That's it for now, I promise

The next day, where are we now, eleven?, I take a quick tour of Amman, a sprawling relatively-new capital built originally on seven hills much like Lisbon and Rome, but now more than three times it's original size with a recent population explosion thanks to an influx of Palestinians. There’s a noticeable modern vs traditional look to Jordan’s largest city and guess what?....there’s a protest going on. This one’s over a recent 200% increase in gas prices, thanks to a spiralling debt and therefore a clawback of fuel subsidies. Amazing what you can learn from a Jordanian taxi driver with limited English skills. King Abdullah, the reigning monarch for well over a decade, retains his immense popularity, despite these difficulties and a rising tide of Islamists. From a few of the stories I’ve heard he either has a remarkable ability to connect with the majority of his subjects, or he has an excellent PR department.

It’s time to head to the Dead Sea to attempt to defy countless millenia of physics and actually sink in the saltiest waters in the World. Shockingly I don’t. It’s as if I’m lying in a gigantic water bed, try as I might I can’t force myself to submerge, a remarkable experience.

So it’s goodbye to Jordan, it’s been a short visit, but I’ve been won over by the spirit of the people here. I’m off to Egypt, after a quick check that I have my passport.

I’m flying to Sharm-el-Sheikh, a resort on the southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula, well known for it’s amazing reef and therefore some fantastic diving and snorkelling. I’m feeling a bit run down so two days of beach time should be the perfect cure. Turns out it is. I forgo the diving in favour of snorkelling, and it certainly lives up to the hype. 

Sharm is quite disappointing, packed to the rafters with Russians, it reminds me of Niagara Falls with a beach instead of a waterfall. Sharm is certainly easy on the eyes, but the people here are a little hard on the ears. I remind myself that I’m in a resort town and as such I’m not going to see the best side of the Egyptian people.

I suppose the highlight of this leg of my journey is splashing around in the Dead Sea and the Red Sea on the same day. The lowlight would be having my feet eaten alive by mosquitos on the final night, leaving me barely able to walk the next morning.

Thankfully I’m flying to Cairo, not walking, and it looks as if my sense of brilliant timing will accompany me. Today is the first day that both pro- and anti-Government marches will be held on the same day since President Mursi accepted power. Chances are that this will not end well, so my plan changes to take a quick peek at the Pyramids and fly south to Aswan sharpish.

At Cairo airport I go through the now familiar process of starting my negotiation at half of what the taxi driver initially offers, and we usually settle at around two-thirds of the initial ask. I’m certain that these guys are still well ahead, so I don’t feel bad, it’s part of the game.

We leave the airport and I don’t see another soul for ten minutes. I thought this was supposed to be one of the most densely-populated cities on the planet with some 30 million inhabitants. The first person I see is driving in reverse down the highway. I know drivers here have a reputation for fearlessness but that’s simply suicidal. The next people I see are crossing the highway. Later in my one hour journey to the hotel, this becomes a fairly routine sight. There are men just hanging out on the side of the highway, as tow truck drivers would, but without the security that a tow truck offers as vehicles of all shapes and sizes hurtle in their general direction. Absolute chaos (even worse than India), and interestingly everyone just toots their horn and gets on with it, no road rage, no drama. Every single vehicle is dented and scratched, which isn’t surprising. As far as the eye can see there are dirty-looking, mid-rise apartment buildings, most with windows missing, it’s a fairly grim sight that’s compounded by the pollution. Smog hangs thick and at times it’s better to give the lungs a break by smoking a cigarette than breathing Cairo’s air.

After settling in to my luxurious digs that overlook the Pyramids and are far away from the troubles downtown, I wonder outside to be greeted by a young man who claims that we met briefly met as I checked in. My short-term memory isn’t what it was (which was sub-par in the first place), but I know for sure I didn’t encounter him. I play along, knowing he’s going to offer me ‘hospitality’ and see where it takes me. The answer is to a perfume shop. His father Kamal comes in and presents the same one-liners verbatim. In addition he tells me he’s a great healer, paragon of health, current mayor of Giza and that he counts Eric Clapton amongst his friends. He asks me to guess his age and I offer 56 (being kind), he tells me he’s 44. I suppose he’s too busy taking care of his clients to give himself some much-needed attention.

