Wadi Mousa Jordan:
This was my fourth year with the Great Arab Revolt
Project: looking for artifacts from WW1, tracing
the activities of the Arabs versus the Ottoman.
Noted for the involvement of TE Lawrence, many military
professionals were active in supporting the Arab.
In reality, the Brits were actively sponsoring the
Arab effort - with munitions and money! And following
their own political goals.
I became interested after hearing Neil Faulkner, the
co-director of the project, speak at a TE Lawrence
symposium at Oxford some years ago. I have continued
an involvement as I enjoy being part of a historical
adventure: finding bits and pieces that prove/disprove
various theories.
I look forward to each year's expedition and have convinced
several fellow travelers into participating. I think it
important to bring past into present. I like the historical
and philosophical approach of conflict archaeology. As
I trowel, dig and sieve, I feel closeness with those
figures of the past. It keeps me going as I lug goofer
after goofer of sand, rock and dirt of the spoils heap.
We had seven working days, several orientations and two
days off - trips to Petra and Aqaba (though a few went
to the Copper Mines and Wadi Rum, instead). It was a
combination of volunteers and professionals: Brits,
Canadians, an Australian, an Austrian, Americans, a
Jordanian, a Swiss - some returnees and some newbies.
All ages and backgrounds. Over the two weeks, we blended
into cooperative teams.
We started with a quick trip to Little Petra, then the
ruins and of ancient village and finally, a wreck of a
castle walking distance to the hotel. The next day, was
a visit to Year #2's project at Ma'an, to see the restored
railroad station and Abdullah's palace - which could be
a tourist site but the museum's door was locked - only a
mangy looking policeman about to keep out strays.
Then off to climb one of the many hills, covered with sharp
black volcanic rocks - where I managed to crash into a
trench and do a nice job of banging up shoulder, hip and
knee. I managed to carry on with minimum aches and pains
but it wasn't the best of ways to begin.
Though we were scheduled to work about Abu al Lissan, the
site of the major battle between Hashemites and Ottomans,
it was not possible as there were problems with permissions.
So we ended at Ghadir ed Haz, a building blown up by Arabs
and mentions in Seven Pillars of Wisdom, our bible for
much of the work. From there we went onto Birds Nest Camp
where we worked on tent rings for several days. Not my
favorite assignment!
En route to a new assignment, there was a stop to see the
Japanese made facsimile of the Hejaz RR engine, now used
to transport tourists on a Aqaba-Wadi Rum run. I worked
several days at what was called the Square Fort, with a
day at Petra in between. And Petra, even after three
visits, continues as awesome as ever with a fair amount
of tourists, even in the off season.
The next move was to Sidden's Ridge Camp - named in honor
of the WW1 RFC pilot who mapped the area. Four of us
clogged through a never ending mound of sand, to clear
what appeared to be some redoubt. The only blessing was
that we didn't have to sieve. Along the way, there was a
visit to Udrudh, ancient ruins from several earlier
civilizations. And time to visit digs of years past:
from Wadi Rum to Fassu'ah Ridge, where I worked the
first year with GARP.
While I didn't find anything, others were more successful.
Not only did we come up with WW1 artifacts, but there
was a Roman coin and some probable neolithic items,
which went to the sponsoring Jordanian University.
The final day was spent at Aqaba - looking at those working
at the Aylah Project next to an old Mosque site. I then
wandered happily about the Old City, into the Fort and
next door Museum where the antiques were beautifully
presented. Fascinating city, Aqaba - at the apex of
Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Israel. There was a lot
of new building, but the Old City remains satisfying.
For me, there is nothing as rewarding as a working holiday,
a feeling of contribution. Not that I was discomforted.
I stayed at a 3* hotel, albeit a room with no heat, regular
meals and internet capability. I worked with a dedicated
and interesting group. I was in the Middle East, one of
my favorite areas. What more could one want?
BA was good to me coming home. Upgraded me to Econ+ and
the seat next to was empty. That almost made up for the
overnight at LHR's Terminal 1, Gate 2. Arrived home with 6 dinars and a Dollar - which went for bus fare.
