' door and politely introduced ourselves, awkwardly asking if we might crash on their floor for the night. It felt a lot like being a small child whose parent walks them to the schoolyard kids and asks if they can play. Fortunately, the young couple generously welcomed us inside, arranging a place for us in the spare bedroom. Our foursome of straggler expats hit it off well-- Chris and I were fascinated to learn how they've come to live in Egypt,working and studying, and how they've fared during the protests, while they were curious about our impression of the rest of the country. The couple, Anna and Chris, had been in Cairo a few years already, and longer in the region, so they shared a wealth of experiences and knowledge of the political situation and such. We ate dinner together and watched Al-Jazeera English, which was by this time airing footage from around the country, all of us speaking and questioning endlessly during the broadcast. Neither of them felt in terrible danger, laying low and abiding by the curfew, frequenting Tehrir less this week. Our unexpected knocking only spooked them a little, lest we be the authorities...

Our saviors! Anna and Chris, Cairo expats

The next day Chris and I raced to the airport, where it turns out Naila had been stranded for the night. To get there we had to very systematically follow directions first via metro + transfer, navigate a winding path through a market and university campus, cross over to the urban busses and flag one heading in the right direction, which spit us out at the freeway entrance, and finally walk the last mile to the third airport terminal. Eventually we arrived and found Naila nestled in among a swarm of others, a loud melange of people from all over the world. Out front a canopy was set up to cover huge loads of luggage, which seemed to belong to an enormous swarm of African families. I can't even guess which country they were heading to.

Life and traffic go on, despite the protests

It became clear Naila would be going nowhere anytime soon, so instead we all returned to the city and went to stay for a night with her friend. This guy, an Egyptian man who lives mostly in Algeria but came home for vacation (good timing!), is refreshingly well educated and speaks English perfectly, so we spent the night eating delicious food (we tried to dine out, but couldn't find an open restaurant, so instead we cooked), watching YouTube videos, and generally hanging out talking. I will let it be known that, although Chris chides me for reporting there was no chicken in the store (he insists I'm inciting the belief that there are food shortages), factually, there was no chicken at the grocer. There, I've said it.

Natural loofahs in the market (but no chicken)

The next day Naila passed us her key before heading off again to the airport. We took the metro to her apartment, where we were able to stay the night and extract our belongings. Chris and I had tickets for the following week to Athens, and decided to wait out our time tying up loose ends and finalizing our trip. We had a mess of bikes to magically shrink down into teeny, tiny boxes and a load of hookahs to pack carefully. Funny thing is that there are cardboard boxes everywhere, but men come around to snatch and recycle them so its a little tricky to claim the good ones. We spent a few nights in the apartment, hanging out with Anna and Chris by day and getting their latest news-junkie reports, making regular fhuul-eggplant-pickle sandwhich trips and chomping down copious galaxy (chocolate) bars.

Street vendor selling sweet koshari, this time with couscous-like grains, raisins, powdered sugar, and shredded coconut

Bikes are tiny without their wheels!

In the morning Chris and I returned to Khan al-Khalili market, surrounded by street life that seemed completely normal. At least during the early hours people are out working and shopping. Markts are open and traffic is heavy. Another round of scrutinizing in the hookah shops; this time Chris bought a set of basic, less expensive hookahs.

Another load of hookahs from Khan Al-Khalili

Carrying loot through the Spice Bazaar

I was excited to peer around the spice streets and pick up giant sacks full of chamomile (oh Albania! You hooked me on the drug!) and habiscus tea, as well as sniff around, enjoying the bulk non-packageness of the mystery burlap sacks, and pungent odors.

Spice Bazaar, where we picked up some colorful hibiscus tea and chamomile

Bags o Spices

Our final days were spent in the southern (expat) neighborhood of Maadi, where we were invited to crash with a couple we had met in Jordan. Some months before we struck up conversation with them in Little Petra, while drinking tea, and had swapped emails. I wasn't sure if they'd still be in-country, but luckily for us they believed life was endurable outside of Tehrir.

With our Maadi hostess, Monica

Chris and I hadn't really spent time in Maadi, which was a little too foreign for our tastes (however beautiful, the merchants here seemed used to "serving" people and the prices were inflated five-fold). Instead of having markets there was an air-conditioned grocery store, selling imported goodies we had no interest in. However, we scored a bottle of date-flavored camel's milk, one thing I desperately wanted to get my hands on (camel's milk, didn't even occur to me until after we left Jordan). I enjoyed it vicariously through Chris, who reported back that it tastes like a bowl of cereal-milk. Get ready, America! I vote swapping oil for camel's milk!

Pickin up some Date Milk in Maadi (check out that beard!)

Maadi is pretty with trees and shrubs

That pretty much rounds out our whereabouts during our final days in Egypt. It was both exciting and little nerve-wrecking to be here during the uprising. Street life has returned to normal, though by night shops close for curfew and men and boys stand by to defend their homes in case trouble brews. There are no more midnight gun shots, no tourists on the street, and it certainly feels like we are in the center of the world's spotlight. From our own experiences with the police here, I empathize for the millions of Egyptian citizens who have been hauled in "for questioning" with absolutely no power or protection. That is surely why Chris and I felt no fear- foreigners are treated with deference (as prized cattle really... kept in certain locations where their money can best be extracted) but these compounds full of men and guns coupled with the mentality of "just following orders" can only lead to brutal consequences.

Egypt's time to shine!

Internet is Back!

2011-02-15T11:52:00.000-08:00

Yet another display of open generosity by complete strangers, this time by a pair of guys who met us as my camera drama unfolded. Despite their lack of English skills and our lack of comprehensive Arabic, they put us in touch with a friend on their cell, who guided us to a nearby hotel complex still under construction, where she works. They insisted we stay the night in a spare workers' room (not the nicest quality, but out of the rain), and promised to do all they could to get my camera back for me. In the morning they gave us a lift to Mersa Metruh, where we went to the police station to report the theft.

On that note, my otherwise awesome photos of Metruh cannot be posted.

The city seems the same, with more tanks and security forces, and everyone on edge. Funny how life goes on amidst the semi-chaos, people seem incredibly malleable to the circumstances. The street markets are open all morning when people come to stock up on produce and supplies, then curfew begins at 3 pm. Chris nor I feel unsafe personally, though slightly high on adrenaline due to the near-chaos that could potentially unfold at any time (we remain firmly in denial).

Tanks from our hotel balcony, Hotel Hamada

I did meet with several army officers (the police had disbanded at this point, and would be of no use to anyone), who put on their most formal airs as they assured me they would go to every length to find the camera. In such a place where secrets cannot be kept, and everyone is connected by less than 6 degrees of separation, it seems actually likely the camera would magically turn up, "found" on a street corner or some such agreeable excuse. To my face they were all extraordinarily polite and treated me with incredible kindness, though I could tell they did not want to deal with my silly camera loss during such intense times for the government.

Metruh itself is a summer hub that swells to an uncomfortably crowded place along with the heat, and with inflation to boot. There are plenty of hotels and restaurants along the waterfront, as well as the first 3 or 4 streets of town, though most of them are closed as this time. People are absolutely baffled to see us, first because we are tourists here outside the summer season, second because we are crazy enough to travel by bike, and thirdly because, hello! there's a revolution afoot!

We checked in to Hotel Hamada, where the owner, Joe, speaks English very well and is super friendly. His son lives in the US so he likes Americans a lot. But to be honest, I bet he likes all foreigners a lot. In other circumstances I would have been happy enough to enjoy his happy-go-lucky demeanor more, but my emotions were completely tied up in regret and sadness. I know its just a camera, an object, and replaceable (technically, although not anytime soon). But my memories are created with that black magic box and it feels like I'm missing part of me. Plus, I want to be documenting every moment, creating something that everyone everywhere can look at and understand more about what's happening at this little dot on the planet...

Lobby of Hotel Hamada, with the owner, Joe

So, after sampling pizza across the street (Egyptian pizza is so good!), Chris and I headed to an internet cafe and were surprised to find Egypt hooked back into the net. We signed online and immediately realized that our family and friends had been emailing, at first wondering our whereabouts, then gradually organizing themselves into a highly coordinated server list. Their emails no longer addressed us, but rather everyone else who may have an opinion or insight to our situation. Feeling a mixture of appreciation because we are loved(!), humor because everyone believes the media dramatization, and guilt for having obviously set off heart rate monitors across the US.... we very quickly wrote back to as many people as possible to assure everyone of our well-being.

Some two hours later I stood up to leave, paid my computer fees, and was stepping out to grab some water, when the sudden entourage of policemen appeared, forbidding my exit. Apparently they'd been there quite some time, reading our emails and computer screens from the main computer. When Chris finished they insisted we load into their truck and drove us to their nearby compound, at this time blockaded and full of officers. The men were all young, wearing t-shirts and jeans, and armed with rifles, though completely unintimidating. We were led into a small room with a couch and chairs, asked to sit down, and "questioned" for about 5 or 6 hours by two men. I say "questioned" with some hesitation because really the men were friendly and for the most part our conversation was like any other, we learned about them and their families, they learned about us and our adventure.

Occasionally one or both of them would leave to "check up" on something, then come back and pepper us with demands such as "what do you know about the Muslim Brotherhood?" or "tell us about guns", as if they were following some sort of required protocol. We laughed the entire situation off, how ridiculous. After a few hours we began to grow tired, ready to go back to our paid hotel room, though they wouldn't let us leave quite yet and apologized. Then, they asked what sort of pizza we like, and ordered us a vegetarian pizza from town! Chris didn't feel too comfortable with them buying us dinner, but hey I say they stole at least 5 hours of my time, and I'm worth the $4 that pizza cost. Plus, like I said, Egyptian pizza is delicious.

Exhausted from a long "interview"

So we slept soundly in our little private room, upstairs at the Hotel Hamada. After checking out and saying goodbye to Joe, we biked up to the edge of town where the bus station is, hoping to find seats on a shared taxi van to Cairo. For some time the men at the station were cordial with us, agreeing to put our bikes up top of the van. Like vans all over the world, they don't leave until they are full, which can take all day. Ten hours later we were still waiting in the van, really hoping to believe they would still make the journey, even though of course almost no one is heading to the capital city.

Around 8 pm and well after sundown the men approached us and told us to get out, they weren't going to Cairo today. What?? We almost couldn't believe it. Luckily, a friend of the plain-clothed policeman who sat with us most of the day (and who we assumed was also police, especially since he speaks English perfectly) took pity on us and invited us to stay at his house for the night. The driver promised to reserve seats for us in the morning, claiming he would leave at 7 am. So we biked 5 km further out of town to our host's house, a modest and comfortable place. Khaled, we learned quickly, has a family of a wife and two children, who were both studying recitations of the Koran. We sat in the sitting space/guest area for some time (all homes seem to have a big room full of floor cushions, necessary for all of the family gatherings during holidays) drinking strong tea and nibbling on cookies his daughter delivered.

Dinner with our wonderful new friend who saved us from the bus depot

As it turns out, he's not a policeman, rather an English teacher who drives vans on the side for extra income! We were shocked and relieved to learn this, and now understood why his language skills are so good. We stayed up many hours talking, watching the news and commenting on the country's situation. He translated some of the Arabic programs, including the state-run TV network, which reported very differently from BBC and CNN.

In the morning we thanked Khaled and his family profusely, then biked back to the bus/van station, only to watch a van pull out just as we approached. Rats! We waited another few hours, really hoping to get out today. Eventually we had enough passengers to go, the engine began roaring, we took off.

