Wanderlust Heaven!

My time in Dahab quickly became a question of going diving or doing nothing.  Both were equally enjoyable.  Spent a fair amount of time with George and Grace, the Brits staying in the room next door.  We went out for beers at the boat-shaped Tota Bar, which was pretty much the only nightlife option in town.  The two of them inhaled a number of cocktails (it was Ladies’ Night and Grace could get 2 for 1), I stuck to beer.  We all stumbled out of there a bit woozy.

Friday rolled around, the Muslim Sabbath, and even less got done.  Typically the Internet is very slow that day – half the country is surfing the net before going to mosque.  But this particular Friday was especially bad – then we came to learn that an undersea cable had been cut between Italy and Africa, bringing the system to a standstill.  It would take another day and a half to fix things.  I’d been through something like this before, in Goa, and it was a pain.  I felt bad for people who were under the gun to make travel plans and the like – I had plenty of time and didn’t get that fussed about being relegated to the entirely physical world…

The Brits and I had signed up for an overnight trip to Ras Mohamed National Park, a dive mecca on the south tip of Sinai.  We had to pay up front and hand them our gear at 5 p.m. Friday – we’d depart Dahab at 11 p.m.  We didn’t know much more than that, except that two of the three dives would be on the famed British wreck HMS Thistlegorm, sunk during WW2 and supposedly an incredible wreck to dive.

Walking down the street that evening, I noticed the crazed Austrian redheaded woman from the long bus ride between Cairo and St. Katherine’s.  I was desperate to avoid any sort of encounter, so I turned away and took the next corner.  I had sort of known that I hadn’t seen the last of her, but I was trying to be optimistic.  And now I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear…

Saudi Arabia is just across the Gulf of Aqaba – about 20 km away.  The Saudi coastline, like the Egyptian/Sinai coastline, is mountainous – all part of the same Great Rift of Africa geography.  This part of the world is also politically fascinating – Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi all come together within a few km.

The Ras Mohamed trip loomed.  First, we met at a travel agency and got in a minivan that took us to Sharm El-Sheikh, 90 minutes drive.  Tried to sleep during the ride.  Then we reached a marine, and boarded a mediocre-looking ship.  About 25-30 of us were paying customers, plus there were some divemasters and crew.  They had us set up our equipment for the first dive, at 8 a.m. the next morning, and then gave us bedding so that we could lie out on the upper deck and sleep.  I had brought my silk bag liner and that helped keep me pretty warm (and clean – the bag was dodgy).  The boat sat there till about 4 a.m., when it left the marina and headed to the marine park.  I think I woke up briefly when we started moving, but otherwise slept quite well.  Grace, sleeping near me, didn’t wake up at all – George and I were amazed at her propensity for sleep.

The entire bus/waiting boat/moving boat process seemed a bit overwrought, but I guess it’s necessary to deliver you 1) to Rash Mohamed early in the morning, in time to dive the wreck before hordes of other dives show up, and 2) to allow you to get at least a few hours of sleep.  And to be truthful, it was a good adventure – particularly in hindsight, like many such adventures.

Had a quick breakfast, then did our first dive on the Thistlegorm.  Mohamed, our guide, wanted to size us up, so this dive was largely outside the wreck.  We had Jan, a Dutchman, and two clueless Japanese on our little team.

My camera had been acting up ever since it got wet a couple days before…and now it wasn’t working underwater.  I played with the controls and finally got it going – but none of my underwater pics were all stunning.  Saw some tuna and a few other fishies on this dive, but the highlight was of course the wreck itself.

Back to the boat.  Had a second breakfast – fuul, eggs and shamy (pita) never tasted so good.  Had to endure some aimless bantering by a couple of San Diegans who were wandering the world in search of divemaster jobs.  These two were nice enough, but they seemed to spend 90% of their time with grins pasted onto their faces, no matter the situation or topic.  I hate overly smiley people – being happy is one thing, but I think it’s unnatural to smile all the fucking time.  We soon learned that they’d both had some teeth-whitening procedure – maybe they felt compelled to show off the results and justify the expense?

Just for once I’d like to meet some countrymen who are a) reasonably mature, and 2) relatively worldly.  It seems the vast majority of Americans I meet abroad are like the kiddies in the St. Katherine’s cafeteria (who were full of factoids but no organizing themes or real wisdom), or empty-headed older folks who don’t seem to have taken anything in from their travels, and act like they’re in a mall in New Jersey.  The San Diegans must have said ‘re-ally?’ every 30 seconds, and of course had the Valley Girl speech impediment that started in California and has spread across the country.

I thought I was perhaps being too hard on the San Diegans – to be fair, they were nice folks.  But later on George mentioned them and brought up their constant grinning – I felt like less of a Grinch on hearing his impression.

Second dive was one of the best in memory.  I left my camera on the ship and just focused on the diving.  We spent 20 minutes inside the wreck, going back and forth, up and down.  We went through a section full of encrusted jeeps and trucks, full of motorbikes being sent to the troops in the Levant.  At certain points it was a tight squeeze and I had to pull myself along using the old tires of the bikes – the rubber treads on some still looked road-worthy.  Obviously not General Motors products…

Mohamed, our guide, took us one by one up into an air compartment – but told us not to breath the air as it was 60+ years old and probably not good for you.  The compartment was small, but it was still a trip to be so far underwater and in a space with air, not water.

