Eager to get to Egypt.......

‘We are going to Dahab.’ A woman beckoned toward the van, ‘we’ll give you a ride.’ They were words of magic in my ears.

It had been a big day getting from home in Amman to the Red Sea in Egypt. The boat trip from Aqaba, Jordan to Taba Heights, Egypt was to leave at 12pm which was when my bus from Amman arrived so it was a mad dash by taxi to the Port. The boat had been delayed so that was a relief. However the lovely boat trip was short reprieve for what was to come. No visa for Egypt, I had to wait about an hour for the official to come. A couple didn’t have their name on the passenger list so were sent back to Aqaba. Stuck in an airless small building I wondered if my fate was to be the same. Finally a man came and gave me the go ahead with a stamp and payment made so with a sigh of relief I was allowed to go.

This set the scene as the next month of traveling; peppered with highs, scares and frustrations. Meeting Roula who offered me the ride was lucky. As we rode through the Sinai to Dahab I thought of my next test – finding a bed. However she took care of everything including negotiating a good rate for my own room by the sea. Someone use to sorting out things, she is lawyer in Amman. Speaking Arabic she did all the talking whenever we needed anything. A keen traveler she comes to Dahab whenever she can, and is passionate about snorkeling in Dahab waters. It was lovely eating out with her, snorkeling in the best poises and advice. I went on a day trip to climb Mt Sinai to watch the sunset and enjoyed the sun and swimming. It was idyllic mixed with sadness. The place has changed out of sight since the twenty or so years since I had last been there; a few Bedouin camps scattered on the water edge. Now it is half built abandoned hotels from when three bombs went off in 2005 driving the tourists away, rubbish and an obvious lack of thought in planning.

The travel bug hit after a few days making a massive bus trip from 4pm until 10.30am the next morning to Luxor. However it made me happy beyond feeling tired that I was going places. The only lone woman on the bus, the men didn’t bother me apart from stares and they were helpful. Back to the lush Nile valley and to the touts. Greeted by a chorus of felucca captains singing out and stepping into my path, it’s hard to remember that they just want to make a living. I later learned a great way to avoid all the attention is to pretend you are talking on a cellphone. Hired a bike and enjoyed finding Habu temple – so grand, how did they build that? A cup of tea gazing on the ruins then cycled back through a village meeting a family who invited me to their two dirt floor rooms. As the moon was setting over the fields and the Muslin women bustled past carrying loads of bread on their head I realized I was lost and better get the bike moving in the right direction or it would be dark and I had no lights. A helpful motorcyclist got me on the right road and so the day was saved.

Rose early the next morning to bike to the Valley of the Kings to avoid the busloads. Where do they come from? I never knew there were so many tourists around, sheltered in my seedy hotels. Retracing my steps was great, especially now it is winter and cool. Last time I couldn’t walk and had to take a donkey it was wickedly hot. I particularly enjoyed seeing the tomb of Ramses VI and his son. The entrance façade was carved out of the rock with long inclined rock corridor descending into an antechamber leading to the burial chamber. Decorations were painted all over dealing with the afterlife, taking place around 1550-1069 BC. The colourful market and touts had to be dealt with next, now why didn’t that bother me? The next day was a bit of a bummer with the train delayed for three hours to Aswan, which meant more stress as none of the announcements were in English so back time and time to the stationmaster to track progress. This is no Japan. The next day travel weary set in as I suffered an awful trip in the bus with tourists starting at 3.30am to Abu Simel but it was worth it. The temples were remote and fell into disuse and were covered in sand until the British discovered them in the late 1880s. The building of the Aswan dam created Lake Nassar and would have completely submerged Abel Simbel except in 1965 UNESCO approved the raising 200ft and 600ft sideways to the edge of the lake. Cutting 30 ton blocks, reconstruction was exactly the same as the original. It was breathtaking rounding the corner to see the temple for sheer size and grandeur. Old King Ramses sure thought a lot of himself. Enjoyed learning about the Nubians and the Philae temple and more fun at the market drinking straight orange juice in lieu of beer which is hard to find.

Back on the bus again peering at the Nubian houses through dirty windows, with polystyrene squeak, a rattly old bus bound for the Suez Canal – another biggie; to see the ships heading into a channel. I found it mesmerising watching the ships go by and could have sat there for hours but no....time to pack up and head off. A couple of nights sleeping in a grass hut by the sea (at 15 Egyptian pounds a night it was pretty basic!) and back to Amman in prep for mums arrival.