Emblem on our service taxi, very creative

Several times along the highway our van was stopped, everyone ordered to disembark, and men with guns searched the group more thoroughly with pat downs and ID checks. Anyone without an ID could potentially be an escaped prisoner, and citizen militia groups took on the task of protecting their villages. Or maybe they were police. No one can say for sure. Traffic became very congested as we neared the capital, every vehicle waiting for a full search and more ID checks. No one gave us any trouble. Stupid tourists.

By late afternoon the sky was a cloudy, gray mess of haze. Our van pulled in to the station, we were all but kicked out, and immediately faced with Chris' flat tire. Feeling very jaded by the sudden turn of people, dirty and sick of our ragged attire, also exhausted and daunted by the task of crossing the city to find our friend's apartment, we weren't in our best light. In true Egyptian form, a crowd of men gathered around us, set on assisting with the tire repair, all but yanking the bike out of Chris' hand to do the job themselves. I can sit back and laugh at this, because in their hearts they obviously just want to help, or maybe are just bored, but either way its nice that people would take time from their day and are once again on our side.

As we biked away Chris and I noticed the tops of the pyramids poking up from behind a mess of hotels.

Cleopatra's Beach and Thievery

2011-02-11T11:09:00.000-08:00

Alas after 5 and a half months of biking, plus 2 and a half years living in Albania, plus 4 years at university, my camera is finally gone. My beloved Canon Rebel XT was the newest model when I purchased it and over the years we have traveled side by side around the world. Today someone stole that camera from me. Super sad face. The stupid thing is whoever took it won't be able to use it (the screen was busted but I know the controls well enough to sidestep that issue) and will only get the satisfaction of stealing a month's worth of my Egyptian memories. I regret not being able to share my beautiful photos even along the northern coast...

Chris and I woke inside our cave at Agiba beach, listening to the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below. We ate bananas while hiding from the wind, watching the sky illuminate from inside our cozy sleeping bag.

From Agiba cove we backtracked along the sand swept highway, stopping in several markets to look for food. I'd like to share pictures of the half buried summer homes, whose yards and doorways flood with soft white sand. The few shops seem to be wiped clean except for chips, chocolate, and a few rotten vegetables, though somehow Chris managed to guzzle milk from a dusty carton on a back shelf and choke down a stale Swiss roll.

Bike on the empty beach

After another brief stop at Saleh's house next to the bakery, where we witnessed near anarchy as the gas delivery truck ran out of canisters, Chris and I biked onward and down to the beach. En route we were waved and whistled at by several people, those we spoke with jokingly remarked American? Obama! Bush no! Mubarak no!

Saleh's son doodling while we drink tea and eat bread. My group photo is gone...

Random church with greek decor near Cleopatra

Cleopatra's beach, which is probably jam packed during the summer, sits completely barren in the winter. We walked past abandoned and broken refreshment stands, everything covered in pools of white sand, then along the strangely deformed sandstone beach cliffs. The water is cold and rough, but remains a beautiful aquamarine color, collecting in hundreds of shallow pools. Try as he might Chris could find no starfish.

Churning waters at Cleopatra Beach

One of many small islands along Cleopatra Beach's shore

A calm moment overlooking the "toilet bowl" at Cleopatra

We spent several hours wandering the beach, taking photos (how pointless!), building sand castles, and searching for another camping cave. All the while not another soul was out, except for some men from a nearby construction site. We saw them come take a look at us twice, not paying too much attention under the assumption that they were just curious. It's hard not to draw conclusions, but if anyone was suspicious or had the knowledge of what possessions we had, these guys would be the first I send the police after. Unfortunately for us there is a revolution afoot and the normally oppressive police have abandoned ship.

Just as my camera was stolen.... don't I look happy?

As a light rain began pouring we decided to take one last look at the water before departing. Not wanting to take my camera bag out to get wet, I tucked it underneath our bikes and bags, concealing it from view. We walked out to the coast edge for exactly 15 minutes (verified by the clock on the videos Chris took) and when I came back my bag had been pulled out, camera extracted, and zipped back up. We can only conclude someone was watching me and waited for the perfect moment. On the plus side they could have run off with my entire bag, which would leave me without my passports, money, and iTouch. Al Hamdulilah!

Agiba ('Miracle') Beach

2011-02-10T11:08:00.000-08:00

Although Chris and I woke early we didn't want to leave before saying goodbye to our hosts, so we waited until 10:30 when Abu Rahmel woke and we could head out. Egyptians are not early birds! We biked further west, again seeing groups of military tanks and guards at random posts along the highway. We just smile and wave.

Some 25 km outside Metruh is Agiba, or Miracle, beach, actually a cove just below another army post. The cove is accessible by a steep staircase where we locked our bikes and took our bags down to the empty white sand pocket. Not exactly sunny weather, it was actually cold and windy, so I bundled up and focused on the beautiful aspects of winter beaches, which remind me of Oregon.

Chris spent his afternoon building a sand monastery along the rocky ridge down by the shore. The series of sand complexes stretched over 5 feet wide; however, a few hours later the sea swallowed it up.

We found a cave along the rocky path outside the cove, a spot somehow sheltered by the strong sea winds. We decided to set up camp there in the natural shelter. A few scraps of wood made for a short and difficult fire, and all our thoughts were drowned out by the rough crashing of waves only a few feet away.

From inside our camping cave at Agiba ('Miracle') Beach

(The only photo from Chris' card...)

Deserted Med Coast and WWII Battlefront

2011-02-09T22:44:00.000-08:00

Another quiet morning following a long night of activity. The official curfew lifted at 8 though the streets were still in shock as our trio returned home, passing looted buildings, scattered garbage and papers, and dazed pedestrians.

From Shehab's house we packed and made our final attempts with the Internet. Still no connection. I wonder if our families have any clue what is happening around us because on international news Alexandria is hardly mentioned and there is no video footage of the protests except from Cairo.

As Chris and I biked out of the city we cycled by smoldering buildings, charred buses and police vans, and the crumbling remains of the governor's mansion. Usually city biking is easy, however we faced more difficulty due to the blankets of shattered glass in the street, gangs of riled up citizens excited to scream and holler at us, and numerous civilian and military-manned checkpoints and roadblocks.

The western suburbs were even more congested with traffic, garbage, and people who by this time of day were nervously stocking up for the 3 pm curfew. Slowly the road emptied out and we found ourselves on the westward highway, surrounded by desert but no sea views. We had hoped the road would follow the seafront.

While taking a break at a set of crossroads two cars and a taxi van simultaneously screeched to a stop next to us. We didn't see the initial incident but were privy to the subsequent dispute between drivers. They formed a small mob, yelling and waving sticks at each other; one man pulled out a gun and began shooting the van's tires while another busted the widows with his two by four. We very quickly biked onward.

Eventually we hopped into a furgon (shared taxi van), tossing the bikes up top, and joining a group of guys to El Elmein, the WWII mega graveyard. There are over 80 thousand soldiers buried in the nearby cemeteries, and an unknown number of landmines still hiding under the desert sands. We followed the road into an unfinished housing development and found a cozy spot at the edge of a white sand beach.

Our tent sat guarded from the heavy wind just behind a low sand barrier. At sunrise we woke to see a red ball of flame rise above the Mediterranean waters. Then quickly went back to sleep. Yeah freedom! Not a human being in site.

By noon Chris and I were out on the highway, cycling toward Mersa Metruh, the country's summer magnet. It's a ghost town in the winter, which works out in our favor. After about 50 km or so we flagged down another van to the city, bypassing the endless stretch of uninteresting desert road. At the bus station the manager informed us there is a daily bus straight to Cairo, then added it may or may not be running in a few days. The entire country is waiting, either for more chaos or for another shut down.

In the normally carefree beach town of Mersa Matruh military tanks have blockades set up around the ballad (downtown) directing traffic up and down 2 roads. We had some difficulties trying to get through to the market and then finding restaurants, which are usually plentiful but had all been closed down for the 3 pm curfew. Several people went out of their way to help us and warn us of danger, though it's hard to believe anything will happen because all we get are welcomes and ahh America good! I'm only slightly on edge knowing that a lot of people are concealing guns and it only takes ones crazy to hurt us...

We eventually settled on falafel and chicken, then took off toward the west, hoping to reach Cleopatra's beach before sunset. Instead we got lost and ended up in a suburb, where we met Abu Rahmel who invited us inside. He set up a tv with satellite and we watched (for the first time) the reports from Egypt on BBC English, CNN, and Al Jazeera English. I'm amazed that the riots in Suez and Alexandria are not even mentioned! Local Arabic tv stations did describe the actions around the country, though due to Internet cuts no one has any footage. Only Cairo is spotlighted on international TV, and they barely mention the effects of Internet and cell phone cuts. Don't they see how Mubarak wants to quell the facebook groups and Twitter messages?-- by tightening his stranglehold he thinks he can crush the protests, but really it just provokes citizen's anger and proves he is a tyrant in their eyes.

We are staying the night here with the family, actually a compound of homes, each of 8 brothers and 6 sisters. We've only met the brothers, who sat with us for tea while the news played in English. We'll get to the beach tomorrow.

Alexandria Unrest

2011-02-07T23:28:00.000-08:00

This morning Shehab and I went shopping for a day's supplies, planning to relax at home, and also in case chaos breaks out. Last night the internet and cell phone coverage cut out, leaving the country without communication to organize rallies (the "leaderless revolt" enabled by facebook). Great. People are upset by an oppressive demogog so he cuts off their phones and web access, as well as ATMs, call centers, and businesses relying on technology--that's gonna help the situation.

Eleven am and the streets were still eerily empty. At the register the credit machines and ATMs were out, and since we were short of cash we had to put half out groceries back. This would totally not happen in America- nothing can stop the flow of business. Especially not a government that wants to stay in office.

Afterward Shahab and I sat in his living room discussing Egypt's political history, then he went out for noon prayers. Just as he returned the protests began, so we ran downstairs to see what would happen. Flooding out of the nearby mosque were hundreds of shouting men (and some women), chanting Freedom Freedom! and Topple the Government! (borrowing from the slogans in Tunisia)

The street quickly filled with protestors and spectators (I wasn't the only one with a camera, dozens of people stood by with their cell phones raised). As I turned to take a photo of the police blockade a plain clothesed officer began screaming (in English) Get away! This is not your business this is ours!

Men flowing out of the mosque after Friday's noon prayer

As the crowd of people moved down the street, passed the apartment where Chris took video footage from the balcony, we returned inside and began assessing the situation. Without internet or phones it is hard to know what is happening around the city. Even Al Jazeera was cut off from local journalists and couldn't get their video footage through.

Citizens fill the streets, ready for a peaceful protest march toward the city center

Watching the riots in Cairo and knowing they were happening here too was too interesting to pass up, so Chris and I went out to find the parades of people. tens of thousands of Alexandrians were marching down the main avenue; men and women, young and old. We first ran into a blockade of police near one of the stations, who suddenly charged and then stopped, eventually disbanning and getting back into their armored trucks.

Police blockade the street, armed with riot gear

Police assemble, then disassemble, not sure what we're going to do

Tens of thousands of people march down the main streets from the outskirts, chanting

Chris and I followed the crowds down the street toward the Italian mosque, where the meeting point was set. Along the way we were stopped by commotion at the central police station, which had exploded in fire and was spewing thick plumes of black smoke.

Looking down from an overpass, burning building up ahead

We carefully crept our way up toward the fire, almost constantly approached by people hoping we were international journalists. Several of them pleaded with us to tell the world, let their voices be heard, to help the Egyptian people be rid of this oppressive government. We could only promise we would be writing online and posting video to YouTube.

People eagerly run to see what's up ahead

Next to the station, which slowly filled with flames across the entire lower floor, a police van had exploded. Molotov cocktail I presume. Some (young men) were going crazy in the streets, setting fires, looting the station (throwing furniture out the upper windows), shouting, etc. A majority of others were quietly observing, filming with cell phone cameras. No police in sight though.

