Nick
We awoke on our last day in Egypt with excitement and a certain amount of trepidation as we rushed around getting as much money out as our bank cards would allow before heading to the ferry. We had heard that our cards wouldn't work at all in Sudan.
The ferry to Sudan only leaves once a week and it is the only allowed overland route in. This acts as a funnel for all those heading south - the majority going in jeeps. We've now met about 12 westerners on the same journey. Two of those were doing the same as us, but in reverse - Cape Town to England, and were waiting in Aswan for their 4x4 to follow on the separate barge that takes vehicles and cargo. They gave us this priceless info about the bank cards and also encouraged us greatly with how good and safe a trip they have had so far and how sad they were to leave sub-Saharan Africa. The others were not doing so well as they'd been told they had to wait another 2 weeks before a ferry + barge combo would sail.
We worked out a safe amount of money that we might need and then proceeded to be able to get much less than that out because Cate's card isn't working and mine has a daily limit. Do not fear, we have some spare dollars and we were being quite safe, especially as we rather wonderfully are going to be staying with some friends of a friend in Khartoum.
We didn't know what time the ferry was - we only knew that the norm is to turn up at 10am and for it to leave at 6pm. Still, we were a bit nervous as it was nearly 10 when we got our taxi for the 20 mile trip to the port - but we kept our heads and went via the tiny hidden coffee shop that we had found to buy some excellent felafel sandwiches. When we got to the port, all the others were there - negotiating a possibility of some of them travelling with us and a few staying with the vehicles and sailing a week later.
Cate
The Aswan to Wadi Halfa ferry has always been excitedly anticipated on our itinerary. Maybe it was the exotic voyage from Egypt to Sudan. Maybe it was sleeping on the water. Maybe it was delving deeper into Africa. Or maybe all three – but I must admit this romantic exhilaration slowly seeped out of me as we battled our way through endless customs before boarding. It was blazing hot and our bags were heavy. We felt self-conscious drinking water as everyone is fasting for Ramadan and every two minutes yet another uniformless dude would ask for our passports. Eventually we got on this medium-sized, tired and dirty boat, knowing when we stepped off we would step foot on Sudanese soil.
But we had 24 hours to face before that. Our room, with a bunkbed and a table, was grimy to say the least. Dirt seemed to be stuck onto everything and a mini cockroach scuttled under Nick’s foot. Initially grateful for air-conditioning, the system progressively froze the air until we were reaching for sleeping bags, cardigans, anything. Outside men shouted and banged various gigantic boxes about the boat. Romance, me and this ferry parted ways.
After boarding at 10am, the boat didn’t set off until 5pm. When it did however, we got up on deck and relaxed. We bumped into the British travelers, which was fun, and watched the sun set in a rich sky of pink gold over the water. As the sun sank into the water, everyone’s fast was broken and food was guzzled down. Darker Sudanese faces were dotted around, and each face beamed a brilliant white smile at us – so refreshing after the stares and smirks of Egypt. Romance was nudging its way back on board.
We slept surprisingly well and after some sweet tea and an egg in the cramped ferry restaurant, we arrived on the promised Sudanese soil – or sand. We boarded a truck with the Brits and were thrown out in Wadi Halfa, a tiny desert town, which one traveller deemed ‘the hottest place on earth’. We were shown what seemed to be the best hotel – one room had air-conditioning and the lobby had swanky chairs and wooden tables. Discovering this hotel had been built for the government by the government, we searched for another place to rest our heads. What we found was different to anywhere we have stayed so far. The rooms were dirty, the corridor was old stone, leading to the open air and a couple of long drops (yes – cockroach infected, yes – I preferred to pee in a bottle than brave them). The water to drink was kept in old orange stone jars and our open light switch had a threatening hanging wire. It was also 40C and though we had a fan Nick
likened it to a fan oven. Leaving Nick to rest, I snuck out to see the sunset and discovered a little family of cats – a mother and her two miniscule kittens. Fascinated I watched them for ages, and when I returned I found Nick in his sleeping bag at 40C. He was ‘testing a theory’ that once the body is at a certain heat, a sleeping bag would cool it down. The only theory I saw was that extreme heat fuels extreme peculiarity.
Walking round Wadi Halfa was delightful – a colourful shop, a donkey there, smoking coals for tea here, smiles there, all surrounded by relentless desert. Nick was seriously pummelled by some youngsters at a football PlayStation game - in a games console cafe - excatly like an internet one, but full of PlayStations and excited boys. Evening fell, and we ate beans, surrounded by men in long white kaftans drinking tea and watching the village television. We staggered home through the darkness. We needed all the sleep we could get - we were tired, it was hot and we had a 12 hour bus journey the next morning. Khartoum, Sudan's capital, awaited us.
