Fuzzy Memories

The night in the northern Sudanese village of Wadi Halfa was very short. Dave’s alarm accidentally went off at 0300 even though we’d planned for 0400. It was another travel day! After so many days stuck in Aswan, it was a blessing to be able to move around. Plus we had all(*) of Sudan to explore!

Continue reading “Between a rock and a wet place”

Bit of a hiatus, but you might have heard that we didn’t have cell service in Sudan or Ethiopia.  It turns out we barely ever had any internet access at all until Kenya, so I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

When last we left our villains, my visa to Sudan had finally come through.  There was a neat once-a-week ferry to the Sudan border town of Wadi Halfa, but we didn’t want to wait around for it.  We were 10 days behind schedule already.  Overloaded coach plus barge plus minibus it is!

Up at 3am to catch our coach, and finally flee Aswan and get to the next country on our itinerary!  We climbed aboard and settled in as they loaded appliance after appliance and sack after sack…

… and then unloaded the appliances and sacks.  The bus was broken, not going anywhere today, come back tomorrow.

We were crushed, but there was nothing for it: we waited some more and woke up early again.

The bus went!  It was pretty crowded with people and all the material they bought, but we didn’t care.  14 days in Aswan were finally behind us!  We drove for a couple hours along the Nile, then stopped at a big bus hub in the desert.  There were a dozen or more coaches lined up in various states of loading, unloading, and repairs.

We parked next to a bus that was apparently suffering through the same affliction our original bus had yesterday.

Nearby, the stack of appliances and sacks apparently not going on that bus was lined up to be rescued.

Why all the appliances?  Sanctions and currency controls in Sudan have led to a severe devaluing of Sudanese pounds.  You can’t get Sudanese cash from an ATM or pay using a Western card, and changing cash at the border gets you the “parallel market” rate which is about twice as much for your Egyptian as the official rate.  Apparently families that want to buy durable goods like these (and maybe shops that want to stock up) are best off making the trek north into Egypt and carrying their new purchases back with them into Sudan, even with the import duties.

Go ahead, guess what they did with all those stranded appliances and sacks and people.

Back on the road we went!  We settled in to our little corner of a massively overloaded bus.  It was hot and miserable but we were so happy to finally be on the road we didn’t care.  There aren’t many roads down here, so our route seemed a bit circuitous.  We crossed the Nile on a big bridge and headed south towards Abu Simbel.  This spot is famous for some giant carvings but they were on the other side of the hill from where we stopped, so we didn’t get to see them.  Why did we stop here?  Well, to get lunch and wait for the barge back across the Nile, obviously.

So we’re off the bus in a dusty corner lot next to the river.  There was no guidance on what was happening, but we did see a barge nearby.  We sat down for a soda and some internet.

Finally the bus honked and we clambered back aboard.  It drove right past the barge and up to a large official-looking gate.  There we waited as our driver talked to some men.  Of course, we had to pay some more money.  This grudgingly completed, the bus backed away from the official-looking gate and onto the barge.  In order not to be baked alive, we climbed off the bus once more and took up a spot at the “bow” to watch the world go by.

Standing on a hot metal slab in 46C/116F is not as fun as it sounds.  We finally sucked it up and cowered in the shade like real men, until finally we rammed the shore on the other side and climbed back onto the bus.

Thankfully, it wasn’t much further to the border.  Once there, the massive group and all their belongings went through the immigration and customs process on both sides.  We raced through thinking we could walk across the border and leave the bus behind, but were forced back to the bus group.  We waited at the cafe adjacent to customs as they unloaded and re-loaded most of the cargo.  When they pushed us back onto the bus to cross the border into Sudan, there was now no way back to our seats so we crammed into the front with the women and kids.

Immigration on the Sudan side was actually really quick.  We pushed to the head of the queue, got our stamps, and walked into the empty customs hall.  The officer who took a quick look in my bag kept up a pleasant conversation and asked me about our travels and homes.  As I turned to leave, he even called out to me: “You have a friend in Sudan now!”

Finally, we were in Sudan.  We found a taxi to take us the last half-hour into Wadi Halfa.

The barren landscape on either side looked very much like the surface of Mars.