Smoke fills the street outside the burning police station

Police vans nearby were set ablaze

Occasional huge swells of people would stampede, in fear of an explosion

After several rounds of explosions and stampede scares, we were finally chased away from the area. Chris and I decided we had enough and would walk home. Hundreds of small groups of people slowly moved away from the scene. As we passed the police station from before more armored trucks began unloading shielded officers; one officer was shouting and waving at us but we didn't understand why. A nearby pedestrian also walking away told us they were initiating a curfew and we should get off the streets immediately. No problem we would be home by the time it started, but we soon crossed another large parade of protestors heading toward the fires. Police have no chance of emptying the streets- it's total chaos here!

No more cars around, so kids burn shirts instead

Shahab was waiting at home, ready with updates from local news reports. Since no phones or Internet are working there is no footage of the riots in Alexandria. Only a few scenes from Cairo; the National Democratic Party is on fire and citizens are guarding the National Museum (police have abandoned their posts) against potential looters. There are occaisionally short reports- calls from landlines- from people with details about Alexandria and Suez (the third major protest zone). However, Al Jazeera's signal keeps randomly getting cut. People are eagerly waiting for a speech by Mubarak, the Egyptian president from whom protestors are demanding resignation. Hilary Clinton is dubbed on Al Jazeera calling for peace and advising the government reconnects Egypt's communication network.

Chris and I went out again, this time to the nearby police headquarters, following a rumor that fire had broken out. We did see flames from down the street but by the time we arrived citizens with hoses had finished putting out the flames. Despite the curfew there were many clusters of people, and still no police.

Burning shirts as a symbol of the about-to-collapse-dictatorship

Late in the night Mubarak appeared on TV, calmly explaining he will appoint a new government, but not mentioning his leaving. We called it a night.

The next morning was calm. Shehab and I drove around town making note of all the burned out police stations, dozens of charred vehicles, toppled security booths, and armored tanks along the roads. Plenty of pedestrians and cars were also cruising to take photos of the damage. At every intersection a team of volunteer citizens directed traffic, rerouting drivers away from closed streets and keeping the flow moving.

Papers expelled from destroyed buildings covered the streets

Our main goal was to see the governor's mansion, we heard had been set on fire; the street was blocked by the burnt skeleton of a not so lucky bus. Next door is the American Center, which is empty save for the security guards who told me no one knows what's going on or what to advise. He did give me embassy numbers to call in case I have a personal emergency.

Tanks filled almost every street

Curfew today was moved up to 4 pm. We watched as the grocery stores and mini markets flooded with people stocking up on their own suppliesShehab, Chris, and I moved over to Ibrahim, one of shehab's friends, house. From his top floor apartment balcony we can clearly see the surrounding city streets and even glimpse the sea. Just below is an enormous sports club, with multiple pools, ball courts, gyms, restaurants, and a golf course.

Citizens came out the next morning to assess the damaged buildings

After sundown Ibrahim and Shehab were requested to come downstairs and join the men gathering in the street, all armed with clubs and sticks.

Throughout the city these citizen militias are forming to protect buildings and property from the roaming band of looters. Cell coverage has returned so everyone is on their phones coordinating and sharing updates from reports around the city. Rumors are flying high and wide; tales of gunshots at Shehab's building, multiple burning buildings, ransacking looting mobs, and the takeover of the water company. After a few exciting scares but overall emptiness we decided to go upstairs and watch from the balcony.

Port Town Alexandria

2011-02-05T11:08:00.001-08:00

Our train pulled in to Alexandria's station in the late afternoon. From there we met with our couchsurfing host Shehab, whose name actually translates to Shooting Star Peace Wood. Awesome. Egyptians are hippies at heart! He later renamed Chris and me Besem and Hanaan respectively, meaning Smiling One and Caring One. Wish we had thought of these names 6 months ago and saved ourselves from so much confusion (Courtney is absolutely incomprehensible in the Arab world).

Alexandria, the illustrious port town founded by Alexander the Great in the 3rd century BC, stretches in a thin strip for 30 km or so along the coast. Archaeologists speculate the flambouyant Macedonian general is buried in a tomb somewhere deep below the modern streets. Over the centuries the city has been shaped by a hodgepodge of cultures, influences, and epic tales including that of the Greeks and Romans, Cleopatra's politics and trysts, Turkish pashas and Ottoman trade, and the more recent heyday of the British occupation. It remains an international and religious blend of Muslim and (Coptic) Christian peoples and architecture (there was also a thriving Jewish population, all but 8 of whom have moved to Israel).

Waterfront apartments a la Egyptian art deco

Trolley passes by a worn, early 20th century apartment building

Colorful walls of a mechanic shop

One of Alexandria's great claims to fame is the ancient Biblioteca Alexandrina, built by Ptolomey I in 331 BC, which housed the largest collection of written works until it was burned down - possibly- by Ceasar in his 48 BC conquest and then again later by invaders. In its glory the Biblioteca served as an academic Mecca, attracting scholars from around the world for lectures, debate, and research. In 2002 the library was completely rebuilt and is slowly being restocked with materials from around the world.

Inscriptions of languages from around the world

Alexandrina Biblioteka, surrounded by a cool reflecting pool

Most of the library is actually underground, shielded overhead by a triangular glass roof surrounded by a calming reflecting pool. A collage of foreign scripts are carved into the outter wall, representing the original decor of languages from every known source on earth (at the time). Inside are several climate controlled levels of books and museums, as well as crowds of respectfully silent university students busy with research. We spent several hours exploring the books, many of which are in English.

Interior of the Biblioteca Alexandrina

On the west tip of Alexandria's bay sits the Citadel of Qaitbay, built in the 1400's. It lies directly atop the crumbled ruins of the world's first lighthouse, the Pharos of Alexandria, a 400 foot-ish red granite pillar. It was commissioned by Ptolemy I in effort to guide sailing ships away from the dangerously rocky shore. The pillar was later fitted with a gas-fed oil lamp and copper reflecting boards, so impressive it has been deemed one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Unfortunately, the pillar tumbled during an earthquake in the 13th century, and much of the remains were either quarried for the construction of the citadel or remain sunken in the water's depths.

Boats along the waterfront, citadel in the background

Cafe de la Paix, staging a century of stories along the waterfront

Alexandria's architecture also alludes to the large bourgoise class of the early 20th century. The city had grown in importance and wealth throughout the reign of the Ottomans thanks to its strategic port, drawing in entrepeneurs, businessmen, artists, and laborers from countries around the Mediterranean. Classic, dark wood cafes line the seafront, such as Athenos, where well to do Greek ladies used to congregate with their Turkish suitors. Nearby sits one of the city's grandest mosques, Abul Abbas, is another testament to Alexandria's long history of immigrants: built in the 17th century by Algerians, it sits atop the tomb of a 13th century Andalusian sufi saint whose family fled Spain for religious freedom.

Abul Abbas dome

Teak carved windows of Abul Abbas Mosque (Ottoman style of the 1700's)

El-Mursi Abul Abbas Mosque

Nearby is the Cecil Hotel, probably the finest and oldest accomodation thriving over the last century. The early wooden elevator boxes are still in use, connecting patrons to the terrace where a Chinese and Thai restaurant dishes up exotic foods. Awesome view of the seafront and adjacent park from the top.

Entering an elegant, wooden elevator at the Cecil Hotel

View of the park and waterfront from Cecil's rooftop

Cecil is set a the edge of Saad Zaghlul Square, and the Turkish neighborhood, whose entrance is marked by a park and statue of the politician, Saad Zaghlul. On the back of the standing effendy sits a mysterious woman with a Coptic cross. (no one could explain to me who she is)

Cecil Hotel and (silhouette) statue of Saad Zaghloul, an Egyptian politician

Coptic lady adjoined to Saad Zaghloul's statue

In one of the nearby neighborhoods is another park, Muhammed Ali square. Its central statue depicts the great Albanian commander who, after declaring himself ruler of Egypt in the early 1800's, actually stole the throne by inviting all of the current Mamluk leaders and nobles to a lavish banquet and then murdering them en masse. Such gumpshun!

Muhammed Ali statue

Statue of Muhammed Ali, Alexandria's Albanian tyrant

My bike, heavily laden with mahmoul (date cookies)

Chris and I spent two days wandering and cycling around town, visiting sites, shopping in the street markets, picnicing along the waterfront, and sipping coffee in style. In the evenings we went out with Shehab, who showed us some of the best spots in town. I am such an advocate of couchsurfing, especially when it brings us into the lives of wonderful people, and changes our whole experience from feeling like outsider yuppie tourists to that of visiting a long-time friend. Shehab also introduced us to some of his equally amazing friends, with whom we shared several rounds of delicious juice concoctions from an outdoor stall.

Cappucino from Cafe Brasil, where chic Alexandrians sipped imported beans in style

I will miss these glorious, run of the mill produce markets

We stopped off for some cheese, next to the cured olive buckets

Loading up on bananas and oranges!

With Shehab, Ibrahim, and friends, slurping mango drinks at the juice bar

The first night we were 'surfing' with a young guy from New Jersey, who currently studies in Israel. Together we went out to an iconic fish restaurant, something Alexandrians pride themselves on. Although we chose entrees, our table was already full of delicious appetizers- a half dozen plates of cheese and vegetable dips, salads, and fresh rolls, so we were stuffed before the main course arrived.

Fresh fish! Right from the sea!

Dinner with Shehab and Jeremy; a tableful of mezzes (dips and salads)

Another night Shehab took us with some friends to eat Egyptian pizzas, before again slurping several cups of fresh juice. Egyptian style pizzas are the same as Turkish style, a thin pastry rolled out, topped with cheese and veggies, then folded up and baked. The regular pizzas are amazing, big pies with thick crust and almost always less than $4! Take THAT Dominoes!

Eating Egyptian pizzas with Ibrahim and Shehab

Sheep and goats eating fodder in the city!

One of my favorite past times while traveling is always to explore the markets-- including regular street markets where people do their day to day shopping. I love the activity here- people bustling around with produce bags, greeting friends and shopkeepers, lots of bright colors... We came across dates from the nearby Siwa Oasis, set up on a pedestal with a bowlful of frankinscence burning to keep the bees away (which also makes the dates smell nice). Crowds of people waiting for bread from the goverment bakery. This is always a spectacle, because people fight to get to the front before the bread runs out. Once claimed, people lay out their bootie on the sidewalk or cars to let the pides air dry, lest they get damp with condensation.

Typical street, people out shopping and chatting

Yummy strawberries! 4 EP per kilo (roughly $1.15 per pound)

Dates from the Siwa Oasis, curing in frankinscence smoke...

Always heavy crowds outside the bread shop

Freshly baked pide is spread out so that they don't get soggy with condensation

Rabbits and eggs for sale at the market (I think they are both eaten)

Hidden among one of the market streets, Chris and I came across an old spice shop. Outfront were bags of dried teas and seeds, with rows and rows of canisters and bins inside, full of mysterious herbs and powders. This is the type of place you'd find a monkey's paw. I went to great length to explain to the keeper that I wanted frankinscence, using elaborate and goofy hand gestures to break our language barriers. Eventually, we found the right sack and I loaded up on a bagful of sap crystals. Supposedly it comes from Saudi, however I suspect there are varieties from all over Africa that find their way to these bazars.

Hibiscus and other dried herbs for sale along the market street

Dried herbs in the spice shop, where I found a bag of frankinscence

Only Chris can eat ice cream for breakfast and not feel guilty...

