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...

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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Gedaref, Sudan - Oh how sweet it is!

So long, Ethiopia! Its been a really great time. For the readers of BTOG, if there's only one country you visit in Africa in your lifetime, Ethiopia's the place to be. It's land and people (well most of them) are stunningly beautiful. I'm going to be back some day. There's more to see (Axum, the Danikil, and Gambella to name a few). Photo: the school kids of Arkwasiye, Simien Mountains, Ethiopia.

Well, it's happy birthday to me today. I feel really lucky about spending it on a rickety old bus in the Sudan... How many people can say that!!!??? I was thinking if I kept up this pace of travel I might not reach my next.

Did I miss a journal entry yesterday...? Well, I was getting my hair done up real special. The last 2 days have been tough but exciting. I thought it was going to be a standard slow bus to Bahar Dir (and overnight there). Instead, the Rasta Man's minibus showed up even though I canceled my ticket. I told the driver that 170 birr was way too much and I was on my way to the main bus station. He dialed someone on his cell. The price dropped to 150. I asked for 120. Another call and it was approved. What was the problem in the first place people?

Off we went, bolting into the cool Ethiopian dawn.

Got to Bahar Dir in due time. Because it was the "last" minibus to Gonder, I got burned on the fare. Finally as the sunset, we reached Gonder in the dark. Couldn't get a room at the Selam Hotel. So, I had to settle for the whorehouse, I mean hotel, I stayed at the last time I was in Gonder. Just as well. I had an interesting discussion with an Ethiopian guy (a business man from Addis) in the reception. I asked him what he paid for his room. He paid a paltry amount (something like 35 birr). He laughed at what I was paying. I asked him why I was paying so much. He answered, "because you can." Again, he burst into laughter. Anyway, he was a nice guy. I killed him with the amount of Amharic I had learned during my stint in the country. He was shocked at the amount of birr I was carrying for my last day.

"What would you do if you were stuck at the border?", he asked.

"Probably kill myself," I deadpanned. More laughter...

Anyway, I exchanged 5 USD with him. Damn, more birr in my pocket... What the hell is he going to do with a 5 dollar bill?

I managed to put in 3.5 hours of sleep because of my hair and a Peter Seller's bio pic on TV.

That same morning, I climbed aboard the bus for border town of Metama at 0430. The early morning air was pleasant. By 0800 it was heating up. The surrounding hills were arid, in various shades of brown, populated with occasional stands of conifers. People were far and few between. Those I saw were involved with road construction or tending livestock. It was pretty obvious we were losing a lot of altitude fast. Soon we saw the hills come to an end, replaced by the vast expanse of the Sudanese desert on the horizon.

Metama's street was chaotic to say the least. A wild mix of Ethiopians and Sudanese trading whatever could be smuggled across the border. The bus driver made me walk the last 2 km to the border. Overburdened with my overstuffed backpack, I thought how appropriate it was: leaving Ethiopia and having the door hit me in the ass on the way out.

I walked across no man's land, across a bridge spanning a river choked with dust. When did it last rain here? The border officials seemed rather cold, especially the security guy. There was a bus to Gedaref, the first substantial piece of civilization in Sudan. I needed money. The police assigned a local guy to find me the local black market moneychanger in the local market. Suffice to say, the exchange rate was dubious but the snake had me by the short and curlies. So much for first impressions.

I climbed on the bus to Gedaref. The heat was amazing. Water was dispensed to passengers using a communal stainless steel cup from a big bucket next to the driver. Perhaps the most annoying thing was having to check in with security posts along the way. The moment I stepped off the bus (just me by the way) a fierce hot wind would hit me square in the face. Consolation to having to sit in that sauna-like bus was the immaculate asphalt-surfaced road.


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This is Gedaref. My hotel was directly east of this waypoint. The market was along this street as well.

Arrived in Gedaref at 1800 (3 hr. bus ride). Everyone's been really nice (despite my two word Arabic vocabulary). I'm glad to be back in a Muslim country. The Gedaref market really comes to life in the waning daytime heat. I'm going to need some time to get use to the climate.

