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.
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.
