Aswan, Egypt - Back in the Land of Pharaohs

Temple of Ramses II at Abu Simbel... Two copies of Ramses II staring off into Nubia... Scared off them Nubians for centuries...

More statues of Ramses II at Abu Simbel. One lies in ruins...too bad.

Been here for a day now. The ferry docked at 10 AM yesterday. They didn't let us off till about 2 PM. Massive delays due to immigration/passport checks. That was about an unwelcoming welcome I've ever had anywhere. Knowing how tempers flare in such situations, we were lucky there weren't a fist fight or two during the wait. Anyway, we were relieved once we stepped into the hot Egyptian sun, finally.

From the ferry terminal it was a 12 LE taxi ride into Aswan marking the end to a crazy 3 day odyssey. It was a remarkable time shared with a lot of new friends. At the terminal, I bid farewell to Mahmoud and his family (the family that I shared a 2nd class compartment with way back in Khartoum). They took a connecting train to Cairo that very night. I thought I had it rough.


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Map marks the Maruwa Hotel in downtown Aswan. Not only close to the railroad station (less than 100 metres to the northeast), it's cheap (8 LE for a dorm bed, PLUS air conditioning!!!). You'll need the A/C, daytime temps were in the upper 30's to 40's when I was there.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 18/07
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Onboard the Sagalnaam, Lake Nasser, Egypt - Not the Loveboat but close enough...

Another lame attempt at video. We're close to reaching the ferry terminal at the Aswan Dam and I thought I'd grab some shots.

Muslims pray 5 times a day but there are exceptions. One of those exceptions is when devotees are traveling. In cases where there's a big convenient space like the upper deck, the bruthas do their thing. This was the 5 pm session...

Sunrise over the lake on day 2. I spent most of the night walking around the boat, sitting down occasionally to get some rest. I was still struggling with my cold. So, I avoided sleeping on the cool windblown upper deck where I could have spread out. Matt, my American friend was out there though...

Goooood Mooooorning Egypt!!!

Wakey, wakey...sleepy heads.

Dudes on the boat...question: which way faces eastwards?

More dudes on the boat. Egyptians to Sudanese ratio? About 80/20. [ed note: I'm not sure about the ratio really but I like that 80/20 rule though...]

Aloha Sudan!!! Looking back, it was frustrating in a logistical way, but I really liked the normal people. Would not be surprised if I'm back some day. Hopefully I'll be able to see the entire country by then...inshallah.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 17/07
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Wadi Halfa Dreams to Champagne Wishes on the Ferry Sagalnaam...

From Out of Canuck...

Train stopped at al-Petticoat Junction, Sudan... No room left on the train! Let's move on boys...

Nice Sudanese folks out on the desert stretching their legs after a sardine-like experience the night before...

From Out of Canuck...

Bleak...

More bleak... Didn't think they had telephone service on Mars, yet...

From Out of Canuck...

Typical 2nd class compartment. Ain't much better than first class I'm tellin' ya.

The hall way were I "slept" last night...


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This map marks the opulent Hotel Nile in Wadi Halfa...

Wadi Halfa is my Timbuktu.

Incredulous you say?

I've never been to the fabled Timbuktu in Mali. But, Wadi Halfa has to rank up there in terms of mystique. Well, in my book of checklists at least. I've always wanted to come here since I first thought up this pan-African adventure. I have a crush for off the beaten path, desolate, bleak places...

The scenery had been pretty bleak all day, just flat endless desert. When late afternoon came, the train entered a landscape of low mesas. At this point, the train slowed its pace while mesas to either side forming a reminiscent bowling lane. Could this be my Timbuktu? Slowly, slowly, a town revealed itself in the shimmering sand in the distance. Hell, I could have missed this place if I batted an eyelash. The train wheels squeeled once again. I looked outside the window and I read on a sandblasted sign: Station No. 1.

I had finally made it. Mixed emotions: elation, relief, and sadness. This was the end of the line.

Everyone just piled out. I got my bag and found Matt on the platform. We jumped in the back of pickup truck/taxi and headed off to town still a few kilometres away.