Costs: Airfare SFO-LHR: $955.97. GARP inclusive airfare from LHR, room and board: $3835.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Sinai-Western Desert: October 2011
I was last in Egypt in 2000, my first - and certainly, not my last - visit to a Muslim country. I spent time in Cairo: stayed in the Dokki area, charged across Tahir Square from the Nile Hilton to the American University to visit their bookstore, went to the Symphony performances, did the Museum, wandered about Old Cairo and saw The Pyramids. Somehow, squeezed in a day in Alexandria, a trip out to the Sinai, and the Nile cruise to Aswan with the usual stop overs at various archaeological sites. A day at Aswan and a flight to Abu Simbel completed the trip. Became friends with a New Yorker, handling her mid-life crisis by taking a year off to backpack around the world - marvelous writer who could have easily gotten her trip-notes published. We’re still in contact.
A year and a half ago, when I read Alex Berenson’s description of his protagonist's, John Wells’, reentry into Cairo in The Midnight House, I knew I had to return. If not to Cairo per se, at least to Egypt. Originally, this was to be a Western Desert-Libyan camping trip but that crashed with the Libyan Revolt. So a Western Desert week was combined with an earlier week in the Sinai - a trip I had put off for I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the Mt. Moses climb - I am an ok recreational hiker but I’m not, and never have been, a serious trekker or climber.
The Sinai trek was an Exodus tour: twelve of us - seven Brits, 2 Canadians, mother-daughter Serbians, and me, the lone American. All younger and all up to the task of scaling the walls of the Wadis. No matter what my efforts, I was dead last in both climbs and descents. It was beautiful country, but sandy, rocky and well sprinkled with boulders. Not much of a path. Sandstone hills and the mountains? Breathtaking, particularly in evenings. Granted at times, it was hard to appreciate the surrounding beauty when one’s energies were spent remaining upright while moving from handhold to toehold in rocks and boulders.
We started in a 5* hotel in Giza in sight of the Pyramids. But then a drive to Southern Sinai where we we walked into our camp in the Jebel Sarabit area, prepared to climb up to climb up to the top the next morning, to explore the ancient Egyptian temple of Hathor and check out some Pharonic era turquoise mines. Then via 4x4s, a stop at the Forest of Pillars before arriving at the camp site at Wadi Jebal. The next day was trekking to Wadi Tellah, where it was so isolated that camels carried our stuff. Enroute, we visited a local school - coeducational with male teachers. We continued on, eating lunches on the move - I managed to lose mine down on wadi or another. I declined an offer for an extra added climb ending in featuring a water hole for the swimmers. Turned out, no water hole and it was almost dark as that bunch felt their way down to the camp.
The following day, we clambered out of the Wadi and to Fox Camp and St. Catherine’s Monastery. The church/ monastery was golden and glorious as only the Greek Orthodox can do it. It dates back to 337 AD and has enticed a steady stream of tourists/pilgrims since.
At 1:30 AM, we gathered to start the climb up Mt. Moses: my notes read: will try for Mt. Moses with little expectation of reaching the top. I was a good predictor. By the time I had reached the final steps. the choice was climbing to the top and missing the sunrise, or going out on one of the cliffs and enjoying the sunrise. I chose the latter. But coming down, I was for once, no longer last!
That afternoon, all but me went on a three hour trek, reportedly was rough going at first but lovely, once the the climb was over. I hung about the camp, walked down to St. Catherine’s Village and did some hiking about the area. I enjoyed the solitary time.
We stayed in fixed camps for all but the beginning and ending nights. They were for tourists,with Western toilets -- even if superimposed on a pit - and toilet paper. Tents were used by four of us; the rest settled for sleeping bags only, except at Fox Camp, where there was an open air but covered area available along with rooms - five opted for rooms. Along with some of our Bedu helpers. I was - and am - committed to outside sleeping - watching the universe above is an exhilarating experience.