Friday, 17 September 2010
Sunday, 5 September 2010
Nile grazing in Aswan
Cate
A painless sleeper from Cairo - soft white sheets, a cinnamon roll in the morning - arrived in Aswan, southern Egypt, at 9.30am. We stumbled through the heat (having gently dipped into a cool Zone 1 in Cairo, we are back in Zone 2 of 40c plus) to our hotel, the Keylany. We found our little room, simliar to most rooms we stay in - but very clean. More delights than bedroom bound cleanliness were to come! Yes - delight upon delight! And all at the same price as our normal B&B! For breakfast a smartly dressed waiter serves pancakes, fresh fruit and fresh lemon juice - which is joyous, as we have had many an egg over these last few weeks. Also in the Middle East they LOVE 'Nescafe' which means instant coffee, but NOT HERE - REAL coffee is brought in a gorgeous crumbling stone mug. These guys are going against the grain (in more ways than one...) and I am relishing it. They serve all of this yummy goodness on a roof terrace with wooden sun loungers and a little POOL! perfect for zone 2 temperatures. The joy of this little space is that no one seems to use it, and we spent a wonderful few hours up there on our first day with a non-alcholic beer in the pool. So strange to sometimes get those glimpses of being on an amazing holiday - and the next minute be embracing all SORTS of comfort challengers!
Aswan is a sweet town. The Nile seems to have magically transformed from a flat grey to a sparkling blue, the hot sun dancing on its ripples and graceful white feluccas sailing to and fro. The pace of life has slowed and we can cross roads again - most of the time. There is a wonderful souk (market) that flows in old arches through the town, with copper lanterns, blue and red spices, pretty glass bottles and wicker baskets. With the influx of beauty comes the influx of tourists, which we did not expect. Zone 2 creates a low season at this time of year, but there are still a few white faces and long shorts bopping about. The mark of tourism is greater than this however - we meet it almost continously as we walk the streets. We haven't been as hassled as this since we began our trip. Everywhere we go cries rise of 'felucca ride, I give you good price' or 'come and see, come' or 'spices?' or 'where are you from?' - the list is endless. I wish our patience too was endless, but it has started to wear on us.
It is a complicated business - this 'hassling'. Egypt is renowned for it, but I know it won't be our last encounter with desperate pleas for business. The intentions behind it are mixed - curiousity, money, fun, laziness, aggression. And I think the source of these intentions has a long history. Egypt's economy is struggling under severe population pressure. The reason for this struggle is also complicated. I know my country has acted appaulling in Africa throughout history and continues to through subtler means. Regardless of global context, the man in front of me hassling me to buy spices is poorer than me. I know it from his shoes and the fact that I can come and go to Aswan, and he may never leave it. Contempt for him is totally inappropriate - compassion and reptenence is better. We are reading Les Miserables at the moment, and I love this part, spoken by the bishop:
Amidst all this, we have also managed to relax, which has been wonderful. We caught a ferry to a neighbouring island, Elephantine Island and suddenly I felt like we had arrived in Africa. Everything up to this point has seemed distinctly Arab - men with lighter skin speaking Arabic, the desert and the Westernised cities, the women in seamless layers of black. But here I felt like we were exploring what I understand as Africa. It started with colourful mud huts among towering palm trees, and developed with the smell of smouldering fires and the sounds of cockrel cries. Goats hit in the shade and a woman walked between walls with baskets poised perfectly on her head.
We found a old man who had decorated his house in bright Nubian colours - blue, yellow, red, green against white walls, alongside jewellery and pink wicker hanging in neat lines. It was his own little restaurant and we sat on his roof balcony, watching maybe the most serene scene on earth. The Nile passed by, blue and deep, with strong palm trees decorating its edges. Behind the river lay daunting sand dunes, and the sun hot in the sky. White feluccas glided by and a couple of men were digging steadily outside their home. We spent hours there, eating and enjoying this beautiful place in quiet.
Quiet... until we met EL CROCO. El C was a little weeny croc rescued from a fishing net by our Nubian host. He took him in and raised him, and now he is a bigger and scarier croc. He is still a minicroc, but who doesn't get jittery over a minicroc? Especially in a very escapable tank in the house you are eating in. However we fearlessly hung around El C, amazed at his beauty and jagged little munchers. This harmless play is recorded on our previous post. El Croco decided at one stage he had enough.
These felucca sailing boats I've mentioned are a sight to behold. They seem ancient, made out of canvas, rope and wood - the wood painted white but wearing away at the edges. We hopped on one today for an hour and basked in the gentleness and beauty of the Nile. Our sailor had a brilliant smile and allowed Nick to steer us for a bit, much to his enjoyment! As he sailed I hopped around the boat taking in how beautiful it was. Man wants to steer, woman wants to appreciate beauty. Man also wanted to explain the techicalities of the sail but this was too great a reach across the divide and within minutes both were retreating to what they knew best.
We now approach the end of our week's delay in Egypt. Tomorrow we board the ferry to Wadi Halfa. Leaving behind the car horns of Cairo and the feluccas of Aswan, we hope to wake up in Sudan on Tuesday.