School boys on break, also excited for ice cream

Chris and I enjoyed 3 days peacefully in Alexandria, simply being tourists and exploring the city. I can't get over how many layers of interesting history have been smashed together in such a small area! I love the mix of ancient, classic, and modern, and the extreme diversity that the city has seen, making Alexandria one of my favorite cities in the world. I envy anyone who studies/lives over here, moreso than Cairo because life is more relaxed here. Definitely hope to come back soon!

FYI

2011-01-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

Just a note to any silent readers I haven't spoken with--
Chris and I are safe and out of Egypt. We did stay around for a few weeks of the uprising, even took a trip along the northern coast!

I'm in the process of updating my blog, however my camera was stolen so I am trying to locate some early pictures saved on a friend's computer...

Our final days in Cairo were very eventful so please stay tuned :)

Cairo (pre-revolution!)

2011-01-24T15:06:00.000-08:00

After and early, pizza-filled, low-key night at the hotel Chris and I woke early to catch our 6:30 am train. Low and behold we entered the lobby downstairs to find our escort already up and waiting for us. He ran as we casually biked to the station.

Catching the train out of Asyut- police escorts behind

Once on the train, we comfortably watched scenes from life on the Nile quickly passing by from our window seats. I barely had time to notice whole towns fly by, unaware of how slow their morning rituals are. Outside the villages an early morning fog hovered to create a thick sea of whiteness, covering the ground and allowing only the tops of the date palms to be seen.

Early morning river fog from train window

We arrived around noon at Giza Station, then biked our way over the bridge to Garden City, a slightly upscale neighborhood where many embassies are located. Chris and I stayed here a few days with a friend and former ASU student, Na'ila, who is currently living and freelance writing for some arts magazines in Cairo. She knew Chris through the Islamic Students Association and Al Hamdulilah for Facebook she invited us over!

Cairo left and right, divided by the Nile

We spent the next few days exploring the ins and outs of Cairo together, getting tips on which street food vendors won't rip us off and sharing endless stories of Egyptian men being creepy and sometimes outright sexually harassing. Chris and I always have attention on us but especially in Egypt and Cairo I face a near constant army of men staring, yelling, hissing, kissing, and trying to talk to me. While on my bike a guy reached out a taxi van window and slid his hand down my back as I passed. So freakin creepy. It's much harder for Na'ila because she is alone.

Chris and Naila entering the Coptic Quarter

Na'ila took us first to the Coptic neighborhood, where we wandered in and around the empty churches, admired the architecture, silently observed Egyptian scenes of Jesus' life and biblical figures exibited through various art mediums, and soaked in the thick clouds of burning frankincense. We even paid some baksheesh to get into a tomb, peering through lattice screens from the women's hidden quarter upstairs.

Coptic Cairo by night

Ladies' view of the pew, upstairs and behind lattice screens

Afterward we went to a chic art gallery to see exhibits by contemporary Egyptian artists. Some pieces were interactive, some mixed media, others photography and paint exhibits. Outside in a garden sat what looked to be a large tomb; inside a table with bottles of snake venom and a warning that tonight the hallucinogenic drink would be free. (It was actually just water but fun to take the first sip)

Testing the weight of the glass floor inside the Darb1718 Art Gallery

Same man, many disguises

Mystery snake venom tomb

Entering the snake tomb

Hallucinogenic Snake Venom

Then a large crowd of hip and in-the-know Cairians gathered to sit on plush orange bean bags strewn across the lawn, comfortably watching Egyptian electronic ("egyptronica") performers playing from the gallery's rooftop. I am glad to see and experience this unique atmosphere, but simply sitting to listen to sounds of the moog is not my cup of tea.

Egyptronica at Darb 1718

Chris and I also rode our bikes over to the National Egyptian Museum, an enormous warehouse full of ancient artifacts and statues. The interior is that of an old British library; dusty and stuffed full of worn, wooden cases. I was incredibly disappointed in the complete absence of labels, English or otherwise. At best they might say the carbon date or pharonic period, but overall nothing in the museum actually taught or enlightened visitors about the life, culture, habits, etc., of the Egyptian people.

Outside the Egyptian Museum

I'm glad I took several archaeology courses and have a fairly good knowledge base already, but then what is the point in coming to a museum? On the plus side, highlights include a display case of ancient wigs (have you seen 3000 year old hair??), Tutankhamen's bust, and several rooms full of papyrus scrolls depicting hieroglyphs and Greek scribbles.

No cameras prohibited inside, so we capture the public statues

Our first (and only) sphinx outside the National Museum

Na'ila took us to meet a friend and explore the grand Khan el-Khalili bazaar, the endless maze of Egyptian treasures. Without realizing we arrived on a Sunday night, all the shops were closed down. Instead, we wandered around the Islamic quarter, a street of magnificent mosques and old shops that is colorfully illuminated at night.

Strolling the well-lit cobblestone cooridor on Muizz Street

Minbar at the Qalawun Complex, Along Muizz Street (Islamic Cairo)

Ancient architecture on Muizz Street (Islamic Cairo)

Inside a han, from the early Islamic-Ottoman dynasties, inside Islamic Cairo

A note about biking:
Despite the insanely traffic-clustered streets we have found Cairo to be fairly easy and enjoyable to navigate through. This is mostly because it is flat and we can slip passed cars by sliding along the side gutter gaps, allowing us to bike faster than cars and reaching "far" distances sooner than we would by metro. Having said that, I will admit we are almost constantly suffering headaches due to the smoggy pollution and exhaust.

Beautiful, old buildings on every corner

One afternoon Chris and I biked over above the citadel to Al Azhar Park, a beautifully landscaped greenspace overlooking the city. The park was created by the Agha Khan Trust for Culture, as part of a historical preservation project, helping to recapture and renovate the land, as well as creating "lungs" for the city.

Fountains at Al Azhar entrance, where families splash around

Young couples and families picnicing at Al Azhar park, overlooking Cairo's cityscape

Peaceful picnis at Al Azhar Park

Dusk and mosques from Al Azhar Park

From there we popped in to the Khan el-Khalili bazaar (again), a series of long streets bustling with Egyptian goods and tourists. Most of it is just highly marked up Chinese junk, and everybody says as soon as you enter you will get ripped off. Lucky for us we don't want to stock up on pyramid paperweights or shiny belly dancer costumes.

Open all night: Khan el-Khalili street vendors

Sheesha browsing inside Khan el-Khalili

Over in the Islamic quarter is the sheesha street, where dozens of sheesha supply shops await entrepreneurial cafe owners. After about a half dozen shops Chris decided on the place, where a trio of Muhammeds helped assemble 5 sturdy and ornately decorated sets. They are more expensive than most other options we saw, but definitely higher quality. Next trick will be trying to find a way to pack them on the plane!

Personalizing all the parts of pieces of Chris' sheeshas

Chris and Muhammeds 1, 2, and 3, the sheesha salesmen

Chris' first set! Hookah lounge here he comes!

Before leaving town we stopped at our favorite street stall, where fhuul (bean) sandwiches are 20 cents. Not only beans, but any combo of falafel, egg, egg stuffed falafel, deep fried egg, eggplant, babaganoush, salads, fried potatoes, and chips can be arranged. I'm partial to bean, boiled egg, and eggplant pide, a protein packed meal I've been severely lacking. We also ran across a small series of protestors out in the streets. Small and civil, nothing outrageous, which made us scoff a bit about the rumors of big demonstrations to come.

Street meals: falafel, fried eggplant, boiled eggs, beans, pickled veggies... all delicious!

One of the first protestors we ran across

Small, orderly protests before the Big Day

Police units are organized (if not nervous!)

This time we departed from Ramses Station, which is under heavy construction. Navigating through ply board passageways and with a near constant sprinkling of dust from overhead rafters, we booked seats on the two pm departure.

Typical Garden City apartment entrance, influenced by early century English gardens

Final train ride- to Alexandria!

Asyut and the Po Po

2011-01-22T14:59:00.000-08:00

Today we woke in the hotel, the one place that seemed ok with police officers sticking us here. Our bathroom is just outside the door, but heck for $6 I can't complain.

Our fancy $4 hotel room in Asyut

As we finally left the building in the late morning a group of police officers were downstairs waiting. They said wait one moment, as if we should also be waiting around for them to ferry us to another check point, but we walked on. What's this? We are in a big city, abiding by normal tourist roles. Chris and I walked in circles for an hour, partly trying to ditch the team of cops trailing us (actually walking with us, taking the orders not to leave our site quite literally), we finally got a group of guys to help us find an internet cafe. Several people we asked refused to help or talk to us because of our entourage.

A little worn, but classy hotel entrance in Asyut (which we were turned away from)

Two of our police escorts waiting outside our hotel

Asyut itself is incredibly unremarkable. As a city it is dirty, crowded, and loud, but can also give a quick urban injection of the bright lights and restaurants and shopping plazas most tourists crave. Quite a change of pace from the tranquil Nile villages. Culturewise there is clearly a large population of Coptic Christians, with several enormous churches and equal numbers of uncovered women. There are also many gargantuan, overgrown estates tucked among the neighborhoods (we explored extensively, trying to lose our officer pals by darting down narrow and one way alleys...), giving the illusion of a once-opulent bourgeois class...

Asyut architecture

From the overpass above Asyut's train, connecting Cairo to Aswan

Chris and I decided to stay another night and take a morning train, so we booked our tickets and ordered a pizza to take down to the riverfront. Such a break from endless falafel and bean sandwiches-- and surprisingly well made! I am suddenly a little nostalgic for Albanian-Italian cuisine.

Feluccas-- still used to cross the Nile

Before takeoff, courtesy Chris' camera

Around twilight we sat by the Nile, watching as a few feluccas drifted between banks, and listening to the chirpy chatter of thousands of birds overhead before heading back to a quiet night in our fondouk.

Playtime on El Neel

2011-01-20T00:37:00.000-08:00

Sohag Checkpoint to Asyut

Distance: 55 km
Time: 3:27:00
Ave Speed: 16 km/hr
Max Speed: 23.2 km/hr
Temp: 15 C
Weather: Cold and foggy until peak noon warmth, no wind

We woke to a thick layer of fog, too thick to even see the road. A new shift of very intrigued policemen awaited us, eagerly insisting we come speak to the captain. He sat in his office, a young guy from lower Egypt, comfortably directing the other officers. He speaks English well and offered us the use of his laptob to check our email.

Early morning fog at the Sohag station

Camping behind the Sohag check point

They finally agreed to let us bike ourselves, as long as their motorcop escorted us. After 20 minutes or so an old man arrived on his bike and we took off. He quickly learned the limitations of our speed, obviously annoyed at our rate of 20 km/hr and constant stops to take photos.

Our police escort

After 30 min or so he finally gave up, speeding away into the fog. The river around Sohag is spectacular; life unchanged throughout the centuries. We watched as people performed their early morning chores-- heading to the fields, cooking breakfast, crowding an outdoor cafe for tea.

Those cows are wearing clothes!

People excited to see foreigners in their village

By noon the sun birned off all the fog clouding the air. We continued along passing village after village. There are hardly any cars on this national highway, probably because everyone takes the train. Its nice not to be surrounded by semis!

Endless fields on both sides of the river

Typical village and mosque, reflecting in the water

Nileside mosque

During a brief stop along the river, in search of some quite time where we don't automatically become swarmed by crowds of screaming children, a man in a truck pulled over to talk with his. His English was fairly good, but he was clearly nervous to speak. We turned down an invitiation to follow him home, only because we really needed 10 more minutes of not talking and explaining ourselves (exhaustion of the same we're American, we've been biking from Albania, we're married, no children, maybe later....).

Standard mud homes-- so eco friendly!

Rare moment of peace and no children

After he left we biked on, turning the corner and immediately found ourselves facing a police truck, patiently waiting. Like old friends, we jokingly climbed into the back and began another parade from checkpoint to checkpoint. The officers are always extremely pleasant, though insistent, and are only following orders.

