Day4

DAY 4: Long Train Journey

Mickey Mouse found himself unemployed this morning; I had set the alarm for five thirty but was wide-awake at five. No point in hanging around I thought to myself and got up to check my new batch of mossie bites, then took a quick shower before checking out at five thirty.

My bill came to ten pounds more than I had worked it out; maybe they charged me extra for having pets in my room. I was going to say something, but I really could not find the strength or enthusiasm to question it, I just wanted to get out as quick as I could. I handed over the 185 Egyptian pounds without question and made my way down the dark and dirty stairway, out into the mild Cairo winter morning air.

A few locals who passed me were wearing thick jumpers and overcoats, I thought they looked more like Eskimos than Africans, they were probably looking at me in my short sleeve shirt thinking I was just another mad Englishman.
It was after all-only about 60 degrees, a good summer for me, and a cold winter for them!

With nearly two hours to kill before my train was due to depart, I decided to walk to the metro station and catch a train, rather than a taxi as I had originally intended. I had to wake up the man up in the ticket office to pay my fare; he didn't seem too pleased about it for some reason! There were very few other people around on the metro that is apart from the young bored looking policemen who are posted on every single platform and entrance.
I felt sorry for these young men having to stand around on underground platforms all day, how soul destroying that must be! Still I guess they were happy enough to be employed in a job where you actually have to do very little.

In stark contrast from the peace and quite on the metro, Ramases station was very busy with a couple of commuter trains just arriving at the same time as I got there. The area around the station was still just as busy and packed with people and buses going in every direction, just as it had been the previous night.

My train was due to depart from platform eight at 7.30; it was now only 6.30 so I still had an hour to kill. Rather than hang around on the main concourse I decided to find the platform I needed to be on and sit there out of the way of the crowds.

I bought myself a coffee and some supplies for the journey from a vendor who was trading on the platform, he didn't have a 50 piastres note (3p) to give me as change, so gave me a small packet of fig biscuits instead. This was a good indicator for me as too how much these things cost, because one thing is for sure, had they been worth anymore he would have found the change somewhere.
An overnight train pulled into the platform, I guessed it must have come from Aswan and Luxor, because there were a good few tired and bedraggled looking backpackers getting off, they were all bleary eyed after travelling through the night.

There are only certain trains on which tourists are allowed to travel in Egypt because of the terrorist threat. These trains are well regulated and manned with armed soldiers and police. A comforting thought in one respect, but a little frightening in another, but at least these soldiers did look a little more the part than some of the kids I'd seen elsewhere.

Coach eleven, seat number 17, was the information printed on my ticket, both in English and Arabic, which made it very easy to locate as the train stops adjacent to markers along the platform. My seat turned out to be an aisle seat; I was a little disappointed with the window seat being occupied by a middle-aged businessman who spoke no English. He was with another man who was sat behind us; I swapped seats with him so they could be together.

With the train now ready to depart there were still a few empty window seats opposite me, I waited until we moved off before grabbing one of them, I wanted to watch the world going by.
A quick look around told me that I was the only Westerner in this coach; there were a couple of Japanese backpackers sat towards the end of the coach, with the rest of the people being made up exclusively by Egyptians.
The seats were very comfortable indeed and a lot better than I had expected, they all had a good deal of leg room, which was great as it allowed you to recline a fair distance without worrying about infringing on the space of the person behind.   Not that this would have been a concern to anybody, as most of the people were already covered up and in a reclined position ready to sleep.

Sat opposite were a small group of Egyptians made up of three women and one man, they had obviously travelled on these trains before as they soon set about turning two of the seats so they all faced each other.
All the women wore gloves and headscarf's, with one of them also being totally covered from head to foot so that you could not even see her eyes! The material covering her face must have allowed her to see through it, but she looked uncomfortable and must have been very warm sitting there fully covered! And if dressing this way is to prevent people from looking at you, it only served to do the opposite for me. I kept looking at her wondering who, or what was under all that material, was she young, was she old, was she really a she? It kept me intrigued for a while, that's for sure.

Twenty minutes after we departed the train stopped for the first time at Giza, where a few more people got on, but not enough to fill the coach. A young man who boarded here sat next to me and introduced himself as Raffat; he spoke a little English, but not enough to sustain a prolonged conversation. He soon adopted the Egyptian position and had his eyes shut and drifted off to sleep for an hour or so.