We booked into the Hotel Nile (not much to it other than a bunch of cots spread out under what looked like camouflage netting) then headed for a restaurant across the street. If I didn't know Lake Nasser was to the north (somewhere close by), it would have been very strange that I had grilled fish for dinner.

I did a bit of exploring after dinner. Walking around the moonlit streets, I thought this town may as well have been a mirage. It's a miracle, considering the desolation of the surrounding desert, that it actually exists.

**********

The Nile Hotel was not as bad as Michael Palin described. I thought the outside setting was great. If it weren't for a thin veil of high clouds, the star-filled night sky would have been overwhelming (I did see the Milky Way though).

It was warm out. But, by 2 or 3 AM, the temperature was just freezing. I was sleeping in my silk liner and was chilled to the bone. I think I caught my fourth cold of the trip. Damn, I'm so susceptible to colds now.

Feeling a bit under the weather now, I thought I would relax and wait for the boat today. That was until the long arm of the Sudanese bureaucracy pulled me back into its grinding gears. I had to spend a couple of hours cued up for previously unheard of departure fees and another security check. Then I had to confirm my boat ticket (damn lucky I found out about that otherwise I'd would have been denied admission at the boat).

I stocked up on water and snacks at the local market. As I walked back to the Nile, a truck sounding its horn, stopped alongside. On board was my friend Ahamed!! He had loaded his worldly possessions in the back of the truck and was on his way home to Abri. I reached up to the window, shook his hand, and bid him farewell. Last night we talked about the possibility of him buying a hotel in Wadi. Because Wadi Halfa was at a crossroad, he thought it might be more exciting to move here. I might be back one day but just in case I wished him a good life. He reciprocated... Such a good man.

It was something like noon when we decided to make a break for the boat terminal. Damn taxi drivers. They just wanted to rip us off for the last time. So we defiantly started marching towards the ferry terminal. Damn terminal must have been at least 5 K away. The sun was just baking us. That was until a black pickup truck picked us up. Damn the taxi drivers!!! Ha!

The Sagalnaam...


First class cabins have square windows, cattle (second) class has the round tiny windows...

The loading process was chaotic. We were in the terminal building for the longest time. Just one more layer of bureaucracy to go I thought, the border control and luggage inspection... Fingers crossed.

Once the boat launched it was smooth sailing (not a cloud in the sky or whisper of wind). The second class sitting area was pleasant enough: air conditioned and padded benches. The A/C has helped defuse some of the tempers in the crowd. There must have been at least 200 passengers squeezed into 2nd class.

**********

The family I'm sitting with are just amazingly friendly. They keep giving me food...

**********

It's something like 6 PM... We just spotted Abu Simbel lit up on the western shore... pretty cool.

***********

There's no where to lie down. I'm not going to sleep tonight...

Where the hell is Matt?(2008)

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Haven't checked in on Where the Hell is Matt? for a while. He's got a new great video. For HD go straight to his site...

Midnight Train to Heaven - Somewhere between Khartoum and Wadi Halfa, Sudan.

Don't get me wrong. Looking back now, those were the best of times (on the entire African trip). The living conditions were horrendous. But I shared them with so many nice people on board the train, despite various Nazi-like figures.

I took a couple of GPS readings while on the train...

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This coordinate shows the railroad tracks running beside the Nile River.

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The above map shows the tracks eventually leaving the banks of the Nile, heading straigh through the inhospitable Nubian Desert.

The day started ok. The souq al-arabi bus station is chaotic at anytime of the day. It downhill the moment I got on the train. I was just settling down to my 3rd class seat. Ahamed, my friend from Abri made it to the train and we sat together. I rolled out my camping pad for both of us to deaden the pain of the wooden bench. Everyone seemed really friendly and ready to roll. That's when a conductor tapped me on the shoulder. There was a minor kerfuffle between him and surrounding passengers. Apparently, the seat I was sitting in was already spoken for. They kicked me out. I was a bit confused as I stepped back out onto the platform. A blessing in disguise, I thought, when they plunked me in padded seat in a 2nd class compartment as a replacement.