So it was back to Cairo, with a stop at the Red Sea for the swimmers. Seven check points with only one doing a pro forma passport check. And the following day, I moved to a 4* hotel in another part of Giza, far from the Pyramids. A part of Giza where goats, sheep and cows lived next to Toyotas and coffe houses. Where I ws able to walk down back streets and find the old Cairo I loved. Where village life continued. Where donkey and horse carts mixed with automobile traffic. Even on the freeways!
This was an Explore group of thirteen: two Danes and me were the non Brits. This tour involved travel by bus and 4x4, into the El Alamein area of WW2, down into Siwa where we moved into the Great Sand Sea and then, the White desert. Five nights in a hotel, including two in Cairo (I missed out on one of those, being at the airport, catching a flight home!) and three nights rough camping.
The beat-up tanks - and one crashed Spitfire - at the El Alamein Museum were of interest to me, for I remember media accounts of the desert battles. There was a ringer: a Sherman tank, left over from the Israeli conflict. The Museum divided artifacts into British, German, Italian and Egyptian sections, giving equal space to all sides in that conflict. We did wander about the immaculately kept British Cemetery but weren’t able to get into General Rommel’s cave.
Moving on, we were at Siwa for several days. I knew of the Sanusi via Russell McGuirk’s writing on The Sanusi’s Little War, when they were opposed to the Brits in WW1. So the historical implications of that area seriously interested me. Some bicycled to visit the Oracle of Amun and ancient Shalli - I and others rode a donkey cart instead. My bicycling skills are doubtful at best. I walked about the town a bit, trying to get a feel of the conservative place where women were totally covered.
Collecting an Army officer to provide security, we t went into the desert, driving into sand dunes where the 4x4 drivers thrilled passengers with charges up and down the steep dunes. It was much like The Wahiba Sands in Oman. Camped the night at Bahrein Oasis. Continuing on the Great San Sea to Ain Della, now a Egyptian Army outpost, but in its day, the WW2 base for the Long Range Desert Group, And earlier, the last known location of the Lost Army of Cambyses, an long lost Persian Army circa 514 BC.
There was a brisk wind that night so I found myself covered with sand - despite all efforts to shake it off, I ‘m still shedding.
Heading into the White desert, marked by surreal chalky eruptions throughout, very other worldly. There was a stop at touristy hot springs - though no tourists there. Then dropped off our Army guy as we were leaving his territory. Up early for a long drive back to Cairo, stopping enroute to visit the Golden Mummies at Bahariaya Oasis. A final dinner in Cairo for the group and I was gone - off to the airport and home. courtesy KLM., and I do recommend them.
Comparing the tours: The first one was an active, experiential one that I was lucky to survive, while the second one was more passive - sightseeing and photographing were the main activities. Leaders, assistants, drivers and cooks with both groups were excellent, particularly the group leader with the Sinai group, who nursed me along the treks.
Exodus provided water; we paid for our own water with Explore. Both are small group, British budget tours, very ecologically conscious.
Exodus tour cost $810 less $39.50 discount for past travel. Explore charged $1150 less 57.50 discount for past travel. Airfare (Air France/KLM) booked through Adventure Center: $1500. Most meals were included.
The hotels on the road, used by Explore were very comfortable resort hotels but few tourists about. For a country so dependent on the tourist industry, Egypt was hurting as a result of Arab Spring, though I saw nothing either in or out of Cairo that should deter anyone from traveling there.
I once said I would really take a serious look at my travels if I reached a point of being the last man moving. Which means I’d best read very thoroughly descriptions for anything labelled “trek”. And realize that much as I’d like to do it, there is a limit to my physical capabilities. Damn!
I was last in Egypt in 2000, my first - and certainly, not my last - visit to a Muslim country. I spent time in Cairo: stayed in the Dokki area, charged across Tahir Square from the Nile Hilton to the American University to visit their bookstore, went to the Symphony performances, did the Museum, wandered about Old Cairo and saw The Pyramids. Somehow, squeezed in a day in Alexandria, a trip out to the Sinai, and the Nile cruise to Aswan with the usual stop overs at various archaeological sites. A day at Aswan and a flight to Abu Simbel completed the trip. Became friends with a New Yorker, handling her mid-life crisis by taking a year off to backpack around the world - marvelous writer who could have easily gotten her trip-notes published. We’re still in contact.
