Ramses & Restrooms

Today started with a 3:30 am wake up call and a 4am pick up to join the convoy to Abu Simbel.  The drive took 4 hours, covering over 300 kilometers of desert and arriving about 40KM from Sudan. Abu Simbel is the site of two temples, built for King Ramses II and his “most popular” wife Nefertari on the banks of Lake Nasser.

Not only were these temples built in 13^th century BC, which makes them unique in that “WOW these are old” way, but they’ve also had an interesting modern history. Because the Egyptian government created a dam to help control the ebbing and flowing of the Nile River, the water started to rise and threatened both the Nubian villages in the area, and the temples themselves. So, in 1960, the temples were taken apart and physically reconstructed on higher ground. With the Nefertari’s temple, you can see where it was cut into pieces for movement, but you can’t tell with Ramses’ temple.

We spent about 2 hours exploring the temples (which was about one hour and forty minutes too long for this adventurer) and by 10am were already on our way back to Aswan, escaping the excruciating 110 degree heat. I passed out for the first hour, but then woke up urgently needing to pee. Michael, our tour guide, had told us the day before that there would be no stops and that the hotel and the site would be our only chance to use the restroom. I sat there suffering for about 40 minutes, but when I saw a sign that said 150KM to Aswan, I realized that if I didn’t pee, I would explode and then ruin the rest of the ride for everyone. So, I woke Michael up, telling him I had a problem and we needed to stop. I didn’t need a bathroom, I had no trouble squatting behind a sand dune or peeing in a cup, but I needed to stop. I guess my timing was pretty good because within 2 km we pulled up to a random shack (which Michael called a ‘coffee shop’) with a smaller shack next to it that was clearly an outhouse of sorts. It was really just a hole in the ground with a bucket next to it but at that point I couldn’t possibly care less. (I was later told that Michael and the bus driver were standing at equal distances between the bathroom and the bus, their arms folded like body guards. Too bad no one took a picture)

When I came out , another bus had pulled up next to us.  “That’s the tourism police,” Michael tells me quietly as we walk back to the bus. “I need to tell him that you are sick and we had to stop, or he will take away my license because it is illegal to stop as part of the convoy. You need to look like you are really sick”. So, I did my best to look miserable – something I’m generally quite good at and the excruciating heat helps. So I stood by the bus, doing my best to look miserable while Michael talked to the police officers. Everything ended up working out fine, but apparently all the tour companies sign a form saying that they will not stop as part of the convoy, and making any stops is illegal. We also happened to be the 2^nd to last vehicle in the convoy, so the bus behind us had to stop and wait for us to get back on the road. We’re still trying to figure out why it is that they’re making it impossible for a bunch of western tourists to stop even once in a 300km stretch of desert. There’s so much opportunity for profit there! They could charge $10 for a bottle of water and $5 to use the restroom!

We had lunch at McDonald’s (because you can’t visit a foreign country without sampling their Mickidiees) and spent the rest of the afternoon doing nothing. 

We then walked into down for dinner, and spent the rest of the evening in a café smoking shisha and drinking cold hibiscus tea. For once, I actually left the hotel appropriately dressed and wasn’t sent back to the room by Michael to change my clothing. I was wearing a knee length skirt and a long sleeved shirt, but the heat, even at night, was unbearable. So, sitting at the café, I was fidgeting and trying to cool myself off and apparently at one point, I pulled my skirt about 2 inches above my knee, unconsciously. Michael witnessed this, his eyes buggered out, and he slammed his hand on my leg “What are you trying to do!” he yelled at me. I’m clearly his problem child of the trip. Who would expect any different?

Today, we board our felucca to spend the next 24 hours baking in the heat and not having access to decent restrooms while being eaten alive by mosquitoes. I’m considering taking a lot of different pills and praying for this part of the experience to be over as quickly as possible. 

First Days in Egypt!