Wadi Halfa is not what it used to be, or even where it used to be.  The original town was a thriving river port on the Nile, before the Aswan High Dam was built in 1964 to form Lake Nasser, control the Nile flow, and provide power.  As this would flood the old town, there were protests in the capital which were brutally suppressed.  Martial law was enacted and the residents were forcibly resettled.  The new town is a shadow of its old incarnation.

We found a reasonably decent little hotel for the night and walked into the main square for some street food.  We ended up with the best meal we’d had in Africa, some simple delicious barbecued chicken and rice.

Next time: onwards and downwards!

Let me paint you a picture.  We came to Aswan, in part, because it’s the easiest place to get a visa to enter Sudan overland, even easier than Cairo.  Dave got his visa straight off (well, after they kept his passport for a few days).

But they told me I required authorization from the Sudanese Foreign Ministry.  After a week and a half, Dave and I made new plans to split up for a bit: he’d go on through Sudan, and I’d backtrack to Cairo and fly to Ethiopia to meet him on the other side.

We had to set a drop-dead date, the last chance for my visa:  Thursday, 28 June.

Then, on Wednesday afternoon, we got word that my authorization came through from Khartoum.  Thursday morning, Dave and I got there at 0900 and handed over my passport.  They had the authorization number!  We asked for a rush job to get the visa that same day; they said “maybe”.  We waited.  We played cards.  We drank water.  We waited some more.  4 hours later, my passport came back: no visa yet.  It wasn’t going to happen today.  We were crushed.  And then it got worse: due to a holiday, we wouldn’t get the visa until Monday, way past our “last chance” date.

We asked again: “no”.  We begged: “no”.  We offered money: “no”.  Do you think that stopped us?  Finally, 90 minutes after the consulate officially closed, they relented and punched out my visa.

7 half-days spent in that little waiting room of perpetual disappointment, and finally we were done.  Out in the heat, we were too exhausted to be happy.

Why are we going to Sudan?  Well, if you want to get from Cairo to Cape Town overland, you don’t have much choice.  Everyone “knows” it’s a dangerous country and you shouldn’t go there, right?  But our research showed that the route we’re taking is generally safe enough for careful and respectful travelers, and most state departments agree.

For whatever reason, the US map doesn’t detail which regions within a country are stable and which are in conflict.  Instead, it wimps out with a legend saying “some areas are bad”.  Compare that to the United Kingdom:

Australia generally agrees with the UK, particularly in the corridor we’re taking.

So we’re happy with our plan.  We even celebrated our pending Aswan escape with a beer and wee footie match on the roof!

My mobile internet doesn’t work in Sudan or Ethiopia.  We might occasionally have WiFi, but don’t be surprised not to hear from us much for a couple weeks.

Next time: who knows?

P.S. Dave says: “Hey Chris!  Have you seen my passport?”

Once we were done at the last monumental ruins, we hopped back in the car and hit the road for another, bigger set at Philae.   Usually the rides between monuments are dull (if you ignore the honking and swerving) but sometimes you pass a truck full of hard-partying soldiers.

Otherwise, it was an uneventful drive to Philae Temples.  As we came to expect, we had to pay extra at every little step of the tour.

Inside though, this complex is so much bigger than Kalabsha.

Giant murals depicting apparently lesser gods cover the walls, surrounded by what I can only assume are pages of timeless adoration of their exploits.  These figures are in immaculate condition, stunning testaments to the artistic abilities of the ancient Egyptians.

Um, except most of them aren’t actually looking so hot anymore.

It looks like a whole host of gods lost favor at some point, and someone went to considerable and very discerning effort to erase them from the record.

Nothing forbidden was too small or meaningless.  It almost felt petty.

Do you ever get to the middle of a blog post and include a photo just because you like it?

As we explored, we found more inscriptions from different periods in history.  Armies, expeditions, explorers all left their mark, like the survivors of the Heavy Camel Regiment.   They lost around 100 men in “the Soudan”, some in action and some of disease.

Even Napoleon made an appearance, in the 5th year of his new Republique.

And again with his Navy, in the 7th year of the Republic.

With our exploration done, the day arrived when we expected my visa authorization to come through.  It was Sunday again, the day the once-a-week ferry leaves.  If everything went right, we would check out in the morning, take all our bags to the consulate, get my visa in a few hours, rush to the High Dam ferry port, buy whatever tickets remained, and be on our way to Sudan.