We haggle over a couple of small bottles, but once a price is agreed, he’s gracious again and offers me a ride to see the sound and light show at the Pyramids, I accept. The show lasts 50 minutes, about 45 minutes too long, and the most memorable parts are the use of terrible laser lighting, and how the Sphinx, who narrates the story, sounds eerily like the Emperor from Star Wars. Kamal asks his sons to take me to a belly-dancing show, but his sons basically describe it as a brothel with mostly under-age girls. Yikes. I decline and call it early, ready for a big day of sight-seeing.

3 days to go - Disaster strikes. After a suspect breakfast, I start feeling the unmistakeable rumbles of gastroentiritis. A rough day ensues, talk about terrible timing, this is supposed to be my day with The Pyramids of Giza, I’ve yearned to visit for as long as I can remember. I eventually muster up enough energy to head out and snap a few pictures. A guide leads me to his parked camel and for a delusional moment I decide it’ll be the best way of seeing as much as possible in a short space of time. Big mistake. You’ve obviously heard of camels spitting at people, well today the tables were turned, and I vomited on a camel. Tellingly, the guide still didn’t want me to get off as he feared that would jeopardise his chances of extracting the maximum amount of tourist money from me. Another example of some rather obnoxious people I’ve encountered in Egypt. It doesn’t just stop with those in the tourist industry either, regular folk will blatantly push in line, trample each other getting off a plane, thoughtlessly discard litter and generally behave in a manner that we’d consider to be inconsiderate in the West. Sure the differences are cultural, but there is such a thing as respect and I’ve not found it to be in large supply in Cairo or Sharm. I have a feeling that will change and I’m going to do my best to allow it to happen, which honestly I didn’t today, as most of you know, I’m grumpy when I’m sick.

To compound matters my flight to Aswan is delayed by over two hours and I arrive in Egypt’s third-largest city weary and bleary-eyed at 2am. However, I feel different. The negativity of Cairo is gone, and a new environment brings a new attitude at the end of a testing day.

Drawing back the curtains and being blinded by the sun as it reflects off the Nile, is the best start to a Monday morning in recent memory. I’ve arranged a ‘felucca’ for the afternoon, a sailboat, and the primary mode of transportation along the Nile for centuries. We sail around Elephantine Island, and generally take in daily life on the world’s longest river. There’s no real breeze to speak of so it takes us longer than expected to reach Kitchener’s Island, which boasts a gorgeous garden and from there it’s on to a Nubian restaurant. Every meal brings with it a level of trepidation, but I survive this encounter without any further stomach churning. Unfortunately that feeling does return later that afternoon, thankfully when I’ve got back to the hotel, and it’s at this juncture that I make the maddeningly frustrating decision to pass on a trip planned for tomorrow to Abu Simbel, one of the true highlights of Egypt. There’s no way I’m going to be able to do 9 hours of travelling in one day, as well as tour the various attractions that I want to see. Frustrated, I settle in to watch some Egyptian TV which almost exclusively features bearded men yelling at other bearded men, and a bearded Dr.House yelling at anyone in sight. In short, lots of beards and yelling.

My penultimate day starts with me chilling by the hotel’s infinity pool all morning, followed by an arduous train journey to Luxor, my departure point. I feel better about my decision not to go to Abu Simbel, as I’m still not even close to feeling like myself.

Upon arrival in Luxor, I realise that I’ve booked my hotel on the wrong date, but the staff take pity on the weirdly pale-looking-tanned brown guy and offer me a room at the same rate.

As I head out for dinner, a ritual I almost dread now, partly because of feeling sick but also as eating alone is starting to wear thin, a fight breaks out between two taxi drivers. It turns out that I’m the cause. Times are tough in Egypt’s tourist industry as visitors are staying away because of the continuing unrest. Those reliant upon tourists to help feed their families are becoming increasingly desperate and perhaps this explains much of the aggression that I’ve witnessed. The conflict dissolves as they both realise that I’m walking back in to the hotel. Hopefully there won’t be any flying fists at the buffet they’ve laid on.

Given how sick I’ve felt, the last couple of days have really dragged on, but now that the last day of my trip is upon me, a sadness engulfs me as I feel I haven’t done as much as I wanted to on this trip. I quickly put it to the back of my mind and I’m out early to take in the sights of the Valley of the Kings (final resting place for Tutan Khamun, or King Tut as his friends used to call him), Queens Valley, the Temple at Hatshepsut (affectionately-known as Hot Chicken Soup to the locals), as well as Karnak Temple. 

Both the temples are fantastic, particularly the latter, which I learn is Egypt’s second most-visited attraction, and also the largest ancient religious site in the World. I wish I had more time, but don’t we all at the end of anything we’ve enjoyed?

