Discovering the world is not my Oyster (Travelling Egypt during the revolution)

---

Isn’t the world my oyster? Aren’t I bigger than the world? Doesn’t it revolve around me?
Cars burnt out, traffic guard posts smashed in. In 18 months the whole place had changed. Roadblocks made from rubbish bins scattered throughout the streets. With the police leaving their post the place sounded almost lawless. Shopping centre lotting and apparently the gaols had no guards so the relatives of the inmates opened the doors and let them roam the streets. All this was discovered once I walked out of the airport and entered Alexandria Egypt on the 4th day of protests.

The original plan was to go straight from Alexandria to Cairo than Cairo to Sharm el Sheik. I was in Egypt 18 months earlier so I had seen almost everything. The only thing missing was diving in Ras Mohammed and the great wreck dive of Thistlegorm. The other motivation to be in Egypt again was tennis. (?)

18 months ago I managed to play the former Egyptian over 35’s #1 at a 5 star hotel and lost (Link: http://www.travelblog.org/Africa/Egypt/Lower-Egypt/Cairo/blog-420620.html.) I’ve had to live with this shame for 18 months so I trained back home, thought of my strategy of play and after 6 months travelling up from South Africa I was ready to redeem myself with my Dunlop Volleys.

Before I boarded my plane I read Sharm was safe so worst-case scenario, I thought, was I’d have to take a domestic flight once I arrived. I go straight to the information desk to ask for advise on how to get to Cairo (for my important game.) I am informed that the new airport has no transport to anywhere, not even the domestic airport. I was then told that domestic flights seem to have stopped. The best advice was to spend the night in Alexandria.

Next step was to get money out. But I am informed that the new airport has no ATM or foreign exchange. So with no local currency and no idea of what’s going on I wait to see if I can get something to Cairo. I only had 5 days in the country so every moment was valuable.

I walked outside and see a bus. It was full of Americans who had just arrived. They are the ones who tell me about the prisoners escaping. How the situation is, not good, they heard gunshots in the air and there have been a number of murders. 4 guys than say “Oh you wont be able to get any money out. The banks are closed and foreign exchange places have closed in the city. Nothings open.” What have I done I thought. What an idiot! You’ve just flown yourself into this crap. Out comes their wallets and they combine to give me around $25. Enough for me to get into the city and then some.

I find a taxi to take me. It’s an old shitty blue car that looks kind of looted itself. The airport is 60kms away so it took a while to get there. Not many cars were around. As we approached the city realisation that this is not the Egypt I remember was evident. Burnt out cars scorched in black lay there on the side of the road. Car dealerships lotted as well as other shops.

The last time I was in Alexandria I remember the main square being really nice. Cars buzzing by the Corniche (Promenade) on the Mediterranean with families and friends laughing and hanging out. This time the cars are burnt out in the middle of the road. It didn’t look pleasant. There were made up roadblocks by Good Samaritans. Stopping cars, checking ID’s. The main purpose of this was to protect their own properties.

The taxi arrived at the hotel just off the Corniche and as I got out of the car the protest began walking past me. The chanting reverberating around the narrow streets, which had tall buildings either side. A few protestors wave at me. I pretend I didn’t see them. I walk to the hotel reception and they laugh at me. Like “what the hell are you doing here?”

I found out that there was now a curfew at 4pm. I arrived at 315 so I dumped my bag and tried to find food as well as an ATM for money. The ATM suggested by reception had been removed from its post so I went back and managed to exchange $100, which would last me till the end.

I headed out again to get some food. No shops are open. I walk around the streets keeping my distance from the protest and find the only place selling shwarmers. I double up. But to get them you first have to buy a ticket than hand it to the cook. The cook is on the footpath taking his time. He’s popular and the protestors are heading slowly towards us. I’m thinking ‘Come on! Come on!’ I had only been in the country for an hour but I could already sense the nervousness of the situation. I felt that tourists should be fine but at some point things can change. Some idiot says something and the flock follow. My turn was up and I get my meal a stones throw away from the protesters.