We were down there so long, at 25 meters, that we were all a bit low on air as we hurried up to do our safety stop at 5 meters.  I finished my safety stop low on air – I was sucking fumes as I floated up to the surface.  I’ve done this 2-3 times before, not a big deal – but you don’t want to get caught out and start your safety stop too late, otherwise you’ll feel like holding your breath and that’s not kosher when you’re ascending.  I’ve gone diving so many times I feel very confident in various situations…but I don’t want to get too lazy underwater.

Had lunch before the third dive.  Decent enough food – kofta (meatballs), hummos, salad, chicken, etc.

Last dive was a drift dive from Shark Reef to Yolanda Reef.  Much more mellow, but lots of marine life.  Saw an enormous Napoleonfish, perhaps the most beautiful fish I’d ever seen.  Look it up online to see what I mean.  Also saw a manta lying on the bottom.  All in all, a good dive.

Came back to the boat, a little fried from all the diving.  The boat headed back to Sharm and most of us lounged in the sun and took a few photos.  The area really is spectacular.

Disembarked, carrying my pack and gear.  Later on I noticed that I’d left my North Face fleece on the ship…and despite attempts to get it back, I never did.  Someone’s wearing it as I write this, no doubt.  Hmm.  In Japan, it would have turned up immediately — with an apology for the delay in getting it back, no less — but I guess that’s not the case in Egypt.  I haven’t had any other problems like this here…I guess it’s my bad.  Oh well – I had a lot of other things to carry, and I was woozy from the diving.  I guess I’m fortunate I didn’t leave any real valuables behind.  Still, that fleece has been with me since I started this journey and I need to get a new one when in Tel Aviv.

Bad things do clump together.  My camera was dodgy from the leak…I had had to buy a new dive computer battery..and now my parka was gone.  The only course of action is to get over this stretch of bad luck and deal with all these things straightaway…which is my natural reaction, anyway.

Noticed (thanks to my Treo) that it was the third anniversary of my final day at work, December 20, 2005.  It was also the first night of Hanukkah, and the Winter Solstice to boot.  Perhaps good things clump together too…

Ride back to Dahab was fine.  We were all exhausted and didn’t do much the rest of the night.  Got up the next day and hit the Internet hard – wanted to make a number of hotel and flight bookings, managed to get everything done in a few hours.  Used some American Express points to get a free car rental in Boston and a free train ticket from New York to Boston.  Over the past three years, I’ve probably used 65-70% of my credit card points, but still have a fair amount remaining.  Good cushion to have in hard times.

Also emailed new Turkish friend Erol in Tel Aviv…we met diving in Kas, Turkey, and agreed to hang out in TA if possible.  He wrote back and was welcoming – and in fact mentioned that he and his wife were wondering where I was and if I’d already gone back to work.  Not yet, brother…

George and Grace were taking off that evening – we said our goodbyes.  I was happy I’d decided to stay at Penguin Village, it’s a communal sort of place and a terrific hangout.  We’d hit it off nicely and had fun diving and drinking – I got their emails and will drop them a line soon.

Sent off a few emails to the Israel Hash House Harrier clubs, checking on their upcoming runs.  They got right back to me – Israelis are good that way.  But when I tried to make online bookings at hotels in Tel Aviv and Jersusalem, that didn’t work as well, and I needed to ring them and finalize the bookings.  I love the Internet but am not about to forgo getting SIM cards in the countries I visit – I always need to make at least a few phone calls, and I feel somewhat naked without being reachable (is that a word?).

Didn’t bother with any of the desert activities in Dahab.  You can rent a 4×4 and go tooling around in the desert, or join a camel safari, or a million other options.  I’d already spent a lot of time in various deserts – the Gobi in Mongolia, Great Thar (Rajasthan), Wadi Rum in Jordan – and preferred to be near the ocean and with a book in hand.

Noticed while walking along the ocean promenade that they’d uncovered the remains of the ancient port here.  Dahab was under the control of the Nabateans, who also created Petra – this was where they brought in and sent their goods.  I was getting a decent sense of how this place was set up two thousand years ago.  The modern-day political borders are nearly meaningless in the historical perspective.

Went for one more dive, to Abu Hilal, a beach dive – good change of pace from the Ras Mohamed boat dives, with the crowded conditions on board.  The dive lasted nearly an hour.  Came up refreshed and satisfied – I’d done enough diving now and was ready to move on.

The fat guy manning the diveshop desk asked me to sell him my iPod Shuffle, he’d seen me with in when I went running.  I told him I’d like to, but needed it for exercise.  I think he understood.  I guess it’s still not that easy to get genuine Apple gear in Egypt – but I’m sure you can do it.  Just have an Israeli guest bring one along or ship it there…

Had the guy in the Penguin Internet café make me a CD of local music.  Haven’t listened to it yet, but this is the sort of thing I do far too sporadically.  To be fair, Dahab is particularly well set up for this – there are various ‘music shops’ offering to make you CDs with MP3s…you don’t see this in many other places, I seem to recall Sihanoukville in Cambodia also had these shops, and there were some places in Thailand.

Had a headache from the long dive, took a good nap.  Was happy I was done with the diving, I’d probably done as much as my body could handle.

Had my final Dahab dinner at ChillOut Restaurant.  The food in Dahab isn’t that cheap – particularly when compared to room prices.  I was paying US$15 a night – and a decent resto lunch or dinner was about US$10, without drinks.  Comparing everything to room prices per night is the metric I default to, for better or worse.  I guess the room is the core need, and if you start paying a multiple of that for food, you might be off base.