No word from the Sudan Foreign Ministry.  Licking our wounds, we treated ourselves to an English World Cup match at a tea house that then tried to rip us off.  100 Egyptian for a couple 500 mil waters when we can get a 1.5l for 5?  We threw him something fair and walked out.  He even tried to get us to come back in the next day, the scumbag.

Have I mentioned that Aswan during the day is a bit hot and barren?

There was nothing for it, we had to keep trying.  Every day it was open, we went back to the consulate.  But no more with the rip-off taxis, it was time to travel like locals.

It felt like the consulate waiting room was our second home, we spent so much time there.  Dave even got trapped in the restroom.

But day after day, nothing happened.  It turns out the minister in charge of “telecommunications” didn’t come back to work after Eid… for 6 days, and counting.  He was supposed to come back in the “next day or two”.  Meanwhile, Dave and I have been making contingency plans where he would travel south through Sudan and I would head back to Cairo, then fly ahead to Ethiopia and meet him there.

But now we had an explanation and a backup plan and some meat in our bellies.  What more could you ask for?

Next time: do you feel lucky, punk?

P.S. Dave says nothing.  I think he’s been giving me the silent treatment all day, or maybe he choked on something.

Day after day, Dave and I waited for my authorization from the Sudanese Foreign Ministry.  Every day it was open, we went to the consulate.  Dave’s visa went through the first day we went back, but every day since they told us that no authorization had arrived.  George at Acropole kept sending people to the ministry in Khartoum, Sudan to push the process forward, but there was no end in sight.

I was stuck in Aswan and Dave decided to wait with me.

Alleys have been covered over with bits of cloth to form pseudo-indoor malls, overflowing in the evenings with wares of every kind.  Walking through during the day is easy enough, but at night it’s very crowded with people and the occasional motorcycle.

Make a few turns down side alleys and you can find even more shops, hawking wares of questionable quality.

This alley market is where Dave and I have been getting our food.  There aren’t any restaurants nearby, and the only shops open during the day just sell potato chips (crisps), candy bars and soda.  But there are a few stalls selling fruit and Arabic bread, so we didn’t starve.

You probably all know I’m a devoted carnivore, but not this week.  We found very, very little cooked meat for sale, only a few butchers in the Alley of Random Shops.

So what did we eat all week?  Mostly, water, some fruit, and bread with falafel and chips (crisps) or fries (chips).

One day after breakfast, we set out again to explore our adopted “home”.  Yes, in the blazing heat, when all the sane Egyptians are indoors.

First stop?  The Unfinished Obelisk.

You see these obelisks standing everywhere there’s an ancient monument in Egypt.  How did they carve, move, and erect them?  We have a pretty good idea now for the carving part, thanks to a really really big one that was abandoned halfway through the process.

This obelisk was apparently over twice as big as any attempted in this part of Egypt.  Tragically, towards the end of carving out the tip, it cracked.

But that didn’t stop them.  Those ancient Egyptians got right back up and built some amazing temples… which nearly drowned when the Egyptians dammed the Nile upstream of Aswan.  This dam generates power and keeps the level pretty consistent downstream.  It also created Lake Nasser, which would have left the Kalabsha and Philae monuments completely under water.

Germans to the rescue!

Yep, the Germans heard the call and dismantled the monument at Kalabsha brick-by-brick.  They moved it miles to high ground before the valley was flooded and rebuilt it at the top of a hill, which became a tidy little island when the lake formed.

Well, mostly.  Some of the bits didn’t fully get put back together so they left them out.  Why didn’t they just wedge them in wherever they could fit?

But the carved murals are really detailed and still in great condition, considering their age.

Those helpful Germans even filled in the little holes where the poison darts shoot out in the Tetris Room of Trials.

Almost every wall was covered in hieroglyphs and other early Egyptian symbols.

… but that didn’t stop the Christians from making their mark a few centuries later.

I guess that made it OK for any Tom, Dick and Harry just passing through on an expedition or conquest to make their mark.

Next time: our plans go to ruin!

P.S. Dave says: “I like mango.”  I am certain this is code.