We came to a stop along side of a really fantastic drop-off..... the
side of the boat against coral, 2 feet below the surface
We had a marvelous sail on the Nile in a local boat
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May 16,2000
jump to Egyptian
sightseeing
I am writing this as we pound northward in the Gulf
of Suez, and hope to be sending it to you tomorrow from Port Tewfiq at
Suez, the southern end of the Suez Canal. This is one of the few times
that it is too rough out here to send email, I would have to hold the sat
phone antenna and that is a potentially wet prospect.
The Red Sea and now the Gulf of Suez have been a
rather pesky pair. The wind has been contrary at a minimum and often
downright nasty for the last 1000 miles or so. Since leaving Suakin,
Sudan we did some marsa-hopping up the coast. It is a very strange scene,
low sandy land, very hot and incredibly dry, no people but the occasional
camel train (no kidding.) Palm Springs with salt water and without the
trees or civilization. The water is a lot cooler and very clear, which
unfortunately didn't keep us from reef encounter number three for
Margarita. It was very early in the morning, and we were heading into the
sun so that seeing the coral is difficult. I was standing in the bow, tea
in hand, loving life. Wondering how I would be starting the day in the
Great Northwest, probably with an umbrella. Confident of my memory, I
persuaded S to alter course. A minute later I saw some very beautiful
coral but in very much the wrong place. One of those times, like in a
dream when you cannot get the words out fast enough to stop imminent
disaster. Sarah did manage to do some fine maneuvering and we got away
with just a nasty scrape. We came to a stop along side of a really
fantastic drop-off. 15 meters under the keel and the side of the boat
against coral, 2 feet below the surface. As the wind was blowing us onto
it, there was no motoring away without more damage. So it was a good
chance to try the kedge anchor routine. We had Bronwen and Douglas deploy
a smallish anchor from the dinghy and we tied the other end to Margarita
and winched ourselves off. Our buddy boat Hoptoad was waiting to assist
if needed. They spent their time productively, composing lots of wise-guy
remarks which they delivered in nicely timed installments for days to
follow.
We passed the border with Egypt after stopping at
another marsa, where S, D and B went for a snorkel while E and I hovered
in Maggie. The water is colder than we have seen in a long time, probably
in the 70's, but good and clear with nice undamaged coral and lots of
fish. The border there is a nasty looking place. rows of barbed wire on
both sides, separated by a no-man's land with warning signs. Mined, I
suppose. On the Egyptian side there were several buildings, and then a
ratty little compound where the lookouts lived, the compound had its own
layers of wire and fencing and looked very tatty. There was a man spying
us from his very shaky looking tower. It reminded us how recently this
area has been at war and how ready they always are for more. S made sure
we switched the courtesy flag from Sudan to Egypt so as not to offend.
They have two borders, one marked "administrative", no idea what the other
was or what the real difference was, but the books advise to give all
borders in the Red Sea wide berth.
We had a two-day passage to Safaga, Egypt from
where we would travel to Luxor and the ancient temples. We arrived in the
port of Safaga after a very rough night. Our friends didn't manage to
get in that day, nor did another boat we were in contact with. It was
very rough and S and I got very minimal sleep.
Safaga was our first encounter with the Egyptian
way of life, very different culture even from the other Arab countries.
We were not prepared, in spite of all of the reading we had done. We
approached the big ship dock in the middle of a blow. Sand and dust and
garbage blew onto us and we had a bear of a time getting docklines in and
secured. It is a place designed for 300 ft or larger ferry boats and
freighters, not yachts. We had some "helpers" on the dock. All shouting
for lines and then not listening at all to what I had in mind, or in fact
even in what the other helpers were doing. After a lot of hassle
("Douglas, tell him 'Thank you' and to bloody well let go of that line and
you go and fix it!") we got squared away. As soon as we were done, the fun
started. They all lined up to show how in command each of them were and
how we should deal with them in particular. These are the port police and
customs people, all in uniform, as well as some independent "agents" that
try and secure a commitment for purchase of fuel etc. One man asked me
for three crew lists, a standard request. As I tried to pull the boat in
to give them to him, he shouted "Captain! Captain! Stop! Ship stop." It
was entertaining at first and then the lack of sleep cancelled out any
tolerance and humor. He kept shouting to stop and agreeing with absolutely
any translation I might offer up. "Do you say that I should leave?"
