On my way back to Israel...something got in the way

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So every time I sit down to publish this entry, something gets in the way...just like something got in the way on my way back to Israel from Hurghada, the mainland Egyptian city.

I like to get my thoughts down while they are fresh in my mind...preferably IN the location I am writing about! It has been over 3 months since the following story occurred and since that time, I have been back to Israel for one week, Prague & Poland for one week, Israel for another 4 weeks, NY/NJ for a few days, back in Boulder for one month, and now home in Davis for another week! There has been no shortage of 'blog-worthy' situations, stories and experiences, but a very real shortage of free time during my trip to tell you about them. So why am I choosing to bypass my last couple of months to recount a now ancient travel anecdote?

Khaled and I got to the bus station in Hurghada just after midnight in order to catch the bus that was to arrive "between 12 and 1:30". It was coming from Luxor, so I was aware that it could be as much as four hours off schedule. Right on cue, the bus arrived at about 1 AM and I hopped on, finding an open and welcoming doubleseat. I forgot my iPod and journal in my backpack underneath the bus! Debussing, I had to ask the kind bus driver to please open the bottom compartment using primitive hand signals. He yelled at me for a bit and then continued to yell as he opened the luggage compartment, so I think that was his way of saying 'OK'. I was again the only apparent 'gringo' and spread out for some sleep as we got on the road. I was in and out of sleep, but we soon came to another stop, where at least 15 people boarded, including a man with few fingers, a very lazy eye and zero baggage (this man sat next to me). We arrived at the Suez bus station right around 6 AM, my plan being to continue on as soon as possible to Taba, Eilat and ultimately Tel Aviv. It was June 13th and I knew I could get to OBD's house in Tel Aviv at least by the morning of the 15th, giving me a free day to relax before my orientation started on the 16th. But then something got in my way!

Even before I had a chance to buy a quick falafel sandwich, I spotted my old pal Aaron sitting amongst a group of new Egyptian friends. We knew that our itineraries were similar, but this unplanned meeting was a coincidence that seemed etched with destiny. Aaron had been in Luxor and had taken the previous bus through Hurghada (a bus I chose not to board), arriving just a few minutes before myself. Ever since I met him in Dahab, Aaron was dead set on going to Mount Sinai. I was interested, but from the stories I head from other tourists, "So many people" "I got stepped on" "There was about a thousand tourists"...It wasn't my top priority. Now here I was in Suez, with just barely an extra day to play around with, and a very determined travel partner with a unique travel plan. We boarded the 8:30 am bus to Sharm El-Sheikh and were the only people to get off at a small crossroads about halfway down the peninsula (to a chuckling bus driver who gave us a look that said 'good luck'). The town was named something like 'Mofareta'. I changed my shirt and consolidated my little backpack into my big one and then walked over to the Shell station to fill up on water. We thought about picking up some wine, but Aaron had a bit stored in a mason jar and the shop wanted an obscene 70 LE (13USD) for a bottle. Armed with the knowledge that Santa Katerina lay somewhere near the exact middle of the Sinai Peninsula, and Aaron's 10-year old Lonely Planet, we set out walking up the lonely desert road that seemed to be a one way road the wrong way.