To sum up, I wasn’t blown up or kidnapped, but did get shot at, arrested and poisoned. Many factors conspired against me but I felt I made the most of the trip. I thought I did a decent job of brokering a peace deal between Hamas and Israel, and averted serious conflict in Egypt. Unfortunately you can’t escape politics and religion in this part of the World, which are the two central problems that are causing the conflict. At least religion offers some of the people hope, whereas the politicians are simply hopeless, as none of them seem interested in conciliation and therefore finding a peaceful solution to the region’s troubles. It’s a shame, as it’s such a beautiful, culturally-rich, history-soaked part of the World, a place that could be so much more if it weren’t for the people in charge.

Glutton for punishment

Akko is a great little town. I’m awoken to the sounds of prayer coming from the mosque’s PA system. It’s a lot more soothing than the blaring of sirens and really for the first time, I feel a long way from the conflict. As it’s a Saturday, ie Shabat (sabbath), a huge number of Jewish visitors are flocking to a predominantly Arab town. The souk (market) is a lively affair, and the whole town leaves me marvelling at the camaraderie and spirit that exist between the people here. They all seem to know each very well and as a result it’s a warm, friendly place.  

The drive eastward to Tiberias and the Sea of Galilee is a scenic one. It’s a less arid region with small towns of mostly cubular (is that a word?...it is now), sandstone-coloured buildings clinging to the edges of the hills and sprawling in to the valleys below. The sea itself is really a small lake by Canadian standards, but it’s a picturesque setting with mountains rising up above on all sides.

Later, I learn of serious unrest in Egypt, particularly Cairo. Fantastic news, as I’ll be there in a few days. I’ve already cancelled plans of climbing Mount Sinai and spending a night in a bedouin camp, as it’s deemed too dangerous to travel in that region presently, so I really hope the situation doesn’t worsen.

An early start with a good breakfast (the food in Israel hasn’t been the best so far) and a stroll along the lakefront, are followed by a bus trip to the border with Jordan. I approach the border patrol only to realise that my passport is still in the safe at the hotel an hour’s drive away. Much frustration ensues. Two hours later I’m back at the same place with one important difference. 

The process at the border is shambolic at best and I emerge two hours later squinting in to the Jordanian sun. During all the waiting around I meet Nick, a young chap from England who has just spent 6 months in the West Bank, living behind the wall that separates the occupied territory from Israel. He tells me some fairly gruesome stories of Israeli military brutality against the Palestinians with whom he was living. Tales of torture and imprisonment of children as young as 8 years old are not easy to hear without having utter contempt for the aggression employed by the Israeli forces. Nick himself was tear-gassed the day before. His description of the feeling being akin to chopping a really strong onion lightened the mood a little.

We share a cab to Amman, the capital, and he continues on to the airport. He’s clearly excited to see his girlfriend for the first time in half a year. She happens to be from Barrie, Ontario. Big planet, small world.

At last, Petra. Shockingly early start and my excitement-induced insomnia has struck again. At least I won’t miss the 6.15am bus. Jordan’s most visited tourist destination and one of the modern Seven Wonders of the World, is located in a mountainous, arid region 3 hours south of the capital. The small town of Wadi Musa (Valley of Moses) buzzes with predominantly tourist-related activity. I’m glad to be here during the low season as the crowds are not insignificant.

Stunning, magnificent, awe-inspiring are grossly inadequate terms to describe Petra. Walking through The Siq is my favourite part of the experience and when it opens up to reveal the great Treasury it really does take my breath away. I make it as far as the recently-discovered Temple and I’m ready to call it a day. This is when the fun begins.

I stop at Ibraheim’s Coffee Shop and start chatting with a few of the Bedouin locals. They are extremely engaging, with a wicked sense of humour. I’m invited to drink tea with them, an important part of being truly welcomed in Bedouin culture, and I’m honoured to. This is why I love travelling so much, as I learn how the Jordanian Government entrust the Bedouin people with maintaining the essence of Petra, as opposed to the supposedly more-refined Musa-Wadians, who care more about lining their pockets with the tourist dollar. Many of the Bedouin live in caves within the City itself and have done so for many generations. Somewhat surprisingly most of them are married to Western women, including my new pal Ahmood, who will soon be living in his cave with his wife, previously from an affluent suburb of Montreal.

Ahmood takes me to the Bedouin village, a side of Petra that not many see. As the sun sets, the temperature drops sharply and my Bedouin buddy decides that the best way to keep warm is by drinking whiskey. The story of the rest of the night is best told in person.