"Yes." " A big ship is coming?" "Yes, big ship. Come! Come!" Nothing of
the sort was true, in fact none of us even now have any idea what he was
on about. We began to learn a valuable counter, make hand gestures
(nothing nasty) agree and ignore whatever they say. It seems to be what
they all do. One of the uniformed men that had helped with the dock lines
asked for cigarettes. I told him we don't smoke, five or six times, not
yet fully comfortable with the new ignore technique, and he then said "Ok,
twelve dollars." I then remembered the technique. Sarah made a loud
announcement to do with the excremental product of the male bovine. He
got our collective message and squatted down to power down a few smokes
and wait us out. Then the other men asked for cigarettes, money and
pens. We started to get fed up. (It turns out this is the way things
are, some one helps you and you reward them. At the temples the guards
are constantly showing you choice camera angles, and if one is really good
you are expected to pay for it. Not much, $0.15 or so is fine. The word
for it here is "baksheesh" all of the Egyptians submit to it and we
started to get used to it by the end.) I then trouped off to do the formal
check in: immigration, customs and port captain. We do this at every
country and are pretty well used to it. This time was special. I walked
the 1/4 mile to the office, asked for the immigration man and finally
plunked myself down in his office. (The signs are all in Arabic, no
English. I know that sounds arrogant of me to expect English but it is
standard and I felt pretty lost with the Arabic.) His office was about 8
ft square with two old desks, a filing cabinet that looked like it had
been used for target practice and a bizarre looking calendar, which I am
sure looks quite normal if you understand the language. The immigration
man was from a movie, I am sure. 40 ish with stained brown teeth
(everyone, I mean everyone, smokes in Egypt) and a big toothy smile.
Imposing at first but then his warped sense of humour shows, weird
challenges ("why didn't you bring a pen of your own?") followed by a loud
gutsy laugh that reminded me of Dan Akroyd doing Tom Snyder. Anyway, he
asked if I paid anyone any money at the dock. Only quarantine, I paid
them $6. "What? $6?" (In fact, the quarantine officer also got one of
those nifty Stanford Dosimetry pens, but I didn't mention that.) Lots of
yelling and we are joined by a more senior man, no uniform. Yelling and
pointing to me, followed by another man and a piece of paper for me to
describe the events leading up to this robbery. (I was to only have paid
$1.50 they thought, although since it was Friday, their "holiday" in fact,
the $6 was a correct overtime charge.) After that was over he asked if
there was anyone else that I paid. I told him of the man asking for
cigarettes.. Oops. Lots more yelling, the two seniors are back again,
another paper for me to draft my story and then we went to the chiefs
office. The three of us displaced the attendees of the chief's 10am tea
party and he expressed his deep concern. Most of this was in Arabic with
a lot of pointing to me and referring to the fine reports I had composed.
The middle manager made the decision to step it up another level. So off
we went, now lead by the chief , then me, then the two "seniors" from
earlier. The pecking order was clear. We went downstairs to the
director's office. I was really regretting my mention of anything, and
began to wonder if this was all to discourage future reports. The
director's office was a clear step up. We all stopped at the mat at the
door, where each of the others yelled some prayer or greeting of
something. I was tempted to imitate them maybe with a 'banana nana fofana'
or something, feeling pretty delirious, but held back. There was another
tea gathering in the director's office that all shifted about as the
pecking order was reestablished. He did not seem entirely happy to see us
all. He expressed a lot of concern but was clearly at a loss for what
exactly his action should be, lots of rubbing his eyes and temples. I
spent the time trying not to stare at a small b&w TV that was showing (and
very loudly) a very strange Arabic sitcom that looked like The
Honeymooners but with Arab people. The yelling was the same and the
people were dressed in a very western manner, in a western apartment. It
seemed odd to me that this show should be playing in the director's
office. Clearly a sign of some high status. Eventually, and I was fading
fast, they brought in a very personable translator to ask me a key
question: "Excuse me, captain, but perhaps you could tell us, what exactly
is your problem?" "I have no problem." I explained what had happened and
related that my only real problem was a very real lack of sleep on account
of their rather diabolical weather. He laughed and related part of it to
the director. They all talked at some length, maybe about the soccer game
or the sitcom, and certainly some about how to get rid of me, and finally
he expressed the director's great concern about the man begging for
cigarettes and would I please come immediately to his office if I had any
further situations while in Safaga. Oh definitely, count on it. I made
lots of satisfied "Well, that's taken care of. Well done!" Statements and
they all became immediately relieved. Big smiles, lots of handshakes all
around and I left them there. Upstairs my uniformed immigration officer
announced that no he had not stamped my passports and didn't think he
would until a few days time. Pause, "HA HA HA HA HA!" Very funny I
told him. And off I went, walked back to Margarita with the mosque
playing the call to prayer 100 yds away so loud that it was not possible
to carry on a normal volume conversation (with myself). Welcome to
Egypt.