From there, the train slowly chugged out of Khartoum. As it turned out, ”slowly chugging” was its only speed. It didn’t matter though. We were soon out of Khartoum and into the bleak landscape of the Nubian desert to one side and the occasional rendezvous with the Nile river to the other side of the train.

I shared the compartment with a really nice family: Mahmoud, his wife and 5 kids. The smallest kid was pretty nasty. He’d wail away every time he wanted sometime. Very annoying. I wanted to club him one right over the head. But, for the most part, his parents did the corporal punishment for me. From my observation face and wrist slapping of children was a quite common occurrence. Anyways, Mahmoud was a junior high teacher in Khartoum. He was taking his family to Cairo for a holiday. For hours they plied me with drinks (I tried to reciprocate but they'd have none of it). In return I entertained them with my 10 word Arabic vocabulary. All the while we watched the desert dust pilfered into the compartment.

The fun did not last however. When we arrived in Atbara in the early evening, the trained stopped for a half hour. The locomotive was changed. New passengers came on board. I decided to stretch my legs on the platform. There I saw, walking down the platform, my American friend Matt from Vermont with a group of Sudanese boys. He tried to buy a train ticket but the train was sold out. To avoid being stranded his friends suggested that he be a stowaway. Ha! He climbed on board.

(Ahamed was on the platform, as well. I asked him about this morning's debacle. He threw up his arms and said with a big smile, "This is Sudan". Such a nice man, I laughed and agreed with him.)

I made my way back to compartment only to find it occupied with strangers. All women except for a lone guy. He motioned to me, asking whether the backpack was mine. Upon my confirmation, he angrily threw the pack at me (not a light backpack at all) and declared that it was an all-woman's compartment. Struggling with my bag, I noticed the nice family was also camping out in the hall way now.

The hall way was packed. There wasn't a spot to sit except on a water cooler. Matt and I tried to stay in the dining car for as long as possible but the Nazi-like dining car owner idiot wouldn't have anything to do with it (even though I kept pounding back the Cokes). If we weren't eating, we were in the way.

I returned to the passenger car. It was jammed to the rafters. People were slathered all over every square inch of the hallway floor trying to sleep. I had no choice but to return to the dining car. This time to the very butt end of the car, hoping Adolf wouldn't notice. No such luck. This time his was really fuming. I climbed over the snoring people in my old car to find a suitcase to sit on. With my back against the outer wall and legs cantilevered over a particularly obese woman, I checked my watch. 1 AM. Still 36 hours to Wadi Halfa.

Good fun had by all.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 15/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - Come shoot me now!!

Hello my friends. Today was the mother of all wasted days. At least 5 hrs. I won't get back.

The only saving grace was talking to my brother on MSN for an hour or so. I miss everyone at home very much but it's this crazy "profession" I'm in. Ok, it's not a profession but some days it feels like work. Hard slogging, frustrating work.

The drudgery started early. Most of today was taken up with the alien registration but first I needed more money at the bank. It seems like I've been burning a lot of cash lately. Then I managed to track down the US Embassy a couple of miles down a traffic choked lane from the hotel. Like most American embassies in the world, this one was heavily guarded with razor wire, walled compound, concrete blast barriers, armed guards, marines, checkpoints, metal detectors. You name it they had it. Pretty ominous.

It was hot as hell already when I got to the Embassy. I asked one of the Sudanese cops sitting under a tree if I was close to the registration office. He pointed down the street using a curving motion. Shukran, my friend...