As I headed back to my hotel, now 345. I am stopped by a middle aged guy who was concerned of my situation. He helped me find the Egypt Air office and the buses. All closed. He and other people were saying. “I don’t think this will be over for a long time. You are best to leave, this could go for months.”

Whilst walking around we met a NZ couple who I spoke to just when the curfew hit. They were staying at a hotel a block from me so I walked them to their hotel and as we said our goodbyes a group of army soldiers walk past with pipe style batons. They walk into their hotel, it was quick, a lot of communication between the men and then they stormed out. I say “Well good luck. I glad I’m staying at my hotel.”

As night fell the same scenes were happening throughout town. Tanks rode around the streets, gun fire could be heard. I briefly looked outside my balcony and saw many locals doing the same. During the day there seemed to be a subdued joyous feel to them mixed with determination to keep it going, with a tinge of shock that this is really happening. But this night felt like nothing I’ve been to before. A bit war like with little skirmishes popping up, complete contrast to the buzzing atmosphere I was use to. Alexandria was eventually subdued at this night.

Throughout my short stay here I found the connection with the people amazing. 18 months back I couldn’t stand them. The only people you spoke to were from the tourist industry or touts. I remember having to negotiate a price for a water at a supermarket back in Aswan. Now everyone you spoke to were the genuine people of Egypt.

I heard that from 8am I was able to catch a train to Cairo where I could hopefully play my game of tennis and move onto Sharm el Shiek. I left at 730am before curfew finished and the passive atmosphere continued to almost complete silence. Taxis were the only noises and they were frequent and that would be throughout my time here. Since people couldn’t get any money out from the banks. Taxi drivers felt if they cant get it out, they’ll work for it and get money from the people.

A large Moroccan lady with a lot of luggage was waiting at a corner so I joined up with her. She knew no English I no Arabic or French. We get to the train station to be told train links have been cancelled. I see 3 Chinese girls and talk to them. They inform they have a local guy with them and I can join them to try a bus. I inform I am with someone and they agree to take the Moroccan lady after looking confused that this is my girlfriend? She was quite distressed and I felt I couldn’t leave her on her own until I can palm her off to someone else. Like some local did to me at the corner back on the Corniche.

Mohammed was the nice man who drove us to a scrappy looking bus stop. Buses were a hit and miss prospect. The bus companies had no idea who is going to be working or protesting so couldn’t guarantee or schedule buses. This bus station was full of people wanting to go to Libya so there was plenty of luggage laying around. We wait for an hour so the likelihood of Cairo was slimming.

Mohammed went from bus to bus for us and found a place called Ismailia. He said it was close to Cairo. I bring my map out and see it’s about 2 hours north east of Cairo and just above Suez. I figured if its been named on the map it must be at least of some significance. Plus I get to by pass Cairo and get closer to the Sinai. Once in the Sinai I’m on easy street.

So I didn’t even flip a coin. I went with it, giving up on my game of redemption with the now probably 44-year-old tennis player. I felt taking this bus will keep my Sharm diving dreams alive. The others found it too risky so I was again on my own moving to the middle of the country.

The bus left but we needed petrol (that was the other reason I moved on just in case there is a petrol shortage. I needed to move now.) Once we got petrol the bus had electrical problems but that couldn’t be fixed where we were so we had to drive to the other side of the city to fix it. So 2.5 hours later we left the city.

The ride gave me an opportunity to see another part of Egypt, the delta. A lot of palm trees and greenery. Plenty of water too. I ended up sitting next to Mohammed who was an Egyptian Australian visiting his family. He told me that the Australian embassy have scheduled a flight to leave Cairo in a few days. We arrive in Ismailia too late to get a bus to Sharm because of the curfew. I was told that tomorrow morning at 8am.