We got used to it, for the most part, but never
really comfortable with it. There is a real drive for money, and
cigarettes, and everyone tries to cheat you. It is not a friendly
bargaining thing like in SE Asia, it gets very nasty. Or so it seems.
There is lots of yelling about everything, even as a friend leaves a
crowd. You meet someone and get a rapport going and they offer to
organize a trip to Luxor, with their brother. After haggling for an hour
or so, you agree on a tentative price, only to find that it was horribly
inflated compared to organizing it at Luxor. Anyway, we learned but
couldn't help feeling a little used. There is also lots of contempt as in
most Muslim countries that we have visited. We are looked down upon.
The trip to Luxor was fantastic. History like you
wouldn't believe. The Temple of Karnak was started around 1500 BC. It is
a remarkable place, huge columns covered in hieroglyphics. Some with
paint still intact! 3500 years later. It was built successively by the
different pharaohs, each trying to outdo the last. Some went for sphinxes
(like two rows of 20 larger than life-sized ram headed lions ) and others
went for statues of themselves, 15 meters high. It is a place to sit and
soak in. Just trying to imagine all of the people walking over that same
spot. In its heyday, over 80,000 people were working on it. We all
loved it. In spite of the hundreds of other tourists there. This has
been a tourist destination since the times of the Greeks. We also visited
the museum at Luxor, which has some great exhibits including loot taken
from King Tut's tomb, and some statues unearthed only 10 yrs ago or so and
in perfect condition, after about 4000 yrs. Superlatives abound. We spent
a day on the west bank which contains tombs of 60 or so pharaohs as well
as lots of noblemen and wives and kids. This is where Tutankhamon (King
Tut) was found in 1922. It is also awesome. You can walk into these tombs
and look at and touch relief carvings and paintings that are still
completely intact, look at the brush strokes from 30 centuries ago.
Something like 4 million people visit each year. I think half of them
were there on the day we went. It was a treat to find yourself in a tomb
with no one else. Plenty of time to stare and wonder.
We had a marvelous sail on the Nile in a local
boat, about 25 feet long. Like a cat boat, wide and shallow. We brought
some refreshments and let them sail us around for three hours. We
wondered whether this was something we should consider as an alternative
to this ocean sailing stuff.
With all of the tourists, Luxor is a place for
hawkers. They are everywhere and the prices that they start at are at
least double, sometimes 5x. For everything, taxi, horse carriage, tours,
drinks. It is very tiring. It is not possible to just ask the price for
something out of curiosity, you are immediately embroiled in a large scale
bargaining session. "Too much? How could you say 25 is too much? I have
to pay for . . . " then "Ok, 15, but that is it, you are going to make me
poor." "What do you mean you don't want it? OK, 10, last offer. This is
the real price, trust me." The food wasn't great. Then we found a
restaurant where I had a #2 and then double sized it! That means large
fries and a large Coke! Just like home. Air conditioned, clean, same
food. MacDonald's Never tasted better. A bit expensive, comparable to
home, but about 8x the cost of a nice falafel sandwich on the street.
The trip north from Safaga has been a trial.
Nothing life threatening, just very uncomfortable. Lots of oil rigs and
traffic. We have to keep a very tight watch. It has gotten cold too. We
are close to getting our socks out, which we haven't done since New
Zealand a year ago. Sorry to leave the tropics. Two boats we were
traveling with have both stopped to repair ripped sails. One of them now
refers to us as "Marga-mighty", mind you they used to call us "Marga-weenie."
Tues morning. We have arrived and all is well.
The seas were way down last night and the wind was tolerable. This has
been an incredible trip up the Red Sea, probably the toughest till the
west coast of North America. So Sarah's unrelenting pushing has gotten us
here happily. She has been relating it to childbirth, a very
uncomfortable passage down a constricted canal and then we get popped out
into the Med.
Love from all on Marga-Mighty
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