ChillOut wasn’t cheap, either, but the meal they give you is expansive.  Ordered the chicken kebab – which was preceded by lentil soup, pita, hummos, salad, and accompanied by a ton of vegetables and rice.  I couldn’t come close to polishing this off and waddled from the table.  Even when I try to keep an eye on my diet, I get torpedoed…

Next morning had a final rooftop breakfast at Penguin.  Tried to avoid Hassan, the employee I’d met upon checking in – he has some bizarre belief about the Pyramids being built 70,000 years ago by a race of giants.  I think giants are mentioned in the Bible, but come on.  I got those ‘Chariots of the Gods’ books out of my system when I was 12…

During breakfast got into a discussion with some Aussies and a Belgian dude about politics and the environment.  And it became even more clear to me what an opportunity the US has lost in the past 8 years.  In Belgium they recycle nearly all their waste…when in Japan I had to sort my trash into 3 categories, and did so happily…in Boston there seems to be no recycling scheme, at least not for household waste.  I was stunned to learn that in early 2006, after returning from Asia.  In Belgium (and even in the Thames, in London) fish are coming back and the air is improving – the EU, despite its flaws, is having a positive impact on the environment, and European (and Japanese) companies are far ahead of their US counterparts in this regards.  In the US we’re still trying to figure out how to prompt the carmakers to manufacture smaller models…in Japan and Europe they’re 20-30 years ahead.  I think GM and Chrysler, and probably Ford too, will have to go through bankruptcy and eventually, if they survive, become much smaller, perhaps niche companies.  I hope I’m wrong.

Camera seems to be working fine now.  Need to think about whether to take it diving again – will probably test the case extensively beforehand.  The more crap you have, the more it weighs on you…

Packed up, checked out, and got in a minivan to take me to Taba, on the Israeli border.  An older Aussie guy, Dave, was in the van, and we picked up a few others en route.  I had just read that the Hamas-Israel truce was over and that things might get hot around Gaza.  I trusted my general good luck with things like this – as I’ve written, I usually miss catastrophic events by 2-3 days.  Still, I wouldn’t be hanging around the US Embassy in Tel Aviv or going to huge rock concerts while in Israel…

Had a brief moment of concern looking for my passport, but found it in the bottom of my small pack.  When I lose it, it’s always there.

The Sinai east coast drive is fantastic – you’re wedged between mountains and sea, and right across the gulf is Saudi.  Went by a number of camps and hotels, and lots of half-finished buildings.  In Egypt you don’t pay taxes if they building isn’t ‘complete,’ so you see plenty of such places.  But here I’d chalk it up to lack of tourists – the place was deserted, and a bit eerie.

Dave the Aussie was a nice guy, and well-traveled.  Case in point:  he’d spent a month in Ethiopia.  Anyone who’s been there is generally in my good books.  But he was pretty guileless for a traveler – he had just a few Egyptian pounds on him, had no Israel guidebook or idea where to stay in Eilat, just over the border, and really didn’t seem to have any plan for his 8-10 days in Israel.  And he’s a longtime high school teacher in Oz – I’d have thought a teacher would at least do a bit of research, but not Dave.

Clearing the Egyptian side was easy enough, just had to buy a little exit stamp to put in the passport.  Then went through the X-ray machine – I had to show my Leatherman knife, whereas Dave pulled out a huge machete he’d bought in Ethiopia.  That kept the Egyptians busy for a few minutes.  I wanted to get going, as I hoped to get a bus to Tel Aviv that night.  We moved on – then Dave couldn’t find his exit stamp.  I said I’d catch him up ahead, and walked across no-man’s land to the Israeli entry facility.

The Israelis were quite pleasant – informally dressed, relatively young (I imagine they’re mostly Army conscripts), and friendly.  Got asked a few questions at the first barrier, then walked on to the X-ray machine.  They were amused by my knife – a knife in Israel is a child’s toy.  Then got to the actual Immigration counter – got asked a lot of question there, my passport is so fat that I expect this.

Meanwhile, Dave sailed right through.  I’m Jewish, he’s not, but at the end of the day we’re both white guys from friendly nations.

Shared a taxi to Eilat’s bus station, then cooled my heels there for a couple hours.  Was going to take a shared minivan, but few people opted for that, and these don’t leave till full.  I waited as long as I could, then ran over to the public bus ticket booth and got a ticket for that.  Boarded the bus and we started off.

I had tried to help Dave pick a hotel in Eilat, and pointed him in the right direction.  And the bus station security guard had also given him some ideas.  This guard and I had had a good chat about Israel and the US before I got on the bus.  He had red hair, you don’t see a lot of redheaded Jews around…

The ride through the Negev was interesting.  At certain points there are mini-forests of trees, all planted by hand, in perfect rows.  Reminded me of some pine forests in Japan.  I guess we’re making the desert bloom, but it all looks funny.

A sandstorm came up, and it was hard to see outside the bus window.  And it got dark very early, by 5 p.m.  Slightly depressing winter evening, methinks.  The bus itself was pretty full, and there were a few black people on board.  Were these Ethiopian Jews, I wondered.  Israel was looking a bit more diverse than it had years ago, when I’d briefly visited Tel Aviv.

