Middle East Trip Report - December 2002/January 2003

Dates: 2002-12-12 to 2003-02-10

Graham travelled throughout the Middle East for about two months during the Canadian winter of 2002/2003. This is actually a compilation of the report emails that were sent by Graham during his trip and is printed with his permission. If you have any questions for Graham, you may contact him at gcdurran@hotmail.com. Obviously Graham had one particular set of experiences and I maintain them for my own reference, and that of others. Your own personal mileage may vary.

Contents

Goin away again
Due to the pre-xmas and immediate post-xmas slump in the IT market (at least here in Toronto) I have decided to take off for 2 months. I'm flying to Cairo and bike riding to Athens, flying back from there. Roughly 5500km. Flights are booked. Leaving Tuesday (December 10, 2002). Back Feb 12, 2003.

Hello from Africa

Thursday, December 12, 2002 - Cairo
I'm tired. Had about 3 hours of sleep in the last 48. Its a caffeine and sugar frazzled kind of tired. I wasn't able to leave Heathrow during my 12 hour layover, they wouldn't check my bags until several hours before my flight, and its hard to wander around a city with a bike box. But, I'm here now, and Cairo is great so far. I have this little backpacker style place, single room, basic but clean, with breakfast, for $10 Canadian per night. The traffic is insane; some intersections dont have lights or stop signs. Big intersections. Needless to say the bike is still in the box, in my room, and won't come out until I leave Cairo, sure I take some risks but I'm not stupid. I might decide to take the train to Luxor... for safety reasons... the area between Cairo and Luxor was where the anti-tourist terrorists were (are?) based. I'm not really sure what this trip will bring, there are so many unknowns, I'm just completely playing it by ear. Tomorrow is the Pyramids of Giza, Saturday the Cairo museum, beyond that... its wide open. All I know is that I have to be in Athens in 2 months! 21C and clear here today. Perfect for biking! Athens was 7C.

Cairo

Friday, December 13, 2002 - Cairo
The first thing i noticed when i woke up this morning was the stillness. Friday in Egypt is like Sunday in Canada; many businesses are closed and people get up late. At 6:00 am no one is moving. I was able to walk to the bus station in peace and quiet - the last bit of silence I would have for a long time.

The Sphinx. What a surreal experience to gaze upon one of the oldest monuments man has ever built, a symbol of mystery, a structure that has withstood the test of time and is part of modern culture. It is both beautiful and powerful up close. I can see how people claim to "feel" a metaphysical presence here; even staunchly agnostic, hypercritical me felt overawed when gazing upon it, within swiping range of a paw. There is something intangible about the Sphinx; maybe the way the cat body is sitting - poised, calm, but ready; maybe the gentle curve of the tail, subtly swooshed across the right flank; maybe the fact that no one knows who built it, or why, or how far back it predates the pyraminds behind it, 5000 years old themselves.

Whew. What a start to the Giza Plateau. Behind the Sphinx are the 3 large and 6 small Pyramids of Giza. Compared to the largest Mexican pyramids they are steeper-sided, built of larger blocks, but have a slightly smaller base area. I went inside Cheops, the largest, it was fun but a bit of a letdown with several of the famous passages closed off. Still, a must-do. The passageways are small, narrow, and slanted, forcing you to crawl along at times. Not good for my back but easily worth a few post-pyramid stretches. On the way out myself and a couple of Aussies were held up by an Egyptian woman, in full tears, going through the motions of claustrophobia. We cheered her on, made her laugh with some confined-space tricks, and shared in her relief to be outside again.

Hawkers. They are everywhere in the Nile valley, have different strategies, but similar patterns. Commonly they ask my name, where I'm from, and ALWAYS either they or their best friend/sister/brother lives/has lived in Canada...sure. Some are selling items, most are selling themselves as tour guides. The best was a tour offered me around the pyramids and to Saqqara, for 250 pounds ($90 CDN), an outrageous price here. The "sweetener" in the deal was that it would be by camel/horse. I said
"I don't want to ride"
"Its far, very far, around Giza"
"I want to walk" < to feel the scale of everything >
"Its too far to walk, you'll get tired"
"I walk a lot, no camel"
"ok 200 pounds"
"But I'll only pay 60 pounds in entrance fees, and can bike to Saqqara if I want"
"Saqqara is 25km"
"Yes I know"
"Thats too far, and besides you need a camel at Giza"
Sigh. I've since learned to start off any conversation with a taxi driver/guide/hawker with La Shukran (No thank you).

After the much-hyped marathon walk around the pyramids at Giza (maybe 5km AT MOST), it was back to Cairo. The buses are fast, cheap, and crowded. I walked all afternoon, to see mosques, the market, and the Citadel. I was WAY off the beaten path, very third world at times. It could have been 300 AD, some of the "streets" I walked down. The people are friendly, many are helpful without thought or design for reward. I feel very secure here. I'm getting a hang of their traffic system, which demands everyone to be alert and agile. Almost every car has dents, but I imagine there are very few serious accidents. Police are everywhere, but quite unobtrusive. The mosques are beautiful and elegant in their simplicity; they have a very friendly, open, and down-to-earthness feeling to them that contrasts to the feeling I have had in many Western churches. Carpets and columns take the place of pews and stained glass. No gaudy displays of wealth or other suggestions of ulterior motive, at least in Cairo mosques. They are simply unpretentious houses of worship of Allah for the masses.

Saturday, December 14, 2002
I spent the morning in the Egyptian museum, a world-famous but poorly managed ramshackle operation, considering the massive collection of priceless artifacts contained therein. Most of the display items are unlabelled and unprotected from the visitors. Large signs all over the museum say "No Touching" and "No Flash Photography", however, museum GUIDES were running their hands along various stone tablets to help with their presentations. Flashes were going off every now and then. The ever-present security did nothing except yawn. The volume of artifacts and the exquisite eauty of them made the museum more than worth it. Unfortunately row upon row of statues, sarcophagi, tablets, etc, plus yesterdays experiences, has left me with a bit of "Pharonic Phatigue". Its a lot to take in, and quite overwhelming.

Over to the Nile Hilton in a vain attempt to find a cheap way to Saqqara, that doesn't involve me biking vs Cairo traffic. With patrons paying 225US/night (30 times more than me) cheap is not on the menu. I tried a few other places, but with Luxor/Karnak/Valley of the Kings coming up, my Phatigue is saying to me "its no big deal to miss Saqqara", so I probably won't see it. 9 pyramids will have to do.

Everywhere I go children are excited and curious about me. Many ask me my name, and are startled when I ask theirs and make an effort to pronounce it correctly. The 15-25 crowd hang out in small groups and often give me a "whats up", "hello", or "welcome to Egypt". The older adults are fairly indifferent, outwardly. All are unobtrusive, other than the taxi drivers/hawkers who are a REAL PAIN IN THE ASS. Those with a short temper (or lack of agility) should not walk Cairo streets.

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Luxor/Hurghada

Sunday, December 15, 2002 - Cairo
I spent the day doing "administrative" duties: Syrian Embassy for visa, a bit of shopping, relaxing in the hotel to read ahead on Luxor. I'm taking the night train to Luxor - the hyper-conservative police will not let me ride there, up the Nile valley.

Monday, December 16, 2002 - Luxor
It took a little baksheesh on the train but my bike and I are here. Finally took the bike out of the box. Spent the afternoon at the Temples of Karnak. The only downside of seeing this site is that it makes almost every other ancient building that I'm going to see (or modern for that matter) pale in insignificance (like seeing waterfalls after you've seen Niagara, or Universities after you've been to Waterloo). A huge, sprawling worship site (1.5km x 800m), this eclectic complex is unique in Egypt in that, from relatively humble beginnings, it had pillars, rooms, obelisks, courtyards, etc., added to it by a succession of pharaohs. Even a Nubian king and Alexander the Great contributed during their brief tenures. The Great Hypostyle Hall alone, with 134 massive, inscribed pillars, covers a larger area than Rome's St. Peters and London's St. Pauls cathedrals, combined. And this hall is a small part of Karnak. Whereas the Pyramids represented the brute force and power of individual pharoahs, Karnak represents (to me) the enduring power of the Egyptian religion on the Egyptian people and pharaohs throughout ancient times.

I walked back to town following the remnants of the Avenue of the Sphinxes, still being unearthed; this road ran for 3km connecting Karnak to the Temple of Luxor (which after Karnak did not seem worth seeing). The road was (and still partially is) flanked by large stone sphinxes spaced only several metres apart... do the math. I spent the late afternoon on the 6th storey rooftop of my hotel, reading and listening to the Qu'ran being chanted/sung over loudspeakers.

Tuesday, December 17, 2002 - Hurghada
First day on the bike... sort of. I ferried across the Nile with the locals to the west bank, to see the Temple of Hatshepsut, the Ramesseum, and the Valley of the Kings. I went into 3 of the Valley tombs... wow, much more interesting than inside the pyramids, with painted walls depicting the now-familiar Egyptian Gods doing their thing. The Book of the Dead is easily recognizable in several of the sarcophagi chambers. The density of tombs in the Valley is amazing... many have their entrances literally metres apart from each other, yet they were all intentioned to be undiscovered. There are still a few more waiting to be stumbled upon...

Back on the bike, time to ride down the Nile to Qena, 60km away. Locals along the road are curious about me, waving, yelling hello, the road is flat, i'm zooming along... then comes a police checkpoint. Sorry, can't go to Qena, too dangerous, try the other side of the Nile. Shukran, backtrack 10km to the ferry, back to Luxor, riding along, waving, feeling good... police checkpoint... backtrack to Luxor, onto a bus, might as well go right through to the Red Sea town of Hurghada. Oh well. I tried. I hope they let me ride in Sinai.

Thursday, December 19, 2002 - Ras Muhammed National Park
The Red Sea was angry this morning as the ferry pitched wildly back and forth, causing several passengers to make mad dashes for the bathroom. I thought the Sea might part for me, since I'm on my way to Mt. Sinai and there is documentation of this happening before for those with that destination, but I guess the idols of Egyptian gods that I have packed away nullify any Holy favours. Now in Asia I was hoping the police might relax a little... and they have, I'm finally allowed to ride! Free at last! Off to Ras Muhammed National Park, a coral reef paradise on the Southern tip of Sinai. The landscape is barren, coarse, and bone dry. The roads are smooth and the drivers give me a wide berth when passing. Unfortunately Egyptians seem to have a fascination with loud sounds... including the horn. Cairo was a constant bedlam of honking, and here is no different, albeit fewer people. Much of the time they honk for no observable reason, such as an empty road with no cars around. In the Park I camped for the first time, under a thatched roof shelter overlooking the Red Sea.

Friday, December 20, 2002 - Dahab
Back to Sharm El-Sheikh for food, then off to Dahab. The first 20km out of Sharm was insanely tough; never have I faced a tougher headwind. A constant, menacing howl, at times the wind blew sand across the road in mini-sandstorm conditions. Not a good omen. It felt as if the wind was blowing right into my lungs creating unusual and uncomfortable air pressure conditions inside me. I pedalled along, forced down to my lowest of gears on a fairly flat road, barely moving faster than walking pace. After a few hours of this I was starting to worry about water; I had not budgeted for such a slow pace, and would run out well before Dahab (lesson learned). Then a lorry stoped in front of me, several men hopped out saying "Dahab?" "Nuweiba?" I hesitated, stubbornness welling up inside of me, then acquiesced, saying "Dahab". I rode in the back of the lorry with my bike, the chaotic, barren Sinai moonscape whizzing by. Bedouin camps are scattered around, their life must be incredibly tough.