Sure ok we'll get in...

From the open truckbed we noticed caves up in the mountains, tombs we were told, from Pharonic times. Who knows really how old they are, but they certainly are intriguing. I am shocked there is no tourist circuit set up along here-- such a beautiful place young backpackers could be exploring, especially with homestays. But at the same time I selfishly love that no foreigners come here, a side of Egypt not touched by development.

Pharoah's caves? Perhaps

Sunset over the Nile

Eventually the police took us into a large city, Asyut. They intended to drop us off at a checkpoint, but when we said we had no clue where to stay they drove us to the downtown area. They even took us from hotel to hotel, asking for a room, but we were consistently turned down. After awhile we noticed the pattern of being "full, complete, sorry-- goodbye!" and then watching someone else would walk in and they'd have an opening. One propriator outright refused us a room specifically because we came with the police. Apparently nobody wants these guys around.

Finally we found a place who didn't mind our escorts, right near the train station. Ranging from upscale suites to low key shared-bathrooms, we checked in and climbed up the flights of stairs to ours, happy for a warm night on a real bed.

Warm Milk and a Free Ride (Egyptian Hospitality)

2011-01-19T14:20:00.000-08:00

Near Qena to Sohag Police Checkpoint

Distance: 54 km
Time: 3:26:00
Ave Speed: 15.6 km/hr
Max Speed: 24.5 km/hr
Temp: 14 C
Weather: Cool afternoon, really chilly night

We woke early but stayed in the tent as long as possible, hoping the sun would warm up the air. The nearby kids could hardly wait to get a peak at us, a great encouragement to get up and packed as they grow bolder and creep closer. As we were finally prepared to leave the old men also waiting nearby insisted we sit down for some chai, kindly presenting us with hot, fresh buffalo milk and a chunk of thick, yeasty bread. Slowly a crowd gathered, all intrigued by the strange foreigners, and the men set up a hookah to share. It was homemade from a paint tin and a stick of bamboo. Ingenius.

Yep, that's a paint tin sheesha

Chris joins in the sheesha fun

We said goodbye and began the day's journey along the river, passing by more mud villages, cattle, at least a thousand children yelling emphatically hello!, women washing laundry, robed men riding donkeys, and still more fields. Every village passing seems a similar experience: we ride and wave to the first armed guard, if slow enough he will ask our nationality and inform us he is police. There is usually a mosque somewhere in the distance, maybe across the water, surrounded by water buffalo, donkey carts full of sugar cane or fodder, laundry hanging on a line, children running and screaming at us... There are many sufi shrines dotted along the way, usually small and painted in chipping pastel colors. They add quite an old ambiance to the already 'old world' feel around here.

Colorful laundry spruces up the drab mud and cement buildings...

One of many colorful sufi tombs

Around midday we arrived at the city of Qena, where we stopped for fuel. The only visable option was more falafel, probably the worst I've tasted so far. To add salt in that wound we can't seem to go anywhere without constantly attracting a large crowd of onlookers, mostly boys. We fled to the train station (curious in case we want to ride back into Cairo, evidently we can jump on for 40 pounds) and then to a nearby market to pick up some fruit. I've never seen fruit so cheap! We bought enormous tangelos and tomatoes for .20/ kilo.

Break at the Qena station

Back on the road, we cycled far from town, stopping for tea at a house with a wicker bench out front. The tea of upper Egypt is powdered, kind of like Turkish coffee, so it settles into a thick layer at the bottom of the cups. At first I thought this was sediment from dirty river water, but have decided to use the power of positive thinking to keep from getting sick.

Power biking

While passing a village some robed men waved at us and invited us to stop, saying ftr, or come in! We did, hoping that if all went well they'd agree to let us camp nearby. We sat for tea, encircled by an ever-growing crowd of men and children. All of the sudden a truck of policemen arrived, fully armed, and though pleasantly friendly insisted we get into their vehicle. Sort of baffled but amused, we climbed inside, and together drove to the nearest station. Usually every 2 km or so an old man with a rifle is posted along the road, a traffic cop, always eager to point out he is police. Then at the big stations we are always stopped and required to show our passports, questioned a bit and finally wave by (except when they told us to turn around). This is the type of station we were taken to, told it would be too dangerous for us to bike. The police insisted on escorting us to the next station, refusing to let us camp with a family. Three stations later the men agreed to let us camp behind the building, curious and amazed at crazy foreigners. Apparently nobody has ever biked up the Nile, the officers are completely baffled about what to do with us.

New police friend and internet

The young men eagerly helped us get settled, extremely curious as to how the tent and sleeping pads and bag works, but eventually left us alone. Another chilly night.

Honk for Upper Egypt!

2011-01-19T12:30:00.000-08:00

Luxor to village before Qena

Distance: 69.25 km
Time: 4:26:00
Ave Speed: 15.6 km/hr
Max Speed: 22.4 km/hr
Temp: 21 C
Weather: Cooler days, chilly night

Biking up the Nile (El Neel) sounds nonchalantly easy enough, except when the police get involved. We checked out of our hotel and paid 10 pounds ($2) for a boat to ferry us and our bikes to the less crowded west bank.

To the West Bank round two!

Everything started out beautiful and carefree- my spirits elated from a minor funk as we cycled along a small lane. The villages resemble many parts of India; tropical with mud homes and water buffalo everywhere. We made about 18 km before arriving at a police checkpoint where we were refused passage. Too dangerous. No police. No negotiations.

I really want my own pet camel

So Chris and I had to backtrack south of Luxor to cross the bridge, then bike back through the city again. This time we departed on the main road full of heavy load of traffic. The 'touristic' streets are noticably different from regular Egyptian streets, usually marked with a sign and lined in manicured bouganvilla.

"El Touristic" street, landscaped well

We cycled a few hours on the east side, with the road following directly next to a wide tributary. On our right a continual stream of mud houses and fields, most appearing to be full of sugar cane. Huge truckloads stuffed with cane passed us by, otherwise most of the other traffic was the occasional donkey cart.

Bikes along El Neel

At sundown we pulled over to a cluster of homes where an empty patch of brush was cleared. The man nearby (presumably the owner) replied mumkin (is possible) when we asked permission to camp- all set! We popped the tent and settled in for an early, cold night along the Nile.

Tent time!

Mighty Luxor

2011-01-17T13:08:00.000-08:00

Our train pulled in as scheduled at 5 am, the morning still cold and dark. Not knowing what to do, we decided to splurge on a hassle free hotel room (our 4th on the entire trip) and found one called the Princess, advertising 20 pound ($4) rooms. To pass the time Chris and I waited outside at a cafe drinking 1- pound glasses of tea until the front boy at the hotel counter woke up.

Pre-dawn chai outside the Princess cafe

Egyptians strike me as late morning folk; nowhere we have been shows life before 9 or so. That gave us plenty of time to bike around the nearly empty streets and explore Luxor's infamous temples before the crowds hit. The main temple sits directly at the heart of the town, encircled in a low, barely obtrusive fence. It's obelisk and double flanked entrance leads to a lane of pillars, with the street of sphinxes extending out the opposite direction. New sphinxes are apparently still being uncovered, as they now lead all the way down to the temple of Karnak.

Crazy 8's outside the Temple of Luxor

Obelisk and double flanked entrance to Luxor

One of many babs into the Temple of Karnak

Heiroglyphs on the bab (gateway)

Chris and I spent the majority of the day along the Nile, watching the luxurious ferry boats and feluccas bobbing in the water. We even ate pizza from an Italian kitchen near the expensive hotels, because the falafel sandwhiches we've been surviving off of have lost their charm.

Temples make us sleepy...

Internationally accomodating fleet and ferries along the Nile

Pizza time! Oh Albania, I miss your abundant Italian cuisine

There is almost nothing else to do or see inside Luxor after viewing the temples. We tried to find the hidden life of the town by exploring the back alleys and streets away from the horse drawn carriage tourist streets, but found little more than dirty, crowded alleys full of kids. I didn't feel so well so Chris bought a roasted chicken to go and we settled in for the night, watching Ted Talks on the wireless in our room.

Sketch mode

Roasted street birds

Out of the Sinai

2011-01-15T04:28:00.000-08:00

El Tor to Luxor

Distance: 52.7 km
Time: 5:17:00
Ave Speed: 10 km/hr
Max Speed: 46 km/hr
Temp: 35 C
Weather: hot hot like an Albanian summer

Yeah we made the train!

Al hamdullilah we finagled our way into a sleeper cabin heading from Cairo to Luxor, arriving at 5 am. Today we woke in the Sinai, outside the town of El Tor, and managed to hitch our way over 300 km across the Suez and into the capital.

Empty highways cutting through the Sinai mountains

We had fully intended on taking the ferry from Sharm to Hurghada, but low and behold when we showed up the guard informed us they closed the ferry line. Maybe they are afraid of a bomb. This information is not posted online so word to whoever may be traveling in the area!

Yachts outside of Sharm El-Sheik (but no giant ferry)

Our tent last night was unknowingly pitched at the edge of a family's garden, and in the morning they invited us to come inside for tea and freshly baked bread. They live in a small cluster of concrete rooms built by the family and decorated with tattered rugs and, in most cases, large religious posters (usually of Mecca). We sat with them near the morning firepit in a shaded backyard enclosure.

Sheik Christopher wakes near a house

Daughters and sisters roll out and bake the bread daily

The women were cooking it themselves, on a fire inside the cap of a 30 gallon drum. Their warm bedouin tortillas were delicious, served with cream and a tahini-grape molasses mix. The patriarch of the family (Abu something, we didn't catch that) sat by us, smoking a hookah made from a Coke bottle.

Bedouin sheesha and sugar tea= American coffee and cigarettes

Chris and I were presented with warm bread, sweet cream, and tahini-molasses

The first carful of Sharm-working guys we hitched with took us along the flat, empty, Nevada-desert-like landscape of western coastline (for unknown reasons this seaside has been left 100% untouched). They dropped us in Suez; from there an older man with a truck stopped on his way to Cairo and amazingly enough took us all the way to the southwest area of town, weaving through, on average, 6 lanes of stop-and-go traffic.

Women and daughters rest in the shade while walking the animals to graze

Cairo is a disturbingly crowded city ringed by foreboding brick slums. Many of the buildings seem to be highrise brick without any windows, strange skeletal towers. Inside near the Nile are the wealthier neighborhoods, though we didn't get a good look during our race to the train station. We will be back at the end to fly home, until then we can just enjoy what we call our "Hilton resort on wheels".

Comfy cozy another train ride

Diving in Dahab

2011-01-11T04:20:00.000-08:00

Taba to Dahab

Distance: 29 km
Time: 2:17:00
Ave Speed: 12.7
Max Speed: 52.4
Temp: 25.4 C
Weather: Oh so hot and sunny!

Chris and I woke very late in our isolated Taba beach dwelling. Actually we woke early with the sun but I had been awake all night with the flu and intense body shivering so I was super tired. I rolled over and tried to block the sun for every last bit of rest my exhausted, aching body could absorb. Entirely not enough.

Morning in Taba (note the sun at a noon position)

We discovered Chris' glasses underneath his sleeping pad, busted in two. He got to bike blinded behind me while I warned him with shouts of "pothole!" and "glass!".

The road along the Sinai coast juts between deep blue ocean and dry, barren mountain rocks, without a sign of greenery or life. The exceptions to this are the random conglomerate resorts like Hilton and Club Med that appear, over the top and energy guzzling with their landscaped grass lawns and 100% imported supplies. Most of them follow a Saudi desert palace theme, and there are skeletons of dozens more in the process. In the last few years there have been large suicide bombings at these type of resorts, blamed on the bedouin who feel that their land has been taken away. I don't by that-- it sounds like scapegoating to me-- but all is luckily quiet for the time being.