Got into Tel Aviv around 8:30 p.m.  Took a taxi to my hotel, which was near the sea.  Prices in Israel were quite high, and I was already missing the bargains in Egypt.  At my hotel, the receptionist was brusque (Russian-looking, no surprise), and I had to go to an ATM to get enough cash to pay for my first night.  When I had tried to book this place on the web, they offered short-time/hourly rates, which gave me the impression that this was a ‘no-tell motel,’ i.e. a part-time brothel.  I wasn’t changing my impression just yet.

When I got into my room, I wasn’t any more thrilled – it was pretty ordinary.  But it would do for a few nights – I wasn’t in the mood to hotel-hop.

After a shower headed to Mike’s Bar, nearby.  Sat at the bar near a group of LA teachers and administrators.  I can tell you that school principals aren’t averse to drinking – I wondered now about my primary school principal, Dr. Dittami, if he had any sort of secret life, or at least nightlife.

One principal, Robert, sat there sipping a Sauza tequila.  Nice enough guy, but afflicted with the ‘LA Syndrome,’ i.e. when you talk to someone from LA (or anywhere in Southern Cal), they’re always distracted and their eye contact is limited.  I despise that, and probably would hate living in California for that reason alone.

Had a few local GoldStar Beers – these are a bit dark and highly drinkable.  Recommended.  Bravo Israel!  In general it was nice to be out of the Muslim world, with the two-week India trip excepted, I’d been in Muslim countries for 3 months and it was refreshing to see scantily-clad women and people downing drinks with abandon.  Robby the bartender handed out ‘green machine’ shots and it felt like being in New York or London.

Meanwhile, the weather was shockingly bad – very rainy and windy.  Dahab had been a bit windy, but pretty warm, even at night.  I was missing my fleece and resolved to get one the next morning.  The storm worsened during the night, I sat and had a few more beers until it cleared enough to get back to the hotel.  Perhaps this was the Promised Land, but the weather was shit.

Got up and went out to get a fleece.  Walked by the huge US Embassy, right near my hotel.  Took a photo but didn’t linger.  There’s a seedy little cafe/bar right across the street – interesting juxtaposition with the Embassy.  In other places – Laos, Vietnam, the Philippines, India – the US Embassy is secluded, or at least far from any place where people could plausibly linger.  I guess here in Israel, general security is so tight that it’s easier to put the Embassy in plain view.

Got to the Dizengoff Shopping Center, asked a North Face-clad guy there where he got his, and he pointed to a shop upstairs.  Lots of hiking and camping type stores here – Israelis are real outdoors people.  Bought a Lowe Alpine fleece, not cheap but I need it.

Walked around for a few hours.  Checked out the Carmel Market, an orderly bazaar in the old Yemenite Quarter.  Still raining, so didn’t cover that much ground.  Traded texts with Erol, turned out he had to entertain some (other) foreign guests that night, from his company.  He was off to Istanbul the next day, but will be back January 4^th, so we may see each other again before I leave Israel.

It’s Hannukah now – lots of menorahs everywhere.  Kind of pleasant.

Went back to my hotel.  The guy at the desk (the owner?) whined at me, I hadn’t yet paid for the room that night.  I’d told the guy on duty that morning that I was staying, but I guess the deal is that you must pay in the morning if you’re staying.  My conclusion:  this was, if not a brothel, then a short-time establishment that saw lots of unsavory types looking to run out on their bill.  Oh well – the price was right and I’d be OK.

I later reversed this fellow – we got into a discussion about Israeli politics, I’m fairly well-versed in the country’s history and the current (actually, never-ending) political deadlock.  I think he was surprised I had such command of the topic – and he became much friendlier.  Israelis are like Russians that way – a tough façade, but a warm interior.  Come to think of it, these days about 20%+ of Israelis are Russian…

Christmas Eve.  Not a big deal here – in Jerusalem’s Old City, sure, but not in secular, hedonistic Tel Aviv, where there are at least 6-7 go-go bars around the corner from my hotel, on Allenby Street.  Now I see the brothel/no-tell motel connection…

Went for a run along the sea.  Still rainy, and brutally windy – at times I was running in place.  Managed to stay out for 30  minutes or so, and sweat – when the weather is nice I’ll bet this promenade is packed with joggers.  I’m slowly but surely getting back into shape – I just need to do a better job with my abs and also practice more yoga – when your hotel room is small and crappy, that’s difficult, whereas running just requires a decent outdoors course.

Got back to the room, phone was ringing.  The call was from Mumbai, and concerned the potential job there.  The news was encouraging and good.  Will probably take another 6-8 weeks to get the final OK, but the fact is that they seem to need and want me on board, and it looks likely to happen in some way, before much longer.  Fine by me – I want another couple months off before plunging back in…and if I plunge back in and the plunging is more like dipping my foot in the pool, that’s OK too.

Checked out some local bars.  Minzar Bar is near Carmel Market, and is full of wise guys and writers.  Full of character – if I lived here, I’d spend a fair few nights at Minzar.  It’s woody, a bit seedy, with cute barmaids, old music (Frank Sinatra tonight), and free bar snacks.