Egypt Adventure indeed! I can’t believe how much I’ve seen and done in the last 48 hours. I arrived in Cairo around 8pm and was relieved when it only took 20 minutes for the Gap adventures representative to find me. We then drove through crazy rush hour traffic, where we didn’t move for 10 minutes at a time and where the drivers made 6 lines out of 3 to finally arrive at my hotel an hour later. The room was pleasantly cool and upon retrieving my passport from the front desk, I met Sean, another one of the tour participants. We went out onto the streets of Cairo to find dinner, during which I understood the value of covering up – even though I was wearing a conservative outfit, for me. The looks and jests and jeers I got from the men were not at all flattering and made me feel really uncomfortable. I can’t say that my first dinner in Cairo was particularly great either. We stopped at a place that had cheap pizza on the menu but, after ordering and looking around, I realized that the pizza we would be served was coming from frozen boxes. Yum!

This was not that astute of an observation on my part as, arranged on top of the pizza oven, in a rather picturesque display, were the boxes from which our pizza was being defrosted.

Yuck. Oh well. Shortly after returning to my hotel, my roommate Marjian, from Belgium, arrived. We spoke briefly and passed out.

The next day we had breakfast at the hotel and met the rest of the group before heading for the pyramids. Our tour guide, Michael, did his best to explain everything to us, but it was a lot of information and I’m afraid most of it went in one ear and out the other. Our tour guide: 

The pyramids are impressionable, and I’m glad I saw them, but personally, I have to say that Chichen Itza was far more impressive in my opinion. Of course, these pyramids are older, and the fact that there’s 3 million stones and that it took 20,000 people and 20 years to build IS impressive, but when you simply look at the two structures, I have to say that the pyramids are well…not that great. 

We also saw the Sphynx, and our tour guide made sure we took the most cliche picture there is:

Finally, we visited the Egyptian Museum. I’m not a fan of museums, especially ones that aren’t air conditioned when its near 100 degrees outside. So, I didn’t enjoy the museum. After the museum, we headed out to the train station to board our overnight train down to Aswan. Due to the odd way the day was planned, we basically had over two hours to kill. Some members of our group were determined to get some alcohol for the ride down so we stopped at a SHADY, dark, hot “liquor store” where 4 of us bought 2 bottles of “Fineland Egyptian Vodka” to share. It was cheap looking, and I knew it would be disastrous, but everyone else was determined to stay on a “budget”. In the end, no one had a hangover but no one got drunk either, so we’re thinkgin t he “43% alcohol” on the label is a lie. While we sat at the train station, 5 or 6 other trains that weren’t ours went by and it made most of us pretty apprehensive as to the train we would be taking. The trains that passed us clearly didn’t have AC – they didn’t even have windows! Some train cars were full to the brim with people, with people hanging out the doors and windows, and we witnessed more than once people running after the trains and people in the windows helping them climb in. In very “movie-like” moments, we even saw kids riding in the back or on top of the trains. This is all a little unreal!

In the end it turned out our train was not so bad, and, apparently, the nicest train you can take in Egypt. The food was passable, the beds were comfortable, and we even had sinks, even though there was no water pressure. We passed a really nice evening in the train’s “club car”, a smoky greenish gray room with chairs and tables nailed to the ground, playing “Never Have I Ever” and rejecting the poor “bar” tender’s offers to sell us Fanta, Coke or Sprite. This world without alcohol is rather strange.

Me upon arrival into our car for the evening: 

I

n the morning we arrived in Aswan. Our car attendant kept telling me and the other girls to put on hats or cover our hair because the sun was very strong. When I put on one of the headscarves that I bought in Jerusalem, my tour guide and the car attendant both started laughing at me, but wouldn’t tell me why. Later, I found out that the style and way in which I was wearing the scarf (the way all married women wear it in Israel) is only worn by servants/cleaning women in Egypt. Awesome.

We spent the rest of the morning at the pool in our surprisingly nice hotel. We went into town for some lunch and I had my first taste of Koshoury, a dish of macaroni, lentils, onions and, in my case, liver and tomatoes. It was surprisingly good. I hope I don’t get sick from the vegetables. The heat at that time was UNBEARABLE though, and the 10 minute walk back to the hotel felt like an eternity in hell. I spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in my room with the AC. 

In the evening, we took a motorboat to the West Bank of the Nile River, where our next method of transportation awaited us- camels! The camel ride through the desert was awesome, amazing, incredible, and everything else that no picture or video can convey. It was unreal.

At the end of the camel ride, our Nubian hosts for the evening picked us up and we rode back to their home in the back of their pick up trucks:

The home and the dinner were both lovely. The food was delicious and the little kids were adorable.