Looking out of the window I felt as though I was back in India, a lot of what I saw was very similar to the sights I had seen there, when I was also travelling by train. It seems that in general the poorer people tend to live beside the railway lines, in those small shanty towns that spring up along the route, why this is I don't know. It can't be out of the need to commute, or reliance on the trains, as I dare say many of these village folk have even travelled on a train further than the next station.
The mud brick houses with palm leaf roofs would not have looked out of place in India, the people working the land with cattle, camels and horses looked the same, the small little rural villages we passed looked the same. Looking out the window for mile after mile it was easy to imagine these little towns and villages being just the same now as they were a hundred years ago, the only difference is now they have electricity, or at least most of them do.

Watching the world go by out of the window is a great way to pass in the time on any train journey, especially in a foreign land, as it gives you a great insight to what life is really like for people other than the city dwellers. I would have loved to get off the train at one of those many little countryside stations we sped through.   It would have been great to be able to walk around some of these small places, although I can imagine what kind of a stir that would cause with a great deal of the local people. I imagine I would have been quite a spectacle for most of them who have probably never met anyone from outside of their village, and more than likely will never meet anyone from outside Egypt in their lifetime.

Raffat, the young man next to me woke and a few minutes later started a conversation. He told me he was going home to see his parents for a few days. His Family were from Dendera, a fairly large place about 60km before Luxor heading south along this route. Raffat then went on to tell me a little about himself, he was in business with his three brothers in Cairo, they imported timber into Egypt from many countries around the world, but done most of their trade with the Russians.
We spoke of several things, including his wish to travel outside of Egypt, which according to him was a nigh on impossible thing to do, as it was so very hard to get a visa.

He had already been turned down on an application for a visa to the USA, and told me he would have no chance of getting one for the UK. I squirmed a little as this kind of conversation can be quite embarrassing when you are travelling free and easy in someone else's country, yet they stand no chance of ever seeing yours!
Raffat who was a Coptic Christian went to great lengths to explain how his faith worked. I tried desperately to listen intently, but must admit I found it hard to understand a lot of what he said, so I cannot really repeat verbatim exactly what he was saying.
"My Love" was what he called the pretty girl whose picture he showed me. "Your girlfriend?" I asked. "No she is my love only" he replied! I had to tell him that I did not really understand what he meant by this.
It turns out that the girl was his friend from his years at university, but as she was a Muslim and he was a Coptic, they could not ever hope to be man and wife in Egypt. He told me that they had been friends for many years, but had never even kissed and although they loved each other, their friendship was purely and would remain only plutonic. Well that's how I interpreted the conversation, I may be a little off the mark, but this is how it all sounded.

Every time I go away I say to myself that I must take a picture of my family, a lot of people are genuinely interested to see these as it helps them complete the picture in their mind as you explain what your wife and children look like. I suspect Raffat was just being polite when after telling him about having two sons aged 18 and 15, he asked how old I was as it would be hard for a man so young looking to have children so old!
There was no getting away from your age no matter how old you look, I said, telling him at the same time I was 43 and had been married for 19 years.
Raffat then told me he was 28, and I of course being polite told him he looked younger, but in truth he did look to me to be his age.

It was nice to have someone to talk to on this journey, and we spoke on and off between Raffat's bouts of sleep for most of the journey.
Around 3 p.m. we pulled into Dendra where Raffat was getting off, he asked if I would like to go with him and stay at his parents for a few days. While this would have been a great way to experience the Egyptian way of life first hand, I had to decline his most genuine and kind offer. I told him that I would have loved to visit with him, but as I was on such a short break I wanted to complete the trip as planned, I had set out see the sights and might never get another chance. He said he understood, and maybe again he was just being polite by making the offer in the first place, but I feel it was a genuine offer from his heart.

Before he got off the train Raffat gave me two things, one was his mobile phone number so that I could ring him when I returned to Cairo and he would meet me for a meal. The other was a small Coptic prayer card that he said would protect me on my travels, I was genuinely touched and thanked him for his kind thoughts.

The train departed Dendra with me now sat on my own and listening to a holy man reciting verses from the Koran. This grey bearded gentleman in flowing robes had just got on the train, and then started handing out small prayer books to all the people on the coach. He probably just assumed I could not read Arabic, as he never bothered to give me one, I felt a little left out, but I let it go.