I met a couple of Belgian cyclists outside the hotel. They experienced 56C in Wadi Halfa. If it continues like that, it's not going to be fun at all.

[ed. note: Total bus time = 0400 to 1900 on Monday (Addis to Gonder) + 0600 to 1400 on Tuesday (Gonder to Metama) + 1500 to 1800 (Metama to Gedaref) = 26 hrs. on the bus in 48 hrs]

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 8/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Rollin' the dice...

Boy #1 - the guide, Harar, Ethiopia...

Certainly a good news/bad news kind of day.

Good news: Finally got the Sudanese visa. As an added bonus it has a period of validity of one month and 2 full weeks of transit time. That makes Thursday the perfect day to arrive at the border. Can't see myself spending another 6 days in Ethiopia though. I have to be aware that my Egyptian via expires on the 26th of May. Perhaps I should go to Gambella for a few days?

Bad news: Still haven't located the Bahar Dir minibus station. The tourist office wasn't aware that it existed and suggested it might be located around Habte Gyorgis Bridge (like the guidebook said). May as well check out the Autobes Terra (main bus station) too while I'm at it. The longer I chase after this, what seems to be mythical, Bahar Dir minibus the more skeptical I get...


Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 4/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Bubba and the Big Breakfast...

Breakfast (well, in between orders of firfir) with the new NGO's...

2 developments today. One, the breakfast for all my new NGO's went off without a hitch. Met up with the contact person for "the project", Nezro (sp?). I thought I was treating 4 or 6 kids but eight showed up. Ordered up 3 huge mountainous platters of firfir at a local eatery (a place I'd never find on my own). Predictably, the kids scarfed it down pretty fast. Everyone appeared to have a good time.

Nezro informed me that the kid's need shoes and he wants me to finance the deal. He also wants me to buy them breakfast again tomorrow! Look, I really don't see myself as chintzy but I felt like a walking sack of money, again. I sense very little appreciation when I do this kind of stuff. I don't want these kids to depend on me for handouts but the need for the very basics is so overwhelming.

As my Polish friend said, Ethiopians must look after their own at some point.

In contrast, Nezro said, at the medical clinic where we took one of the kids after breakfast, "only the Westerners care [about the poor]. Rich Ethiopians really don't give a damn."

Well, maybe they, the rich Ethiopians should stop raping and pillaging the place and give back to the community. Suffice to say, I'm kind of torn, as an outsider, as to what to do for these kids... All I know is this lil' project seemed to have fallen on my increasingly reluctant lap...

Nezro's taking off tomorrow to visit his wife. Maybe I should take the day off as well to focus on my impending departure, like Anthony... Ok, I'm waiting for my personal bolt of lightning to hit me square on the ass but, dammit, I'm a poor tourist, not a social worker/philanthropist...

After breakfast, I hoofed it down to the Sudan Embassy... Got there at 1000, plenty of time to submit the application. Mohammed and Sharif (kind of sad when you get to know the embassy staff by their first name for the wrong reasons...) were still acting like complete a$$holes again and not answering my knocking at the steel gate/door on the Embassy's perimeter. I knew I had to be persistent to get any service. So, I kept knocking at the door with a coin in hand. That made such a grating noise. Within minutes, Mohammed cracked the door open. He reached out, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me through the opening and into the compound. I gave Sharif my papers and passport and left as fast as I came in. I should have reviewed my visa requirements but I forgot.

Further logistical problems with regards to finding a minibus ride back up to Bahar Dir. I inquired at the front desk of the hotel, all the receptionists referred me to "landcruiser guy" who charged 250 birr for the trip. Suspiciously, the "Canadian lady" in the room next to mine only had to shell out 120 birr for the Bahar Dir journey just last weekend. For some unknown reason, she was reluctant to share any info on how to get a similar ticket... I don't know what to think anymore...other than I gotta get outta here...now.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 3/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Still here...