 Before we left, all the men and boys of the village gathered outside the house where we ate and started playing drums and singing for us. We joined them in this little street party of sorts and danced and sang and clapped. It was an amazing send off.

We then rode the pick up trucks back down to the water, with the little boys riding on the back of the trucks and jumping off last minute. They were all adorable and looked happy, but I couldn’t help thinking that it’s so unfair that only the little boys get to play outside in the (finally, slightly) cooler night air, while the girls are still stuck inside in the hot kitchens.

Our motor boats were waiting to take us back to our hotel but, once we were all comfortably settled on the roof and the boat had drifted away from the harbor, it turned out that the motor was broken. Another boat had to come in and tow us back to the dock, where we waited for the boat to get fixed. Me, chillin on the roof of the boat, waiting for the boat to get fixed:

Finally, an hour later, hot tired and happy, we were home. 

Goodbye Israel, hello the rest of the middle east!

To say that I am tired is an understatement. My last 24 hours in Israel were undoubtedly eventful. I didn’t have much on my agenda – pack, send all stuff I don’t need to Barcelona, and come up to Tel Aviv for one last day on the beach and a nice dinner + wine with Paula before heading to the airport in the morning.

Packing was easy enough, and I stuffed an entire backpack of stuff I definitely wouldn’t need, weighing anywhere from 10-15 pounds.  (See previous post on my Post Office Adventures)

Two hours later, after making myself a final Israeli breakfast of some Shakshuka, I’m on a sheirut to the Ashdod Central Bus Station with my huge duffel bag and backpack. Sheirut drivers don’t like me. I take up too much room with all my shit. I hop on the bus to TLV, and manage to find the correct bus at the Central Bus Station in TLV with minimal effort – I didn’t want to take another sheirut in Tel Aviv. My bag is too fat to fit through their little doors. I walked down to the beach and enjoyed a free lounge chair – despite sitting right next to the guy who was collecting money from people sitting down, no one collected money from me! That never happens to me.  My last errand was to buy a visor, since my sunhat was falling apart, so I went to the Carmel shuk and got one for 15 shekels, stopping for some falafel balls along the way. I didn’t used to like falafel, and I still don’t like how they eat it here, but I get the sandwich and then pick out the tehina-drenched deep fried balls of crunchiness. Yummmmm. Dinner #1.

Then Paula and I went to an amazing sea food restaurant called Goocha for dinner #2. We had mixed seafood in a garlic lemon cream sauce, with a  bottle of wine. It was seriously the perfect last night, sitting in the warm, but not stickily hot, evening, sipping cold wine, enjoying delicious food, and great conversation. It was so enjoyable, in fact, I bummed a cigarette off of her. Just what I need. More vices!

We then bar hopped a bit and by my 5^th glass of wine, I realized I was drunk and could no longer be held responsible for my behavior. At this point, Paula stepped in and made some fantastic decisions for me. Luckily, I sobered up before any of those decisions could have any negative consequences. Nevertheless, when I set off from her place at 8 am on 3 hours of sleep, I was not the happiest of campers.

I got to the Savidor train station just as my train to the airport left, apparently. I walked around the platform looking very confused, and finally asked a security guard for information. He got VERY excited that I was talking to him and got very close to me, with a look on his face like he just might take a bite out of me. In the end, he was very helpful but man, this lack of personal space thing takes some getting used to. I guess the alternative is people like the woman who sold me my train ticket, who had an expression on her face that she did me a favor by even selling me the ticket in the first place and how dare I put her out further by asking what platform I should take the train from. I also met a really nice girl named Julie who moved to Israel a year ago. We bonded over the Luna Bars we were both eating and she told me about her travels all over the world and her 6 months volunteering in Thailand and we found out we both studied in Aix! She helped me make sure I got on the right train and showed me where to go when we got off.