After a hundred metres walk, I found Office III. It wasn't signed, dammit. They were still playing around with my head. I asked an official looking person for confirmation. The Eagle had landed. Office III was real. I nearly cried but felt really dehydrated instead. Got the necessary forms despite no one knowing a speck of English. I found the lack of English speaking personnel rather odd for an alien registration office. Next I had to wait an hour to submit my completed form only to find out that I needed a guarantor's stamp (a Sudanese citizen that could vouch for me that I'm in the country). Where am I going to find someone to do that??? They told me the hotel was suppose to supply the stamp. Went back to the hotel where Mahmoud at reception was really reluctant to do this for me. He pretended like I just stepped off a spaceship or something. Eventually, he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out the rubber stamp and stamped a piece of blank paper. Went back to the office. This time when I got to the hole-in-the-wall they told me that I was missing the requisite letter stating I was an alien staying at the hotel. Back to Mahmoud. He acted like an idiot again. Refusing, hemming and hawing until he broke down again and hastily wrote me a letter. I think he just wanted to get rid of me.

Back at Office III, I met a couple from Switzerland who said that the letter had to be typed!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! The buck had to stop there and then. I was going to give them the handwritten letter I had, dammit!!! While I had a conniption, the service window closed. What the hell!!! It was lunch!!! I felt like giving up. I just sat there staring incredulously at the sealed window. 45 minutes passed. Nothing happened. I needed clarification about the need for a typed letter. I knocked on the Office door. When the door opened, they dismissed me. I tried knocking again. This time I wedged the door open with my body and asked them about the letter. I was told to come in. After a few minutes, the Boss man came out. He took my application. Fifteen minutes later, it was approved. I thanked him profusely but to rub salt in my wounds he told me to come back in an hour to pay for the permit.

Situation normal for Sudan, eh.

[ed. note: after I paid 44 USD for the registration, I found out from the Swiss couple that they had paid 34 USD each.]

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 13/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - Will the real alien office please stand up!

Couldn't complete the tasks today. Yah, you heard me. I still have to get registered. I'm feeling a bit antsy because I must be at least 2 days over the deadline.

The retired professor, residing in the hotel, was nice enough to take me to the new registration office (as directed by the security officer at the "old" office) this morning. The "new" office (quite the distance from Souq al-Arabi), turned out to be another dead end, another "old" office. I couldn't believe it. Apparently, the most recent reincarnation of the office was sighted near the US embassy. Ahhhhhhhh!!! Nooooooo!!! According to my map, it was 1 or 2 miles away from the hotel!!! Damn. I couldn't believe it... (I will take care of it tomorrow...I promise...)

I thought the professor said he was going to wait for me while I was in bogus Office #2. I came out and realized he'd taken off with the taxi. There must have been misunderstanding, but I waited a half hour for him to return. There's one characteristic that I've observed about Sudanese: they have very short attention spans. If it weren't for the shade trees lining the road, I would have burnt to a crisp... I gave up (again) and took an expensive minibus ride over to the Train Station/Ferry Ticket Office.

The Train Station was huge. Ironically, this cavernous building served the one active train route in the country: here to Wadi Halfa on the shores of Lake Nasser. There must have been better times for train travel in Sudan. I was waiting in line for a train ticket for an hour before the que of about 30 people broke rank. Everyone ran for the front doors and around the building. The que reformed outside in front of another ticket window. I followed but I was just taken aback by the proceedings. Apparently, the first and second class just sold out (inside the station) and the rest of us slobs were now vying for hard seats in cattle class. Crap.

Consolation was that next to me in line was an interesting guy from Abri (town in the north). His name was Abdullah. Coincidently, Adullah worked in the oil fields for Talisman, an energy company whose headquarters are in Calgary (my hometown in Canada). He had good memories of working for them. Nowadays, he thinks the West is "total fucking shit" (his words) for forcing Talisman out of Sudan. He's on his way home, leaving "shitty" Khartoum. I understand your pain, my friend. As it turned out, he bought his ticket with mine and we'll be bench mates for the trip north. Good company...

After an hour in the hot sun, I got the train ticket (27 USD - for this Monday) and came back into the building to buy the boat ticket. Another 5 hour wait. There must have been at least 40 people ahead of me. Damn, the ticket sellers were slow. While in line I was surprised to meet an American guy. His name was Matt (from Vermont). There aren't many Americans in Sudan. We talked about his experiences here. Suffice to say, he was constantly explaining his personal position on Sudan as opposed to his government's. He's not taking the train to Wadi Halfa but I'll probably see him on the ferry, maybe, in a few days.