Once everyone was in possession of a booklet he began giving what appeared to be a sermon, or it could have been a sales pitch I'm not sure, the only thing I was sure of was the longer I looked at him, the more he reminded me of Osama Bin Laden! No surely he hadn't run off from Afghanistan and was now in hiding in Egypt, flogging holy books on trains to earn a few quid to get by had he?

After about five minutes of preaching, or was it a sales pitch? the man walked along the coach collecting in all the books that people did not want to buy. As far as I could make out he sold just one, and that was to the woman opposite, who more than likely thought it was some kind of best seller, she couldn't read it anyway as her eyes were completely covered.

I had now been on this train for nearly ten hours when we stopped at Luxor, it was just before 5 p.m. and dusk was turning to darkness.
I guess a lot of the people who had been sleeping most of the day, had purely been doing so just to keep their minds off food and drink, it was after all Ramadan. Now it was dark and we were in a station, a frenzy of activity exploded with everyone jumping out to get themselves something to take away the hunger and thirst they must surely have been experiencing.
I got up out of my seat for something to do and went onto the platform to buy some sweet tea.
I was thinking to mysely that Egypt must be a great place to be a dentist, because you can't seem to get any tea that is not already laden with sugar!
The young lad selling the tea tried to scoop some of the sugar out with a spoon that resembled a ladle, then he tried to charge me two pounds for the drink, but I had just watched another man only pay 50 piastres for the same thing! I just smiled at him and gave him the exact money, 50 piastres. He laughed a little sheepishly, but never said a word.

Thirteen hours after departing Cairo the train finally pulled into Aswan, and although I had enjoyed the trip I made a mental note that I would definitely catch the night train on the return journey.
I had chosen the Rosewana hotel from the description in the Lonely Planet guidebook; it was conveniently situated only about 500 metres from the station, and was very cheap!

A taxi driver outside of the station told me that the hotel was much too far to walk, I told him that I felt in need of a walk after sitting on a train for thirteen hours, plus I knew it was only three minutes away on foot.
The driver laughed, and pointed me in the right direction. I was wrong, it only took two minutes to walk to the hotel.

The room in this hotel was no better, or worse for that matter than the one I'd had in Cairo, but I could not complain as it was only 12 pounds a night (�1.45). The write up in the book states that the Rosewana hotel has been popular with travellers for quite some time, but according to the Lonely Planet guide book is a little overpriced! Well all I can say to that is, if it had been any cheaper they would have had to pay me to stay there!   I had no reason to complain, the bed linen was clean, as was the room in general, and as far as I could see there were no squashed bugs on the wall, which I thought was a good sign.

The young man who was grinning broadly standing behind the reception desk introduced himself a Walid, he had a very warm smile and seemed genuinely pleased to welcome me to the hotel. I was to get to know Walid very well over the next couple of days.

I had a quick cold shower!   Well.. What do you expect for �1.45 a night!
I really needed to eat something as the last thing I had eaten that day was a cheese roll, and that was some six or seven hours previously. I remember that when I was eating this cheese roll I sneaked off to the gangway between the coaches, I had felt like a naughty schoolboy and was a bit conscious about eating while all those around me were abstaining.
The main area just outside the station reminded me very much of a Spanish plaza, there was a tiled pathway that led all the way down to the Nile, with flower beds on either side and a large statue thrown in for effect towards the end. Around one side of this plaza were a large number of restaurants with covered outdoor seating, all having someone stationed on the pavement trying to attract passing potential customers in.
From what I could see most of the passing custom were tourists who had come ashore from the large cruise ships that ply there trade up and down the Nile, stopping overnight at these larger and more important places.

After checking out the menu's at a couple of these restaurants I decided to have a little walk into the souks (market) to see if there was anything better on offer. The first thing to catch my eye was a pharmacy; I went and got myself the largest tin of bug spray I could find, and also some ointment for my bites.
The souk was a very busy place and a little imposing at first due to the narrowness of the little side streets that make up this area. Most of what was on sale seemed to be aimed solely at the tourist; with spices of every description, and tacky cotton tee shirts with camels and pyramids printed on them being the order of the day. One shopkeeper engaged me in conversation, he was full of praise for the English Prime Minister Tony Blair, but I dare say had I been American he would have been just as enthusiastic about George Bush.
I didn't dwell for long and headed back to the station area to dine at a one of the restaurants that lined the streets here. The food on offer was mostly of Greek origin, Kebabs, Kofte, e.t.c.