A year and a half ago, when I read Alex Berenson’s description of his protagonist's, John Wells’, reentry into Cairo in The Midnight House, I knew I had to return. If not to Cairo per se, at least to Egypt. Originally, this was to be a Western Desert-Libyan camping trip but that crashed with the Libyan Revolt. So a Western Desert week was combined with an earlier week in the Sinai - a trip I had put off for I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the Mt. Moses climb - I am an ok recreational hiker but I’m not, and never have been, a serious trekker or climber.
The Sinai trek was an Exodus tour: twelve of us - seven Brits, 2 Canadians, mother-daughter Serbians, and me, the lone American. All younger and all up to the task of scaling the walls of the Wadis. No matter what my efforts, I was dead last in both climbs and descents. It was beautiful country, but sandy, rocky and well sprinkled with boulders. Not much of a path. Sandstone hills and the mountains? Breathtaking, particularly in evenings. Granted at times, it was hard to appreciate the surrounding beauty when one’s energies were spent remaining upright while moving from handhold to toehold in rocks and boulders.
We started in a 5* hotel in Giza in sight of the Pyramids. But then a drive to Southern Sinai where we we walked into our camp in the Jebel Sarabit area, prepared to climb up to climb up to the top the next morning, to explore the ancient Egyptian temple of Hathor and check out some Pharonic era turquoise mines. Then via 4x4s, a stop at the Forest of Pillars before arriving at the camp site at Wadi Jebal. The next day was trekking to Wadi Tellah, where it was so isolated that camels carried our stuff. Enroute, we visited a local school - coeducational with male teachers. We continued on, eating lunches on the move - I managed to lose mine down on wadi or another. I declined an offer for an extra added climb ending in featuring a water hole for the swimmers. Turned out, no water hole and it was almost dark as that bunch felt their way down to the camp.
The following day, we clambered out of the Wadi and to Fox Camp and St. Catherine’s Monastery. The church/ monastery was golden and glorious as only the Greek Orthodox can do it. It dates back to 337 AD and has enticed a steady stream of tourists/pilgrims since.
At 1:30 AM, we gathered to start the climb up Mt. Moses: my notes read: will try for Mt. Moses with little expectation of reaching the top. I was a good predictor. By the time I had reached the final steps. the choice was climbing to the top and missing the sunrise, or going out on one of the cliffs and enjoying the sunrise. I chose the latter. But coming down, I was for once, no longer last!
That afternoon, all but me went on a three hour trek, reportedly was rough going at first but lovely, once the the climb was over. I hung about the camp, walked down to St. Catherine’s Village and did some hiking about the area. I enjoyed the solitary time.
We stayed in fixed camps for all but the beginning and ending nights. They were for tourists,with Western toilets -- even if superimposed on a pit - and toilet paper. Tents were used by four of us; the rest settled for sleeping bags only, except at Fox Camp, where there was an open air but covered area available along with rooms - five opted for rooms. Along with some of our Bedu helpers. I was - and am - committed to outside sleeping - watching the universe above is an exhilarating experience.
So it was back to Cairo, with a stop at the Red Sea for the swimmers. Seven check points with only one doing a pro forma passport check. And the following day, I moved to a 4* hotel in another part of Giza, far from the Pyramids. A part of Giza where goats, sheep and cows lived next to Toyotas and coffe houses. Where I ws able to walk down back streets and find the old Cairo I loved. Where village life continued. Where donkey and horse carts mixed with automobile traffic. Even on the freeways!
This was an Explore group of thirteen: two Danes and me were the non Brits. This tour involved travel by bus and 4x4, into the El Alamein area of WW2, down into Siwa where we moved into the Great Sand Sea and then, the White desert. Five nights in a hotel, including two in Cairo (I missed out on one of those, being at the airport, catching a flight home!) and three nights rough camping.