Tel Aviv in general has a Miami Beach sort of feel.  The city is only about 100 years ago, there’s lots of Art Deco and Bauhaus everywhere…and the city, at least near the water, has a slightly seedy and rundown feel.  I like it – not too precious.  Perhaps Tel Aviv is the newest/latest Jewish beach city – now that Miami is mostly Cuban.  Although that might not be the case with Miami Beach itself, haven’t been there for years…

Walked over to Café Bialik for a bite.  They were having some live music later on, but I didn’t feel like listening to loud guitars, I had a slight headache from the weather, from drinking the night before, etc.  Had a final drink at Cosa Nostra bar, then headed back to my brothel…er, hotel, to rest.  Christmas Day was here…just another day in Eretz Yisrael.  It was good to be here, and to have some time – why did it take me 41 years for this??  I’d visited such backwaters as Burma and Mongolia, but not Israel – shame on me.

Anyway, now that I was here, I felt a vague sense of belonging, of kinship, of sharing a secret.  I sort of liked the wise-guy mentality and affect of many of the Israelis I was meeting – and it was refreshing to hear their affection for the US, which probably exceeds mine, at least in the political arena.  I think the next couple weeks here will be a real learning experience for me – maybe I’ll even brush off my old Bar Mitzvah Hebrew (I only remember 10 words, at most), and try to attend a Shabbat service/dinner.  My cousin Sarah has studied in Jerusalem, and is returning there in a few days, so hopefully we’ll connect and she can help me get up to speed with this young, old country.  My next post will be in 2009, friends – see you on that side of the calendar.  Over and out.

Last couple days in Goa were spent revisiting some favorite old places.  Drove up to Morjim(ski) Beach, north of the Chapora River.  Parked the bike, went for a swim, had a beer, and then walked up to Mandrem Beach – a very long, unmatched wander that took me past nudist colonies, French cafes, stoner hangouts, and a whole lot of white beaches.  This walk – which extends all the way to Arambol – is one of the best ways to spend a day in Goa, or anywhere for that matter.  You could stretch it out for a couple days and spend the night in Arambol – a holiday within a holiday is one way to look at it.

On the ride back to Vagator I noticed a local kid wearing an AIG t-shirt.  I’m sure he had no idea what ‘AIG’ stands for these days…

Got back to Bean Me Up – Lisa marveled at my newly-acquired tan.  Now I was ready to head back to Egypt and fit right in with the locals.

Checked email – had a note from Garry, the American I’d met in a Yalta bar.  He was just laid off and was now back in Florida, working on his boat and looking for his next gig.  I have to admire his joie de vivre – didn’t seem that unhappy with his lot or lack of a bank balance.  I hope he lands on his feet, but suspect he’s pretty much already there.

Burned a few CDs for Lisa – she’s planning a retro night party at the restaurant and I happen to have a ton of 70s songs that would be perfect.  ‘Afternoon Delight’ by the Starland Vocal Band, anyone?

A friend of Lisa’s was showing a movie in his garden that night, he rigged up a Mac to a projector and sound system and it worked amazingly well.  We went to check it out – the movie was ‘Into the Wild,’ based on the Krakauer book.  I was familiar with the story, but hadn’t read the book or seen the movie.  Pretty compelling, and tragic.  I admired the protagonist’s independence and backbone…but at the same time there’s no way that a 22-year-old kid knows enough about life to justify having the confidence he had in himself.  I suppose I can’t prove that assertion…but in this story the kid dies in the Alaskan woods, and if you replayed the story 100 times I think it would end badly in 90 of them.  Anyway, the movie was quite good and I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the book.

Saturday rolled around – went over to Lisa and Richard’s to have a beer and say goodbye.  This is becoming an annual event – I hate saying goodbye and making a production out of it, but I think I’ll keep returning to Goa each winter, even if only for a week or two.  And if this job comes through in Mumbai, I might be down there a hell of a lot.  So this time wasn’t that sad – it had been a terrific week and I had some good memories to tide me through the long bus rides I had coming up in Egypt and Israel.

Flew up to Mumbai, had a lengthy layover which wasn’t looking to be much fun, not at the detestable Sahar Airport.  But, to my general astonishment, the eternal work they’ve been doing on the airport has come a ways – there are now some decent places to eat, a ‘Bombay Blue Bar’ with cold beer, and a look and feel that approximates ‘normal’ airports around the world.  They still have much to do, but now spending a few hours at Sahar isn’t the exercise it once was.

Connected to my Cairo flight at 2:30 a.m.  Flights seem to get into and depart from Indian airports at the ugliest hours.  Egypt has the same issue.  As the plane took off, an Exit sign on the ceiling fell to the floor.  A metaphor for the flight??  I hoped not.

Had a tough time sleeping, the econo seats were child-sized and I wasn’t that tired.  Probably got an hour of sleep during the 5-6 hour flight, was a bit woozy when we landed.

Landing in these countries when it’s dark isn’t optimal – the thieving cabbies are right on you, you’re tired from the journey, and it’s not that easy to shop around for a good deal.  But I’d done this once before here at Cairo Airport, so had a solid price to quote…which I eventually got.  Rode into town, checked into Hotel Luna – but as it was only 6:30 a.m., had to wait a few hours to get into my room.  Watched a couple episodes of ‘Heroes’ on the old laptop to while away the time.  Never hard to spend a few hours – always something to do/read/watch.

Had a coffee at A l’Americaine Coffee Shop, a classic place that’s probably 70 years old, at least.  Did some computer stuff, then collapsed in bed for a huge huge nap – didn’t get up till the sun had gone down.  Thankfully I hadn’t planned a big day around town – perhaps I’m becoming more realistic / aware of my limitations.  It’s hard to strike the right balance between seeing/doing everything and being kind to your body and mind…

Had beers and dinner at Estoril.  Ordered some kibbeh, which are meat-filled bulgur wheat balls – one of the best things to eat over here.  The Sadat-lookalike barman was glad to see me – I love these characters, there are at least a few in every capital city.  Cairo has more than its fair share – the place is incredibly retro, there seems to be very little innovation here.  Proof:  numerous billboards and ads for Chevrolet cars.