"Would you like some beer with your meal Sir?" asked the waiter. "Yes please, what have you got?"
"We have some nice Egyptian beer", "Ok I'll try anything once," I said.
Once was the right word, it tasted like piss and was something I wasn't going to drink again.
I ordered myself a Coca-cola simply to take away the taste of the beer! My meal was a kofte with salad and some fries, and thankfully these tasted a lot better than the beer did. I don't know what the meat was, but seem to remember not seeing a single camel since arriving here!

The local men who were sat around me playing backgammon and smoking on their sheesha pipes all jumped up in excitement when a loud bang was heard, I didn't even flinch, I knew straight away what it was. Taking in the sights around me at the time, I just happened to be looking in the right direction.
A small bus had failed to stop at a junction about 100 metres away, unfortunately so had a large taxi coming the other way! I don't think there were any serious injuries, although it was hard to see anything from where I was sat, because such a large crowd had now gathered around the two vehicles.
There was a fair bit of shouting and screaming coming from those around the crash scene as they moved the two vehicles clear of the junction. The injured were taken away in an ambulance shortly after, then everything returned to normal, with the men returning to their unfinished games and smouldering sheesha pipes as though it were just another everyday occurrence, which I dare say it probably was, considering the way people drive in Egypt.

I paid the bill of 23 pounds for the meal and took a slow walk back to the Rosewana hotel, leaving the rather excitable Arab gentlemen to their backgammon games, sheesha pipes and crap beer!
If you ever go to Egypt and fancy a beer, make sure it's Stella as this is the only one worth drinking.

"Good evening Mr Maher and welcome to the Rosewana hotel" said a voice as I entered the hotel; a quick look over my shoulder and my eyes met those of an old Egyptian man sat on a sofa behind me. He was quite a frail looking man dressed in the traditional white robe, with a receding grey hairline and grey beard and was supporting himself with a walking stick.
"Good evening to you Mr Farouk", was my reply. I was only guessing this is who might be speaking to, but it turned out to be the correct reply.

Farouk Nasser was the owner of this establishment and I only knew of him only from reading about him in the lonely Planet guidebook. He is a self-taught artist who also writes poetry, and is to say the least, a little on the eccentric side.
He inquired if I was of Arabic blood, obviously having picked up on my name from the register. I assume he was able to recognise me by the fact that I was the only person staying in his small hotel that night.
Again he like the others who had questioned me about my name was a little surprised to find out that my name was of Irish origin, and not Egyptian.
We spoke for a short while about this and that, with him telling me a lot about his past and how he came to be the owner of this hotel.

After a while he asked what my plans were while here in Aswan, and went on to say if he could be of any assistance in helping me with any arrangements I was only to ask. So I did, I asked about getting to Abu Simble, which lay some 250-Km south across the Eastern Arabian Desert, and just 40 km from the Sudanese border.

He explained that Foreigners are not permitted to travel the road from Aswan to Abu Simble, unless a police escort accompanies them. So a bus trip independently was out of the question. In order to visit Abu Simble I would have to travel on one of the organised tour buses that departed Aswan each day, and of course he could arrange this for me.

I already knew all this, so was happy enough to let him sort out the details for me, what I was not happy about was this meant having to get up a three in the morning, this was because all the buses departed from Aswan at 4 a.m.
The reason for the early start is the heat, it can soar as you travel through the desert, which as you can imagine can be very uncomfortable, especially in a small over crowded minibus with no working air conditioning.

I booked myself on the trip for the day after tomorrow, if I was going to do this trip I would need to get to bed early, and as it was now 11.30 p.m. I didn't fancy having to get up three hours later to do it the next day.

I sat in the small dingy lounge area by the reception for an hour or so, drinking endless cups of tea and talking with Walid, the young man who worked at the reception. It turns out that Walid was a social worker by day, turning his hand to reception work at night to earn a little extra money and improve his language skills, which he now wanted to practice on me. Although he did not speak very fluent English, he spoke enough to get by and insisted that I should correct him whenever he made a mistake. I had to let some of his mistakes go as otherwise I would have been there all night; he insisted I write down each word or phrase he got wrong.

I finally got to bed around one in the morning, I was feeling so tired from a long days travelling and an even more exhausting conversation with Walid.
I spent about five minutes spraying the room with the bug killer I had bought in the souk, and to be honest I never saw a single mossie in the room, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I wasn't going to take any chances and slept in my own sleeping bag sheet that allowed me to cover myself completely.