Dahab. I was wondering if Dahab would live up to its reputation as a cheap, laid back backpackers refuge from the plastic resorts of Hurghada and Sharm... and it has. Dahab is great. The rooms are cheap ($4 CDN/night), clean, and on the beach. There is a long beach promenade flanked by chairs, pillows, blankets, bars (500ml beer is $2.25 CDN) along the Gulf of Aqaba with Saudi Arabia clearly visible on the other side. There is a wide variety of cheap and good places to eat. Certainly a multi-day stop for me; I can also get a round trip tour to Mt Sinai and back for $12 CDN from here. I have been hanging out with an American couple that I met in Luxor... they are on their way home from a 2 year Peace Corps assignment in Vanuatu. Although they are from Seattle, to anyone who doesn't see their passports they are "from Vancouver".

Dahab and Mt. Sinai

Saturday, December 21, 2002 - Dahab
Sunburn.

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Sunday, December 22, 2002 - Dahab
Stayed in the shade. Starting to get ancy about lounging around.

Monday, December 23, 2002 - Dahab
Enjoying this backpacker mecca immensely (cheap rooms, great cheap food, great people), but getting more and more anxious to hit the road again. Will leave here early in the morning on the 25th.

I spent the day climbing Mt. Sinai, yes, the one from the Bible where Moses was reportedly given the 10 commandments by God. There is a huge parking area at the base, packed with tour buses, taxis, etc, but very few people wander beyond the souvenir market and St. Katherine's Monastery at the bottom. You can't even see Mt. Sinai from the parking lot so I wondered what the point of going to the trailhead, but not hiking or taking a camel to the mountain, is (the Monestary was nothing special, and 95% out of bounds). The trail to the summit is moderate (2 hours) and well manicured; a 4wd vehicle could drive most of it. A small group of us hung around the summit until sunset - it was quite a dramatic sight, the sun setting behind the highest peak in Egypt (St Katherine) as viewed from the 2nd highest (Mt. Sinai). There were scattered lights in the valleys beneath us, as well as stars overhead, as we scurried down the trail.

Petra, Jordan

Tuesday, December 24, 2002 - Dahab
My last day in Dahab. Another relaxing day, spending time in the Sun with people I have met here. I will be sad to leave here. I tried to mail some stuff home but prices are prohibitively expensive.

Wednesday, December 25, 2002 - Aqaba
I was up early to take advantage of the quiet roads and cool temperature. The road out of Dahab climbed slowly and steadily into a moderate headwind. The beautiful mountainous desert landscape that surrounded me makes the sluggish pace tolerable. 60km into the 75km ride I met a Frenchman pedalling the other way. He had just come from where I am headed, and vice versa, so we had lots to talk about. He was woefully short on water, so I gave him some, while he gave me some Dinars which were useless to him now. The last 12km into the Port of Nuweiba I did not pedal, not a single stroke; a thrilling long winding descent from the mountains that I had just climbed, back to the coast.

Nuweiba is a hole. Never go there. Unfortunately I had a 7 hour wait for my ferry here.

The ferry was packed with Egyptians on their way to Saudi Arabia to work. There were few foreigners... myself, a few Koreans, and about 15 Moldovans. The Koreans and I sat on the open deck with some Egyptians who invited us onto their blankets, eating, chatting, sleeping. The Moldovans sat in a secluded room, glaring disdainfully at the Egyptians. My Jordanian visa was processed on the ferry - free! What a relief after the $100CDN Syrian visa. Apparently all Middle Eastern tourism is taking a massive hit because of the impending Iraq war, so Jordan has responded by slashing prices. As I was later to discover, Petra was half price and hotels are about 1/3 the price listed in my Lonely Planet guidebook.

With customs cleared, I had a midnight 8km ride into town, my first night ride of the trip. I'm sure few Jordanians have seen lights on a bike, much less an annoying, bright flashing red one, but they all kept well clear of me.

Nobody here cares that today was Jesus's birthday, after all, he was just one of many prophets.

Thursday, December 26, 2002 - Petra
Happy Birthday Mom!!
Up later than usual, after a late night. A few misdirected starts and I was finally on my way to Petra. It was an ambitious goal, and I knew it (approx 120km). The massive climb out of Aqaba did not help. Pushing into a headwind on the desert plateau I was getting concerned about time, especially when stormclouds appeared ahead of me. Just over halfway there I realized that I wouldn't make it before dark... so I changed my "body language", made my pedal stroke sloppy to look very tired, kept glancing back at traffic... and in a few minutes a truck stopped. After the mandatory haggling period, which involves showing disinterest, walking away, looking off into the distance, etc, the price was settled on. The road quickly started pitching up and down chaotically, much to my horror, making me glad to be moving along by diesel power. I rode the last 10km into Petra through this chaos in a slight rain and cold temperatures (winter gear on), wondering why the term "grading" has not been applied here, seeing no logic to the road construction.

I'm staying in a great backpackers place for 6 CDN/night. Comfy rooms, a great lounge area complete with a fairly large video collection, one showing (by consensus) per night. Tonight is Monty Python's "Life of Brian", an appropriate movie in this locale. Tomorrow is the even more appropriate "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", which features Petra itself towards the end of the movie.

Friday, December 27, 2002 - Petra
Words, pictures, or video cannot do justice to the ancient city of Petra. To explain Petra is like trying to explain the size or feel of the Grand Canyon to someone who has not seen it. Much more than the huge facades cut into the rock that it is famous for, Petra was the hub of a civilization that had enough power to challenge Rome (albeit unwisely). The scale of the site, the feel of an entire city cut into rock, the expansive views, has to be seen to be believed and understood.

Unfortunately, like Luxor and the Pyramids, vendors are everywhere. To get them off my back I'm trying a new tactic, that seems to be working well, of laying on as thick a French accent as I can muster, saying "je ne parle anglais". Since most can barely speak English I am pretty safe with French.

Horses and donkeys serve as taxis here; unfortunately these Jordanians do not treat their animals well. The drooping heads, glazed eyes, tired gait, and frequent whipping suggests that none of these donkeys or horses are happy. By the time I was on my way out I was ready to pull a rider off a donkey and see how HE liked the feel of a whip across HIS bare ass. I told one of them, upon being offered a ride for the nth time, why I would never take one here. Near the exit a horse drawn carriage raced by, driver with whip in hand in a threatening way, while the horse galloped along with its head turned to one side so that it could see the whip, eyes wide open in fear. The worst part of the scene was the 2 Western passengers, laughing away, having a jolly old time at the expense of an animal's fear. I saw them disembark and waddle their way to the plastic world of the Movenpick Hotel. Figures. Their lack of awareness or caring bothered me much more than the driver's actions; the driver has likely had little education and is just trying to earn a living the best way he knows how. He has probably received tips before for a fast ride. If anyone reading this ever comes to Petra, PLEASE be capable of moving your carcass 10 unpaved kilometres under your own power so that you are not forced to support animal cruelty here.

Israel to the left, Iraq to the right

Note: Syria has an internet blackout. I will be there in a few days, so unless I get access in Irbid (just before the border) you may not hear from me in a while. Don't worry, its not because i've joined Hamas or run off to live with the bedouins. Everything I've heard from other travellers who've been there indicates that Syria will be my safest and friendliest country to travel in of all, and I believe them.

Saturday, December 28, 2002 - Amman
A cold, wet morning in Petra. I decided to take the bus to Amman, in Northern Jordan, and do daytrips out of there to see the sights. $4 CDN for 300km of cold desert travel is hard to walk away from. The bus terminal in Ma'an (where I had to change buses) was pure chaos; there was no order, no consistent bus placement by destination, anything, just the occasional person yelling. Since many Jordanians cannot read they are in the same boat as me to find their bus. Arabic numbers are no problem for me now, but I'm having a hard time deciphering the letters, even with a translation book in hand.

On the bus to Amman I sat next to a Palestinian who fled the West Bank in the 70's. We talked about various things (his English was very good, including reading), staying away from sensitive issues. As we neared Amman, on the same roadsign, there was a turnoff for the Israeli border to the left, Iraqi border to the right.

Amman has the same chaos as Cairo, but with steep hills and winding roads added to the picture. I visited the Roman theatre and Citadel, Amman's two main sites of interest. Back at the hostel a Jordan-Bahrain soccer game was on... it seemed the whole city was watching; when Jordan went ahead 1-0 there was a loud eruption of voices that echoed throughout the streets. Late in the game Bahrain scored twice to win; the hostel staff were grumpy all night.

The food here is starting to catch up with me. I've been very careful with the water but food is harder to control. Can't eat biscuits all the time, especially with such great food all around, now that I'm in Jordan. Yummm. However, something finally got to me and I was heaving it up in the bathroom at midnight (I was fine the next day... nothing permanent).

People here still honk way too much, and seemingly without reason or provocation. I thought it would be funny to ride with a sign written in Arabic, something like "only honk if you hate Allah" but it would probably shorten my lifespan significantly.

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Sunday, December 29, 2002 - Amman
Today I went to the lowest point on Earth for a float around. The high salinity (30%) of the Dead Sea makes drowning near impossible - I was floating higher out of the water than if I had a lifejacket on in freshwater. Doing the front crawl is a wierd experience, with over half the stroke out of the water rather than in it. Swimming is more like paddling a surfboard than the swimming I'm used to. Israel was only 6km away, easily visible across the water... as if to highlight this fact, a few Jordanian F5 warplanes thundered overhead, carefully (and wisely) not crossing over the body of water. I'm sure there were many more eyes (both biological and electronic) than those of Dead Sea bathers watching the flightpath of those aircraft.

While floating around a few of the tourists found a patch of Dead Sea mud amongst the sandy bottom and started putting it on for it's supposed skin-suppling effects. I paddled myself over for a closer look. One of the vendors on the beach (who was selling the mud for $12CDN/application) became visibly agitated at the proceedings and ran off. A power-that-was came back with him and indicated that we were out of bounds, back to the sandy bottom area. Nothing on the beach indicated such boundaries, other than this man's gesticulations, and we HAD paid to be at that beach. Such is Jordan.

Quite a few backpackers that I've run into have seen me cycling on the road as their bus whizzed by, which isn't that surprising since routes are limited in this area of the world, restricted by geography and politics. All that have been there say that I will love Syria, and that people there are much better with respect to tourists than Egyptians or Jordanians. Syrians are not used to tourists, so extracting money from you is not their first and foremost objective upon meeting.

I've received one or two anti-American comments from locals that I pass by; also, when people ask me if I'm American, there is a note of hesitation, awkwardness, and sometimes challenge in their voice and body language. When I say Canadian, a subtle wave of relief crosses their face and they break out in a smile. "Ahhh, Canada, very good, Montreal? Many Arabs in Canada, Canada good country, Canada/[Jordan/Egypt] friends".

The ironic/hypocritical part of all this is that often THEY are walking American billboards, wearing leather jackets and blue jeans or Nike/NFL/NBA/baseball paraphenalia (traditional Arabic/bedouin clothing of course) while I am dressed moderately and functionally, without name brands. Whatever happened to integrity and practicing what you preach?

Damascus

Lo and behold Syria DOES have internet. tsk tsk, Lonely Planet...

Monday, December 30, 2002 - Amman (Jordan)
I did a tour of Jordan's desert castles today, which was mildly disappointing. Only one or two of the 5 buildings were intact, and there was graffiti all over. I spent much of the evening planning my route through Syria.