Apparently, smooth departures from airports are not in my cards on this trip. I got the standards 20,000 questions from a security officer, then had my bags x-rayed. I was then sent to go stand in the line to have every piece of my luggage examined by hand. I stood in line without moving for 30 minutes while they took all the passengers flying to Tashkent, and finally it was my turn. I thought I would be easy for them, just a simple American girl with a bunch of clothes and toiletries. Apparently, not so much. All my flashlights, chargers, converters, cell phones, and external hard drives caused more drama than I could have ever imagined. Every single bag and ziplock baggie that I so thoroughly and logically organized (trying to learn my mama’s talents) was shaken out and every item was inspected. They then took ALL of my electronics, which fit into a large bin, and took them away to be examined. Despite the fact that I had shown up to the airport 3 hours early, I was now pressed for time as just the searching of my belongings was now taking over 45 minutes. The security officer then told me she would go check me in, because we were running out of time, and then I would be escorted to my gate so that I wouldn’t have to wait in line. By the time they were done with my search, there wasn’t a soul left in the inspection area. It was fine, nothing bad happened, but why me? 

My flight to Cairo went through Jordan, and the first leg, TLV-Amman, had all of 10 people on it, on a plane for 100+. It was spacious and nice, but unfortunately the flight was only 45 minutes. Arriving in Amman was somewhat shocking. I look out the window and see nothing, for miles and miles and miles. Not to over dramatize. but I felt like I was in one of those movies where a soldier's wife arrives to wherever he's serving for some big important reason and is shocked and overwhelmed by the lack of civilization. Well, that's a little how it was. Once we got to the airport itself it was even stranger because I've never seen an international terminal so void of people. I didn't have to deal with passport control or anything like that, but waiting in line to get my transfer papers to go on to the transit area (which it turns out I didn't need) was somewhat creepy, as there were maybe 3 women in the entire terminal and, except for the ones who were working behind various counters, they were covered head to toe. Me with my bright green pants and blond hair and green eyes definitely stood out like a sore thumb, and it was uncomfortable.

 Its better now, though, as I've made my way through the transit area and am happily sitting at the Starbucks with a frappucino and internet... Only problem is, the plugs here are, for some reason, different so I only have about 20 minutes of battery left. I'm praying that my journey to the Cairo hotel is less adventuresome because I'm exhausted and nearly had an anxiety attack already today when my bags were being searched, I just can't handle two. 

You haven't experienced a foreign country until you've dealt with their postal service

The only task of any importance I had on my last day in Israel was to mail 10-15 pounds of useless stuff to Barcelona. Since I’d already unsuccessfully gone to the post office the day before only to find it closed, I at least knew where I was going this time. I didn’t have boxes or any packaging material, just my big blue oranim backpack full of stuff. I got to the post office and took a number – 37. I look up at the counter – 25. Ok, so I’m gonna be here a while. You could tell, just by looking around and the  “ready to pounce” look on people’s faces around the two tellers that sitting and waiting their turn in a system that actually enforced it was just contrary to every fiber of their being. Finally it was my turn and luckily, the lady spoke English. She stared at my backpack for a long time, trying to figure out how to mail it. Apparently, the post office doesn’t sell boxes. She thought about putting the label directly onto the backpack, then realized that probably wouldn’t work. “You know what,” she says to me “ go outside and find a box, and we’ll tape it.”

“Outside?” I ask, making sure I’m understanding her correctly. The only thing outside is trash bins.

“Yeah, outside. You should be able to find boxes there. Then come back to me, you don’t need to wait in line again.”

So, off I go, outside. I walk past 5 or 6 trashbins, all of which are empty. It looks like the trash was just collected. Then I go towards the other stores in the strip mall. First I find myself at the back entrance of a bakery, and I see a stack of folded down boxes. I ask the lady baking bread inside if I can take a box, and she tells me she needs the boxes. Strike 1. I then walk into a convenience store that looks like it gets stuff delivered in boxes. The man behind the counter speaks no English but, SHOCKER, speaks Russian. I ask him for a box and he says to come back tomorrow, tomorrow he’ll have boxes. Tomorrow doesn’t work for me. Strike 2. Finally, I walk into the small grocer/vegetable stand where Katie and I buy fruits and vegetables on Tuesday (they have the nicest looking tomatoes) and I ask the man , who informs me he speak no English, for boxes. He takes me into the back where he and another old man start digging through piles of boxes of different sizes. They find a box that’ll fit my backpack, but there’s no lid. So off they go into the back and emerge eventually with a lid, but definitely not for that box. That doesn’t phase anyone, though, and after some shoving and squishing and taping, I have a package I can send to Barcelona. Thank you, grocer man!