Clear waters at an empty Sinai beachfront (the only empty cove we saw)

We climbed a few hills, disappointed slighty that the road didn't closely follow the water, and also feeling quite dehydrated in the strong sunlight. From Nuweba we caught a ride in a water delivery truck who carried us over the steep mountain pass to the Dahab turnoff.

After passing yet another checkpoint, (Egyptian roads apparently have them everywhere to check for bombs or something) Chris and I coasted down the hill to the beach town. We've been couchsurfing here in Dahab with the most fabulous couple- avid divers who run a conservation NGO. They lived a few years in Maritus, where their team of staff work with local fishermen to convince them not to kill the dugon, or sea manitee, that accidentally wash into their nets. Now they mostly manage from abroad, with a small office and staff here. Not a bad life!

With our CS hosts

Our hosts are also amazing cooks, and vegetarian. Upon arrival we feasted on a veggie, beans, and creamy mashed potatoe bake. The next night during their arabic lessons I baked eggplant pizzas, which luckily turned out well.

Delicious dinner with Patricia and Chris (and Chris)

Chris and I spent the days scuba diving, something we've been looking forward to since getting certified in Thailand. Dahab's beach boardwalk is lined with mostly wooden, mostly low key, lounge bars and restaurants, as well as dive shops, markets, and hotels. Overall it's still relatively small scale, lacking buildings over 2 floors, and not too outrageously priced, at least compared to Sharm El-Sheik. There has been a recent explosion of Russian tourists, however, who come with tons of money to blow, and thus the local vibe is shifting from the hippie getaway to a more refined high market.

Dahab's boardwalk, lined with lounge bars and dive shops

Chris enjoys hearty Egyptian koshari: rice, pasta, noodles, fried onions, lentils, garbanzo, and spicy tomato sauce

Twilight at the beach

Just away from the boardwalk the neighborhoods are full of new apartments and old, crumbling ones; the streets are teeming with herds of goats, thankfully munching away at the garbage that accumulates everywhere. Every so often we spotted a very white, European woman walking hand in hand with a young, half-Egyptian child. Apparently there is a trend of ladies who come for a beach holiday or yoga get-away, then fall in love with a bedouin man and decide to stay. In locals slang, that's called 'sampling the snackbar'.

Goats a plenty in Dahab!

Yoga retreat lures the women in... "snackbar" bedouins get them to stay!

We arranged diving with a shop out on the edge of the boardwalk: Adventure Spot Dive, a team of super friendly Egyptians with a few expats on board. Our instructor, Ahmet, spoke perfect English and has 16 years of dive experience. The first day he took us on a (manditory) refresher dive, to a central spot called the Lighthouse. In the shallow water we quickly reviewed our underwater skills, such as mask clearing and bouyancy, then decended for an exploration dive. The shore dropped off at a high angle allowing us to get down to our 30 m easily. At the bottom were a few scattered jugs with fish living inside, playing peekaboo as we glided passed. Outside of diving I forget why it's so amazing- then as soon as I'm underwater I instantly realize how beautiful underwater life is, a hidden world of fish and corals. I am reminded of my desperate desire throughout childhood to grow flippers and become a mermaid.

Adventure spot, our dive shop

Juvenile Lionfish [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/], plentiful at the Lighthouse

Between dives at the Lighthouse

After surfacing we detanked and drove to another sight at the edge of the boardwalk, away from the populated areas. This site is called the Eel Gardens. After a swim out over some coral we decended between more coral plumes, then down a long sandy shore. The white sand almost looked like snow. Suddenly we noticed that in all directions were hundreds of tentacle-like worms, sticking up about 2 feet from the sand and waving rhythmically in the current. Eels! They are pencil thin, long, and as we swam near they would sink back into the ground, always forming a ring around us. We also saw a ton of red sea puffers, though try as we might we couldn't get them to puff.

Creepy eels from the Eel Gardens [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/]

Sinai Puffer! [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/]

The next day we went early to meet for our slightly farther dive, requiring a truck ride north of town to a place called the Canyon. Along the way are hundreds of camels and bedouin, ready to take tourists on rides along the beach.

Camel rides along the beach...

Out on this stretch of beach are no hotels, only a handful of wooden beach restaurants and divers. We jumped into an area called The Bells, a shaft of coral and rock that makes an eerie echoing sound as you swim down. Unfortunately, my flu has died down to merely a killer sinus infection, so when I began to descend the otherwise unnoticed airbubbles in my head cavities began throbbing, making my forehead hurt like I had a pen jabbed into my skull. I started freaking out. I couldn't equalize. I was whirling in the bubbles desperately trying to blow out my ears and make the pain stop (point being, I didn't hear the bells).

Blue Hole beachfront awaiting divers

Aerial view of the Blue Hole [courtesy aquaviews.net/must-dive-sites-dahab-blue-hole/]

Suiting up! Its diving time!

Eventually it all worked out and our trio moved along, following an endless coral wall that dropped down into oblivion. Coral walls are amazingly vivid, this one with wispy white flowery bulbs fluttering in the current. Millions of fish of all sizes scamper in and out, some pecking at the coral, others at my face (tiny blue ribbon fish that occaisionally mistook my lips and ears for a snack).

Swimming down the Bells [courtesy www.responsibletravel.com/copy/dahab-dive-sites]

We drifted in the current along the wall until reaching a big hole, appropriately called the Blue Hole. Here is where free divers plunge to insane depths without a tank or gear- just one deep breath to get down as far as possible. Inside the hole I watched one diver slowly ascend to the surface in his long thin flippers.

Free diving atthe Blue Hole [courtesy http://aquaviews.net/]

Before heading home Chris and I rocked Dahab in true form by drinking a strawberry smoothie at a plush beach bar. We could only afford one between us, but that's ok because the shady booth and sea breeze was all we were after...

Post-dive rest on the pillow lounge

Oh and yes, Chris did find a clever welder to solder his glasses back together.

Chris' mended specs

Biddo

2011-01-08T02:30:00.000-08:00

Following Mahmoud's instructions, we took a shared van to Biddo, where his family lives. To get there the van passed through a long series of tunnels; crossing under one of many guarded fences that keeps Palestinians from being freely mobile. Clever planning has created borders of strategic fences and walls around Palestinian villages (or village clusters) so that at any time if the Israelis decide to quaranteen them all they have to do is shut down one check point.

Hey let's a build a fence for world peace!

Breakfast with Om and Abu Hussein

Mahmoud's father was born east of here, and at 6 years old his family fled to this region. Their village is one of a few built around the beautifully terraced jabels, slowly shrinking as the Israeli walls come closer to make room for settlements. The architecture is strikingly different: Palestinian homes are organically built by hand out of cement while the Israelis live in carefully planned cookie-cutter homes in neat rows.

Israeli settlements on Palestinian hills (security road shown below)

One day Mahmoud took us on a tour of the villages, pointing out the fence and settlements, views toward Tel Aviv and the coast, Jerusalem, and the wadi where he was once shot at by Israeli soldiers. Everyone has a lot to say about how dehumanizing and unjust the Israeli occupation is, and really can you blame them?

Walking around, looking at settlements

Mahmoud's mother and father go every Friday to Al Axa (Dome of the Rock) to pray, a journey which used to take 10 min by car. Now they are required to take a taxi into Ramallah to wait in line and apply for a day pass to enter Jerusalem; the whole trip now takes over 7 hours.

With the family in Biddo

While in Biddo we also watched a news report about a group of Israeli soldiers busting into a Palestinian home, shooting an older man in his bed, then realizing Oops! We got the wrong guy! Turns out his nephew downstairs was the one the wanted. No apologies to his wife and family.

I kind of understand how extreme propaganda and brainwashing has shielded Israelis born and raised here from fully understanding their actions against the Palestinians. However, for those who continue to immigrate from secular countries around Europe and America (actually I don't think USA is secular but let's be honest we're pretty Jew friendly), I just can't fathom how they justify their actions.

Tom, Jerry, and the hookah smoking monkey.

It was really hard to get here but I'm glad we came. Even just a few days and it's easier to see (though still hard to understand) the fight for power and control, and the will to go on.

Into the West Bank

2011-01-06T11:53:00.000-08:00

After our marathon interrogation at the Israeli border we were finally given our passports and an ok, just as the sun descended behind the mountains. We biked up toward the highway and were immediately distracted by an herbal shop, featuring dozens of loose herbs, spices, and teas. Tables were set around the room with bowls of aromatic spice mixtures like Mix for Spicy Rice and Mix for Mushroom and Garlic Fish, etc., all the more enticing because we couldnt read the Hebrew ingredients. Bright sensual colors and textures coupled with the bulk foods style bins I love in markets (and Tempe's co-op) had me drooling...

We were welcomed with a 6 hour reception

Herbal goodies in bulk, yum!

Chris and I biked on along the highway in the dark, pulling over to a semi flat area. We set the tent behind some thorn trees, far away enough from the cars to be unseen. In the middle of the night we both woke to the overwhelming stench of sewage, too groggy to do anything but hope it wasn't some toxic Bhopal-like gas. We later learned that the nearby Israeli kabutzim (communal farms) irrigate with filtered sewage water from the large southern city of Eilat, which we wholeheartedly admire on an environmental level but are also a little turned off by the image of camping over sewage pipes.

Camping in the stones

On we biked in the early sunshine. Lots of construction and lack of a shoulder encouraged us to hitch a lift. Plus, we really have no intention to spend any time in Israel. The reason we detoured here is to visit a friend from university who lives near Ramallah, in the West Bank. Curious to see Palestinian life, we sacrificed a ferryride to the warm Red Sea coasts along the Sinai to backtrack up the Dead Sea into the cold northern hills.

Where is Rome?

The two friendly guys who picked us up came from a nearby kabutz, en route to another village cluster. From where they dropped us we waited about 3 hours trying to get a truck to stop, without any luck. Finally a car pulled over and the driver advised that no truck will stop, and kindly agreed to hold our bikes at his house inside the village. We followed him through some farms, down a shady lane toward his house. Not what we expected of an Israeli guy, he seems well educated and not a religious zealot, more like someone from a Roger Clyne APM concert. We hope to talk with him again on our way back south, find out what life born in Israel is like.

Bicycle love

Yes, where are we?

Without the bikes it's usually much easier to hitch, however we still had very tough luck despite frequent traffic. We blame Chris' beard. Eventually, 3 cars and many hours later, we arrived in Ramallah, well after sunset. We waited to meet our friend, Mahmoud, at the Stars and Bucks (yes that's an unregistered copycat like the Kolonat in Tirane) upstairs by the central circle. Mahmoud came with a young, English-speaking girl, and together we went to a chic restaurant in the fancy neighborhood. Judging by Chris' street stall shwarma ($4 compared to $1.50 Jordan, 50 cents Syria, and $1 Turkey) and the $25 pizzas at Stars and Bucks, we quickly decided Ramallah is not the town for us.

Dinner at Sangria, Ramallah a la Scottsdale

Turns out the entire West Bank and Israel are exceptionally expensive, as Israel has one of the highest costs of living in the world. I expected the Palestinian area to be more run down, cheaper and with limited imports. Instead we found large stone mansions and high-end restaurants; I can't understand what their economy depends on.

Hookah and mint lemonade in Ramallah

The following day Mahmoud took us out for many adventures, beginning with a stroll to Yasser Arafat's tomb (next to the compound where they killed him and the soon-to-be museum). From there we looked at the wall and some armed guards, something of normalicy here.

Yasser Arafat's tomb

Bright sunshine for an hour or so, we also went to the outdoor market, where we saw avocados for the first time in years! Even in Albania they are extremely rare to come by (and by that I mean some other volunteer brought them back from a trip to Greece or the States).