Tuesday, December 31, 2002 - Damascus (Syria)
I was up very early and made it to the ancient Roman city of Jerash as it opened. It was completely empty of tourists; a very serene, peaceful feel when walking along columnaded, chariot-rutted streets. I pedalled North from Jerash towards the Syria border over some immense "hills" with Rocky Mountain-like climbs and descents. Very exhausting. I passed through the border uneventfully - the Syrian border guards tried to get me to say that I had been to Israel, but they weren't tricky enough. I turned due East to sidetrack to Bosra, all the while wondering if it was worth seeing after yesterday's disappointment. Fortunately Bosra was AMAZING; an incredibly well preserved (best preserved in the world) 15,000 seat theatre encased in fortress walls and towers. The fortress superstructure was built by the Arabs as a defense against the Crusaders. What a great experience to walk down dark, arched gothic fortress tunnels, lined with arrow-slitted alcoves, then to turn inwards, go up a flight of stairs and emerge into the giant theatre. The whole complex is surrounded by an impressive moat; quite a sight, and in my opinion underrated and a must-see in Syria.

I hopped on a bus that happened to be at the right time, place, and schedule and made it into Damascus for an "exciting" night bike ride in a 3rd world city of 6 million to my hotel. For some reason Damascus is bursting with tourists, must be a New-Years thing. I slept in the hotel office on a couch.

Wednesday, January 1, 2003 - Damascus
I spent the morning reading travellers tips from a logbook at the backpacker hotel here, and left some of my own about Jordan and Egypt, all the while waiting for a room, which I ended up getting (yes!). I spent the day at the Umayyad Mosque and the Old City. The Umayyad Mosque is Islam's 3rd holiest site, after Mecca and Medina. Among other things John the Baptist is supposed to be entombed here, and Saladin's sarcophagus is next door. The Mosque itself is impressive in both its size and simplicity.

The Old City of Damascus dates from Medieval times but of course has been ravaged by fire, war, etc numerous times. Still, it retains a very ancient feel, being a warren of narrow, curving streets with abrupt corners, dead ends, and even narrower serpentine offshoots. The streets occasionally go through tunnels or are covered with metallic or silk canopies. The souq (bazaar) occupies much of the Old City, and days could easily be spent shopping among the countless vendors. The souq is organized into shopping areas based on items for sale (more or less); the ones that I found particularly interesting were the Persian carpets, the sweets, and the Qu'ran vendor districts. The fact that I'm travelling by ajila prevents/protects me from buying anything.

The food is great, and has been since Dahab, but the only complaint I have is the lack of variety available at the budget end of the scale (i.e. what the locals eat). There was a dramatic change in food as I crossed the 30km from Egypt to Jordan, and it has changed slightly as I've headed North, but all the restaurants and street vendors sell almost the same thing, within the same town. Imagine walking along Queen Street in downtown Toronto with rows and rows of hot dog vendors and McDonalds, and nothing else foodwise at all (and McDonalds only has 3 things on the menu). Here, its either falafel, shawarma, hummous, or kebab, all of which is very good, don't get me wrong. All cooked the same way, same spices. Thats it. Fortunately I love this food, but after eating it twice a day for weeks, it gets a bit tiring. It is a major effort and expense (i.e. more than $2 CDN) to find food out of the norm. If I was on the tour bus circuit things would be different, but then again, on the tour bus circuit I would have blown my 2 month budget in 2 weeks and never got out of Egypt...

3 down, 2 to go

Thursday, January 2, 2003 - Damascus

Palmyra day. Syria's #1 tourist site, this was my first big tourist destination since Petra, and the same people were out, trying to get as much money from tourists as possible. No I don't want a camel, la shukran. The bus from Damascus dropped the tourists off at a hotel where (of course) we were ushered inside; we could buy our return ticket there. Fine. I forked over the cash and was offered tea. Uh-oh, bad sign. I could see where this was going. "Palmyra very big site, too big for one day" the man with the cheshire smile casually mentioned. No shit its big, Sherlock, and it WILL be too big for me if I waste my time sitting in a hotel lobby sipping tea refusing camel rides, taxis, guides, postcards, film, lunch, dinner, etc etc. I immediately asked for my ticket, to which he said "you get it later. Come, have tea". Worse and worse. I retrieved my money and left, determined to find another way back to Damascus. I'm sick of these games that target the unwary and unsuspecting.

An ancient town, situated strategically in the middle of nowhere where ancient trade routes converge on a massive oasis, Palmyra grew into an empire that, like the Nabateans of Petra, unwisely challenged Rome. This vast complex of columnaded streets, temples, and tombs has only begun reconstruction. Walking around the site among countless pieces of standing and fallen masonry it is clear that at one time the city must have been absolutely spectacular. As it was, it was a full day of exploration, on par with Petra in terms of size, beauty, and interest.

Being > 200km Northeast of Damascus I was within 200km of Iraq; there were roadsigns for Baghdad.

After visiting the site I found the local's way back to Damascus. I sat next to an ex-army Syrian, who had spent 7 years working with the Russians in the "good ol' days". Naturally he hated the U.S. but was happy to hear from me that (a) Canada has many Muslims, and some mosques, and (b) I feel much safer in Arab cities than American cities, particularly at night.

Back in Damascus, as I got off the Palmyra bus, a taxi driver accosted me (only 1 this time). He rightly guessed where I was going, but wrongly guessed my familiarity with the Arab minibus system and prices. I decided to score one for the tourists and doggedly followed him across the bus station to his taxi, doing my best "stupid gringo" imitation. He ushered me into the cab, so I asked the price. 150 pounds. Huh. 150 eh? "That seems like a little much". 100. Hmmm. A little better. "Well I can take the minibus for 5 pounds, how about that?" The look of disgust on his face was priceless and I laughed my way back across the station to the minibuses. In 10 minutes I was at my hotel... having my 5 pound (15 cent) fare paid for by a local who would not let me pay.

By the way: In these countries NEVER NEVER NEVER get into a cab, or get any other service/food, without establishing price FIRST. This may sound pedantic, anal, whatever, and you are made to feel like you are being a pain in the ass... for a reason. The vendor knows that you probably don't speak Arabic well, are in a hurry, will bend to pressure, and will jack the price astronomically if you foolishly take any service without establishing payment terms in advance. I have heard SO many horror stories from travellers who have lazily or unsuspectingly fallen into this trap, been left at the side of the road, etc, and almost all the time they've had to give in and pay far too much.

Friday, January 3, 2003 - Krak de Chevaliers
A morning bus ride to span 200km of cold, empty desert to Homs, a dreary industrial town at Syria's crossroads. I rode the next 50km to the Krak de Chevaliers, which I saw the inside of the next day. A bit of rain had left the roads grimy, by the time I was at the Krak I was covered in filth. Big laundry day. The climb up to the Krak was insane... in my lowest gears I had to stop 5 times to rest, that was how steep and how long the climb was. I broke the bank, spending $13CDN on a gorgeous room that overlooked the Krak from a narrow valley, absolutely picture perfect view if it wasn't for the dark clouds above.

Saturday, January 4, 2003 - Lattakia
I explored the Krak in the morning. The Krak de Chevaliers was the toughest of the Crusader castles, never having been breached. It was given up by the Crusaders in lieu of safe passage home when it was the last outpost in the area, all others having fallen. This massive, double-fortified fortress is a castle within a castle, designed such that if the outer defensive structure was breached (it was, by sapping), the inner fortress could act standalone (which it did). Since it never truly fell, and was reinforced and used by the Arabs once the Crusaders left, it is in a remarkable state of preservation/completeness, and apparently the finest Crusader castle in existence. To anyone with any remote interest in castles or military architecture, it is a dream come true.

It was dark and raining when I visited and I was alone in my explorations of the gigantic structure. Arched stone allways of Frankish design, tunnels and stairways lit only by my flashlight, towers, ramparts, stairs going up to the light or down into darkness, water dripping, footsteps echoing, rivulets of water cascading down staircases, dead ends... for hours I felt like a babe in toyland, exploring, exploring. The design of the defenses was beautiful, systematic... the outer fortress structure, which was so tough to the outside was completely vulnerable to fire from the inner fortress. No wonder it took many, many months for the Arabs to breach the outer structure alone.

As I loaded my bike for the descent to the coast the rain and wind increased. Great. I waited in the hotel for 1/2 an hour, waiting for a break in the weather. Finally the rain died a bit, or so my impatient mind imagined, and I raced to the bike and pedalled off. 100 metres down the road the tempest resumed and worsened. OK boy, you've been telling people that Canadians can handle bad weather, time to prove it. Hail bounced off my helmet and bit into my jacket and tights as I slowly descended a harrowing, rutted road through thick and driving rain. The water also felt that the road was the easiest way down; for much of the descent I could not see the road surface through the brown cascading water. Following the twisting, turning, switch-backing road I gradually dropped altitude, completely drenched but warm due to the polypro clothing I was wearing that is made for times like this. Finally I came to the valley bottom... the main road to the coast was not far. My body was shaking, not with cold but from the adrenalin pumping through my veins. Concentrating too hard to enjoy the "runner's high" I maneuvered over the last washed out sections and onto the 4-lane highway. Once I was humming along the 4-foot wide paved shoulder things were uneventful. I pulled into Tartus as rain still fell, wet but happy to be on the Mediterranean coast. I decided to bus it up the coast to Lattakia for a multi-night stay for drying purposes. I had a few hours to kill, and ended up talking to many locals. The consensus: Bush bad + crazy, America so-so, Saddam Hussein bad, Iraq good, Ariel Sharon bad, Arafat sellout, Palestinians good, Canada good, Assad (Syria's leader/dictator) good.

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Sunday, January 5, 2003 - Lattakia
Today I visited Qala'at Salah-ad-Din (Saladin's Castle). This fortress sits at the top of an isolated hilltop, surrounded by steeply-sided, forested valleys; a spectacular sight. The scenery here reminds me of the Laurentians; lush conifer forests with turbulent rivers flowing down the valleys. Except the Laurentians don't have thousand-year-old castles crowning the summits.

This fortress, like the Krak, was built by the Crusaders, but unfortunately for them they did a shabby job and Saladin took it after only 2 days of siege. Walking around this fortress after seeing the Krak was a lesson in what NOT to do in 11th century fortress building (a practical skill to have these days). Thin walls, chaotic placement of towers and arrow slits, overall a seemingly lack of order or central strategic design. Salah-ad-Din was in a relatively poor state of repair, partly due to being smashed up during siege. However, the amazing views and the lesson in contrasts made the daytrip from Lattakia worth it for me.

Tomorrow I will be leaving Syria and the Middle East behind. I'm not sure if Turkey, or parts of Turkey, count as Middle East, but it certainly will be dramatically different than Egypt/Jordan/Syria in terms of language, landscape, and economy. Already, here in Lattakia (50km from border) there are trees, grass, rivers, and more liberal attitudes and dress than the places I have been through.

The Arab people have been incredibly friendly and helpful, the vast majority of the time without thought or hint of reward. I have never once felt even close to being in danger, and I have been to many dark alleys and remote places at all times of day and night. This, considering that I'm travelling with, to the locals, obvious wealth (the bike, bulging saddlebags, expensive sunglasses, etc). Added up the value of my possessions and cash is equal to 1 year's pay for many people here. Try walking unreservedly around many Western cities at night with $30,000 of obvious, accessible, easily disposable wealth and see how safe you feel, and how far you get.

The three countries have had their own distinct character and memories for me. Egypt, was, well, Egypt, completely what you would expect; absolutely mindblowing, stunning sites crowded with tour buses and Egyptians aggressively selling anything they can. Sinai was a nice change of pace, a place to relax whether you like 5 star or zero star. Jordan was a bit of a letdown; other than Petra it didn't really have much to offer for me. Syria, on the other hand, was amazing; many great sites (Bosra, Old City & Umayyad Mosque in Damascus, Palmyra, the Krak, Salah-ad-Din), the best city (Damascus), and the friendliest, lowest-key, most good-natured people of any country I know, including my own.