I managed to get 2nd Class "deck" seats on the ferry (44 USD). Any seat was OK, I guess. Damn, I'm just gonna be wasted by the end of this segment...

By the time I stepped out of the Station and into the heat of the late day sun, I felt cheated. 7 hours of my life I could not get back...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 12/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll!!!

The more I'm out in the real world the more I'm convinced that it's soccer that is the glue that holds the world together. Well, it holds Africa together at least.

The hotel is kind of an interesting place. The guests are more like tenants. It seems more like a low cost apartment building than a hotel. Too bad the guests are all men...

The hotel is 5 floors. On the roof is the TV room. The boys like watching al-Jazeera (or some other news channel) and old Arabic movies. But what really draws a packed roof is a televised soccer game. Last night's game was a match between two local teams. Not an empty seat in the house. You could cut the tension with a knife. A lot of head clutching after scoring chances (I never clutch my head when watching hockey...). Minutes from the end of the game, one of the teams scored the decisive goal. The crowd on the roof went berserk. Seconds later, another huge roar erupted from the surrounding buildings. Surreal... Next thing I knew, a human wave of revelers came spreading down the road in front of the hotel. That was just a local game for chrissakes...

It was just slightly cooler today (about 36C). What a relief. Like everywhere in the Islamic World, government offices, banks and such were closed. Good thing the local shwarma shop was open. I thought I'd catch a cab to watch some whirling dervishes at a far away mosque. I've seen them already in Turkey. After being blasted by the noon hour heat, I lost my motivation.

I really have to haul ass tomorrow. First the alien registration. Then I have to take care of business at the train station.

Think I can get done?

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 11/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - A Betty Crocker Oven with a View...

It was crazy hot in the room last night. Something like 38C. The walls retain a lot of heat. There's something in the mattresses that made me itch. So, I'm sleeping on my sleep pad (not good because the springs poke through). Anyway, it's difficult to get any kind of rest, especially when I woke up in a pool of my own sweat with great frequency.

Suffice to say, I'm trying to stay out of the room. I tend to hide in the internet cafe across the way for some of its sweet air conditioning. I know. That's pathetic.

Today I started early with the tasks at hand, hoping to avoid moving around in the heat of day. Went to change money (they profess not to like America but they sure like it's cash). At the first bank, the security guy referred me to his friend "the moneychanger" and not the Bank of Khartoum which, according to him did not perform foreign exchange. Yah, whatever...

Then I tried to find the alien registration office. Tourists are suppose to register within a few days of entry into the country. They moved it. Swell. This snafu will be troublesome because I'm not sure where it is on my map. Got the security guy to write down in Arabic the name of the registration office. I hope that will help...

After the registration debacle, I started to wilt from the heat. It was almost noon. I had to find something to drink fast. Heat exhaustion is a killer. I had to quickly duck into a dark cool internet cafe.

Not a productive day. To top it off, I tried quizzing the hotel reception on the whereabouts of the train to Wadi Halfa. With my pathetic Arabic and the receptionist's pathetic English, nothing intelligent came out of that conversation. He did find a resident of the hotel that might be able to help me. a really old guy (perhaps in his eighties?), a retired professor. He spoke English! (According to him, it was not uncommon for his generation to understand English because of the colonization. He said to forget about the current generation of Sudanese wrt English.) He directed me to the train ticket office, AND wrote down in Arabic the phrase I needed to help me find it. What a swell guy. That's until I followed his directions and found that the train services had move and now were all centralized in North Khartoum.

I gave up, for today.

I've been using the fact that I'm Chinese more often. Of course, I'm ethnically Chinese but not nationally Chinese, a fact that doesn't seem to matter to most Sudanese. I'm not ashamed. Anything to gain an advantage or be seen in better light is good. Today, I was called a "sendeega" at the railway station. It's supposed to be a term of endearment (meaning "friend") applied to the supposed 5 million Chinese (PRC) expats living here and "helping" out the Sudanese by making their country a better place. Surprisingly, I haven't seen a Chinatown, or Chinese-run laundry or restaurant, yet...

