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Published: November 17th 2005
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Our passports were scrutinized no fewer than seven times at police checkpoints on the road from Cairo to Dahab--a route that took us over the Suez Canal and along the perimeter of the Sinai Peninsula. Sinai is Africa's link to the Middle East, and its desolate landscape has a long history of war and border disputes. The mountainous desert supports little life besides rugged Bedouins and wild camels--a stark contrast to the flourishing underwater life in the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aqaba. Sharm al-Sheik, on Sinai's southern coast, is known as one of the best diving spots in the world, and recently gained press as the site of a terrorist bombing (hence the tight security).
To ease the strain on our wallets ($200 for diving lessons isn't exactly budget travel), we headed straight to Dahab, the smaller, sleepier "backpacker's paradise" an hour and a half north of Sharm. Paradise indeed--$10 a day gets you a beach-front room, Egyptian breakfasts, falafel lunches, and kushari dinners, with thick milkshakes in between. If you really want to splurge you can spend $15 a day and have fresh fish dinners and a few beers. The restaurants are lined up right along the
water, with cushions piled high for hours of virtually hassle-free lounging. To the east is a spectacular view of the red Saudi Arabian mountains just 15 kilometers across the water; to the west an equally beautiful panorama of the jagged peaks of Sinai. You can see why it took us a week to muster the will to leave.
During our stay, the city seemed to be at about 1/4 capacity--the Israeli tourists who used to flock to Sinai's beaches have generally kept away since the bombings. But it's hard to imagine this laid-back town under any sort of political turmoil. And here (as in most everywhere in Egypt) we felt welcome as Americans--the only danger being that we'd be charged the higher tourist price.
In Dahab the days tended to blur together; every sunset we sort of wondered where the day went. Usually the answer was playing cards, wandering the boardwalk, and maybe snorkeling. At some point one of us remembered that our visas might actually expire, so we reluctantly packed our bags and shared a taxi inland.
Our destination was Mount Sinai, the site where Moses saw the burning bush and supposedly received the Ten Commandments
from God. At the foot of the mountain lies Saint Catherine's Monastery, which holds the burning bush itself inside the monastery walls.
Most tourists start the two and a half hour trek to the top of Mt. Sinai at 2am, making it to the summit just in time to watch the sunrise and huddle under rented blankets (because it's damn cold up there). After the sun comes up they turn around and head right back down the mountain. Our borrowed ten-year-old "Let's Go" guide suggested camping at the top was the cheapest option, so we hauled our tent the hefty 2,285 meters up during the day (no easy feat) and spent the night under the stars. We pitched our tent a little ways from the actual summit so we wouldn't be disturbed by the hundreds of tourists gathering in the wee hours of the morning. Other than the Bedouins who live on the mountain selling coffee and chocolate to hikers, we were alone on the peak.
We attempted to ward off the cold by getting some hot liquids at the tiny Bedouin "cafe" (aka, shack with a kettle) just down the mountain. There we were entertained by four
Bedouin boys aged about 14, all dressed in street clothes (one had an A's sweater on!) and very excitable. We armwrestled on the rickety cafe table and took turns losing to the owner of the shop, a 26-year old Bedouin in a galabaya who gave us some Bedouin bread in the end. We taught the boys Indian wrestling and Randy instructed them in the finer points of how to jump your own foot, which resulted in some particularly memorable tumbles. Afterwards we made our way back to the tent by the light of the moon.
We woke up for sunrise and became one of the herd--there were probably 300 tourists who'd made the hike in the early AM. We managed to find a spot away from the crowds and blew on our mittened hands to keep them warm as the red sun slowly rose. There was a small group of people who started to sing and pray, and their voices echoed in the vastness of the Sinai peaks. We were just happy we could go back to sleep in the comfort of our down sleeping bags rather than stumble back down the mountain.
From the Monastery at the
bottom of the mountain, we shared a taxi with a lovely Swedish couple to Tarabin, a Bedouin village just north of Nuweiba that has been converted to a Dahab-like resort. The difference was that while Dahab was merely 75% empty, Tarabin was truly a ghost town. Our hotel manager explained that up until a year ago, Tarabin was a primary spot for Israelis to vacation--but after the bombing of October 7, 2004 in Taba which targeted Israelis, Tarabin became essentially deserted. It was heartbreaking to walk past the shops and restaurants and explain that we're not shopping and we're not hungry, when we were the only business prospects in town.
But aside from the eerie emptiness of the place, Tarabin was really much nicer and more relaxed than Dahab. There was no stone boardwalk, just sandy roads with restaurants and pillows on the water's edge. The beach here was of the softest sand instead of the rock in Dahab, and even the water was warmer (or was it just our imagination?). The hills of Saudi were closer and more stunning in the moonlight, and the $1 breakfast was not too shabby either. We spent a good two days relaxing,
reading, and talking politics and travel with the wonderful Swedish couple we'd shared a taxi with--it was great to have some company and we were totally inspired by their stories of India and Southeast Asia (who needs Africa, anyway?).
But Tarabin also had its downsides: our muscles were totally shot by the Mt. Sinai ordeal and rendered us useless for our two-day stay. Plus we tired quickly of the nightly game of hide-and-go-seek with the mosquitoes in our room (we finally gave up and summoned the mosquito nets, which we'd thought we wouldn't have to use til Sudan).
And so, with our Egyptian visas running low, it was in Tarabin that we came to a fork in the road: we could head back to Cairo and rush to get our Sudanese visa and go south...or we could take a slight detour and get on the ferry from Nuweiba to Jordan. We'd met a lot of travelers who were coming from that direction, and we figured that after the bombing in Amman this was the safest possible time to visit--more police on the streets and less chance that lightening would strike twice in the same place. Besides, we can't
Sheesha and Tea
Typical Dahabian Life imagine that Petra will be any less spectacular if we pass a few police checkpoints along the way.
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Jeff
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Questions
Fabulous blog! Keep it up! Ok, here are our questions from me and the kids: * Do you speak egyption? Do the people in the places you go understand you? * What's the weather like? Is it hot? * What's the food like? Do you like Bedouin bread? * How long are you planning to travel? Do you have a particular destination? We love to hear from you two. Great writing and I'd love to see scans of every page of Jenny's book. :)