The beat-up tanks - and one crashed Spitfire - at the El Alamein Museum were of interest to me, for I remember media accounts of the desert battles. There was a ringer: a Sherman tank, left over from the Israeli conflict. The Museum divided artifacts into British, German, Italian and Egyptian sections, giving equal space to all sides in that conflict. We did wander about the immaculately kept British Cemetery but weren’t able to get into General Rommel’s cave.
Moving on, we were at Siwa for several days. I knew of the Sanusi via Russell McGuirk’s writing on The Sanusi’s Little War, when they were opposed to the Brits in WW1. So the historical implications of that area seriously interested me. Some bicycled to visit the Oracle of Amun and ancient Shalli - I and others rode a donkey cart instead. My bicycling skills are doubtful at best. I walked about the town a bit, trying to get a feel of the conservative place where women were totally covered.
Collecting an Army officer to provide security, we t went into the desert, driving into sand dunes where the 4x4 drivers thrilled passengers with charges up and down the steep dunes. It was much like The Wahiba Sands in Oman. Camped the night at Bahrein Oasis. Continuing on the Great San Sea to Ain Della, now a Egyptian Army outpost, but in its day, the WW2 base for the Long Range Desert Group, And earlier, the last known location of the Lost Army of Cambyses, an long lost Persian Army circa 514 BC.
There was a brisk wind that night so I found myself covered with sand - despite all efforts to shake it off, I ‘m still shedding.
Heading into the White desert, marked by surreal chalky eruptions throughout, very other worldly. There was a stop at touristy hot springs - though no tourists there. Then dropped off our Army guy as we were leaving his territory. Up early for a long drive back to Cairo, stopping enroute to visit the Golden Mummies at Bahariaya Oasis. A final dinner in Cairo for the group and I was gone - off to the airport and home. courtesy KLM., and I do recommend them.
Comparing the tours: The first one was an active, experiential one that I was lucky to survive, while the second one was more passive - sightseeing and photographing were the main activities. Leaders, assistants, drivers and cooks with both groups were excellent, particularly the group leader with the Sinai group, who nursed me along the treks.
Exodus provided water; we paid for our own water with Explore. Both are small group, British budget tours, very ecologically conscious.
Exodus tour cost $810 less $39.50 discount for past travel. Explore charged $1150 less 57.50 discount for past travel. Airfare (Air France/KLM) booked through Adventure Center: $1500. Most meals were included.
The hotels on the road, used by Explore were very comfortable resort hotels but few tourists about. For a country so dependent on the tourist industry, Egypt was hurting as a result of Arab Spring, though I saw nothing either in or out of Cairo that should deter anyone from traveling there.
I once said I would really take a serious look at my travels if I reached a point of being the last man moving. Which means I’d best read very thoroughly descriptions for anything labelled “trek”. And realize that much as I’d like to do it, there is a limit to my physical capabilities. Damn!
Am I Really up to Trekking?
Sinai-Western Desert: October 2011
I was last in Egypt in 2000, my first - and certainly, not my last - visit to a Muslim country. I spent time in Cairo: stayed in the Dokki area, charged across Tahir Square from the Nile Hilton to the American University to visit their bookstore, went to the Symphony performances, did the Museum, wandered about Old Cairo and saw The Pyramids. Somehow, squeezed in a day in Alexandria, a trip out to the Sinai, and the Nile cruise to Aswan with the usual stop overs at various archaeological sites. A day at Aswan and a flight to Abu Simbel completed the trip. Became friends with a New Yorker, handling her mid-life crisis by taking a year off to backpack around the world - marvelous writer who could have easily gotten her trip-notes published. We’re still in contact.
A year and a half ago, when I read Alex Berernson’s description of his protagonist's, John Wells’, reentry into Cairo in The Midnight House, I knew I had to return. If not to Cairo per se, at least to Egypt. Originally, this was to be a Western Desert-Libyan camping trip but that crashed with the Libyan Revolt. So a Western Desert week was combined with an earlier week in the Sinai - a trip I had put off for I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the Mt. Moses climb - I am an ok recreational hiker but I’m not, and never have been, a serious trekker or climber.