This day had potential to be disastrous. I went back to the Sudanese Embassy today for clarification. People are getting to know me down there especially front men Mahmoud and Sharif. At first they ignored my call at the gate, but I clanged on the metal door with an Ethiopian coin long enough to get their attention.

It's so difficult talking to the black man (visa guy). They should really hire someone who is fluent in English. From my best understanding of what he said, 14 days is 14 days total. From the moment he stamps my passport, I have exactly 14 days to clear Sudan. I can fit one day in Axum in the far north next to Eritrea but that would be dangerous, leaving me 2 days leeway to get to Khartoum. I'd have to apply for an visa extension in Sudan in that case. Knowing Africa too well (maybe), anything could happen and delay my departure.

Got word from Tom, the border dodger, today. He had his day in court. Guilty as charged. Poor guy has to fork out 500 USD and leave within 3 days. I thought I had problems.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Apr 2/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Coffee, tea or...visa hell...

The days here in Addis start at about 900. I usually walk down to my favourite coffee house Cafe Tomoca. A pretty classy joint, Tomoca is based on an Italian cafe: stand up counters, and dark wood paneling. It seems to be a favourite of Addis business men as well. They gather at the counters, ignoring the ceiling mounted TV blaring out BBC world. Instead, they partake in hugely animated discussions, with frequent outbursts erupting around the small room. The waiter brings me my macchiato and cake. A good way to start the day, especially today.

How I wished the predicament I'm in was an April fool's Joke. First, the good news. I'm topped up with enough USD to get me through the Sudan (knock on wood). I made the transaction with Brittany last night. I'm taking the USD she got on the black market off her hands at the black market rate. Slightly expensive, but I just want this problem to go away.

On the subject of Brittany, she planted seeds of doubt in my mind. I asked for a 14 day visa. My understanding is that the black man said the visa was valid for 14 days and 14 days thereafter in Sudan. Brittany believed that I had 14 days from Addis to the Egyptian border at Wadi Halfa.

I'm going to have to clarify this bone of contention. Soon.

I went out with the girls (Louise, Emily, and Brittany, of course) from the Baro last night. Had dinner at the Khayyam Restaurant, serving Ethiopian/Arab dishes. That was fun. Afterwards we went to a bar for drinks. Hey they're kinda fun. Louise, a young English woman, seemed to be quite proper but with an edge. A fun edge. At times she would say the most outrageous, as she calls it - random, things that just cracked me up totally. Ahhh, the exuberance of youth... Suffice to say, we didn't get home till the wee hours...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Apr 1/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Khartoum, here i come!!

siddist kilo...

not many african countries can say they weren't colonies at some point of in their histories. ethiopia can claim colony-free status. that doesn't mean some european country haven't had imperialistic eyes on it's territory though. back in the day (1880s to about 1916) there was the mad dash for establishing african colonies by the likes of England, France, Belgium, and Germany. Italy, the poor sister was stuck with 2 iddy biddy tracks of land, Eritrea and Somalia. they thought it would be a good idea to link the two by forcibly acquiring ethiopia. surprisingly, the plucky ethiopians beat back the kings of pasta at the battle of adwa in 1896. To this day, this victory is a source of great national pride for ethiopians. bloodied and still clearly rankled by it early defeat, the princes of pizza hit back and occupied the country from 1936 to 1941. the italians fought a brave and effective ethiopian insurgency. however, an attempt on the life of a italian viceroy failed miserably in 1937 resulting in a massacre of ethiopians at the hands of their occupiers. the obelisk in the centre of siddist kilo (opposite the university of addis ababa) serves as a memorial to those victims of the massacre. how about that for a history lesson, steve h.?

