Missed Connections

Leaving Dahab was sad enough, so it didn't help that we had to get up at 4.30am. We needed to get to Aswan, however, in order to catch an early morning tour to Abu Simbel, and flying seemed the most expedient way of accomplishing this. Our magician of a hotel manager had procured 4 reservations on a flight leaving Sharm Al-Sheik at 8am. We arrived after a sleepy car ride at the Sharm airport only to realize that we couldn't actually purchase the tickets at the airport as we'd been told. With no reservation numbers, we were at the mercy of the complaisant Egypt Air staff. After many attempts to hurry them along, insisting that the flight would leave without us, despite what they said, we found that two hours of "working on it" resulted in no flight. We ate several pieces of cake in the airport cafe to console ourselves while we debated our options. After deliberating and overeating, we determined our best bet was to catch a bus to Cairo and then a night train to Aswan.

Little did we know that our travel plans perfectly coincided with the first day of school as well as the first day of Ramadan. Thus, there were NO trains to be had. Additionally, we learned that tourists can only travel in first class cabins due to the unsavory nature of 2nd and 3rd. After waiting around the train station, surviving stampedes of people crushing onto the trains, we gave up and found a hotel with a 24 hour cafe, hoping to regroup there.

We stayed the night at a place with the amusing name of the "New Hotel," which appeared to be, in fact, a very old apartment building. After a night's repose, we toured the Egyptian Museum, and wouldn't you know it, we met up with the other 4 Brits. After lunch, my group hailed a cab to the Giza Pyramids. But again, our timing was crap. Following the advice of The Rough Guide, we showed up to see the pyramids at 5pm, when the book said all the tourists would be gone. Well, they obviously were gone, but it was because the pyramids close at 3pm. Fancy that. So the pyramids will have to wait until another day.

Cairo is an interesting city, especially for a capital city. Crossing the street there should be an Olympic event. Driving, is left solely for the mentally insane or those seeking an early demise. Cars careen around, honking at nothing and everything, and somehow manage to crash very infrequently. We did nearly smash a pedestrian, and it was close enough to perturb our cab driver, so it was too close for me. In general, Cairo is loud and dirty, even by the standards I've become used to. The people are on the whole incredibly friendly, and everywhere we went, strangers shouted "welcome to Egypt." On the other hand, there are touts everywhere trying to drag you into perfume shops, restaurants, cabs, and the ubiquitous "papyrus museum."

That morning we had bought tickets for the evening train to Aswan (only one day late). Turns out there is a limit to how much dirty Egyptian food I can eat, and I was struck down - just as we were leaving for the train station - by a villainous plague bent on clearing out my stomach by any means necessary. I became well acquainted with the lobby bathroom, the boys exchanged our tickets, and we booked another room in the New Hotel. The next day I was miraculously recovered, and we spent the day wandering empty streets in search of food and internet access. You can thank dysentery for the first chapter of this essay.

Finally, we got our train to Aswan (only two days late). And what do you know? We met some more Brits! In our cabin were two chaps, one of whom Will went to high school with, will the coincidences never end?? All was going smoothly, I was noshing on tasty sweeties we'd bought before departure, and we all settled in for the night, packed like sardines six across on the floor and seats. Well, as I'm now aware, disorders of the stomach are generally not of the 24hour bug variety. Upon being woken for breakfast, I was acutely aware something was amiss with my innards. I thus, became WELL acquainted with the foulest train lou on the face of the Earth.

By the time we arrived in Aswan, I was feeling pretty low. We decided our first stop should be the best hospital in town. The Tourist Office informed us that would be the 'German Hospital,' and assured us they spoke German and English. The taxi driver pulled up in front of a dusty old building crumbling in the back of some G-d forsaken alley. Nowhere, was the word "hospital" or any sign of German occupancy. We didn't even need to go inside, and determined instead to call a private doctor from the hotel.

The Dr arrived very quickly, and got the cure rolling. I was a little concerned when he tried to give me a breast exam, but figured he was just being thorough. After I was all set up with drugs and IV fluids, he chatted about US medical school and certification with me. He showed particular interest in how long one had to study to become an OB/GYN... suspicions confirmed, NOT a general doctor. Either way, he set me up with some magical pills and got me on my way.

We left (on time) for our scheduled Falucca boat ride down the Nile, and all was well. The Falucca boat ride was entertaining, and fairly uneventful. The two men carting us arond were "Captain Cool" and "Papa Smurf" - we only named the second one, I swear. Captain Cool didn't do a whole lot. He left most everything but the steering to Papa Smurf, who was about twice the Captain's age. PS made us three (skimpy) meals per day on a tiny gas stove in the "galley" (aka the 3x2ft compartment at the bow of the boat. His stove was nestled in a carboard box that had once held water bottles. It wasn't the safest or the most haute cuisine experience of our lives, that's for sure. Everything, plates, glasses, fruit, was washed in the Nile. The Nile itself wasn't so bad, it's what was floating in it that worried us. Every stop on land revealed a new shoreline littered with trash. The second day of our journey, we stopped for lunch and a swim on the cleanest beach we'd seen yet. Upon leaving the beach, we saw a dead cow making it's bloated way down stream, about 100yrds from where we'd just been swimming. Captain Cool quipped "cows swim, cows die." Indeed.

After disembarking, we caught a minibus to Edfou to see a temple to Horace. By this point we were all daying "ey, another temple?" but this one was pretty cool. It's the most intact temple in the country, despite some serious efforts on the part of the Christians to try and deface it's carvings. From there we continued to Luxor to see the Valley of the Kings.

After only being here a week or so, I must say that I'm fairly underwhelmed with Egypt. The sites are starting to wash over us, all looking somewhat the same. But one thing that doesn't get less amazing with time, is the noise, the dirt and the poverty. It's almost hard to be mad at people hawking bracelets in your face when you see where they live.