The Sinai trek was an Exodus tour: twelve of us - seven Brits, 2 Canadians, mother-daughter Serbians, and me, the lone American. All younger and all up to the task of scaling the walls of the Wadis. No matter what my efforts, I was dead last in both climbs and descents. It was beautiful country, but sandy, rocky and well sprinkled with boulders. Not much of a path. Sandstone hills and the mountains? Breathtaking, particularly in evenings. Granted at times, it was hard to appreciate the surrounding beauty when one’s energies were spent remaining upright while moving from handhold to toehold in rocks and boulders.
We started in a 5* hotel in Giza in sight of the Pyramids. But then a drive to Southern Sinai where we we walked into our camp in the Jebel Sarabit area, prepared to climb up to climb up to the top the next morning, to explore the ancient Egyptian temple of Hathor and check out some Pharonic era turquoise mines. Then via 4x4s, a stop at the Forest of Pillars before arriving at the camp site at Wadi Jebel. The next day was trekking to Wadi Tellah, where it was so isolated that camels carried our stuff. Enroute, we visited a local school - coeducational with male teachers. We continued on, eating lunches on the move - I managed to lose mine down on wadi or another. I declined an offer for an extra added climb ending in featuring a water hole for the swimmers. Turned out, no water hole and it was almost dark as that bunch felt their way down to the camp.
The following day, we clambered out of the Wadi and to Fox Camp and St. Catherine’s Monastery. The church/ monastery was golden and glorious as only the Greek Orthodox can do it. It dates back to 337 AD and has enticed a steady stream of tourists/pilgrims since.
At 1:30 AM, we gathered to start the climb up Mt. Moses: my notes read: will try for Mt. Moses with little expectation of reaching the top. I was a good predictor. By the time I had reached the final steps. the choice was climbing to the top and missing the sunrise, or going out on one of the cliffs and enjoying the sunrise. I chose the latter. But coming down, I was for once, no longer last!
That afternoon, all but me went on a three hour trek, reportedly was rough going at first but lovely, once the the climb was over. I hung about the camp, walked down to St. Catherine’s Village and did some hiking about the area. I enjoyed the solitary time.
We stayed in fixed camps for all but the beginning and ending nights. They were for tourists,with Western toilets -- even if superimposed on a pit - and toilet paper. Tents were used by four of us; the rest settled for sleeping bags only, except at Fox Camp, where there was an open air but covered area available along with rooms - five opted for rooms. Along with some of our Bedu helpers. I was - and am - committed to outside sleeping - watching the universe above is an exhilarating experience.
So it was back to Cairo, with a stop at the Red Sea for the swimmers. Seven check points with only one doing a pro forma passport check. And the following day, I moved to a 4* hotel in another part of Giza, far from the Pyramids. A part of Giza where goats, sheep and cows lived next to Toyotas and coffe houses. Where I ws able to walk down back streets and find the old Cairo I loved. Where village life continued. Where donkey and horse carts mixed with automobile traffic. Even on the freeways!
This was an Explore group of thirteen: two Danes and me were the non Brits. This tour involved travel by bus and 4x4, into the El Alamein area of WW2, down into Siwa where we moved into the Great Sand Sea and then, the White desert. Five nights in a hotel, including two in Cairo (I missed out on one of those, being at the airport, catching a flight home!) and three nights rough camping.
The beat-up tanks - and one crashed Spitfire - at the El Alamein Museum were of interest to me, for I remember media accounts of the desert battles. There was a ringer: a Sherman tank, left over from the Israeli conflict. The Museum divided artifacts into British, German, Italian and Egyptian sections, giving equal space to all sides in that conflict. We did wander about the immaculately kept British Cemetery but weren’t able to get into General Rommel’s cave.
Moving on, we were at Siwa for several days. I knew of the Sanusi via Russell McGuirk’s writing on The Sanusi’s Little War, when they were opposed to the Brits in WW1. So the historical implications of that area seriously interested me. Some bicycled to visit the Oracle of Amun and ancient Shalli - I and others rode a donkey cart instead. My bicycling skills are doubtful at best. I walked about the town a bit, trying to get a feel of the conservative place where women were totally covered.