I come back to the post office but, alas, the lady that told me to come to her and that I wouldn’t have to wait in line again was no longer there. So, I take another number. 54. I look up at the counter. 42. Great. Nevertheless, 2 hours later and 200 shekels poorer, I had succeeded in shipping my completely useless crap to Barcelona. I hope it gets there. 

Volunteering in Ashdod

Part of the reason I chose Oranim's "Beach, Hebrew, Volunteer" program was, well, for the volunteering. I wanted to do more in Israel than just sit on the beach and get fat on Israeli breakfasts. I also thought it would just generally be more fun to be doing something more than just bar hopping, and I knew I'd lose my mind without some sort of schedule. I didn't actually know what kind of volunteering I'd be getting myself into, just that it would be twice a week, and have something to do with kids. Not ideal, but, my options were limited.

It turned out that the volunteering was teaching high school kids English. More specifically, though, we were "helping" to prepare these kids for their "Bogrut" exams in English. So, for the most part, these kids had a working knowledge of Hebrew, but needed each skill (listening, reading, speaking) perfected. While the teacher gave us some guidelines, including some reading comp exercises and general speaking questions, most of it was up to us. I was going to be teaching incoming seniors, twice a week, for 3 hours a day. I had 4 kids (that eventually dwindled down to 3): Nofar, Chen, Raz, and Matanel (he stopped coming).

Pictured here are Raz & Chen (she was ALWAYS tired and "sick". I'm really not sure why she ever came):







The first class was challenging. I had NO idea what to do with them. I had 3 hours, and the agenda for the day was "Speaking". I had a list of 25 or so questions to ask them, subjects for them to practice speaking on, but for the most part they gave me two sentence answers. It was also fairly obvious that the level was very unequal in the class. Nofar was basically fluent, while Raz could barely put a sentence together.

The next class, I tried to be a little creative. I printed out the lyrics (with blanks) to Tupac - Baby Don't Cry, and wanted to do an exercise with them where they fill in the blanks and then we talk about the words they don't know and talk about what the song is about. Something I discovered from this exercise is that Israelis are RACIST! When I first introduced Tupac, they fully said, "oh, the nigger". I then had to explain that you CANNOT use that word in America unless, of course, you yourself are one. A day when another class joined ours, and there was a black kid in that class, they kept saying "oh, make him do it, he's the black one, he's the slave". All in all, most of the activities I came up with \ only really kept their attention for about 30 minutes, and then they had no qualms about telling me it was boring.

That's another striking things about these kids. Manners and discipline, apparently, are NOT taught. If they get a phone call in the middle of class, they will take it, and they wont even leave the room or anything. There's no respect for authority, and there's no concept of the teacher being in charge, and there's definitely no respect show to elders. I realize that a teacher can lose that over time, and I've watched enough Dangerous Minds-like movies to know that kids from tougher neighborhoods don't have these things, either. But these are good kids, and they don't think they're doing anything wrong!

In future classes, we sang Lady Gaga and talked about religion, racism, and finding me an Israeli boyfriend. We combined classes with some of the other volunteers and played poker. Raz's answers to most of my questions/prompts were "Drugs!" and "You want drugs?" and "We do it with drugs!".

One day, it was just me and Nofar, and we spoke at length about what she was going to do with her life. She is interested in architecture and art and fashion, but doesn't want to go to university and is in the process of getting her manicurist license. I tried to instill in her a sense of wanting to pursue bigger and better things, because she is a really smart girl and could go really far, but something about her upbringing has taken ambition out of her. When I talked to her about religion and the fact that we're teaching at a somewhat "religious" school, she told me her "family isn't really religious, but they want her to have the personality of a religious girl...you know, not just go sleep with anyone".

All the kids were shocked when I told them I didn't keep kosher, that I'd eaten pork and shrimp and that both were religious! Chen then tried to convince me that "just because my family wasn't religious doesn't mean I couldn't' start practicing now!" You have to admire her for trying! That day I felt kind of scared though - if some volunteer came to my brother's school and said something that would then make him turn to God and want to be all ultra-orthodox, I'm pretty sure my parents would be pretty pissed, even if they didn't go ahead and DO anything about. I left that day being scared that somethign I said might make these kids question their obligation to follow the path that their parents had instilled in them since birth. While in my opinion, its an ENLIGHTENING thing, and not a negative one, I'm sure orthodox religious parents would not agree.