After about half a kilometer, we were picked up by a bedouin family and hopped in the truckbed with their two kids! They were not interested in pictures, but I managed to sneak one that they thought wasn't aimed at them (was that wrong?). I was really still getting the hang of hitchhiking and it took me a while to figure out the best place to put my face for minimal wind impact. As the first leg of our journey, they took us about 70km and dropped us off with a smile and a wave before turning off the main road to their home somewhere up the wadi. So, it's Aaron and I walking along the only East/West thoroughfare in the Sinai Peninsula, banking on the bedouin generosity to move us from point A to point B. Ride number two was in the back of an old open jeep and worked out just as well, taking us another 20km or so. Again this man left us before he turned off with a wave and a smile. I was already impressed with the ease (so far) of this operation. Ride number three proved to be more difficult, mostly due to a severe language barrier. At the end of the road, the man made the international sign for 'give me money'. I offered him some food I had and he turned it down, so we got out and started walking...and we walked...and walked. We were in a small town. Kids kept coming up to us asking if we wanted a taxi to Santa Katerina. It was already apparent that we were entering tourist territory. Even though we said no, a 14 year old boy drove up in a car to take us the rest of the way, which they claimed was another 25km. We decided to walk. Another kilometer later, we came to what looked like a bus stop, where a guy in a big truck going the other direction told us that he would be back in about a half hour and could take us the rest of the way. He dropped off a man at this stop; a man who asked if we would like to join him for tea. How can one say no? Not wanting to miss our ride, I hoped it would be a quick trip. As we walked through fields of goats and around houses, I soon became aware that this old bedouin lived in one of the last few houses up the valley very much away from the road. We gathered attention as we walked through the village and sat on the carpets in his quiet home atop comfy sand beds. His wife soon arrived with the tea (shey) and one by one, his kids magically appeared. Most of them were girls, ranging from about 8 to 18 years old, 6 in total. They were all very pretty, but seemed to be victim to hereditary severe lack of dental care. He even offered us food. I can't explain properly the feeling you get when someone who has noticeably so little, tries to share everything he can with you, a traveler who seemingly has 'so much'. It is a beautiful phenomenon.
We eventually managed to leave the bedouin's house and as we reached the road, saw our ride zoom on by. So we walked...and walked...this time for about 2 kilometers until we reached a shady area where we waited for a ride. Traffic was few and far between, sometimes minutes with no vehicles in either direction! Every car was an opportunity, each one speeding by was a slap in the face. Finally, a pickup truck stopped near us. It was loaded with a full load in the bed and a bedouin in each of the seats in the cab. When we spoke to them, the entire unit stank of marijuana, so I think they just wanted to brag to someone about having a truckload of pot. Eventually another truck stopped for us. They made it clear that they could only take us a few kilometers and then they would be turning off the road, so we happily hopped in. About 10km later, a real taxi cab was coming at us the other direction and the two vehicles made some sort of sign and both stopped. They talked to each other and decided that we should transfer to the taxi cab for the remainder of the trip. Our driver said they were only going another km or so. We were really trying to do the whole trip without a taxi, so said that we would stay in the truck as long as we could. After a few kilometers, they dropped us off, drove onto the left shoulder, and then continued on their way in the same direction (without US!).

I immediately felt stupid for turning down the taxi ride that appeared to us in the middle of the Sinai Desert. Luckily, the taxi had turned around and caught back up to us. We negotiated a price of 40LE (7USD) for the 15 minute ride to Santa Katerina. Here I am at the base of Mt Sinai, quickly packing everything I will need for the night into my small backpack. Aaron is doing the same with his packs and one of the shop owners even allows us to store our big packs overnight in a secure room. A quick curry ramen and some biscuits and we were on our way. It was really a fight to get out of this area without a ‘bedouin guide’ tagging along. Every person around, including the ‘tourist police’ told us that if we wanted to climb the mountain, we would need to hire a Bedouin guide to take us. We kept saying that we were only going to walk around a bit and probably weren’t going to hike up (This with our packs stuffed and Aaron’s tent dangling off the back of his camelbak). So off we went, careful to beeline it for the mountain before anyone else tried to con us into paying for another hiking buddy.

The Mt Sinai that I thought we were hiking was a smallish hill directly opposite the monastery and a small white building sat atop. We walked to the top of this Sinai impostor just as the sun was ducking behind the real Mt Sinai. Looking up to the top, I thought I saw some buildings. So I whipped out my camera and super-zoomed to check out what was up there. Sure enough, Mt. Sinai was at least another 1000 vertical feet higher than I had mentally prepared myself for. So we walked back down the hill we were on and kept a steady pace up the very well-kept trail of Mt Sinai. One group of people were walking down, and a few Bedouin families were cooking dinner at their shops as we passed them up the hill. Each tempted us to sit with them, sleep on their mattresses, “Get some rest and finish the hike at 4am”. But we walked on, feeling determined to reach the top.
When we arrived, the trail was lit only by the stars (the nonexistent moon helped to enhance the brilliance of the stars) and I completed the hike without using my flashlight. Aaron had taken some photography time, so we were walking separately in the natural silence towards Mt Sinai's crest. Contrary to the touristic horror stories I had heard, I was on top of Mt Sinai with nobody but my friend, alone with nature, and alone with the unique opportunity to experience Mt Sinai exactly as it was designed by mother earth. While Aaron set up his tent, I strung up my hammock between an old stone pillar and the railing to the mosque. After a quick sleuthing trip, we found the Bedouin stash of blankets and mattresses. Aaron took a few for his tent and I grabbed a blanket for the hammock. We both hung out in the hammock, drank the bit of wine Aaron had and finished my Bedouin grass while we took in our environment. We spent time talking to each other, we spent time not talking to each other, and we also spent time writing. We thought and wrote for a few minutes, then shared what was written. For myself, this had been by far one of the most spiritually moving experiences of my life, and that uniqueness can be understood only by relaying to you the two short poems I wrote during that time. Place yourself into a mindset of ultimate relaxation, in a hammock atop Mt. Sinai, your body slightly buzzing from the pure beauty of the experience...as you drift into oblivion.