Ismailia is famous for its mangos and major staging post for the Suez Canal, which still had ships going through it. In town people were surprised to have a foreigner in their midst. It had a similar look to Alexandria, mostly empty streets, few if any shops open. Some shops looted. I rocked up at a hotel next to the train station. To its left was the Alexandria Bank, a tank and some soldiers protected it. To my right was a KFC shop, which lacked the firepower but protected its property with the use of white pant on its windows. Studies must have been made back in the day to discover what a protest looks for when it loots or aims to smash property. Now even though most people protesting had none of that idea. For a shopkeeper it was not worth the risk. So all major franchises took out this option for protection. Something that the BMW dealership in Alexandria failed to do.

I hadn’t had lunch and only had a boiled egg and stale bread with some cream cheese for breakfast. So I was starving by this point. I realised that it was again close to curfew time. So out I went again to a lonesome street in search of food. I walked past a corner store, which only offered snacks, and after a fruitless effort. I decided to return to that shop and get some fruit for breakfast tomorrow and drink. For dinner it was difficult and all I could manage was some cake - a chocolate scroll.

I wasn’t completely concerned but there were thoughts going though in my head. ‘They don’t have a problem with tourists… yet!’ I knew that at any point a situation like this could change without notice and I am stuffed. I was 50-50 on my prospect of getting out of Ismailia. That was based on me watching BBC World, which heightens the drama.

The next day I got myself a taxi and arrived at the bus station. I was informed straight away that there would be no buses. I feared it because this was the Tuesday the protesters requesting 1 million people to the streets. If I couldn’t get out today than basically tomorrow was my last chance to get out and have any hope of diving.

With that thought and a free flight possibly on offer by the Australian government from Cairo. I got a young taxi driver to take me to the airport for $25. We drove through checkpoint after checkpoint where mostly he would get his ID checked, not me. The few times I did get checked over was with civilians dressed casually and some with broken glass used as knives and even machetes. “Passport” they’d ask. You just have to accept your fate at this point and think ‘surely this is not going to turn bad… Surely.’

Just when it looked like we were out of Ismailia the army tanks blocked our way and we couldn’t get through. We drive another exit point and we get the same problem. I realised after the first attempt we won’t get through because they want to minimise (especially today) the amount of people going to Cairo. So they saw the young taxi driver as using me to get to the big protest.

So I pulled the pin and requested to go back to the hotel with the tank next to it. There I managed to find a pizza place open - The only place. So at last I had a decent meal and stocked up in case I couldn’t get any food tomorrow. Whilst I waited, the chef gave me some of his pizza and said that it’s best that I walk back to my hotel after this. 100m ahead were tanks, to the left was the railway line elevated enough so I couldn’t see what was going on behind it. I was tempted to walk under the bridge next to the tanks but when another guy warned me. I went back to my original concerns. At any moment things can change.

So it was a full day channel changing, watching bad movies in between watching BBC reports that made me feel like I may not get out.

When I first got back to the hotel from the failed taxi bid I called up the embassy to inform that I am in a town north of Cairo and unable to get out. Before I got to speak to a representative I went through 4 prompts. (The best one was the 2nd option I hit which was for emergencies and I still had to go through two other prompts.) He informed that if I got to Cairo by 9am at a specific meeting point I could get the flight out. I informed again that all the roads are blocked in and out of town. I then said, “I have a flight out of Sharm el Sheik. What should I go for tomorrow. Cairo or Sharm el Sheik?” He said, “Go for Sharm el Sheik.” I hung up knowing that the embassy would be useless to me and I had to use my own initiative and luck to get out. I would have had to be stuck in Ismailia for two weeks before the Embassy would have done anything. My concern was a shortage of money. I had enough to make one final go in leaving tomorrow morning.

The one million protestors fell short so I felt this was my best chance to get out. Hopefully because of the less than expected numbers the security will let more vehicles through.