It is unfortunate and unfair that the actions of several hundred, even several thousand of the 1.2 billion Muslims in the world causes so many Westerners to fear and prejudge the people in the three countries that I have just been through.

It's all Turkish to me

Monday, January 6, 2003 - Antakya (Antioch), Turkey
My longest and toughest ride of the trip so far, 120km of rugged, mountainous terrain from Lattakia, Syria to Antakya, Turkey. Syrians dropped a few levels of respect for me with their horrendous driving and incessant, unnecessary, loud honking. The road to the border was narrow, barely 2 lanes, without any lines. Thoughts running through my head were "I can't f$%^ing move over any further, idiot" and "go ahead, hit me, I'm ready, but be sure to drive away faster than I can run". The drivers received some gesticulations from me that likely transcend language and culture.

The border crossing went uneventfully, if not painfully ($50 US). Immediately across, the difference between Syria and Turkey was dramatic. Turkey is CLEAN; on a cleanliness scale (pollution, garbage, stench) of 0 to 10, with Canada being a 9, Egypt/Jordan/Syria are -10 and Turkey is around 7, so far. The roads in Turkey have lines on them, they are cambered properly, and they have a drainage system. Crossroads have signs (wow, what a concept!!), and since Turkish uses the same letters as English, I can read the city names on them - I never did figure out Arabic lettering, I'm ashamed to admit. I was using my compass in the Syrian hills to determine which road to take at intersections; no need for it now. On the downside the people speak less English or French than the Arabs, so communication is a little tougher. Am I just being naive or is not much of the population going to need English or French when the EU comes knocking?

From sea level in Lattakia I had climbed up 2500 feet to the border, then higher on the Turkish side. The Turkish road was beautiful here, taking me into the high country of mountain meadows and tremedous views. There were a few spots of snow in the ditches, some gravelly, muddy sections, but the captivating scenery made me ignore road conditions. Limestone outcrops were everywhere, much like the weathered rock near Tobermory, and the area was riddled with caves. This is goat country, with many herds eating the scrubs among the rocks. Descents were fast, furious, and winding; the well-cambered road allowing me to ride many of the downhill hairpin turns without braking for a fun G-Force effect (wheeee!!).

Finally the descent into Antakya via a canyon. New food! And there is variety on a local scale here! My first meal was doner, a Turkish staple, but I COULD have had pizza, burgers, pasta, etc. It took a bit of time to adjust to the new currency ($1 CDN = $1,000,000 Turkish lira) and sense of culinary freedom. There are menus! Actual menus! With PRICES! Grocery store price their items too! So do buses! Hah, try to screw the tourist now. It's just too much, all at once. At least the hotel doesn't have a toilet, only the usual thigh-strengthening hole. Thank Allah for that, I can only take so much goodness at once.

Tuesday, January 7, 2003 - Goreme (Cappadocia region)
I visited Antakya's Archaeological Museum in the morning. I'm not big on museums, much prefering sites, however I WAS in ancient Antioch and this Museum reportedly had the best collection of Roman/Byzantine mosaics in the world. It was interesting, but still not really my thing.

Reading through Lonely Planet Turkey, and listening to other traveller's advice, told me that there's not much to see between here and Cappadocia. The sea coast here is very industrial, with big port towns due to the location at the Mediterranean's Northeast corner. So I decided to bus it to Goreme - bus fares are still quite cheap, and although a bit more expensive than in Syria they don't try to surcharge me for the bike, so it works out generally the same. Looking out of the bus showed me that I was missing nothing... drab concrete buildings and characterless towns rolled by. I'm certainly out of 3rd world now, its not 1st world, so I'll call it 2nd, though I don't know the formal definitions.

The Battle of Issus was fought around here, where Alexander resoundedly defeated the Persians to open the way for his conquest of the Middle East and Egypt. The only person around here that seems to care is me, and there is no identified site or battlefield that I was hoping to see. Oh well.

Now that Christmas/New Years has come and gone there are very few tourists again. In the last 3 nights (Lattakia x 2, Antakya x 1) there has been a total of 1 other guest in the hotels I've stayed at. This is nice in that prices are rock-bottom, availability is high, and tourist sites are empty. Overall I have found this time of year to be great for travelling, the only downside being that the water is a little cold for swimming and the dampness on the coast.

One thing that is refreshing to see in Turkey is a large middle class. This first struck me when I noticed that there were many private vehicles on the road... Fords, Hondas, Fiats, etc. In Egypt/Jordan/Syria a very high proportion of private vehicles were Mercedes... you either have a lot of money in those countries, or have almost nothing... and crossing from the one side to the other is probably near impossible. Also, there are many large, well kept stores and business fronts of all kinds in Turkey. This reminded me of a particularly sickening incident I had in Amman, Jordan... I was walking around the city one night and wandered into a 5 star hotel where a wedding was taking place. The parking lot was packed with Jaguars, Mercedes, Porsches, etc. The pretention of the wedding guests was so thick you could cut it with a knife. They were all little princes and princesses, simply by luck of parentage... I can guarantee that anyone under 25 there didn't EARN the cars they were driving, or even the outfits they were wearing. With millions of their countrymen barely surviving, living day-to-day just outside the hotel's walls, the whole spectacle of excess and consumption in the midst of extreme poverty was ghastly and revolting to me.

Wednesday, January 8, 2003 - Goreme
A beautiful, clear, sunny day here in Goreme. I rode out to see the Fairy Chimneys, rock dwellings, and rock-cut churches. After only an hour I was disenchanted and uninterested. I think my senses are getting dulled from so much rapid travelling and having seen so much in a short period of time. This major Turkish tourist destination is similar to Jordan's Petra, but doesn't hold a candle to it (in my books) in terms of beauty, complexity, effort, or majesty. I should have seen Petra 2nd. So I've spent the day relaxing and reading; tomorrow I will see an underground city near here which should be great, then off to Istanbul on an overnight bus.

Better than Kevlar

Thursday, January 9, 2003 - Goreme
Another much-needed relaxing day. Today I went to the underground city in nearby Derinkuyu. The entire area around Goreme is bedrocked with a very thick layer of easily-worked volcanic tuff, hence there are many houses burrowed partially or completely into the rock, and 35 underground "cities". Derinkuyu is the biggest, going down 8 storeys, supposedly capable of housing 1500 people. These cities were more of a retreat in the face of danger than permanent habitations, and no one lives in them anymore. It was fun exploring the tunnels and occasional offshoots, flashlight in hand. I must admit I had a bout of claustrophobia at one point, having to stop and take some deeeeep breaths.

I gave a Turkish man a lesson in his own language today.
"Salaam alekum" i said, an Arabic greeting that is perfectly acceptable and understood in countries that are predominantly Islamic.
"Ah you speak Turkish!"
"'Salaam alekum' is Arabic, 'merhaba' is Turkish"
"Well yes, but we say 'salaam alekum' as well."
"But its not Turkish, is it."
"Well, no."
Gotcha! Arabic wannabe!

Having lots of time until my 8pm bus I walked part of the way back from Derinkuyu, about 11km. Unfortunately this mode of transportation left me easy prey for roadside vendors to hassle. Being a constant source of attention, being gawked at, being hailed to come and "talk" by storeowners, having to say the words "no", "no thank you", "Canada", "Graham", "no, i'm not part of a tour" all the time is really starting to grind on my nerves. The hardest part is trying not to be rude, 50 times a day, while at the same time trying to get away as fast as possible. I wish I had a rotating flag on my backpack, so that when I don't have the energy to be nice I can switch it to the Stars and Stripes. It would be fair, since some Americans wear the Maple Leaf (I've told them, much to my amusement and not theirs, that in these lands the Maple Leaf is better than Kevlar). But the Maple Leaf is permanently there, so I have to be permanently nice, and try to leave everyone I meet with a good impression of Canadians.

I'm hoping that I will be relatively anonymous in cosmopolitan Istanbul and can explore in peace.

Istanbul and Gallipoli

Friday, January 10, 2003 - Istanbul
Early morning arrival by bus, checked into a great hostel in the heart of Old Istanbul, with views of the Aya Sofia and Blue Mosque out of the window, Being tired I kept it local today, visiting these two sites. A beautiful, warm day.

Aya Sofia was one of the (if not THE) greatest churches in Christendom for 1000 years, before becoming one of the greatest mosques in Islam after the Muslims took over in 1453 (add it up... a 1500 year old church). Now, desecularized and a museum, its the most visited site in Turkey. Of course it's stunning inside, massive, powerful. Facing the Aya is the Blue Mosque, which is more impressive from the outside but simple (as mosques are) on the inside.

Downtown Istanbul is fantastic, a combination of a European city with Turkish/Islamic flair. At times you feel you're in Paris, at other times Damascus. A unique place, but familiar to me as I've been slowly progressing towards Europe. Technically I'm in Europe, being on the West side of the Bosphorus and in Thrace, but I don't think I'll really "feel" like I'm in Europe until I step off of the ferry into Greece. I'll really work on Greek since I'll be there for almost 4 weeks. I've given up on Turkish since my stay here is relatively short and some Turks speak Arabic. I'm not as anonymous here as I hoped to be but most people stop bugging me after the first "hayir tesekurler".

Saturday, January 11, 2003 - Istanbul
Very cold today. Today is the midpoint of my trip, timewise. Sigh.

Topkapi palace is where the Ottoman Sultans ruled from for 400 years. Now a museum, I spent 3 hours there, touristing with an American I met in Goreme. Many great things are in Topkapi's walls, including letters written by Muhammed, the 5th largest diamond in the world, a lot of gold, rubies, diamonds, etc etc etc. Then into the Istanbul Archaeological Museum which had bits and pieces from many ancient civilizations. The Egyptian wing felt small, for obvious reasons. Overall quite interesting. This day would have cost me an arm and a leg if it wasn't for a student card that found its way into my pocket for the day, courtesy a fellow traveller that I met in Damascus.

Finally we explored the walls of Constantinople, exploring dark passages, going up and down stairs, an experience happily reminiscent of the Krak. These walls, mostly broken down now, must have been a staggering sight to behold 1000 years ago. We were well off the tourist trail today, good to see "real, behind-the-scenes" Istanbul. Istanbul continues to be a great place to explore, although the food is surprisingly plain for a city of 15 million. I tried and don't like Turkish delight.

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Sunday, January 12, 2003 - Eceabat (Gallipoli)
Another cold day, this time with the cheery addition of rain. Thats the off-season for ya. The American that I met left today, so I'm on my "own" again. I happened to run (briefly) into a guy I met in Egypt! The ebb and flow of backpacker travel is a unique experience; meeting people, comparing experiences and obervations which are invariably tainted by the home country's impressions. You absolutely never know what or who is around the next corner... today having its own surprises yet to come...

I saw my last mosque of Istanbul today, supposedly it's grandest, built by Suleyman the Magnificent - one of the more proliferous of the Sultans. I picked up copies of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey; with Troy in 2 days and the Greek Isles in a week is there any better material to read in preparation?

Finally I rode across Istanbul in a light drizzle to the otogar (bus station) and soon was on my way to Gallipoli, a 4 hour trip, a 4 hour trip...