I got it!!! I got the Sudanese visa (sort of)!!! Overnight service!!! I don't know why they gave it so fast!!! I DON'T CARE!!! It took most of this morning. I got to the embassy early and lined up with 3 other farangi and a large group of Ethiopians nationals. It took me nearly 3 hours of waiting to see this guy, who shall be referred to as the "black" guy. He looked at the passport and the forms I filled in. His verdict? You are the luckiest bastard in the world and you're gonna see Khartoum, baby...! Ok, he didn't use those exact words. I asked for 2 weeks? Why? Well, I'm an overlander... No problem... This whole scene was getting better and better. Then he dropped a bomb.

"I'll give you two weeks to get to the border...", he said. Or, at least that's what I thought he said. I asked him to repeat. Same answer. Two weeks.

"But I've got all of Ethiopia to see yet", I responded.

He told me to pay the 61 USD fee now and come back when I'm finished looking around.

I kept the receipt and had the black man write down the particulars of my situation on the application. And, that was that... Now, I had to juggle the expiry/validation dates of 3 visas. Didn't matter. Just as long as I was assured of the Sudanese one.

I was so excited for the rest of the day. Nothing could wipe the grin off my face the entire bus ride home to the Piazza.

Tonight I went over to the Baro Hotel to visit with my buddy Tom, the border dodger. He was a little discouraged because he had his court date postponed. But, lo and behold, sitting on the deck was the Brittany, the American girl who has been following me (vice versa) since Uganda.

"Why are you here? Where are Claus and John (the Dane and Swede she's been travelling with)?

Apparently, the Sudanese have been screwing around with her visa application. They're prepared to give her only one week to clear Sudan. Now she was considering flying over the whole damn country. The Danish/Swedish expedition was now in Gondar. Way up north. Their Sudanese visas came through. So, they'll be driving...

check out this posting as well. click here.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 29/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - the diplomatic run around...

For lack of a photo to post, i give you another in a series of badly written postcards i sent home. this time i wrote from the omo valley.

[ed. note: the primary reason i'm in Addis is to get a visa for sudan. one of requirements is to get a letter of introduction from the Canadian Embassy. that plus a couple of passport photos and hand in the required application forms. simple as that. not. next few postings will illustrate the hoops that the sudanese made me jump though.]

Not much happened today other than I made it to the Embassy [Canadian]. As usual, there's a couple layers of security to get through. But, once on the grounds, I could not help but feel I stepped into the set of Fantasy Island. The main building is palatial. The cost of the letter was 50 dollars (Steve must be laughing all the way to the bank). Canadian dollars not USD. Who the hell carries Canuck bucks? I had a fat 50 USD bill burning in my pocket but it's worth nothing here. Change was not possible. I didn't have enough Ethiopian birr (the alternative). So, I walked a mile to the closest bank.

I forked over the money only to find out they couldn't issue the form letter (it's always a form letter) right away. Makes me want to, well, hurt someone.

Took an expensive cab ride to the embassy. The cabbie swore, on an orthodox christian bible, that it was impossible and "waste of time" trying to get the Sudanese visa. With that ringing assessment I may as well have stayed home under the bed covers wishing the world would go away.

There is hope though. I met a girl tonight who is picking up her Sudanese visa tomorrow. AND, she's one of those evil Americans! It only took her a week of waiting.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, Mar 26/07
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allah wa akbar and the train to hell...

the train from/to hell...

train from/to hell, part 2...

the nubian desert...

second class passengers...

pray time on board the ship from/to hell...

Hello my friends,

The traveling has been hot and heavy for the past while. A little too quick for my taste. (even though I'm theoretically control the pace). So, I find myself in Cairo now relaxing after the rigours of traveling the Sudanese outback.

The train from Khartoum to Wadi Halfa really was a physical and logistical nightmare. The debacle started right away. After the stampede (I don’t know why people rush because each passenger has a ticket), I was unceremoniously yanked from my 3rd class seat. Apparently they sold it previously to another passenger. 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. In return I entertained them with my 10 word Arabic vocabulary. All the while we watched the desert dust pilfer into the compartment.