Am reading ‘The Yacoubian Building’ by Alaa Al Aswany, an Egyptian dentist who wrote this book a few years ago.  It quickly became a top-seller and he’s now a famous novelist, at least in the Arab world.  The book’s about a well-known building on a main Downtown street, namely the characters who live and work there.  It’s sort of an Egyptian soap opera, the writing is good not stunning, but the stories are intriguing and it all hangs together nicely.  Almost finished with it – it’s giving me some good insights into Egyptian life under the surface.

Got a Facebook friend request from a high school classmate whom I haven’t seen or even thought of since the moment we graduated in 1985.  I guess this is why I deal with all the email traffic arising from Facebook – you can recapture the most obscure memories without doing anything.  That said, I noticed that one of my ‘friends’ has 931 ‘friends.’  And I thought I had trouble staying in touch with people – I have to reject the very idea of 931 ‘friends.’

After Estoril, went to Zemalek, a neighborhood on an island in the Nile.  Had a beer at Deals Pub and then walked around a bit.  Zemalek is an upscale ‘hood and I had wanted to get a feel for the place.  Despite spending the equivalent of 5-6 days in Cairo, and seeing a fair amount, I’d also been consumed with errands (read:  Indian visa) and felt that I hadn’t seen enough of the city.  Oh well.

Walked back to Downtown, and finished the night at the Odeon Palace Hotel, which has a popular rooftop bar.  The hotel itself is old and creaky, as is the bar.  Just a few folks hanging out, smoking and drinking.  Had a Stella beer and called it a night.  Last night in Cairo – fairly entertaining, if a bit quiet.

Next morning, before checking out, had breakfast at the hotel.  Sat across from an American woman, Liz, who turned out to be an Egyptologist.  She was going to see Zahi, the head of the Antiquities Board – this fellow is one of the big names in Egypt and does not lack an ego – he has a monthly piece in Egypt Air’s magazine which outlines his exploits and claims.  Turns out Liz studied for a while at Tufts – small world.

Checked the NFL scores – the Pats won big.  They’re doing pretty well despite their injuries – I don’t expect them to go that far in the playoffs, but if they do I won’t be too surprised.  The team is solid and they could always get lucky.

Meanwhile, the Celtics are absolutely kicking tail – they’ve won 16 in a row and are off to their best start EVER.  That’s really saying something, given the spectacular teams they’ve fielded over the years.  It’s tough to play so well after you win a ring, but they’re doing it.  But it’s still early in the season and we’ll have to see what happens down the stretch.

Took a bus to Sinai – wanted to visit St. Katherine’s Monastery and climb Mt. Sinai.  The bus left Cairo Gateway Station around 11 a.m., and promptly broke down a few kilometers outside the city.  Ugh.  Had wanted to get to St. K’s before sunset, but that wasn’t to be.  We sat there and waited for a backup bus to come, that took a couple hours.  Plus I was sitting next to a fat local guy and he was oozing into my seat.  Charming.

Eventually a crappy backup bus came and we boarded it.  Then it was another 7-8 hours to go.  Across the aisle from me was a volube Dutch guy named Nico – he had lived in Yemen for 4 years and now lived in Mozambique, his wife’s a doctor with the Dutch Embassy and they spend time in some obscure places.  Cool.  We got on well and decided to climb Mt. Sinai the next morning at 3 a.m.

I had a booking at the Monastery Guesthouse – the one place that’s within the confines of St. K’s and within easy reach of the mountain.  Nico seemed keen to try to get a room there too.  I’d made a booking two weeks before, worried that the onset of the holidays would make walk-ins difficult.

Nico had learned that an older British fellow sitting a few rows up had been to the Monastery before and I picked his brain about the place and about climbing the mountain.  He proved to be a font of knowledge – more on him in a bit.

Sitting behind Nico was an odd redheaded Austrian woman who became more annoying by the hour.  She was an accomplished traveler (and had been to Yemen), and her thing was that she never booked a room in advance.  Whatever, lady.  Within an hour or two she had latched onto Nico and I, and the Brit, who told us that the Guesthouse always sent a cab to meet our bus and fetch its guests.  So by the time we finally got to the village near St. K’s, we had more than a full house – the redhead had also roped in an Indian guy and his mother to come with us.

I was by now cranky – the ride was late, I had had to sit next to the fat guy the entire time, I was sick of the redhead (who couldn’t stop gabbing, in weird Austrian German to boot), we had gone through 5 or 6 checkpoints (there have been terror attacks out here and the police are on edge), and I wanted to climb Mt. Sinai at 3 a.m.  It was already past 8 p.m.

The cabbie was waiting for us.  We piled in – I felt bad for the Brit, who had generously told us about this service and was now forced to squeeze in the third row of seats in the station wagon.  We had to endure a final checkpoint before entering the Monastery Grounds.  Checkin was messy – but they finally got me, the Brit, and Nico into rooms.  The redhead and the Indians weren’t happy with the price – they took the cab back to the village to stay in cheaper digs.  Eminently predictable – they wound up making the rest of us miserable.  Nico and I joked about the ride and the annoyances, and had dinner in my room – the staff brought us a very nice spread and I bought a couple beers in the store, which was open round-the-clock for the pilgrims and the climbers.