The weather started getting rough
The large bus was fishtailing
If it wasn't for the driving of the fearless Turk
We wouldn't be in the ditch
We wouldn't be in the ditch

Apparently this area of Turkey gets 1 snowfall or less per year. This was it. The mighty 1-2 inches of snow wreaked havoc on drivers that, although better than their Middle Eastern neighbours, still have a surprising lack of sanity. We weren't the first vehicle in the ditch, not by a longshot. Once we ourselves joined the rest of the askew vehicles all the men piled off the bus, bickering with great wisdom and enthusiasm about how to get the bus out. Despite my attempts to rally the 30 able-bodied men to pick up the chain lying idle on the ground (mocking me in its state of unutilization), attach it to the bus, and PULL, the course of action decided on was 2 hours of useless wheel spinning, with the passengers who remained inside sitting anywhere EXCEPT over the one wheel with potential traction. Finally a construction vehicle ambled by and pulled us out.

I arrived in Eceabat 4 hours later than foretold, just in time for the nightly screening of Gallipoli in the hostel. This Mad Max-era Mel Gibson movie was short, shallow, in no shape or form gave any information or background about the battle other than the fact that many ANZACs (Australians/New Zealanders) died and war is horrible. Even worse it cast the Turks as shadowy, enigmatic adversaries other than real people experiencing the same fear and horror of warfare as their opponents. Other than to glorify Australia/New Zealand I can't see why this film exists, or how the local Turks can stomach seeing it night after night.

Monday, January 13, 2003 - Canakkale
A very cold, overcast, but dry day. I suited up in full "battle armour", so to speak, for the first time on this trip - thermal tights, hat, booties, heavy gloves, windbreaker with many layers underneath. Still the feet got numb as the wind battered me, rolling across the Hellespont.

I rode through the World War I battlefields of Gallipoli, where the British Empire tried to take the Hellespont/Dardanelles from the Turks but failed. This, more than anywhere or anything else, is where Turkey became the nation it is today. The Ottoman rulers unfortunately sided with Germany in WWI, but the underdog Turk repulsion of British Empire and French forces (both army and navy) paved the way for a badly-needed sense of national pride and the emergence of a hero, Ataturk. Postwar Ataturk came into power and made large strides to democratize, desecularize, and bring Turkey closer to Europe, diplomatically and economically (Turkey stayed neutral in WW2).

Many small cemeteries of both sides of the Gallipoli struggle dot the landscape here; the battle lines are easy to observe by connecting the cemetaries with crosses vs. those with crescents. Strikingly there are several monuments erected by either side for the fallen of the other, symbolizing that what is past, is past, and no legacy of hatred or malign should continue. I have not seen this at other battlesites that I've been to, but I hope they exist in places other than here. Many countries could learn a thing or two by seeing these moving gestures of peace and forgiveness.

I was the only person at Gallipoli this morning... only the crashing waves and howling wind disturbed the silence.

Back in Eceabat I hopped on the ferry to Canakkale, across the Dardanelles, returning to Asia from Europe. Hoping for warmer weather tomorrow I stopped early rather than rush the 3 hours of remaining daylight to get to and see Troy, 30km away.

Truva

Tuesday, January 14, 2003 - Canakkale
I got up a little later than usual on account of last nights festivities with hotel guests and staff. Today dawned cold but sunny, perfect for outdoor sites. On the minibus out of town I woke up from my "travellers stupor" to realize that I was on my way to TROY. Seeing site after site dulls the senses a bit so sometimes I have to slap myself to come back to reality and fully appreciate what I'm seeing.

Again I was the only visitor while I was there. Troy sits on top of a ridge overlooking a plain that slopes gently to the entrance of the Dardanelles. From the vantage point on top of the Trojan walls shipping activity is easy to see; the strategic significance of this site is not hard to figure out. Troy nowadays is fairly ruined but the site is well-signed which helps to breach the 3000 years of earthquakes, war, and silting. (I will finish the Iliad tonight)

I'd like as much time in Greece as possible so I've decided to skip a site (Pergamum) that from all accounts is a much lesser version of Palmyra or the next site I'm seeing, Ephesus. Buses are still fairly cheap and give me time in hand, so tomorrow I will head straight to Selcuk, about 400km down the coast.

Aegean Coast of Turkey

Wednesday, January 15, 2003 - Bodrum
A night bus ride to Selcuk, and a short bike ride, brought me to Ephesus before the site opened in the morning. Ephesus was once the Roman capital of Asia Minor, the people to which St. Paul wrote his Biblical letter (check yer Bibles), and the best preserved Roman city in the Eastern Mediterranean. A gouging entrance fee left me with a bad taste in my mouth as I walked along the columnaded streets. Again, I had the entire site to myself, even though it was a beautiful sunny day without a cloud in the sky. The 25,000 seat Roman theatre was impressive, but being the 5th theatre I've seen in a month dulls my excitement. I'm starting to get sick of everything Roman, unfortunately.

I rode 40km of dramatic Aegean coastline, picture-perfect mountain/coastline scenery. As the road turned inland I decided to skip ahead to Bodrum via a 150km bus ride, missing 2 more Roman sites... OH WELL...

Bodrum is a major tourist town. A fully developed port and stunning nearby beaches conspire to draw hordes of package tourists and yachts here in the high season. I'm here to see a fortress, the remains of an ancient 7th Wonder, and a ferry to Greece. The town is surprisingly vibrant right now, the VAST majority of patrons are Turkish. For the first time in this country I've had vendors try to "tourist-price" me, but I'm not a dumb foreigner anymore. I told them exactly how much the food should cost, how much I paid for it or similar items in Cannakale or Istanbul, and walked away contently to the background din of frantically lowering of prices "ok 2,500,000 lira! 2,000,000 lira mister!" I don't feel bad about doing this at all, since they were being prejudicial (they would not try to scam me if I had Turkish features).

Thursday, January 16, 2003 - Bodrum
In the morning I visited the 15th century fortress that dominates Bodrum's harbour. Built by the Hospitaller Knights (same group that built the Krak in Syria) it has been added to and modified many times since by different invaders. Primarily it was built to withstand siege by sea, which it failed to do many times. Today it is a peaceful, over-touristic place with peacock-filled courtyards and shop/cafe-filled towers. The views from the towers over the town and harbour are great, though.

From there I walked to the site of a Seventh Wonder, the tomb of King Mausolus, called... you guessed it... the Mausoleum. Dismantled for it's stone in the 16th century by the Hospitaller Knights, not much remains except for the foundations.

Much time spent in researching Greek ferries. In the Summer the Aegean is crammed with ferries, but in the Winter schedules greatly reduce and planning is required to make sure that I don't get stuck on an island for up to a week.

Tomorrow I will be leaving the Islamic world, although Islamic adherence is Turkey is weak, at best, particularly in the West of the country. In the last week I have rarely seen a headscarf, and they are extremely rare to see on young women. I have seen very few men praying, a common sight in Arab countries night and day. The newspapers, all in colour, show so much skin it makes the Toronto Sun look like the Globe and Mail. A morning television show (Good Morning America style) that I was watching while eating breakfast had the amply-breasted hostess "dance" by shaking her chest for 3 minutes during a live musical interlude, then go on to compare physical features and clothing with the songstress (who quickly unbuttoned her shirt to be able to compete, although obviously losing the battle). It seems as if popular culture and the Euro have replaced the Qu'ran as daily objects of worship. The Islamic call to prayer that resounds by loudspeaker through Arab cities is weak here, if at all.

Dodecanese Islands of Greece

Friday, January 17, 2003 - Kos, Greece
A short ferry hop from Bodrum, a new stamp in my passport, a new currency (ouch! Euro!), and a new language. Yasas, everyone! Prices here in Greece are about the same as in Canada now after the exchange, although accomodation is a little cheaper. Its a good thing I knew the exchange rate for my Turkish lira, 2 places I went to offered me (a) 94 Euro and (b) 117 Euro! Yikes!

Kos, my first Greek island, is fairly lifeless this time of year, being primarily a package tourist destination. There's little to see or do here, but is a good place to adjust to Greece for a day. The lady at the pension, who snagged me at the dock with a 10 Euro offer, tried the "oops my husband says 15" but I wasn't biting. Its nice to be able to walk/ride away fully ready and equipped to camp (I got it for 10). Finally I am not gawked at as I walk/ride by (yes!!). Peace at last. With nothing much to do until tomorrow's ferry I saw "The Two Towers" - mistake. What happens when you see a movie where 99% of the crowd is reading Greek subtitles? People talk, even on the PHONE, in the theatre. Sigh. It was a good movie though - too bad I only heard 1/2 the dialogue. I think there was some music, too.

Saturday, January 18, 2003 - Rhodes
Rhodes is not quite what I was expecting - unfortunately. Rhodes town is the largest inhabited medieval city in the world, so I suppose I was expecting a medieval feel here (not too much of a stretch is it?). Not to be. While there are massive, fun-to-explore fortress walls and narrow labyrinthine streets, the frequent tourist shops selling Levi, Hugo Boss, etc., completely kill the ambiance. Also, there is NO ONE HERE. I don't understand why Egypt/Jordan/Syria had some tourists, whereas more Western countries ("safer" - haha) like Turkey and Greece are completely empty. Only a few hotels are open; the pension I'm in has had 3 guests in the past month, including me. Most of the stores and restaurants are closed. This isn't all bad since at least its quiet and less Disneylandish, however, I've seen what I wanted to see and will move on to Crete tomorrow.

I spent a while drinking tea and talking with the owner of the hostel I'm staying at, Mike Kosta-something-opoulos. Like many hostel owners that I've met he's a former traveller and completely relates to his guests. He doesn't see why anyone would live in a country with snow in the Winter (other than lack of corruption, health care, peace, and standard of living I couldn't and didn't disagree with him). He spent 6 months in Northern Norway and hated it. Rhodes has always been his home, his family's home, etc. etc. He still marvels at the view from his rooftop over the town and harbour.

I didn't realize this before my trip started, and certainly didn't plan for it, but I will happen to see the sites of 5 of 7 of the ancient Wonders of the World before I fly home. The Pyramids, Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, Mausoleum at Bodrum, and Colossus of Rhodes I have seen/been to. I will be at Olympia on mainland Greece (inshallah) where once was an ivory & gold statue of Zeus. The 2 I will miss are the Lighthouse of Alexandria in Egypt, and the gardens of Babylon, in Iraq. I'll have to wait for the puppet American government to be installed for the last one, I guess.

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Crete

Sunday, January 19, 2003 - Agios Nikolaos (Crete, Greece)
A LONG ferry ride from Rhodes to Crete (12 hours). Fortunately the ferry was pretty empty, I had tons of room to unroll my sleeping bag in a lounge and sleep the first half away. Unfortunately the boat was pitching fiercely for the second half, so I couldn't read without feeling motion sick - a long 6 hours. I met a few Egyptians on the ferry, its amazing how people warm to you when you say a few words in their native language and can talk about their country with them. Finally in Crete, I got a room without too much searching (most places are closed). Agios Nikolaos is a beautiful seaside town with a spectacular harbour/lake area. Very dead this time of year though.

Food in Greece has not impressed so far. I was looking forward to plentiful and cheap souvlaki and gyros; it is plentiful and cheap, but crap. The meat is greasy, the tzatziki tasteless, the pita it's wrapped in is fried. Greek food in Canada far outdoes the Greek food that I've had in Greece so far. As I write this, having been in Greece for 4 days now, I am sad to admit that I have even considered McDonalds (but haven't gone yet).

For some reason on cycling trips root beer becomes a craving. Mike and I downed gallons of it riding across Canada, and on cycling days here I long for it. But of the 4 continents I've been on in the past 45 days, only North America has it. Damn. As a "replacement" there is great white chocolate here (yum).