The fun did not last however. When we arrived in Atbara, the train stopped and I decided to get out for a breath of fresh air and escape the stifling heat in the train. In the meantime, unbeknownst to me, the compartment was being usurped by a contingent of women. I barely got back when I saw my backpack being tossed into the hallway by an unscrupulous male relative of one of the ladies.

There I was, at the cusp of nightfall, an honourary sindeega for god’s sake being forced to sit on someone’s water cooler with no where to go.

To complicate matters at the Atbara a swack of new passengers (paying and non-paying) including an American guy named Matt (non-paying) climbed on board. The train packed to the rafters now.

I thought I had a brilliant idea when I thought of staying in the dining car. It turned out to be a good idea. I mean there were empty seats and lots of room to bed down for the night. The only problem was the dust pilfering through the windows. Waiters would come by every 15 minutes to wipe off the micro-sand dunes that would form on the tables. The idyllic situation would of course come to a crashing halt. Along came Mustafa, the Nazi dining car owner. Mustafa was the big man on campus who apparently paid a million Sudanese dinars for the exclusive rights of dishing out the slop, he called food, to unsuspecting passengers. Unfortunately, he thought he owned the entire car. He sussed out our plan (Matt American, also homeless, joined me for “dinner”). Let’s just say I was nursing my bottle of coke for a long long time. He became enraged. The fury was palpable. He kicked us out. I was homeless again.

I tried to return to my water cooler seat only to find it hijacked by an old lady. No matter. The way was blocked by 2 rather obese women who had packed it in for the night and were blissfully asleep on the narrow hall way floor.

Long story short, it was a helluva sleepless night. Taking turns with a nice koran-toting man, I spent the night either standing in the aisle or sitting on a wooden crate.

Next day, the obese women somehow got off the floor after their comfortable slumber, thus making room for the homeless. I was lucky enough to be able to share a seat on a cardboard box the rest of the way to Wadi halfa.

After a restful night in Wadi Halfa, sleeping under the stars, we climbed aboard the venerable SS Sagalnaam. From Wadi Halfa, it was a 16 hr. overnight “cruise” along the entire length of Lake Nasser, the largest man made lake in the world, to the Aswan high dam. I had the luxury of a second class ticket. No, there isn’t a third class. This meant sitting on a barely padded bench in the mid deck. What it really meant was another sleepless night. Only this time there was A/C in the cattle section I shared with 200 other folks.

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, despite various Nazi-like figures. There was Mahmoud and his family. They were also kicked out of dining car. That was the last I saw of them (just kidding). Really, they traveled first class on the boat. Good on them. There was Ahamed, who I met while buying my train ticket in Khartoum. Lucky bastard. He got to keep his third class seat on the train. Better third class than no class I always say. He learned a lot of his English while working for chevron in the oil fields. Retired now, he was moving back to his beloved village of Abri in the north of Sudan, because he thought khartoum was “fucked up”. By the way, he also worked for Talisman Energy of Calgary, Alberta before the “fucking” americans forced it out of Sudan. He was “fucking” hilarious. Then thanks to Ahmed and his family for buying me drinks on the boat. They also gave me a whole chicken to eat. They, too, laughed at my arabic. Plus, there was a boat load of other great people I shared these unbearable 4 days with.

Crossroads…

I’ve been thinking seriously of finishing this particular journey. Like my friend wasta said, it’s been only 7 months. But it’s been 7 months through Africa. I’m a wee bit tired. I’ve been thinking of going home. Getting a mundane job. Finding a proper woman. Settling down and producing some offspring. Any objections out there? Words of wisdom?

I went to the American University in Cairo to leaf through some of their lonely planet guidebooks hoping to spark my imagination. Nothing. The logical place to go next is perhaps Yemen or to Asia. To Iran. Perhaps re-visit Pakistan (the AUC was missing the LP Pakistan). Or, visit the “stans”, even though I feel totally unprepared (language-wise) to go there. To tell you the truth, language has not stopped me in the past from going somewhere.

But then, I met this Korean girl from Seoul last night. She bought a ticket to Bangkok (from Cairo) the other day for $340 USD (tax incl.). Damn that’s a good price.