A painless sleeper from Cairo - soft white sheets, a cinnamon roll in the morning - arrived in Aswan, southern Egypt, at 9.30am. We stumbled through the heat (having gently dipped into a cool Zone 1 in Cairo, we are back in Zone 2 of 40c plus) to our hotel, the Keylany. We found our little room, simliar to most rooms we stay in - but very clean. More delights than bedroom bound cleanliness were to come! Yes - delight upon delight! And all at the same price as our normal B&B! For breakfast a smartly dressed waiter serves pancakes, fresh fruit and fresh lemon juice - which is joyous, as we have had many an egg over these last few weeks. Also in the Middle East they LOVE 'Nescafe' which means instant coffee, but NOT HERE - REAL coffee is brought in a gorgeous crumbling stone mug. These guys are going against the grain (in more ways than one...) and I am relishing it. They serve all of this yummy goodness on a roof terrace with wooden sun loungers and a little POOL! perfect for zone 2 temperatures. The joy of this little space is that no one seems to use it, and we spent a wonderful few hours up there on our first day with a non-alcholic beer in the pool. So strange to sometimes get those glimpses of being on an amazing holiday - and the next minute be embracing all SORTS of comfort challengers!
Aswan is a sweet town. The Nile seems to have magically transformed from a flat grey to a sparkling blue, the hot sun dancing on its ripples and graceful white feluccas sailing to and fro. The pace of life has slowed and we can cross roads again - most of the time. There is a wonderful souk (market) that flows in old arches through the town, with copper lanterns, blue and red spices, pretty glass bottles and wicker baskets. With the influx of beauty comes the influx of tourists, which we did not expect. Zone 2 creates a low season at this time of year, but there are still a few white faces and long shorts bopping about. The mark of tourism is greater than this however - we meet it almost continously as we walk the streets. We haven't been as hassled as this since we began our trip. Everywhere we go cries rise of 'felucca ride, I give you good price' or 'come and see, come' or 'spices?' or 'where are you from?' - the list is endless. I wish our patience too was endless, but it has started to wear on us.
It is a complicated business - this 'hassling'. Egypt is renowned for it, but I know it won't be our last encounter with desperate pleas for business. The intentions behind it are mixed - curiousity, money, fun, laziness, aggression. And I think the source of these intentions has a long history. Egypt's economy is struggling under severe population pressure. The reason for this struggle is also complicated. I know my country has acted appaulling in Africa throughout history and continues to through subtler means. Regardless of global context, the man in front of me hassling me to buy spices is poorer than me. I know it from his shoes and the fact that I can come and go to Aswan, and he may never leave it. Contempt for him is totally inappropriate - compassion and reptenence is better. We are reading Les Miserables at the moment, and I love this part, spoken by the bishop:
Teach the ignorant as much as you can, society is culpable in not providing instruction for all, and it must answer for the night it produces. If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.We want to be like this bishop, but we are not always.
Amidst all this, we have also managed to relax, which has been wonderful. We caught a ferry to a neighbouring island, Elephantine Island and suddenly I felt like we had arrived in Africa. Everything up to this point has seemed distinctly Arab - men with lighter skin speaking Arabic, the desert and the Westernised cities, the women in seamless layers of black. But here I felt like we were exploring what I understand as Africa. It started with colourful mud huts among towering palm trees, and developed with the smell of smouldering fires and the sounds of cockrel cries. Goats hit in the shade and a woman walked between walls with baskets poised perfectly on her head.
We found a old man who had decorated his house in bright Nubian colours - blue, yellow, red, green against white walls, alongside jewellery and pink wicker hanging in neat lines. It was his own little restaurant and we sat on his roof balcony, watching maybe the most serene scene on earth. The Nile passed by, blue and deep, with strong palm trees decorating its edges. Behind the river lay daunting sand dunes, and the sun hot in the sky. White feluccas glided by and a couple of men were digging steadily outside their home. We spent hours there, eating and enjoying this beautiful place in quiet.
Quiet... until we met EL CROCO. El C was a little weeny croc rescued from a fishing net by our Nubian host. He took him in and raised him, and now he is a bigger and scarier croc. He is still a minicroc, but who doesn't get jittery over a minicroc? Especially in a very escapable tank in the house you are eating in. However we fearlessly hung around El C, amazed at his beauty and jagged little munchers. This harmless play is recorded on our previous post. El Croco decided at one stage he had enough.
These felucca sailing boats I've mentioned are a sight to behold. They seem ancient, made out of canvas, rope and wood - the wood painted white but wearing away at the edges. We hopped on one today for an hour and basked in the gentleness and beauty of the Nile. Our sailor had a brilliant smile and allowed Nick to steer us for a bit, much to his enjoyment! As he sailed I hopped around the boat taking in how beautiful it was. Man wants to steer, woman wants to appreciate beauty. Man also wanted to explain the techicalities of the sail but this was too great a reach across the divide and within minutes both were retreating to what they knew best.
We now approach the end of our week's delay in Egypt. Tomorrow we board the ferry to Wadi Halfa. Leaving behind the car horns of Cairo and the feluccas of Aswan, we hope to wake up in Sudan on Tuesday.
El Croco!
Nick
Hey, with Cate's new birthday camera, this blog just got a bit more blogtastic!
We will try to upload some photos as we go...
It does video as well - here is us with a pet crocodile (see Aswan post coming soon):
Hey, with Cate's new birthday camera, this blog just got a bit more blogtastic!
We will try to upload some photos as we go...
It does video as well - here is us with a pet crocodile (see Aswan post coming soon):
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