Monday, January 20, 2003 - Iraklio (Crete)
Rain as I rode West paralleling Crete's Northern coast through mountainous, beautiful terrain. During the worst downpours I took refuge in disused bus shelters. Drivers here are great, much like Canadian drivers except they give me more room and any honks I receive are accompanied by cheers and thumbs up.

After much splashing, spraying, and general wetness I rolled into Iraklio, Crete's capital and largest city. Searching for a place to stay I could not believe (a) the rude attitude of hotel staff of multiple hotels, something I have never encountered, anywhere in the world, and (b) the high prices. I don't understand it. Iraklio is a tourist town, with Knossos nearby and a big museum, but that's no excuse. I had heard from some travellers that Greeks are having a hard time adjusting to the Euro and the EU, leaving many of them unhappy and grumpy, but come on now. The hostel in town was adopting a lazy, tourist-unfriendly tactic of sardining everyone into one dorm room, filling it before opening the next. All other hostels I've stayed at spread the people out, I've had many dorm rooms to myself, why not? The only reason not to is a very small increase of work in cleaning afterwards. Anyways, of 50-odd beds in the Iraklio hostel, 6 were taken, all in the same room of course. I didn't feel like being #7 (light sleeper), they wouldn't listen to any logic, so I left (and Lonely Planet will hear from me about this and other places). At another place I asked to see the room and was met with "Why do you want to see the room? There's nothing wrong with it". Ummmmm. Yeah. Out of principle I wouldn't stay at any of these places, ended up paying 25 Euro (compared to 10 for each of the past 3 nights) for a great seaside room. Luxury!

I met the 2nd Canadian(s) that I've seen on this trip... air force personnel from CFB Trenton on a layover... I didn't ask them where they're headed, they weren't volunteering the information, but we all knew, so I wished them well...

Tuesday, January 21, 2003 - Santorini
A short morning ride to Knossos, the grand palace of the Minoan civilization that predated the Greeks, home of the "Labyrinth" and the Minotaur. It is easy to see why this palace became associated with mazes, the reconstructions show many corridors, stairways, dead ends, etc. Even the ruins are impressively labyrinthine. Oh ya and they worshipped the bull, too.

Then back to the Museum at Iraklio, basically a collection of artifacts from Knossos and other Minoan sites. About 80% of the museum was pottery (or at least thats how it felt). Very sick of pots. How many different ways are there to make and decorate a pot? If you are having problems falling asleep, I can explain to you the different shapes and patterns and you will be in dreamland in no time. Better yet, I can recount to you things from my guide like "notice the slight raised lip on pot #6045". The frescoes were interesting but other than that I was in danger of slipping into unconsciousness on my feet and suffering a nasty fall.

I have a night ferry to Santorini, only a 4 hour ride (thankfully), but getting in at midnight in the low season could be dicey with accomodation. We'll see.

General plan ahead: Santorini, Ios, Mykonos, Delos, then to the mainland, Marathon, Thermopylae, Delphi, Olympia, Sparta, Mycenae, and finally Athens. I'm hoping that one of Santorini/Ios/Mykonos has a "Dahab" feel and to stay for 4-5 days on one of these islands.

40 good days, then...

Wednesday, January 22, 2003 - Santorini
Midnight arrival in Santorini. A 9km ride to town. The first 2km was STRAIGHT up a nasty switchbacking road to take me to the crest of the volcanic rim. The stars and moon were out as I rode up; the scene below me was out of this world - the placid water glowed from the moonlight, with dark islands around, and the brightly lit megaferry slowly leaving the port. Spectacular, when I wasn't watching the road I was watching the scene in the bay below. By the time I made it to town everything was closed, so I camped in a closed campground, outside of my bivi sack, under the stars.

I rose with the Sun; the amiable campground owner, busy doing renovations, would not accept payment, and said I could stay as long as I wanted. Wow. I was as stunned by his offer as by meeting a very friendly Greek (more on that later). I needed a shower, however, so I had to leave and find a room (15 Euro). Then I set out to "walk the rim".

3000 years ago Santorini was a massive volcano island, similar to Hawaii's big island today. It erupted, sending a tidal wave as far as Israel, wiping out Crete's Minoan civilization (it is believed) and basically everything else around. So much magma and rock were spewed out that the centre of the island collapsed, leaving Santorini as an island that prescribes a rough, broken circle with a large, deep harbour in the middle. In recent times volcanic/seismic activity has continued, and another "big one" could happen at any time.

There is a rough trail that follows the volcanic rim between Santorini's 2 largest towns, it was this that I followed today. The views were tremendous; the trail at times was cliff-edge over the water, hundreds of feet below. Volcanic tuff is everywhere in blacks, reds, and beiges; the geologist in me came alive. Some native limestone managed to peak through the tuff. Small churches dot the crests of various minor summits - they will be the first to go next time the Earth shakes here. The towns are built precariously on and down the cliff faces, all the houses and hotels are whitewashed and immaculate. All in all Santorini is stunning... while it lasts...

With rising food prices and dropping food quality I have been hitting supermarkets more and more. Today I grabbed a still-warm-from-the-oven loaf of bread and some swiss cheese to go with it.

Thursday, January 23, 2003 - Athens
Another ride in the dark, this time to get an early morning ferry bound for Ios. Ios is dead. Santorini was quiet, but Ios is absolutely dead. I rode around the main towns, bought my 2nd ferry ticket of the day, and off to Athens I go. Well, the Greek islands were interesting but a little quieter than I had expected.

I arrived in the dark, again, to ride 10km into Athens from the port. The traffic wasn't too bad, and the Acropolis (Parthenon) looks stunning at night, all lit up, high above the city. Hotel owners continue to be a pain in the ass.

Friday, January 24, 2003 - Athens (Happy Birthday Nancy!)
What a day. I am so tired. I can't believe everything I got done. I started by looking into airfares and visas... I'm considering a side trip. Then, 2 museums. The War Museum was ok, but could have been much better if there were more English descriptions; even the Greek labelling is weak. Then the big one, the National Archaeological... closed until April. That was quick. Next... I found a better place to stay, found a bike store for boxing up the bike, figured out logistics for getting home, traded in my Turkish guides and Homers, walked all over.

Well, its not just me. EVERY traveller that I've talked to (including some that are working here at the hotels) complain about how rude the Greeks are. I don't really understand why being rude is part of their culture, but it certainly seems to be. More the men than the women, but many women too. Its quite a shock, coming from 4 friendly countries (5 including Canada), where you are always greeted with a smile, no matter where you are or what you are doing. Athens is worse of all, not only more rude than the islands, but the people here are very pretentious and have a huge attitude. If they came to Toronto it would seem that the majority of them would only be comfortable in Yorkville (not the Danforth). Walking down the street, any street, is strange... people walk by, stiff, swaggering, or strutting. Any eye contact never involves a smile on their part. Really wierd. Not fun. I'm not liking Athens at all. A different world than Cairo, Amman, Damascus, or Istanbul. Why are all the Greeks I know in Canada great people, but those here...?

Saturday, January 25, 2003 - Athens
Even though I'm urging to leave this city I HAD to see the Acropolis. Scaffolded to hell there wasn't a lot to see, except more hordes of "friendly" Athenians. Two Americans that I met in the hotel and visited the site with were longing for their flight home, they had been in Greece for 3 weeks; 2.9 weeks too long in their opinion. Aussies, Brits, and other Canadians that I've met have the same opinion. Haha one British girl consoled herself by saying "well, if I wanted to be in a place where people were nice I wouldn't have left home". I had a little "crisis" today, trying to decide what to do with my last 2 weeks of vacation... Israel, Egypt, and Tunisia are only $400 CDN return from here, the last 2 being cheaper day-to-day than here. I flipped through Lonely Planets at bookstores, trying to make a decision. I am ready to skip the rest of Greece, fully disenchanted with the country and people. At this point I haven't decided what I'm going to do... whether to give mainland, countryside Greece a chance, and focus more on the fun of biking for the next 2 weeks, or take off to another country and only have to see Athens again from the inside of it's airport for my connection home.

My decision

I've decided to go back to Egypt for the remaining 2 weeks. I'm leaving the bike in Athens, Egypt being bike-unfriendly. hopefully flying tomorrow at noon.

reasons:

It feels wierd to be doing this... if I get the flight I want tomorrow, it will be EXACTLY the same flight time & airline that I took 45 days ago, same airport, same departure gates, same arrival, same bank machine for Egyptian pounds, same bus into Cairo, same hotel, such a level familiarity in a foreign land... its wierd just to think about. I can't wait to get back there though. I love Egypt... overall it was easily the best country on this trip, followed by Syria, then Turkey, then Jordan, with Greece trailing far behind Jordan.

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Back to Africa

Sunday, January 26, 2003 - Athens
Remember the days when there was no Sunday shopping in Canada? Imagine being in a country you're not fond of, in a city that you don't like, trying to leave, but you can't make progress towards the airport with everything closed. Frustrating. The only thing that was open was the flea market, which was ok until I got yelled at and pushed for briefly standing in front of a stall to orient myself with my map. I could have decked the little old lady... but thought better of it. The upside of the day is that I played a lot of chess and backgammon with people at the hostel. Unsurprisingly the Greek that I was playing backgammon with got upset when I started winning, taking it personally, blaming my luck, and quite literally stomped away from the table in a huff "I refuse to play with you, you're too lucky".

Monday, January 27, 2003 - Athens
Yes! Ticket for Cairo in hand, not the flight I wanted, but I'll be in Cairo in the wee hours of the morning. Thank God. Bought 3 books, including the exact same Lonely Planet - Egypt guide that I left to another traveller in Dahab, a month ago (oops). Also T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" and a fiction-based-on-fact Thermopylae book. I have some long bus/train rides ahead so I thought plenty of reading material would be wise to have. Also got my bike boxed and ready for the return home, when I have a 12 hour layover in Athens (my bike and 1 of 2 bike saddlebags are stored at the hostel). This is great, I will have a relatively hassle-free, but long, return home.

I spent much of the day talking politics with a Frenchman and Belgian. It was really interesting, we talked about so many things, all of us being able to back up our comments/opinions with our various experiences and observations from all parts of the world (combined). I learned much about the EU. I've decided that Canada should join the EU - why not? We're a spinoff of two EU countries. I'm sure it would make Quebec happy (finally?). We'd have a stable, strong currency. We would have a significant voice in a conglomeration that looks to be a world power, that, on paper, should be as strong as the US. Canada seems to have more in common philosophically and politically with the EU than with the US. The EU thinks Bush is a moron, too.

ahhhhh Egypt

Tuesday, January 28, 2003 - Alexandria
I landed in Cairo very early in the morning. I'm back, Horus. The bus to Alexandria was a terminal away; the "information staff" (who in reality are nothing more than touts seated behind an official-looking desk) told me with much gravity and seriousness of voice that the other terminal was 3km away - surely I wanted a taxi! 3km wasn't enough of a walk to fill the 2 hours that I had to kill, but I set out anyways... 20 minutes later the dreaded "3km" was over.

Alexandria was poorer than I had imagined; almost all of the European character that it had 50 years before is gone. As in most of the Middle East the exception is the hotels; my room had high ceilings, hardwood floors, and antique furniture and fixtures. Unfortunately the plumbing is even more ancient. Were these buildings located in Toronto they would be worth a small fortune and be a fixer-uppers dream come true. Sometimes I walk into 4/5 star hotels to check out the ambiance; mostly the old-time mood has been destroyed by overmodernization.

I went to some 2000 year old catacombs; only in Egypt would a site like this be considered "recent". These tombs were unique in that they had both Egyptian and Roman deities represented in the same illustrations and carvings (someone was playing God with Gods, I think). Personally I'm not convinced that Apollo and Anubis ever met, much less co-presided over the accession of souls to heaven/Elysian Fields.