Nature is designed to be infinite
What is nature and what is not
What is natural can be infinite
What is infinite must be nature

--> I am very proud of this poem as I feel that it embodies a very important point of view and system of how to live. Our world was designed to house life infinitely and it is only through our unnatural creations that we have changed that course from infinite to finite. I am not talking solely about the human species; life on earth is no longer natural.

La Pachamama está cantando
La mamá de la tierra está siempre feliz
Siempre cuidando
Siempre avanzando
Somos su bebé
Y Destruyamos nuestra mamá
La Pachamama está gritando
La Pachamama está llorando

-->This is the first poem I have ever written in Spanish and it centers around a Peruvian obsession called Pachamama. Upon summiting any hill or passersby add a small rock to a growing pile that serves as reverence for our ability to live freely among nature. Loosely translated as 'Mother Earth', the idea of Pachamama is that of a constant force that provides for us and gives us the tools we need to survive. A life devoted to Pachamama is virtually impossible at this point in our society. In order to properly exist within Pachamama, one must live as we were designed - naturally and infinite. As my pen began to write these Spanish words, I wanted to write a cheerful praise for Pachamama. However, my hand took me in a different direction as it realized how sad is the way in which we are disrespectful toward Pachamama, toward our earth.

--> Translation

Pachamama is singing
The mother of the earth is always content
Always taking care
Always moving forward
We are her baby
And we destroy our mother
Pachamama is screaming
Pachamama is crying


I was sharply and abruptly woken up by the first tourists of the morning, just before 4am. They were immediately frustrated with me for having strung my hammock across the main path. Their 'bedouin guide' gave me an ultimatum to move myself, with complete disregard for my personal peace. So I packed up my stuff, put on some warmer clothes and found myself a nice spot to hang out while the sun rose. The tourists began to come, just a few at first, then tens, then a constant stream of people totaling several hundred, spread out over the spacious summit of Mt Sinai. Bedouin tried their best to rent mattresses and blankets to people waiting for the Sun. I felt anger set upon me as I was forced to listen to stupid conversations, arguments and laughter erupting all over the mountaintop. The sun should be allowed to rise in the same perfect silence and peace that Aaron and I experienced all night. I let myself calm, acknowledging that not a single other soul on the mountain that morning was appreciating life in the way that Aaron and I were. We had created something great and been a part of a truly special and important process.

Mt Sinai is by far the tallest mountain throughout the entire region and it looks out on one side over an expanse of valley, on the other side over mountaintops. The horizon I faced as the sun rose was mostly low hills, with one large mountain toward the middle of my plane of view. The sun began to rise out of the top of that mountain, with a buffer between it and the mountains silhouette, giving the sun the appearance of 'floating' as it came into view, awakening everything around. When in Israel, people will tell you that you must climb Masada for the sunrise - it is the most magical and beautiful sunrise! Masada pales in comparison to Mt. Sinai. The brilliance of the sun and the sky around it was just as magical as had been my entire experience thus far. It was the perfect culmination to my experience in Egypt, and I was content/satiated that I had been available/able to participate and add to Aaron's journey as well.

It wasn't until we started walking down that I realized exactly how many people were really up there...maybe even 1000! Each one slightly mesmerized at seeing Aaron's tent as they approached the summit around 5AM. Climbing Mount Sinai at dusk and arriving solo (completely detached from any and all external social influences), discovering the terrain as a newcomer to a location festering with history, I will remember my personal journey with this event shining through as an incredibly meaningful moment in time.

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Comments

[Aunt Iris]

I feel as if I spent the night on Mt. Sinai. Just not as chilly! Hoping to see your sister soon.

[andy]

no words
i am so grateful to have read your recounting of this even even though you have already told me about it. reading it was even better. the pictures. i mean, they are only pictures and capture the stunning view, but what you must have been feeling. i wish i could have shared it. the experience was, however for you and aaron to share. a fated meeting it was indeed! you'll always have that memory. be able to go back there in your heart and mind if you choose. there are no words to recount the totality of all that you felt in that moment of time. truly an amazing story. i absolutely love the complex simplicity embedded in your poetry. love you brother!