After a groggy start I make my way back down to Petra. I can see why people move here from all corners of the World, The Siq has the ability to enchant on a daily basis. I run into my friends and they decide it’s time for me to take my first donkey ride all the way to the Monastery, arguably Petra’s most recognisable building. It’s an interesting journey, as my donkey seems to have a complete inability to travel in a straight line, which is particularly disconcerting when we’re climbing narrow, steep stairways with drops of several hundred feet on either side. I christen him Snake Donkey and decide to trek back on foot as walking down stairs is not Snake’s forte. I’m sorry to bid my friends farewell, they’ve really helped me understand the life of the Bedouin and the charms of Petra. I vow to go back, and some day I will, with a real camera.

So you came back for more?

Jerusalem - Felt suitably reassured when a couple of mean-looking Israeli soldiers complete with semi-automatic shotguns get on the bus with me for the one hour journey to the World’s holiest city.

I head straight to the old part of town which is split into quarters, the Armenian, Christian, Muslim and Jewish areas all have a distinct flavour, but the latter two really stand out for me, in fact I’m not sure if I saw anyone in the Armenian section at all. That’s in stark contrast to the Muslim section which is an all-out assault on the senses (perhaps not the best choice of phrase given the circumstances), with heavy aromas of coffee, spice and smoke filling the air, thousands of vendors gesticulating wildly in between puffs on the sheesha, kids running about with carefree abandon, honestly it’s a madhouse, then 7pm rolls around and it’s as if none of it happened, and has instead all been replaced by piles of garbage.

Highlights include visiting the Room of the Last Supper and taking a tour under the Western/Wailing Wall. The list of ‘attractions’ is almost too long to list, which is something I’d no doubt gleefully do if there was an ounce of religiosity in me. 

As an atheist, I’m clearly not taking it in as much as the majority, I simply don't have the emotional link, but it is nevertheless an interesting experience in viewing the faith of others and how they relate to their beliefs and the supposed sources of them. Receiving a disbelieving look from a believer when you tell them that you don't believe is unbelievably.....ok I'll stop.

Arabic coffee and phenomenal shwarma stand out as the culinary highlights.

Day 6 - Mount of Olives/Bethlehem/Massada/Jericho

Today was an interesting, but quite frustrating day too. Started well with a hike up to the Mount of Olives, which offers spectacular views of Jerusalem, particularly the Old City and Temple Mount.

Followed this up by travelling to Bethlehem, where history’s most famous hippie was born. I didn’t bring gold, frankincense or myrrh, but a camera with suddenly no battery life and a phone which won’t take photos without fog appearing on the screen. Jesus bloody Christ.

Things got worse as my new buddy, Eddy and I travelled an hour and a half in his cab to Massada, a stunning place out in the desert by the Dead Sea. The idea was to take the cable car to the top, but of course it was closed for maintenance today and we didn’t have enough time before nightfall to do the two hour trek to the top.

Another day - Back in Tel Aviv and the day’s main news was that of the bus bombing downtown. The populace is shitting themselves big time. The general consensus is that a ground offensive is required. This blog is not meant to be political, but it’s hard to remain Switzerland with all this nonsense in the air.

Switching gears, I indulged in my favourite sort of travel today, ie getting hopelessly lost in a foreign place. Neve Tsedek, an artsy, undergoing-the-process-of gentrification kind of place, failed to deliver, especially on the food front, and when I was asked the obligatory, “How’s everything”, I opted for a Gordon Ramsey-esque response. Five days  in a row with falafel will do that to a person. Rescued my afternoon by strolling over to Jaffa, on the south side of the city, and boy was I impressed. The old town is something to behold. Stunning architecture, beautiful vistas, this place has it all, including the obligatory hordes of tourists, as well at least a dozen wedding shoots. Again I wondered in to the unknown and stumbled upon the flea market area, whose name does it little justice. Artists studios sitting besides uber-cool restaurants mixed in with furniture and craft stores, this little corner of Jaffa has something for everyone. I proceeded to install myself at one of the chronically cool bars and.....don’t really remember the rest ;)

And on the 7th Day - I too relaxed, mostly. Got into an interesting conversation with an Aussie-Jewish girl at the real Moon Sushi (not much better than the first, we really are spoilt for amazing food in Toronto). Walked endlessly, something I’m committing to do a lot more of at home. Attempted to go to an art museum, but all the masterpieces were on lockdown, so much for culture. 