Wednesday, January 29, 2003 - Siwa
Today I went West along the Southern Mediterreanean coastline, then South into the Western/Libyan Desert. I stopped in at El Alamein, site of the "turning point" of WW2, as Britain would have it. There is a decent museum and a sombre, 7000-grave cemetary for Commonwealth and Greek and Polish troops. I climbed up apon a Sherman tank and tried to get inside, but I wasn't stealthy enough and the musuem staff descended quickly upon me.

Although the engagement at El Alamein was won by the British-led coalition, in my opinion the victory belongs to the Russians. For months before El Alamein the Russians had been hammering Germany in the Ukraine, giving the Germans widespread, catastrophic defeats. The vast majority of the German war machine was sent East; the Afrika Corps commander Rommel suffered for lack of supplies or reinforcements. On the eve of El Alamein the British-led forces outnumbered Rommel's by AT LEAST 2 to 1 in EVERY category (air, tanks, troops, etc.). After the victory the British commander, Montgomery, was virtually deified by the British propaganda machine for his "brilliance" in defeating a foe of less than half his strength. What a tactical genius, we really showed those Huns, boys! Tally ho and on to victory! I'm sure Stalin and Molotov were shaking their heads at the headlines that appeared in the London Times.

I made it to Siwa very late.

Thursday, January 30, 2003 - Siwa
Good food, for only the 2nd place in Egypt. The beryani here is amazing, I've had it 3 times. Curry at last!

I walked about 30km today. First to the legendary oracle where, among other notable events, Alexander the Great was told that yes, in fact, he was a God (always good to know about yourself). The oracle site itself was quite ruined but there were stunning views over Siwa and the lakes. Then off to some springs, a lot of walking among palm trees, desparately poor people, sand, salt flats, and water.

I could not find a way to take the 500km shortcut road across to my next desert oasis destination, so I have to do a circuitous 1500km back through Alexandria and Cairo.

Aswan

Friday, January 31, 2003 - Bahariyya Oasis
Big travelling day. A late arrival in Bahariyya where I ran the usual gauntlet of touts and found an incredible, 4-star place for $9 CDN.

The regions I've been travelling through have even more poverty than I've seen in most other places, and it's heartbreaking at times. A couple of times I've had to stop myself from running up to people and handing them money; I figure that doing so would only encourage begging, which is no solution. Particularly wrenching are various of the little girls, who in this heavily chauvenistic society aren't given much of a chance at self-esteem and have the bleakest prospects towards happiness. I'll save the anecdotes for anyone who really wants to hear them, but you'd better bring a box of Kleenex because I'm going to need it.

The animals here have it bad, too, and at times I feel even more sorry for them. I've seen mistreatment twice; both times I stopped what I was doing and stared coldly at the abusers. My body language made it clear that if the abuse continued then a far worse beating would begin. Since just by walking down the street I cause a lot of attention (being a foreigner) my message was read by a lot of people around and a bit of a "scene" was created. Fortunately for all the abuse stopped, at least temporarily. There is a distinct advantage to be in a country where the people are generally small in stature and slight of build, and I was glad to use my "size" for a good purpose.

Seeing so much poverty causes me to spend a lot of time thinking about causes and solutions. Why are these people so poor? A big factor, certainly, is the dictatorship/corrupt/police state that they live in. How does a country shake the shackles of dictators who do not help the poor? Do they have to wait for a benevolent ruler to come along (like the US in post-1945 Japan, Ataturk in 1920s-30s Turkey, or Hitler in mid-1930s Germany)? Such cases are far and few between. On my train ride to Aswan a few days later I was talking to a Sudanese man about Iraq, etc. He said that his government was worse than Egypt's or Iraq's. I asked him if he would be happy if the US and Britain invaded Sudan instead of Iraq and removed the government, he told me that would be a dream come true. Maybe the Western armies should do a grand sweep of the countries over here whose populations choke under military/police backed dictatorships, to give the common people, or at least their children, a chance at escaping poverty. Maybe bombing Iraq is the best thing, after all, as long as Saddam's regime is removed.

Saturday, February 1, 2003 - Kharga Oasis
My "great" room turned out not to have running water; its quite disappointing to stand naked in front of a gurgling tap that spins freely but issues nothing. I was not surprised though. This is Egypt, after all.

The recently discovered Golden Mummies were found near this Oasis and are on display here, so I went to see them. There were only a few of them, interesting to see, but my Mommy in Toronto is better. Then I went to see some tombs, small but richly frescoed with Egyptian Gods. I asked the staff at the tombs to leave the lights off and not follow me in... they obliged the first request but not the second. Even with a baksheesh-looking man following me it was fun to explore the tombs by flashlight. Though photography is forbidden (because of flashes damaging the walls) I was (shush mister) offered to take pictures for 10 pounds. It's too bad the British and French were stopped from exporting Egyptian antiquities to their own museums; the day will come when the only remnants of Ancient Egypt are in London and Paris because the Europeans CARE about the artifacts.

The bus took me through the White and Black deserts, interesting but best seen at the 90km/h that I saw them. There are many overnight tours into these deserts, but I've slept on enough sand for the novelty to have worn off for me.

I made it to Kharga Oasis late; this is my last Oasis before I'm back on the Nile. The hotel I stopped in at was being stupid with me regarding pricing, trying to take advantage of my late arrival, tired look, and long walk to any other hotel. I had to resort to a tactic that I've used semi-successfully a few times in cases like this to get to the "real" price quickly... I told them that I'll go to another place, but before I left the hotel, while standing in their lobby, I pulled out my Lonely Planet Egypt guide and proceeded to write in it, furiously. Quickly the price was halved to get to what I know it should be, and I was happy.

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Sunday, February 2, 2003 - Asyut
I walked through and out of the oasis town today, into the desert, to see a few sites. None held me for more than 5 minutes.

The temperature in the desert in the Winter gets to about 25C in the day, dropping to about 5C at night.

The oases are the most religiously conservative places that I've seen on this trip. There are many fully-covered women here, like in all the propaganda pictures and videos you saw about Afghanistan. And just last night there was a TV in the central square showing Eminem and Shakira videos.

I took an afternoon bus ride to Asyut in the central Nile Valley. A light but widespread sandstorm reduced visibility to nil. Asyut sits between Cairo and Luxor in the area known for anti-government, anti-foreigner terrorist activity, although there haven't been any incidents in over 5 years. Although the oases were pretty devoid of foreigners, Asyut is absolutely empty of them and I turned more heads walking down the street here than anywhere else. Just after I procured my train ticket to Aswan a policeman ran up to me, feathers quite ruffled, saying "How did you get here?" "Where are you going?" "Whats your nationality?". I answered the last question (truthfully) too quickly; I should have said American since I had about 3 hours to kill. The fact that I was travelling 2nd-class, rather than 1st or sleeper, caused much agitation. Heheh read it and weep, boys. After sitting in a small room for a few minutes, admiring the bloodstains on the wall behind me, my liberty was ascertained and I was free to go. Okay, there were no bloodstains. In all seriousness the police in Egypt couldn't be more friendly to tourists and have been given a mandate to protect us at all costs, since we are the financial well-being of the country. Were someone to slip a knife into my belly, deftly maneuvering the blade so as to avoid the impenetrable barrier of rippling, Herculean muscle, the whole nation would suffer, and everyone knows it. On top of that the killer, her extended family, friends, dogs, goldfish, 1st-grade boyfriend, local librarian, etc, would all be "removed". There are no light sentences or hung juries in Egypt.

On the train station platform a well-dressed man with a confident, almost arrogant air started talking to me. I knew almost immediately from his look and line of questioning that he was an undercover policeman, sent to doublecheck my story and ascertain my intentions. He repeated several of the specific questions that his uniformed counterparts had asked me, then asked me what I thought of the Egytian government. Wrong question. I explained to him the methodologies by which we Canadians rule ourselves, how every citizen is equal in the eyes of our country and has the same rights as everyone else, and told him to extrapolate from my pride in my own country's system of government what I thought of his. He understood and wandered off.

Monday, February 3, 2003 - Aswan
Aswan is like Luxor but a bit less touristy, a bit more relaxed, and sits along a beautiful stretch of the Nile. I went to see the granite quarry, the only source of granite that Egypt has, and from which much stone was cut and sent downstream in pharoanic times. There is an interesting semi-cut obelisk there, that was destined to be the largest single piece of stone ever cut and transported (including to this day), but a flaw was discovered in the native rock almost upon completion of the cutting so it sits still in place, 3 of 4 faces cut.

I arranged my trip to Abu Simbel, the High Dam, and Philae Temple... a 3:45 a.m. departure (ack!). I spent the late afternoon shopping.

The more you spend...

Tuesday, February 4, 2003 - Aswan
I woke up to the meuzzin chanting... uhoh... they start around 6am, I missed my Abu Simbel trip. Oh well there's always tomorrow.

I went to the West bank of the Nile to clamber among some tombs, hike a bit through the desert, and see a monastery. The monestary was a Christian bastion in Egypt until 1173 when Salah-ad Din sent the Jesus-worshippers packing. The police became very animated when I tried to walk into the desert behind the monestary. They didn't speak English (rare for Egypt), so couldn't tell me why, but I knew. I pointed into the desert and made Rambo-esque machine gun actions and noises to confirm what their concerm was. They laughed, nervously and in acknowledgement, and I bliged their handwaving and walked back towards the Nile.

Then more ferrying, to Elephant Island to see a Nubian village and some more 4000 year old ruins. In the village I took some more photos that go into the "poverty" category... I will make copies for anyone who I hear complaining about money, the government, etc.

Back on the East bank I checked out some 5-star hotels before calling it a day. Aswan is my favourite city in Egypt (Dahab not being a real city, so not counting). Aswan has it all... modern and ancient sites, a vibrant souq (bazaar), some but not too many tourists, beautiful Nile scenery, good transportation and accomodation options, and clean air. There are actually parts of the city itself that look nice, and there are some isolated spots without garbage.

One of the great things about Egypt is that a traveller can travel in whatever style they want (except by bicycle) and facilities are available. If you want to spend $14 CDN/day on food and accomodation, you can. If you want to spend $300 CDN/day on food and accomodation, you can. You can sail, bus, or train from Cairo to Aswan (about 900km), for as little as $20 CDN return or as much as (I'm guessing) $1000 CDN return.

As my trip starts coming to a close I've been reflecting a lot about it as a whole, what I would do differently a second time, etc. A theory that I've been developing about travel, at least in poor countries... is The More You Spend The Less You See. If expensive travel/accomodation had local flavour as part of the "program" this would not necessarily be true, but unfortunately almost all of the high-priced hotels, boats, etc that I've wandered into in the past 2 months could have been carbon copies of the Sheraton in Toronto or a Caribbean resort, with maybe a cheap painting of Ramses on the front, or a sweeping staircase and chandelier added in for "colonial" flavour. To most people familiarity breeds comfort, and there's nothing wrong with that... there's no "right" or "wrong" way to travel. But if people were to ask me what I saw in Egypt and the Middle East, what I personally will take away from this trip, much of what I would talk about are the little things that inevitably happen as a by-product of travelling, eating, and living like/close to the locals. Sure, the Pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, Petra, Palmyra, Aga Sofia, etc. etc., were all amazing. No doubt about it, and I treasure those memories. But add to that the little experiences like helping an Egyptian start his car by pushing it with a horde of local boys; standing next to a bus in the ditch in Turkey; hitching along the Mediterranean coast; talking politics daily with fellow travellers from all over the world, and with locals about their country; taking ferries, buses, and trains where you are the only foreigner, and the many little experiences that gives; bike riding over mountain passes, through tunnels, Aegean shorelines; being out of water and stopping at a roadside tomato vendor in Jordan for some much-needed refreshment in the form of his products; playing chess with a Belgian in Athens; camping under the stars on a Greek island; exploring castles and tombs alone in the dark, and so much more. Money would have removed me from the opportunity to experience these things.