In Ramallah's market (avacados not shown, but eaten in great quantity)

Jericho fountain

Mahmoud, Chris, and I hopped in a shared van to Jericho, where we walked up to a rock cut monastery atop Mt. Temptation. The priests inside let us peek inside to the cave shrines and walk along the cooridor to the chapel, full of modern and what I would call New Age frescoes. The waving Greek flag and inscriptions lead me to believe it's a Greek orthodox church, and the nearby caves once housed small community of anti-social monks.

"Banana Land" and Jericho Valley from Mt. of Temptation

Monastery of the Temptation in Jericho

Corridor of the Monastery

View over Jericho Valley

Top secret Jesus stuff

The road to the monastery passes through a delux Russian inspired mansion-- supposedly Putin himself came here. (Afternote: Dmitry Medvedev was visiting in attempt to rekindle the Iraeli peace talks) The guard pointed to a tree across the lawn, also explaining its relation to Jesus. Supposedly this is where Jesus sat for 40 days meditating. Funny, I've heard of someone else meditating under a (mango) tree for 40 days in search of enlightenment... and another one about Muhammad resting 40 days... Talk about exploiting religious tourism! Did you know there are apparently two Lot's Caves? One on each side of the Dead Sea? Traveling through this region is like getting sandblasted by religious fables. And they're not even orginal.

Guardkeeper explains the Jesus tree

Old tree supposedly associated with Jesus

51st State

2011-01-05T06:31:00.000-08:00

This morning we woke comfortably at Katrina and Francisco's apartment. We did the normal tea, packing, toothbrushing routine, then set off toward the border (with a quick falafel and chocolate bar stop, as we hear Israel is expensive). The road to Eilat is somewhat lined with palm trees, surrounded by purplish mountains.

Purple mountains and palm fronds of Aqaba

Approaching the border felt normal enough, and despite my inhibitions about supporting Israel with money or even my attention, I couldn't help but feel refreshed by seeing young, energetic, uncovered, English speaking women commanding the post as compared to the universal theme of old, fat, uneducated men.

Goodbye Jordan!

However these girls and everyone here seems convinced that Chris and I are up to no good, starting with a lengthy game of 20 questions and proceeding to a ridiculously thorough bag and bike search. A team of 10 or so young workers painstakingly routed through all of our tightly packed possessions, dumping (very delicately) everything from every bag and filling plastic bins around the room. They confiscated my sunblock, later interrogating me about them but eventually returning the bottles. It would have all been humorous had it not lasted well over 6 hours. I wish I could have captured the process on film but that's a big No No around here.

We also got strip searched. The female security very thoroughly scanned every inch of me to see if I had hidden weapons or who knows chemical bombs inside my pelvis and breasts. Again, hilarious.

We must appear suspicious because Chris has a beard (Muslim?) and admitted to studying Arabic (minor alarm when flipping through his mosque- and script-filled sketchbook). We also have Syrian stamps and admitted we have a Palestinian friend in Ramallah, who we intend to visit. However the guards are all incredibly nice and I think they believe we are innocent, it's just procedure.

6 hours and counting..

We are now waiting for our passports and approval to enter. The sun is slowly creeping down and I'm afraid our chances of getting to Ramallah today are dashed.

Sun Shining Aqaba

2011-01-03T06:10:00.000-08:00

Somehow Chris and I managed to get ourselves up and out Matt's door by 7 am sharp. Kind of a shame because a thick fog covered the ground and, in addition to being ungodly cold, we couldn't see too much in front of our bikes.

Foggy morning in Qrain

Chilly!

After a brief tea stop at the only market open in the next village we continued onwards, my hands wrapped in plastic bags to keep from freezing. Twenty km from the house we reached the pass, a long downhill that would take us into the deep, lower valley. We happily glided, not really aware of the temperature change (7 to 22 C) until stopping for a rest later (when I promptly and suddenly tore off my scarf and thermals).

Overlooking the Jordan Valley

Foggy mountain pass

The road south continues through the valley, cutting through karst and jagged mountains. On the left we passed Wadi Musa, an area of mountains with bedouin camps tourists can pay to sleep in. It's very nice but in my opinion Sedona is better and I'm not really interested in paying $50 for one night in the camps when we've been camping so often on this trip. We moved on, over 100 km to the port city of Aqaba. Mostly industrial, Aqaba has a large downtown area full of tourists, a few super fancy hotels, and American chain restaurants.

Movenpick decor

Swiss ice cream, yum

Not too overdeveloped though, I guess maybe the port and factories provide enough employment that people aren't desperate for tourism. We stayed two nights with Katrina and Francisco, two Americans employed through USAid to work in small business development. They have a nice house and comfortable enough salaries that even though they basically have Peace Corps roles and frustrations, life is not too stifling for them here.One afternoon Chris and I biked on the southern coast, toward the Saudi border to explore the beaches. We found an empty stretch of sand backed by mountains and facing Israel across the water.

Empty beaches along Aqaba's coast

Coastal road to Saudi

Eilat, the border town, looks like any other western city with a panorama of lights and sky scrapers. Both nights were very relaxing, eating healthy vegetarian food and watching some Al Jazeera with K and F. They have memberships to use the gym at the uber fancy hotel Mövenpick, which includes use of the spa, sauna, pool, and jacuzzi, which makes me very jealous. They go almost daily and thus are very fit, something I actually look forward to when I get back home.

Dinner with Katrina and Francisco

Our final night in Jordan! We are still torn on whether we should go through on a detour to visit our friend in Palestine tomorrow... Neither of us wants to go into Israel or back north into the cold, but it's really quite an opportunity not to be missed.

Peace Corps Life and a New Year

2011-01-01T06:31:00.000-08:00

Biking out of Amarin Village is pretty rough; we left early in the morning after tea with Khaled, pedaling slowly over the rolling hills and finally coasting into town after an hour or so. From Wadi Musa we walked uphill, not stopping until 5 hours later on a cliff overlooking the valley. Another hour later we were pushing along the ferociously windy mountain peak, even higher. Finally the pass inland gave way and we found ourselves near Ayl at sundown. Some girls ran out of a small stone home and welcomed us inside-- after all that we readily accepted.

Bulbous hills around Amarin Village

Wadi Musa (city) and Petra's canyons from above

The family, Egyptian daughters and father, were very excited to have us over. He runs a flour mill adjacent to their house; the young girls go to school and the oldest stays home. Edison, our pcv friend who lives in the village, joined us and we all ate dinner together. My favorite, fhool, accompanied by hummus, olives, tomatoes, and pickled radish. After a few glasses of tea we bid farewell and walked to Edison's house, covered overhead by a deep blanket of stars.

Outside Edison's bait

Ayl is pretty high in elevation, and thus cold. Like our place in Gjiro indoors can be unbearably refrigerator-like, but we huddled by the sobe and stayed cozy. While Edison went to school Chris and I took advantage of the government sponsored Knowledge Station computers. On the third day all three of us set off into the fog, stopping in a nearby village to have tea and meet Edison's counterpart and family. From there we continued through barren land, albeit shwaya (little) sunnier in the afternoon, but terribly windy. So much wind that we had to pedal downhill, the worst.

House visit with Edison's counterpart and family

Sunny but windy ride

Critical Mass to Qrain (Edison and Chris)

Eventually we arrived in Qrain (sort of like Grain but with a throatier Qawf sound), where another pcv, Matt, lives. After a quick tour of his village, stopping in one of two markets for snacks, we bundled up in Matt's house and learned to play Mexican Train Dominoes. He also cooked us a Jordanian dish, cousa mashi, meaning stuffed zucchini.

Culinary pleasures of Qrain's market: "chipz", chocolate, and soda

Matt making cousa mashi, Jordanian stlye stuffed zucchini

Mexican Train Dominoes on a chilly winter night. Ahh Peace Corps.

Time-consuming, it was delicious and worth every squash-hollowing minute. Spontaneously, we decided to follow Edison and Matt on a quick trip up to Amman to celebrate New Years. Their friend, Katrina, an EMdabber from Aqaba, picked us up on her way and together we drove back to the jabels. Easier by car for sure.

We spent the night meeting dozens of volunteers, EMdabbers, Fulbrights, and a variety of random expats. Pizza and alcohol were had in great quantities, then the crowd moved over to a hip French bar to countdown the new year. Normally I would refer to that as watching the ball drop, but in this case it was a sudden screen shot of a Lebanese woman in a studio counting backwards from 10 in Arabic. The crowd of 100 or so Arabs on TV looked pretty excited (Dec 31 is not really new year in the middle east).

Awaiting the New Years party in Amman

Pizza heroes of New Years

The next morning/afternoon a small gathering of people in the apartment we stayed ordered shwarma from Reems to ease their stomachs. We hopped in the car and drive south, back to Matt's village. His landlord, the sheik, or head of his tribe, invited us for tea, which turned into dinner. I relented on the request to visit his wife, but was glad because she was so friendly and showed me tons of photos on their computer. I love looking at people's lives through photography. I kind of make up my own story and feel instantly more acquainted with people when they open up that way. Maybe I'm part of the Facebook generation.

Matt's landlord gives us an Ahlan wa Sahlan (welcome)

Land of the Nabateans

2010-12-25T23:09:00.000-08:00

The road to Wadi Musa is hilly, rolling up and down as it winds through town after town. After a brief stop in Shobak, home to a crusader castle where the insane and cruel Raynald of Châtillon would force his captives to jump a 450 m cliff to their death, Chris and I found ourselves still 30 km away when the sun disappeared.

We decided to hitch with a passing truck, but found it incredibly difficult because the drivers all wanted to charge more money than even a private taxi. What happened to the kindness of strangers? Clearly the atmosphere of Petra's tourism and walking-cash-machine foreigner mentality has seeped into their hearts. Not only would Wadi Musa prove to be difficult, the sheer bombardment of people wanting to sell something, find us a hotel, guide us to a restaurant, etc., left a bad taste in my mouth. We tried to ignore all of the overpriced foreign catches (except the hefty entrance fee of 60 dinar/ $90 that we couldn't sidestep!) but still were forced to buy food at heavily inflated prices. People aren't even shy about saying locals pay one price and foreigners are charged well up to 10 times more. One shwarma restaurant cashier explained to Chris he must triple charge him because it's a government law!

Break time in Wadi Musa

We stayed outside of town in Amarin village, with a couchsurfer host and his Bedouin family, as well as their long term Czech guest and two Australian girls. Our host, Khaled, comes from a family that has lived for centuries in the nearby Nabatean caves of Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon); however, some years ago the government built a small village nearby and relocated the people into homes on the promise of free housing, electricity, and running water.

Tea with Khaled and his cousin in Khaled's house

Chris and I hitched back to Wadi Musa (the once daily morning bus is for school kids only) and spent too much time wandering the steep street shops in search of picnic provisions. There are few if any produce supplies, with disgustingly rotten options, though a wealth of packaged junk foods from all over the world. Even Burger King fries and onions rings! Eventually we made a friend at a restaurant who sold us fresh hummus to go with our pide bread and green pomello.

Bedouins atop the Palace Tombs of Petra

Once inside the archaeological park we followed a stampede of tourists down a long rock path, past an army of bedouins renting out donkey and carriage rides. Almost immediately we came upon several large djinn blocks (spirit houses), enormous cubed rocks where the Nabateans believed they could sequester the spirits wandering about the desert.

One of the larger Djinn Blocks entering Petra

Most of the cubes have temple facades carved into one side; later "god blocks" are small niches carved into the canyon walls.