Perhaps, if I spent sometime resting by the Red Sea, I might have a change of heart.

haven't seen a pharmaceutical factory, yet...

salaam aliekum my friends,

I've been in Khartoum for the a few days now. it's been just roasting hot outside with temperatures between 40 to 46 C. that's really hot. i've never experienced such intense solar radiation. there's not much that the uninitiated can do during the day except to keep outside or inside activities to a bare minimum. for me, that's walking slowly to and from the local shop for multiple bottles of life giving water. cool clear water. i'm not kidding. once you're in the throes of dehydration you are toast. i certainly picked the wrong time of year to visit sudan.

i do go out at night. the area i'm staying in is called souq al-arabi (the arab market). each and every night the streets are lined with vendors plying their wares (undergarments to bottled parfume). it's pretty chaotic. alot of shouting and thousands of shoppers. i've noticed a couple of things. khartoum, well this part at least, is a dump and most sudanese are pretty tall. i'm surprised more have not followed in the footsteps of manute bol (nba player extraordinaire).

so far the people have been pretty friendly. when i'm walking about people shout out SINDEEGA (sp)!!. that's a term of endearment assigned to each and every chinese national working in sudan. supposedly, there's 5 million brothers and sisters who drew the short straws and call sudan home. surprisingly, there isn't a chinatown in khartoum, and the laundry biz is not dominated by the chinese (yet). i've only seen a few chinese in town. apparently, a bulk of them are working the oil fields down in the South.

i've unabashedly used my unofficial sindeega status a few times already. to hell with being a canadian in these parts, eh. the police don't hassle me and soldiers shake my hand. i was trying to buy some laundry soap last night (ok, it's my heritage). a guy was trying to help me out because of my poor command of the arabic language (i used the right word, that being "become" when asking for the cost of something). sometimes people are so shocked that i can utter a few words of their language that they are in a state of de-nile (get that joke, ha!). my helper asked me whether i understood english or not. that's hilarious because i had been speaking english with him for at least a minute. he asked where i was from. china (of course). well, the chinese are very supportive of sudan. they (the chinese) are great people. uh huh... blah, blah, blah... look buddy, once the motherland wants payback it's lights out for sudan if you can't fork over the oil.

the "d" word...

it's amazing the conversations i have on buses. i figure talking with the normal folks is like taking the pulse of the nation. you know, getting to down to the nitty gritty. well, i made my first sudanese friend, asser, on the air conditioned bus from gederaf (see map) to khartoum (see map). asser's a really nice guy. when the steward put on the feature movie (a really bad d-grade hollywood flick about some american dude blowing up stuff), asser turned his head.

are you ok, i asked.

"i don't watch american movies"

"why not?"

"american movies always makes us look very bad"

"you know it's a story and not real?"

no answer.

the conversation some how turns to the subject of the D word (i'll just say it's in the west of sudan). according to asser, the "problem " in the D region is exaggerated by the western media. sudanese people are beautiful. i agreed (well, most of them are). if he sees any foreign troops in sudan, he wouldn't hesitate running up to them and slitting their throats with a dagger (the latter comment was done with great animation). there is a silver lining though. tourists are ok (thank Allah). that includes american tourists. i digress. the only way foreign forces can "take" sudan is if they killed all the sudanese people because each and everyone will fight till their last breaths.

he was really working himself into a lather by now. i was flabbergasted. yet, i couldn't resist asking him what he thought about george bush. surprisingly, he calmly replied that if he ever stepped on sudanese soil he'd call him a tosser and give him the one fingered salute (i.e. the worst thing a sudanese could give dubya). asser demonstrated the latter gesture by slowly lifting the middle finger of his right hand. well, at least dubya won't need the aid of a translator in that case. he went on to complete his thought by saying after the hand gesture he would have to, on the spot, disembowel dubya. ok...

i think i fell asleep after that. a/c has that effect on me.

by the way, asser said "death to america" as i faded. he tried to teach me the arabic translation but i can't remember what it was.

ed. notes.