St. Katherine’s is probably the oldest Christian monastery in the world.  There has been a religious site here since the 3^rd century A.D., and a formal monastery since the 6^th, when Emperor Justinian built this monastery.  It’s a well-trafficked pilgrimage site, and many tourists come to climb Mt. Sinai, behind the monastery.  There’s your quickie history lesson.

Finished dinner, traded a few more stories with Nico, mostly about how crazy the redhead was (I was happy he had the same impression) then we went to sleep.  It was 10:30 p.m. and it had been a relentlessly long day, longer than expected.  But now it was passing into legend and as you can probably tell, I got a few stories from the ordeal.

Alarm woke me at 2:30 a.m.  Got my warm clothes on, put on my headlamp, got my flashlight, and went to Nico’s room to get him.  He was already up and getting ready.  Shouldered our packs and went to the back side of the monastery to start the hike.

We followed what looked to be the proper path – didn’t see any signs, but the route corresponded with what we’d been told the night before by staff.  Walked for about 40 minutes and eventually came to a door in the side of the mountainside – dead end.  We’d erroneously followed a path to one of the small monasteries in the hills around St. K’s – not the path to Mt. Sinai.  Yikes.  And our goal was to make sunrise at the top of Mt. Sinai – which was due around 5:30 or so.  It was now about 4 a.m.  The hike was supposed to take 2.5 hours – we’d clearly fucked up and would be hard-pressed to come through on time.

We recovered our composure and found a weak path that took us back to the valley floor.  We saw some lights in the distance and went towards those – presumably they were the flashlights of people who actually knew where they were going.  We eventually met them, they were Russians with a guide, coming down from a night atop the mountain.  We were indeed on the proper path, now all that remained was getting to the top on time.

I’m not in the best shape, but I set a hard pace and Nico kept up.  We soon started passing other climbers, mostly Japanese decked out in the latest climbing/cold weather gear.  Exchanged some Japanese greetings and motored on.  We were on a mission from God, as it were.  And soon it became clear that the peak wasn’t far off – there were Bedouins renting out mattresses and blankets.  Many people spend the night atop the mountain, and it’s very cold up there.

Got to the top – checked my watch and it was only 5:10, we had made the climb in 70 minutes.  The Brit had told me the record for the climb was 39 minutes, by a Russian guy.  We weren’t close to that, but had done pretty damn well.  And we were there before sunrise.

Lots of people up there – pilgrims playing the guitar, religious freaks praying to the rising sun, Japanese people milling around without much clue about the religious significance of Mt. Sinai.  As for me, I couldn’t stop thinking about the movie ‘History of the World Part 1,’ with Mel Gibson, specifically the scene with Moses dropping the tablet with commandments #11-15.  I just can’t take these things too seriously…

Sun soon came up – superb views of nearby peaks, random people at the summit, and the valley below:

It was very cold and we only stayed up there for an hour or so.  I felt a vague sense of history and mystery, and wondered if Moses had really ‘done his thing’ up here.  As with Mt. Nebo in Jordan.

Climbed back down to the monastery.  Ran into David the Brit at breakfast – he was amazed at our tale, about getting lost and then recovering to climb the mountain in 70 minutes.  I do have a history of fast climbs – in the Himalayas in 2006 my guides had marveled at my ascent of the Indrahar Pass.  I just might need to try to break the Mt. Sinai record one day…

David turned out to be even more interesting than I had expected.  He’s a scholar who’s trying to pinpoint the route of the historical Exodus of the Jews from Egypt.  He was getting into things like the water consumption of the Jews as they fled Egypt, about the path through the Red Sea, etc.  This place was obviously of huge significance for his studies, the Jews supposedly camped for a long while on the Plains of Raha, just outside the monastery and obviously quite near Mt. Sinai, where Moses supposedly received the 10 Commandments.  Nico and I listened to David for a while – also seated at our table were two American women, one a history prof, who from time to time interjected comments that struck me as very academic and not that helpful to the discussion.  At one point one of the women made the point that Egypt was part of the Byzantine Empire – which was correct, but which had nothing much to do with what we were talking about.  British people are really far more skilled in conversation and rhetoric than we Americans are.  At least some of us Americans know when to keep our mouths shut and be thought of as semi-intelligent…

David offered to show us round the monastery and we were happy to follow him.  I was checking out that afternoon and heading to Dahab, on the Sinai.  I had considered staying for longer, but really wanted to get to the shore and do some diving.  And it was pretty cold here in the interior of the Sinai – it was a case of the age-old question of leaving too early or staying too long.  Not much to do here besides chill (in the cold), climb the mountain or tour the grounds.  David took us around and showed us the highlights, which included, seriously, a huge bush that is supposedly the ‘burning bush’, or descendant of the famous bush, from which God spoke to Moses.  Wild stuff…

Nearby was a well at which Moses supposedly met Jethro, whose daughter he later married:

You’ve probably noticed that we’re dealing with lots of ‘supposedlys’ here.  That’s not a mistake.

Also checked out the Church of the Transfiguration, an ornate, beautiful place.  Then walked around the outer walls of the monastery and looked at the many different types of crosses carved on the walls.  The entire tour was a grand history lesson by David and Nico and I were grateful we’d met such a knowledgeable dude – we got well beyond the info provided by Lonely Planet, and I wish I’d meet more people like him.  I hope his research succeeds and he uncovers some exciting new info to share with all of us.