My favorite djinn block, inside the siq

Nabateans were the bedouin tribes that came to Petra from western Arabia over 2500 years ago. As a society they carved temples and tombs, tricliniums (feasting halls) and cisterns into the valley's sandstone canyon. Almost all of the facades are Hellenistic (and later Assyrian) in influence, with ornately decorated Corinthian pillars, but usually bare inside. They were able to pay off the Romans for a few centuries, though finally in the 1st century AD they finally lost their autonomy and Petra was reconstructed under Roman rule.

Camels have been walking here for 2600 years!

Colorful sandstone walls ornate the Nabatean tombs

The first and more exciting path into the canyon is the siq, a winding ribbon passing between crust that has shifted apart, sometimes only 2 m wide, with a slit of sky 40 m above.

Petra's siq

Narrow siq opens up to the Treasury

Camel caravan engravings in the siq (leaders feet remain)

There are no moments of solitude in Petra. Hundreds of thousands of visitors each year cram into the park, along with hundreds of bedouins and their pack animals, carting tourists around for a few dinar. A nearly constant stream of carriages bellows down the siq, transporting people to the treasury; from there are camel rides through the Street of Facades and Grand Palace; then donkey rides up to the monastery. All the while bedouin men are hawking their animals as Lamborghinis or Ferrari rides, kids try to sell postcards "cheap as chips they ahhr!", and women sit with displays of real and fake jewelry stalls "only looking cheap gift!". If the ticket price didn't burn a whole in one's pocket the entertainment inside will...

Charging chariots inside the siq

Camels near the Street of Facades

The coolest and most ingenious aspect of the Nabatean city is actually the water channel system. Horizontally along the siq is a cut channel system that caught rainwater (diverting it from flooding the siq street) and carried it down to the large cisterns carved into the rocks. From there the water was filtered into gardens that covered huge terraces around the temples. Most of the sandstone carved facades -which are all now barren and lifeless -were for a long time green and covered with gardens. The entire city flourished from this engineered water system, sustaining life, growing local foods, and holding down the dust that swirls about in sudden tornadoes.

Rock cut water channels through the siq

Water channel for garden storage in Little Petra

Of course the most famous scene is when the siq opens up to the megalith carved treasury façade, named thus because of a Bedouin tale that an Egyptian king once hid his treasure here. Made famous by Indiana Jones, this spot is a popular place for photos on a camel, etc.

In front of The Treasury

Then road then leads to an open area, deemed the Street of Facades, Assyrian in design with stepped triangles, because of the many carved temple doorways that lead nowhere. There are also hundreds of caves surrounding where later bedouin tribes squatted for centuries.

Caves near the Street of Facades

Next is the Roman street: a chariot worthy road lined by houses, an agora (markets), and the Grand Palace, almost all of which is completely in ruins today.

Bedouin merchant along the Roman street

Palace Tombs from the Grand Temple

The second day Chris and I arrived very early, hoping to glimpse the Treasury in full light. Unfortunately the winter sun never reaches above the canyon walls so as we waited for a bit of orange to move across the upper statues it just as quickly disappeared. So we decided to go hiking on some of the alternative routes described in our book.

Musician near Petra's siq

Most of the entrances have been blocked off so we walked all the way out of the siq to a longer trail, though as we stepped away the tourist police stopped us, forbidding us to walk the trail unless we pay 20 JD ($28) for a guide to escort us. Annoyed but not surprised, we declined and instead hightailed it through the park toward the monastery.

Bedouin Lamburginis

Up up up we climbed the footworn stone stairs, high above the wadi's ruins onto the windy mountaintop. The stairs finally open to a flat basin. Unlike the Treasury, the Monastery facade does not reveal itself from the street, but rather surprises one who turns around.

The Monastery facade hidden in the cliffs

At the Monastery

Opposite the facade is a cafe where tourists sit to sip lemon mint soda and tea while admiring the view. Chris and I climbed up to a strangely eroded boulder and ate our picnic lunch, resting from the hike, before hiking further to a lookout peak at The End Of The World View. From this cliff it is possible to see endless elephantitis-like blooms of sandstone rolling out in all directions; to the west a sudden flat basin of the Holy Land.

View from The End of The World

We also spent a day exploring Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon), which is also called little Petra. The siq here is much shorter, leading to a few largely ignored temple facades and baetyls (spirit blocks), then up to a wider wadi surrounded by climbable boulder cliffs. Our host Khaled, hangs out here most days, drinking tea with his cousin and playing his flute, which echoes through the canyon.

Sandstone staircases in Wadi Baird

Nabatean tombs in Little Petra (Wadi Baird)

Khaled's wadi and tea stop

Hiking Wadi Baird makes me sleepy

Late in the afternoon Chris and I joined Khaled and Muhammad for lunch: vegetables and lamb roasted over a campfire, with tea and a little hookah, before hiking down through the wadi. The river bed continues on for miles but we stopped after an hour and turned back, with just enough sun left to sit with some tourists before heading
back home.

Walking Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon)

Khaled cooks lunch over the fire

Bedouin lunch in Wadi Baird (Little Petra)

For Christmas we enjoyed a slightly strange ambiance inside Khaled's house. The building isn't really finished, more like a concrete cell that he squats in, and outrageously drafty. All night torrential wind blasts against his windows; I dreamt that I was scrambling around a kitchen with my brother, trying to locate one of thousands of cupboards that was continuously slamming open and closed, very Alice in Wonderland style. I woke and realized that in fact the window panes were being beaten by a severely howling wind, which would have been terrifying had I not been so tired.

One evening we spent with Khaled and his family in their house, watching the popular Turkish soap opera we always catch during home visits. Other nights we hung out with Khaled, Muhammad, and Carlos in the concrete prison, drinking strongly sugared tea and learning about Khaled's tribe. He even served us mansef, the ultimate standard of Jordanian fare: a large tray of rice cooked with chunks of bread, topped with a chopped, roasted goat, and drenched in yogurt.

Eating mansef with Khaled

Goodbye Sea, Hello Mountains

2010-12-24T03:24:00.000-08:00

Al-Mazrah to At-Tafila

Distance: 51 km
Time: 2:46:00
Ave speed: 18.6 km/hr
Max speed: 29 km/hr
Temp: 24 C
Weather: Hot below sea level then coooold up in the mountains

We bid farewell to William in the late morning, then cycled the Dead Sea road further south through the salt flats. Along the way are a few large factories, including the Bromine factory (run by an American company) and Jordan's Potash City. Despite the absolute dry climate people still manage to farm so there are large monocrop fields (mostly tomatoes is seems) on both sides of the road. We passed several bedouin camps, empty and desolate, their inhabitants surviving off the animals products their ancestors have been eating for centuries. (Have I mentioned the traditional bedouin yogurt, leben, which is actually dehydrated and sold in dense, powdery blocks?) The surrounding farms are sprayed in abundance with pesticides, something we witnessed many times en route.

Fields around the Dead Sea salt flats are heavily sprayed with chemicals

Eventually, after passing some small towns and the turnoff to Lot's Cave, we arrived in Fifa, where we turned inland. The road leads straight up into the mountains so we called it a day and hitched a lift with 3 men in a truck.

Chris' new FB profile

They dropped us at the south entrance to At-Tafila, where we would visit Marty, the PCV we met in Amman. He lives at the north entrance so we had to skirt our way around the entire city before climbing a steep hill to his house. The main road through town is the sole commerce street, full of produce stalls, carpentry shops, and a few restaurants near the bus terminal.

Chris and Marty in Tafila's cold streets (note the sketchbook)

We stayed two nights at Marty's place, though he only stayed one. He had planned already to visit his host family and then stay up north for Christmas celebrations, but generously offered to let us stay alone. His landlord, Abu Muhammad, came over to drink tea and visit awhile, explaining to us the herbs and plants in his garden, and showed us his precious seed stash. A nice man, he wears a woolen cap and grey beard; appearing more like a salty deep sea captain than an Arab.

Learning about local plants with , Marty's landlord Abu Muhammad

Chris and I took a trip up just out of town to catch a wireless signal at the university, which was full of young men who literally hooted and hollered as we walked through campus. I cannot imagine this kind of scene anywhere in America, where large crowds of guys display such harassment toward strangers (although I didn't hang around frats much).

Walking in another's shoes. Literally.

On our way home we stopped in a few shops for dinner supplies, then caught a ride back toward town with a passing car; the next day it occurred to us Chris left his sketchbook in the mystery car! All of his pre-trip drawings, notes, and contacts are lost, though we are not giving up hope that- inshallah- word of mouth will connect the driver with Marty...

Dead Sea Activist

2010-12-23T03:35:00.000-08:00

Al Mazrah is a small village on the southern tip of the Dead Sea, sprawling out from both sides of the highway. Surrounded by farms and palms trees, the scenery is close to what I expect in Egypt.

Chris and I enjoyed spending two days in Al-Mazra'ah with William, our CS host. He impressed us from the get-go with his passion for environmental causes, sharing with us his dreams of creating an educational center at his house to teach his community about topics such as water pollution and conservation (this is a key neglected issue around here), sustainable agriculture, and eco tourism.

Chris and William, an eco activist

We discussed ideas for hours, helping to outline and create a working plan to reach his goals. Although William has many neighbors, cousins, and friends (who regularly visited, randomly knocking on his door during our stay), he seems unfortunately estranged from them because of this emerging environmental passion. Maybe because he speaks (and avidly reads) English information on the Internet, or perhaps the new breed of movies (such as Home, which he says enlightened him to the water crisis around the Dead Sea), he needs to get in touch with like-minded people in Jordan who want to also create change. Luckily, we just met quite a few.

William's family outside their traditional mud brick home

The funniest thing about couchsurfing is the accidental false impression one can make on one's host, depending on travel circumstances. For example, Chris and I spent 3 days cycling and camping around hot springs and the Dead Sea, usually covered with flies and dirt, rinsing only in salt or algeified water, so we looked pretty bad upon arrival. Additionally, William's house does not have running water, so we were unable to shower and clean off for another few days. One night while talking, he asked if we are into emo, this "strange group of emotional people". Apparently his cousin had taken one look at us and told William we are part of this culture he read about online, probably into death and sad music. Odd and embarrassing, I can only blame Chris' wild, dirty hair and our scruffy clothes, but we avidly assured William that no, we are far more normal than that, and now slightly paranoid of the ways we might be stereotyped by future hosts.

Chris and William eating goliah; 3 days of sea camping= emo hair

One day Chris and I also took a trip back up the DS highway to hike Wadi Ibn Hammad. Following William's hand-drawn map, we cycled up a steep village road into the mountains, past several Bedouin camps and even an ostridge farm (??), finally arriving at the fields, where a man invited us to stop for tea. Turns out he is William's neighbor, and after calling William to assure him of our safety, he insisted we stay for ftr (lit: breaking fast). A few men and women from the fields returned for their mid day break, and together (me, breaking all social rules and eating with the men while the women secluded themselves inside) we dipped khoubs (bread) into goliah (tomatoes stewed), accompanied of course by sugar water with a smidge of tea.

Bedouin tents and lush farm fields near Wadi Ibn Hammad

The hike through Ibn Hammad lasted several hours, not quite the lush tropical oasis we read about online. We started downriver, and, unfortunately after 2 hours or so found ourselves caught at a large boulder with water cascading over that we couldn't pass. Somewhere up ahead should have been the hot waterfalls and pools, probably surrounded by moss and ferns.

Hiking up Wadi Ibn Hammad

With the sun getting low we decided to enjoy our dead end for a bit; Chris took a pair of scissors and literally chopped off chunks of my slightly ratty hair (this seemed like a good idea at the time, something I have come to regret). As a large flock of goats appeared, suddenly filling the gorge with baaahs and bells (and poop) we set off out of the canyon toward our bikes, cycling downhill onto the highway as the sun dipped behind Israel's mountains.

Sunset behind Palestine and the Dead Sea