I did find the old train station, which has been converted in to an array of beautiful boutiques and restaurants, complete with authentic railroad tracks and carriages. I love it when city planners can blend the old with the new so stylishly.

Cut the night short as a massive thunderstorm rolled in, woken in the night several times by the loudest thunder I’ve ever heard, at least that’s what I hope it was and not a broken ceasefire.

Into the second week - I’m on the road. Drive up to Nazareth, and what a letdown, I’m sure JC wouldn’t be happy of what’s become of his hometown. I will cut the carpenter some slack though, it’s not an easy town to navigate, so many hills, and incredibly confusing with all the churches. I got lost, which isn’t nearly as much fun in a car, and decided to pack in looking for el casa de jesus and head to Akko, a 5,000 year old town sitting a few miles north of Haifa, Israel’s third largest city, and officially designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site (the old town is at least). Have a memorable fish and chips for dinner and meet Walid, by far the most interesting and social hotel/hostel owner I’ve encountered on the trip so far. He tells me of days gone by when he’d run 15km and smoke 40 cigarettes a day, though now he’s strictly a sheesha guy and he’s not shy about sharing.

My Middle East (Mis)Adventure......Part One

Day minus 1: Israel fire a missile in to the Gaza Strip, killing the leader of Hamas....nice timing.

Night 0: A bit of excitement, a small dose of nervousness and a sprinkling of fear all mix together causing me to lie in bed for 8 hours without sleeping a minute.

Day 1: 7am start, no sleep, EasyJet flight, not a good combo. Sail through the notoriously tough Ben Gurion Airport, but a little disconcerted to hear that the bomb siren went off in Tel Aviv for the first time in 20+yrs only a couple of hours before I arrived. Iron Dome sounds like a brand of condoms, but it’s actually Israel’s new missile defence system, I hope it works.

Night 1: Again, no sleep....this Jetsomnia is getting ridiculous....I’m going to resemble a one-man zombie march later

Day 2: We are officially under attack, bomb sirens blared twice today, I even heard my first (and hopefully last) missile.....sounded a bit like a firework, which thankfully seems to be about the level of technology that Hamas are hurling at Israel. I’m glad I’m not further south, as even 40km away missiles are landing and causing damage. 

Most people can’t believe I’m here, and most of them seem to be fed up with the violence, they want to escape to a better more peaceful world. However, there is a strong belief in the need to protect themselves from terrorism, and many have adopted a siege mentality, us against the rest of the world.....their view is that there is considerable anti-Israel bias and sympathy for Hamas, who garner this support by placing women and children in front of their soldiers, whereas in Israel the soldiers are the front line. They have a point.

Later on head out for a bite and after meeting a few locals, I really start questioning my judgement in staying in Israel. Meeting another local a couple of hours later, restores my confidence and I decide to stay.

And what better way to celebrate than to go to a club and meet an old friend from London, Anthony Middleton, one half of Audiofly, who happens by happy coincidence to be DJing in Tel Aviv that night. We chat for a while pre-performance and it's great to re-connect with an old mate, especially one with such interesting tales to tell. He goes on at 2am and for the first time I get to see first-hand from inside the booth what being an International DJ is all about. He finishes a couple of hours later and I’ve spent virtually the entire time standing right next to him trying not to be noticed too much. Anthony's incredibly focussed on what he's doing and really looks the part. Before I know it we’re in a cab with the promoter and another DJ heading to an after-after hours. Some things never change.

Day 3: Felt wretched all day from the 18 whiskey and cokes imbibed the previous night. Go on a short walk, eat and read. That’s it, my first (and last) wasted day.

Day 4: I'm not quite sure exactly what day it is, fairly sure it's Sunday. I should mention that there have been bomb sirens going off every day. At breakfast another goes off and I squint up to see plumes of smoke that signify the missile has been successfully intercepted mid-air. A lady comments that the incoming missiles don't seem very big, but it's quickly pointed out to her that close-up they are plenty big and destructive.

Walked around the city all day and made a few observations. They are certainly not short of hair stylists here, and as a conservative estimate I'd say roughly one in three people here own a cat, they're everywhere. 

My overall impressions of Tel Aviv are positive though, it’s got a very European feel to it, you can even get beer out of a vending machine, clearly a significant cultural milestone! Everyone I've encountered is at the very least courteous, not the reputation that Israelis are usually laden with. Maybe there's a more open attitude toward others, given the fact that everyone is equally defenceless at this time?

Some beach time, a spot of shopping and this blog round the day off nicely.