The last day was probably the best, when the kids begged me to come back the next day instead of the other volunteer, Viki, who also happens to be my roommate. They told me I was fun, and she was boring - OK, not behavior I would encourage and not a nice thing to say, but still, it made me feel good :)

Sheirut

Israel has this concept in public transportation known as a sheirut, or a "shared taxi" service. They follow the same route as the bus with which they share the number, but they only seat 10 people and they stop anywhere on the bus route.

I find these things really interesting. I don't QUITE see the point of them. I mean, yes, they come more frequently then buses and I suppose overall they probably make fewer stops. But is saving those few minutes really worth a whole other line of public transportation? They are very popular and going throughout the city, at least in Tel Aviv, the sheirut is always full.

The most curious thing about the sheirut, though, is something you would never find in the US. They cost the same as the bus, but you don't pay until you've sat down. Then everyone just passes up the money to the bus driver through the people sitting ahead of them. Its like this understood trust. The van driver trusts that once you sit down and open your wallet, you will pay. He doesn't bother to keep track, there's just an understanding that you will. No one has any qualms about passing up their money through the hands of 10 other people, because its just understood that everyone will honestly pass your money up and your change back down to you. As a tourist, its one way to almost intimately interact with the locals, all the hand to hand contact you make, people talking to you and they have no idea that you don't speak the language because you're part of this understanding, this trust between sheirut riders, and all they're really asking is for you to pass the fare. And, if you stumble upon a particularly polite Israeli, they might even say Toda!

Yom Huledet Sameach to me!

I'm 26! This is the first birthday I really remember celebrating away from home, away from my family and friends. After last year, I didn’t really have the high expectations for my birthday anymore. Its about damn time too…most people give up after 21, I held on until 25. I still went to class, because I actually really enjoy Hebrew ulpan, but luckily didn’t have to volunteer. Most of my roommates didn’t really register my birthday till the afternoon, but Sharon gave me a very sweet card and a chocolate bar! Katie, Lindsay and I went to the beach, where the Mediterranean Sea gave me my birthday present – my very first jelly fish sting!

It was on my ass, and it really wasn’t that bad, and basically stopped hurting a couple of hours later. After the beach, Katie and I went to the shuk, where I decided to go on a little birthday shopping spree and bought some skirts, shirts, Egyptian saggy pants, and headscarves. Everything was really cheap, under $15, but I still managed to come home significantly poorer. My mother would not be proud. When I got home from the shuk I had an awesome card from Lindsay waiting for me on my bed, which she then proceeded to read to me (I wish I could remember not to turn the camera):

After that I got ready for my birthday dinner at a pub/restaurant called Gambrinus. It had been recommended to me by family friends as a “beer bar specializing in sea food”. Online, I read that it was actually an Irish pub with a  full menu. Either way, sounded strange.  The address I found online was completely wrong but, speaking to the cab driver in French, we were able to have him call the restaurant and, in hebrew, figure out how to get there. Once we did get there, we discovered that it was in fact owned by Russians, with menus only in Hebrew and Russian. I tried to translate individually for everyone, which, needless to say, didn’t work out so well. The food and beer were both delicious, with my personal favorite being the shrimp in garlic butter!

After dinner, most of our group, true to "lame weirdo house" form, went home, and Katie, Lindsay, Claire and I thought we wanted to go down to the beach for more drinks. But by the time we got down there, the beer buzz had worn off and the excitement had toned down. I did get my birthday dessert though:

The next day we had our field trip to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea. I'm not a huge fan of the Dead Sea, but Ein Gedi was really cool, a nice hike in the dessert with springs to cool off in. After the field trip, I headed up to Tel Aviv to actually go out for my birthday. I stayed once again with Chanita's friend Daniel, and he gathered up a couple of his friends to help me celebrate, and I called Polina (who apparently calls herself Paula) to join us. We went to a bar right on the water, and, despite it being night time and right on the water, the humidity and sticky heat were incredible.

We finished off the night with Israeli breakfast at 3am. All in all, a good birthday that exceeded expectations!