I wake up the next morning and it was déjà vu. No buses to anywhere. There was no time for a falafel like the previous morning when I contemplated my next move. I needed to broaden my horizons and I saw some mini buses. They were going to Al-Arish near the Israel border and I was that desperate to get out of this town and increase my chances to get to Sharm for my flight I seriously considered it. What stopped me was nearly every local who heard of the idea saying “No it wouldn’t make sense.”

From there quick thinking got me to ask a question about Suez. The third biggest protest area. If I could get to there than Sharm el Sheik is so close I could taste it. The guy I asked informed it’s around the back of the bus station where you’ll find a car or mini bus. And what do you know. Within 5 minutes I’m heading out of Ismailia only to be stopped again by checkpoints. I did notice the difference in the length of time the locals would look at me when we were at a checkpoint. Maybe thinking I am media. SBS’s Amos Roberts for Dateline was tear-gassed, shot at, blindfolded and interrogated by the military authorities. 100 journalists were attacked and 1 killed during the uprising.

This time we were able to get through and in just over an hour the mini bus stopped at a large roundabout which is a cross road to the north, south, east and west. We stop at the Cairo exit and they point to the other side and say catch a bus from the other corner. I wait 90 minutes till at last together with some locals who work in Sharm convince that Sharm is better to go to than Nuweiba for this trip. Again tanks surrounded the roundabout and I was still not on the Sinai side.

Once we travelled under the Suez Canal we hit a checkpoint and legitimate officers. The mood had changed. I felt safer. Not completely but a lot more freer than before.

In Sharm in February the hotel rates fall dramatically so I got a nice room for 15 euro and switched on the TV to see the Army let pro Mubarak supporters through to Tahir Square after the previous day saying they will let the protests be free of violence. 11 people were killed from the Wednesday clash in Tahir Square. It was at this moment I felt a little bit of pride in myself. I could have so easily have stayed and I believe I could have been stuck for a week in that town Ismailia.

Instead I got a reward. No it was not being able to play tennis against the former Egyptian over 35’s No.1 in Cairo. No it wasn’t seeing the best wreck dive in the world. By the time I arrived in Sharm it was the late afternoon before my flight the next day. Instead it was the chance to tell an African story but in the most unlikely of places.

Egypt was supposed to be the easy African destination but everything was difficult. Everything including telecommunications and Internet. Internet finally worked 2 hours before I arrived in Sharm. I was meant to meet up with a travel buddy from earlier this trip but with no mobile connection and Internet cut off throughout my stay. We finally made contact with each other. I got there 4 days late. She informed she couldn’t get through from her side either and evacuated to Jordan and said “I’m in Thailand now.”

I think I hung around Egypt instead of flying out of Alexandria because I felt that Egyptians are intelligent people and with that I thought I could risk travelling through the revolution from one side to the other. I could travel it with much less consequences than say Cote D’Ivoire.

Another thing is that I can be a bit stubborn. I do think that the world revolves around me sometimes and I have to say if I managed to have got to Sharm el Sheik and did Thistlegorm I think my head would have grown a few feet. Instead I was hit with the reality that the world is more important than me. I have always tried to put the negatives in my life into a positive (where I can). One was that even if it doesn’t work out it was meant to be.

But now I realised I am not special. I am just a person travelling around the world. I failed my mission but in a desperate attempt to make the world sound like it revolves around me. I have managed to make a story out of it. So hey, diving thistlegorm would have been great. Playing tennis against the former Egyptian over 35’s champ would have been sooo cliché. This is defiantly a story for the grandkids. Lucky it weren’t Libya.

So take away the locals suffering for all these years and some people dying for the cause. So too people’s property being destroyed. Travelling through the Egyptian revolution for a few days… What a great experience!

---

Comments

[Maxim Bonte]

I wanted to go to Egypt around then now I'm glad I did not, interesting experience though.

[Johannes]

Great story!
Hey Drew, i guess travel is most about having varied and unique experiences. This is something extraordinary what happened and you were there. Great story!