I was buying some detergent when the vendor asked me if I knew how to speak in English. That was hilarious because I had been speaking to him in English for a least a minute beforehand. I guess "sendeegas" can't speak English...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 10/07
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Gedaref to Khartoum, Sudan...In search of a pharmaceutical factory...

During the bus ride to Khartoum, the guy next to me, Asser, gave me a lesson in basic Arabic. These types of lessons are way better than any phrasebook translations in my book. Probably the most important phrases I learned was "ana eyes moya" (note my bastardized English phonetics) or "I want water" and the immortal "enta bint jameela" or "you are a beautiful woman". Asser suggested that if I didn't want to be slapped in the face or face the death penalty that I refrain from using the latter phrase, at least in public...

Investing a few bucks in a deluxe A/C bus turned out to be a really good idea. I met a couple of nice guys who helped me out with the bus: Targ at the Gedaref station (thanks for the tea) and Asser (on the bus to Khartoum). The left Gedaref at 0700 and got to Khartoum at 1300. As Targ and I were sipping hot milk tea while waiting for our buses, I could already feel the heat of the day building. It would only get worse. At one of the security checkpoints, I stepped out and was met by an incredible wall of heat. By the time we got to Khartoum, my watch thermometer registered a temperature of 43C. Normally, it just gives me a reading of my skin temperature.

Khartoum was a mess. Finding an affordable room was difficult. Asser was nice enough to walk me to a place suggested by LP. It was closed, as was all other budget suggestions. There were a lot of hotels about, but rooms were going for 60 to 100 USD. The last budget hotel on the list actually existed and was full. I was about to give up. The heat was taxing my mind and more importantly my body.

Hell knew what the locals thought of me, walking around aimlessly with a 20 kg bag strapped to my back in extreme heat. Must have looked pretty dumb. I had to rest for a half hour on the steps of the National Bank trying to figure out what to do.

I asked the reception at the last budget hotel where there was similar accommodations. A boy helped me navigate the intricate layout of the Souq al-Arabi district to what turned out to be a un-named hotel (ok, 2 handwritten Arabic words scratched on a wall beside a set of stairs does not constitute a sign to me, eh). I took the room. Overpriced but I didn't care. They didn't seem to want me to share a room with other Sudanese clients. So, I have 4 beds to myself.

I joined couchsurfing.com last night. It puts together travelers with local people who are willing to offer a bed for a night or two. I'm seriously thinking of giving some of these folks a call.

[Aside: Was talking to Asser on the bus. We were watching a really bad B-movie with some idiot American-type special operations Navy Seals guy shooting up bad guys (perhaps Arabs?) when conversation turned to current events in the news... According to Asser, Arabs are always presented in the worse light. If he saw any foreign troops on Sudanese soil he wouldn't hesitate in killing them. Tourists are OK though (I felt a wave of relief travel through my body) that includes American tourists. To Asser, he could distinguish between the US government and the American people. It's when they want to take something of Sudan's is when the problem occurs. The "problem" in Darfur was an exaggeration of the Western media. The Sudanese people are beautiful. With my limited exposure so far, I agreed. It's their government who are the evil ones [me]. According to Asser, George W. is a tosser (I agreed). If he ever stepped on Sudanese soil he would give him the one fingered salute (he demonstrates) and then slit his throat. Other than slitting W's throat it's nice to see Sudanese and most Americans (let alone the rest of the world) agreeing on what they think of dubya. There is hope in future cooperation. I only report the news, eh...]


View Larger Map
The marker in the map points to my Hotel in Khartoum. This area is called the Souq Al-arabi which by its name is where the market is situated. Every night vendors line the streets selling stuff like parfume to shoes and shirts. My hotel is situated in the "garment district". A lot of seamsters ply their trade here, with sewing machines out in the open. The large football like field to the north of the hotel is the amazingly crazy, humungous Souq Al-arabi bus station.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 9/07
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