Took a cab to Dahab – pricey but the bus sked was suspended so had no option.  Took an hour or so, great ride through the Sinai Desert.

While riding to Dahab, thought about next year, and wondered what it would bring.  I’ll keep traveling through the early part of the year, but what about after that?  Would I be back at work, putting on a suit and tie?  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn a tie, or even if I had any in storage.  Oh well, will cross that bridge when I come to it…

One more month till Bush is gone.  I’m not one to root for time to pass, generally, but I won’t be sad on January 20^th 2008.

It got much warmer as we came upon the coast and descended.  My pores opened up and reached for the sun’s rays…I sat back and let my head sink onto the headrest.  It had already been a long, weird day – arising at 2:30 a.m., getting lost, recovering and cranking up Mt. Sinai, getting a brilliant tour of the world’s oldest Christian monastery from an insider.  Now it was onto the beach, to Dahab, the capital of backpacker travel in the Sinai and one of the world’s renowned dive centers.

Checked into Penguin Village, a place with a good rep.  Room was fine, and they had a dive shop onsite.  Lined up some dives, then went for a long walk along the beach promenade  – Dahab was larger than I expected and I was tired when I got back to the hotel.  What a classic chillout beach town – reminded me of some places in Thailand and the Philippines.

Took a nap…got a haircut…then went to the ‘Funny Mummy’ resto for dinner.  Had a solid Caesar Salad and a fish dish, they do nice fish here.  Was sitting near a gang of Norwegians, they invited me over and I accepted.  Very fun people – a mother, her son, and his girlfriend.  They were here for a week or so and had done some diving.  Drinks flowed – in Norway alcohol is taxed brutally and I’ve noticed that Scandinavians abroad are enthusiastic drinkers.  Drank till midnight or so, then I cut and run as had to get up early for diving the next morning.

Did two dives the next day.  Was joined by two Brits, George and Grace, who were going for their Advanced Open Water licenses.  Hamdi was our guide, a capable dude.  Drove up to the Canyons, a well-known site.  The dive was pretty good, saw a fair amount of life…but partway through I noticed that I couldn’t switch off my camera for some reason.  Then I noticed that the case had fogged up – I was able to see a few drops of water inside the case.  Shit.  A leak, it seemed – wasn’t sure what had happened.  And not much I could do.  I kept trying to turn off the camera, to prevent a short.  But I couldn’t, so just tried to hold the case upright and prevent water from getting onto the lens.

Got to shore – left everything to dry in the sun for an hour while we had lunch.  Tried the camera after that, and it worked fine.  This seems to be the proper strategy for wet electronics.  Wiped everything off and checked the case – couldn’t really tell what had gone wrong, but suspected the o-ring was fouled and I had a backup that I’d try the next day, without a camera in the case just in case.

Still got some good pics from the dive, in any event…

And the shore was picturesque, classic Sinai scenery:

The café owner who served us lunch offered us hashish and opium.  I think he was kidding.

Second dive was to the infamous Blue Hole.  The deal with this dive is that you dive straight down a ‘chimney,’ go sideways for a meter or two, then down another chimney.  Then you proceed along a reef wall for a while, and end the dive above the Blue Hole, which is a literal hole that opens at 65 meters and apparently goes down to 100 meters, at which point it comes out somewhere else.  That’s all I know – you obviously don’t go down anywhere near that far, only hardcore techie divers with trimix gas do that.  But it was still pretty cool to hover above the hole, even at 20-30 meters.

As we had walked over to the entry site for this dive, we passed a wall with a number of tombstone dedications to divers who died here.  Lots of divers have been seduced by the Blue Hole and have tried to enter it – and many never got out alive.  Going down that deep requires the right equipment, skills and prep – not for rookies and not even for vets like me.

Saw an incredible blue octopus wedged in a rock along the reef wall.  Wild.

Meant to go to a yoga class that night, walked all the way up to Blue Beach Club, recommended by friend Ken, who’d stayed there years ago.  But I forgot to bring my yoga mat with me – nitrogen narcosis can apparently occur  above water as well.  Blew off the class and took a long nap, which was probably the better idea anyway.

Slept for longer than expected – got up around 11 p.m. quite hungry.  Sat down at the hotel’s beachfront resto and ordered some soup and a burger.  Soon enough George and Grace, my dive buddies, came by – they’d had beers at Tota Bar and sat down with me while I ate.  Had a good chat with them – they’re actually staying in the room next door and will be here for a few more days.  Between them and the Norwegians, who I keep running into, my social life here seems assured.

Today I did a terrific dive at Eel Garden.  You swim over a sandy bed where hundreds of little moray eels stick up and sway in the current.  When you get near they disappear.  Surreal.  Underneath a coral I saw a moray the size of my femur – the head was the size of a brick and the thing looked hungry.

I tested my camera case with a new o-ring, sans camera, and it seemed to again be leak-proof.  Will take the camera underwater on my next dive and see what happens.

George and Grace are doing their final dive for their certificate as I sit and write this – they’re doing a night dive at The Lighthouse.  Had thought about joining them, but opted out.  I’ve got lots of diving left to do over the next 4-5 days and should spread it out a bit.  But it is time for a Stella Beer, so I’ll end this and wish you all the happiest of holidays.  My next post will be from somewhere in Israel.  Over and out.