1. no corresponding artsie photo this week. i'm required to purchase a photography permit at some horrendous price. i can't take pix of men/women in uniform. because the po-leece and armed forces are ubiquitous, i can't take a whole lotta pix in any case. therefore, in lieu, this week i have to type a million words to explain myself in place of the pix.

2. monday will be my first attempt at escaping the mirage called khartoum. i managed to get a ticket for 3 class (i.e. the cattle class) on the world's slowest train. no a/c. no diner car. sleeping sitting up. i'm going to treat it like a big picnic at bowness park. in 36 to 50 hours, theoretically, i should arrive at wadi halfa, a frontier town on the southern tip of lake nasser. there i take a 16 hr. cruise up the lake (i.e. the nile dammed) to aswan, egypt.

3. they ain't got beer here, but someone did offer me hashish though. go figure...

4. update: there was a break in the heat spell today. the sun was blocked by a massive sandstorm. there is a god. Allah.

5. it took me 5 hrs. yesterday to purchase the train/boat tix. today, it took me 5 hrs. to be registered as a foreign alien. for the latter, it was 44 USD to tell them i'm an alien...

6. i'm hiding in this internet cafe b/c they have great a/c.

plan A: miracle on sand or anything is possible in africa.

Khartoum here i come!!!

wahoooo!!!

i went to the sudanese embassy this morning dreading the worst. instead i came away with overnight service for a visa (of course, after i forked over $61 USD).

the outcome just shocked the bejeezus out of me. i was expecting a long wait.

why was given expedited service? to tell you the truth: I REALLY DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS. ha! It's fun to speculate though. I think it was a combination of the following:

1. i looked like i was from the PRC - peoples' repub. of china.
2. i waited quietly for 2.5 hrs. watching 42 ethiopians ahead of me in the que jump through the bureaucratic hoops in getting their visas. i actually didn't see any visas granted to them...
3. i applied for only a transit visa (i.e. go straight through, do not collect my 200 dullah) which was purported to be much easier to obtain than it's rich cousin, the tourist visa.
4. i showered and shaved this morning and put on my only long sleeved shirt.
5. the man behind the visa desk thought, "that poor chinese bastard has patiently sat there for the last 2.5 hrs. without saying a word. he needs a visa today or tomorrow."

having hindsight now, the 4 days of pounding the pavement was worth it (ok, i fit in some museum time). 2 trips to the canadian embassy to pay 50 bucks for a letter of introduction -- i got to write jackass steve h. for a refund. 2 trips to the egyptian embassy for a $50 USD visa -- i got to write jackass steve h. for another refund. and, 2 trips to the bank to finance this debacle.

so this is plan A. it's a bit complicated. the sudanese visa will be valid for only 2 weeks. unfortunately, i need at least 3 more weeks to look around ethiopia (the very basics). to borrow time, I'm heading to Harrar (way out in the east) after taking in the Mercato in addis, in 2 days. harrar is home of the famous Hyena Man. should be brill watching him feed the hyenas. i'll probable spend 2 or 3 days out there. then it's back to collect my sudanese visa here.

from that point in time, the clock will start. I've got 2 weeks to reach the sudan border. on the way, i've got to find the Lost Ark of the Covenant. that's tall order my friend...

upon entering the sudan, i will have 2 weeks to clear the country. fortunately, the visa is extendable in khartoum if there there are any "unforeseen" delays (effectively making it a tourist visa). khartoum will be brill. look out Royal City of Meroe.

on top of all this I have 2 months to reach wadi halfa, on the shores of Lake Nasser, and enter egypt.

it's gonna be brill.

did i mention i love to travel (especially when things work out).

(by the way, the plan B i was contempting was sailing to yemen via djibouti, hiring camels to cross into oman and then jump the strait of hormuz and land in iran. not a bad itinerary, eh? maybe next time)

ciao.