Abu Simbel

Wednesday, February 5, 2003 - Aswan
I went to Abu Simbel this morning, one of the biggest tourist sites in Egypt. What a horrible experience it was.

At 4:00 a.m. I was shoehorned into a bus with exclusively foreigners, which is not a bad thing but a bit of a shock to my system. We were one of about 50 buses, it was hard to tell in the dark. The only way into or out of Abu Simbel was by Police Convoy, and this was it. For the first time on this trip I felt like I was in danger; I had ceased being "Anonymous, Friendly, Arabic-Speaking Canadian" and was now forced to bear the label "Target". If you were a terrorist, trying to make a loud statement, and knew that thousands of tourists would be clustered together, occupying 1 small piece of road in the middle of nowehere, at the exact same time every day, with a light escort, would you not attack there rather than some guy holding a second-class train ticket? Its a 3 hour trip each way, a long stretch of road through the barren desert...

Things only got worse at Abu Simbel itself. All of a sudden the tourist population of the site went from zero to over a thousand. We all had to be back on the bus in 2 hours, so a mass of people swarmed onto the site, we had no other choice. I had to "baaaaa" and "mooooo" like everyone else. The quietness and freedom that I'm used to (even at the Pyramids!) was shattered by the cacaphony. Tour guides shepherded their groups along, voices straining and escalating to tell their stories over the din. I felt claustrophobic even though the souqs (which I love) are far more crowded. The facades of Abu Simbel were beautiful, at least...

Then I went inside the structures, naively thinking the worst was over. Haha wrong. Despite the "no flash" signs, the place was being lit up by ignorant tourists who valued narcissistic pictures to take home "look at me! i was there! see what i did?!" over conservation and respect. Hey, they paid their money, right? They bought the privilege to destroy, I guess. The Egyptians were doing nothing about it, predictably, except for one valiant bedouin man who was confiscating cameras. For me, this man was the highlight of my Abu Simbel experience. I gave him a big smile, thumbs up, and said "tres bon", using the native language of most of the offending tourists. He smiled back, and I could see the appreciation in his eyes, that at least some of the tourists care and are thankful for people like him.

Then off to the High Dam. Even to one who studied dam design it was boring, as earthen dams tend to be.

Then to the Temple of Isis at Philae (Horus I will see yours tomorrow). This temple sits on an island in the Nile, so a ferry ride there and back is required. Some fool Kazakh guy that was in my van - I had to stick with the F***ING GROUP - quickly arranged the ferry ride for our group for 5 pounds a head. Being a student at Cairo University and fluent in Arabic he thought he knew what he was doing, and brushed aside my protests that the SIGN AT THE ENTRANCE, and my Lonely Planet book, said 2.50. We were underway before I could knock some sense into him, idiot, but I confirmed the price with the police on the island... biding my time to strike... the Temple was remarkably well preserved (yes Horus, I know yours at Edfu is supposed to be better, tomorrow, just wait) and a good hour to walk around. Back on the boat I announced the real, official price to everyone and told them that I would handle things. Back on the mainland, it was just like anywhere else in the Middle East, except this time I had not only the boatman to argue with but this fool arguing against me just so as to not look like the idiot he clearly was. The issue was easily settled when I threatened to bring the police over; the boatman's frantic protests "No Police! No Police!" made the issue obvious for everyone (except the Kazakh guy). We all paid the 2.50, the Kazakh guy stubbornly paying 5.00, and out at the entrance I pointed to the sign, with the big 2.50 in bold letters. Sigh. Just like any other day in Egypt.

Edfu

Thursday, February 6, 2003 - Luxor
I managed to take a 3rd class train from Aswan to Edfu; the police were surprisingly ambivalent. At Edfu I went straight to the Temple of Horus (Horus did you see me? Ummm no I didn't kneel < zap > ouch! hey come on there were many people < zap > stop it!) Horus is the God of the Sky and associated with the falcon; most Egyptian Gods have animal associations. Horus is usually depicted as a falcon-headed man/pharoah/God striding purposefully forward. He always looks pissed off and ready to kick ass, which he did a lot of according to the ancient Egyptians. He is easily my favourite of the Egyptian Gods. EgyptAir, incidentally, uses Horus in their insignia and it's quite well done artistically (rare for modern Egypt).

The Temple of Horus at Edfu is one of the youngest of the Egyptian temples in Egypt - only 2500 years old! It is easily the most complete; it is fully roofed, the walls are intact, in fact there is little evidence of anything broken. It is a single, massive structure, and of course Horus is everywhere. Unfortunately Edfu is within daytrip range of Luxor, and the place was flooded with tourists.

If you love animals, particularly horses, hit the "delete" button (if you haven't already done so) and go on to your next message.

As I left the Temple I was surprised by the intensity of the trinket vendors. Edfu is tiny; tourist money must account for at least 80% of its GDP. The Temple sits about a kilometre from the Nile. There were literally over a hundred horse-and-buggies ready and waiting to drive people over the tortuously flat terrain down the confusingly straight road in the uncomfortable 20C weather to their boats or buses. There is nothing exceptional about horses and whip-happy drivers in the Middle East, but I was stunned by the condition of the animals here at Edfu. Most of the horses were malnourished; their ribs clearly showed through. Their coats looked sickly, having a "patchy" look to them and without shine or robustness. Worst of all, more than a few had large, open sores, some infected, from either harness abrasions or beating. Their heads hung low and their eyes were listless. All this from such an untrained eye as mine. It was appalling, worse than at Petra - the horses there were not in such a bad state.

I became very upset, very quickly. Horse after horse, buggy after buggy, I walked past them. I stopped at a few of the worst cases, pointed at the open sores and yelled at the drivers "may Allah have mercy on your soul". Most would not understand me, I knew, but surely mister, you want a ride? Only 5 pounds! No? ok 2 pounds to your cruise ship!

As at Petra what angered me most was not the locals but the Western tourists who paid for these sick, weak animals to drag them to the river. Could they not see the animal 5 feet in front of them? How could they ignore its suffering? My Italian, German, and even French were not good enough to yell at them; it would have been fruitless anyways. They were having too good a time to let conscience ruin it. We in the West who call ourselves "civilized"... I was at a loss. And I take back what I said about joining the EU; I have to hold on to the delusion that Canadians, at least, would take a taxi or walk (but then again we have the Calgary Stampede so are as guilty as anyone). I walked down the street (the occasional buggy limping by) gritting my teeth in rage, remorse, torment, and helplessness... well not quite helplessness. I saw the sign; there was only one thing to do.

The British-run Brooke Hospital for Animals is a small but worldwide network of clinics placed strategically in places like Petra (the only one I'd seen) and Edfu to help provide care for animals that are fortunate enough to make it inside their gates, and to help educate the local people regarding animal treatment and abuse (i.e. DON'T). I didn't know Edfu had one, but a small sign pointed me in the right direction. I walked in, asked to see the administrator, talked with him a bit and believed him to be an honest man, and made a 100 pound donation. He accepted it gratefully, handed me a receipt and asked if I wanted to be shown around, but I politely refused, having seen more than enough suffering for one day. 100 pounds ($35 CDN) isn't huge, but certainly not small in this country; many Egyptians make 150 pounds a month, so if spent wisely some good should be able to come of it. I hope.

I walked back towards the train station, feeling no different, still quite upset. Fortunately it wasn't a short walk, since I had to cross over the Nile, and the exertion of carrying my backpack and awkward saddlebag helped to soothe me.

I hopped on a Cairo-bound train, wanting to sail right through Luxor and get as far away from tourists and horse-and-buggies as possible (Luxor has both in high density, Cairo doesn't). Unfortunately the train was overfilled and I stood all the way to Luxor, about 2 hours, but a free ride. I didn't feel like standing for another 10 so I stopped in Luxor for the night.

Friday, February 7, 2003 - Cairo
Walking through the Luxor streets I tried not to look at the horses, but couldn't avoid it... they were a dramatic contrast to those at Edfu. Healthy and well-muscled with shiny, lustrous coats, trotting smartly along, what a relief.

A long train ride, 12 hours to Cairo. I went 3rd class, something I would not do again. The first 3 hours was fantastic... I had the luxury of standing in an open doorway looking out at the Nile and 5000+ year old fields rolling by. However, as the journey went on the cars became overfilled and the stench from the bathrooms would waft forwards whenever the train was at rest. Still, I made it 1000km down the Nile, from Aswan to Cairo, for a grand total of $5 CDN.

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Coming Home

Monday, February 10, 2003 - Cairo
I spent the day wandering all over Cairo, did a bit of shopping, just trying to soak in the atmosphere. I am sad to leave Cairo; Egypt has become a sort of home-away-from-home for me. I am ready to come home, but at the same time I will miss the Arab world. Even the nagging persistence of the touts and taxi drivers didn't bother me today; I just smiled at them and know that I will miss even them, too.

A peculiar incident happened today. In the "Arab" way of buying things I grabbed a bottle of pop and handed money to the vendor without asking the price, since I knew the Arab price and handed that exact amount over. Many times no words are exchanged in this type of transaction. As I walked away I was called back, by mistake I had paid a pound too much, and he was returning the excess amount "this is only 3 pounds, not 4 pounds". I was flabbergasted. I have spent 6 weeks in Arab countries bartering, arguing, trying to get local prices for things, bringing prices down from Tourist Price to Arab Price by saying things like "I paid x amount in Aswan for this" or laughing when I don't like the price (a tactic learned from T.E. Lawrence), and here was this man doing the reverse... he had the opportunity to keep the extra pound as a legitimate Tourist Price but opted to give me the Arab Price. I nodded in thanks, too stunned to leave him the pound as a thanks as I should have, and walked away speechless. My ego wants me to believe that this happened because with my Arabic speech and actions he chose to treat me as a local, which for me would be the highest compliment I could be given. Realistically, who knows.

If I haven't said it before, or if it needs repeating, Egypt is a fantastic country to visit and is accessible to everyone regardless of health or preferred travel style. Almost everywhere that I walked I did have the option of taking a taxi (very cheap) or animal-drawn vehicle/camel ride/horse ride (be sure to inspect the animal first, and tell the driver not to whip it - still fairly cheap). You can come here and not have to expose yourself to 3rd world conditions, you can stay in Western-Style hotels and trains, and eat Western food, while seeing the most amazing things man has ever created (in my opinion). Don't be turned off by my 3rd-world experiences, I travelled off the well-beaten tourist track on purpose; it would have been easier for me not to see the poverty, rickety trains, etc. (but more expensive). You are safer here than in any American city and probably safer than in Toronto, too. In a whirlwind you can see the major sites in 1 week (Cairo/Luxor), but if you want to see any of the desert, Aswan, Sinai, oases, you will need at least 2 weeks. A side trip to Petra in Jordan is feasible if you are in Sinai already, but out of the way if you're not interested in Sinai.

If anyone needs a porter/interpreter/guide/historian for Egypt, sign me up!

Well, this is it. Today was my last real day of vacation. The next 40 hours promises to be fairly routine, monotonous travel - 3 flights, 2 half-day layovers, a bike box, 2 saddlebags, and a backpack to maneuver around airports and buses. So unless something untowards happens this will be the last email "report" of my trip.

Goodbye from Cairo.

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Last updated 2002-11-07 10:30
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