Collecting an Army officer to provide security, we t went into the desert, driving into sand dunes where the 4x4 drivers thrilled passengers with charges up and down the steep dunes. It was much like The Wahiba Sands in Oman. Camped the night at Bahrein Oasis. Continuing on the Great San Sea to Ain Della, now a Egyptian Army outpost, but in its day, the WW2 base for the Long Range Desert Group, And earlier, the last known location of the Lost Army of Cambyses, an long lost Persian Army circa 514 BC.
There was a brisk wind that night so I found myself covered with sand - despite all efforts to shake it off, I ‘m still shedding.
Heading into the White desert, marked by surreal chalky eruptions throughout, very other worldly. There was a stop at touristy hot springs - though no tourists there. Then dropped off our Army guy as we were leaving his territory. Up early for a long drive back to Cairo, stopping enroute to visit the Golden Mummies at Bahariaya Oasis. A final dinner in Cairo for the group and I was gone - off t the airport and home. courtesy KLM., and I do recommend them.
Comparing the tours: The first one was an active, experiential one that I was lucky to survive, while the second one was more passive - sightseeing and photographing were the main activities. Leaders, assistants, drivers and cooks with both groups were excellent, particularly the group leader with the Sinai group, who nursed me along the treks.
Exodus provided water; we paid for our own water with Explore. Both are small group, British budget tours, very ecologically conscious.
Exodus tour cost $810 less $39.50 discount for past travel. Explore charged $1150 less 57.50 discount for past travel. Airfare (Air France/KLM) booked through Adventure Center: $1500. Most meals were included.
The hotels on the road, used by Explore were very comfortable resort hotels but few tourists about. For a country so dependent on the tourist industry, Egypt was hurting as a result of Arab Spring, though I saw nothing either in or out of Cairo that should deter anyone from traveling there.
I once said I would really take a serious look at my travels if I reached a point of being the last man moving. Which means I’d best read very thoroughly descriptions for anything labelled “trek”. And realize that much as I’d like to do it, there is a limit to my physical capabilities. Damn!
I was last in Egypt in 2000, my first - and certainly, not my last - visit to a Muslim country. I spent time in Cairo: stayed in the Dokki area, charged across Tahir Square from the Nile Hilton to the American University to visit their bookstore, went to the Symphony performances, did the Museum, wandered about Old Cairo and saw The Pyramids. Somehow, squeezed in a day in Alexandria, a trip out to the Sinai, and the Nile cruise to Aswan with the usual stop overs at various archaeological sites. A day at Aswan and a flight to Abu Simbel completed the trip. Became friends with a New Yorker, handling her mid-life crisis by taking a year off to backpack around the world - marvelous writer who could have easily gotten her trip-notes published. We’re still in contact.
A year and a half ago, when I read Alex Berernson’s description of his protagonist's, John Wells’, reentry into Cairo in The Midnight House, I knew I had to return. If not to Cairo per se, at least to Egypt. Originally, this was to be a Western Desert-Libyan camping trip but that crashed with the Libyan Revolt. So a Western Desert week was combined with an earlier week in the Sinai - a trip I had put off for I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the Mt. Moses climb - I am an ok recreational hiker but I’m not, and never have been, a serious trekker or climber.
The Sinai trek was an Exodus tour: twelve of us - seven Brits, 2 Canadians, mother-daughter Serbians, and me, the lone American. All younger and all up to the task of scaling the walls of the Wadis. No matter what my efforts, I was dead last in both climbs and descents. It was beautiful country, but sandy, rocky and well sprinkled with boulders. Not much of a path. Sandstone hills and the mountains? Breathtaking, particularly in evenings. Granted at times, it was hard to appreciate the surrounding beauty when one’s energies were spent remaining upright while moving from handhold to toehold in rocks and boulders.
We started in a 5* hotel in Giza in sight of the Pyramids. But then a drive to Southern Sinai where we we walked into our camp in the Jebel Sarabit area, prepared to climb up to climb up to the top the next morning, to explore the ancient Egyptian temple of Hathor and check out some Pharonic era turquoise mines. Then via 4x4s, a stop at the Forest of Pillars before arriving at the camp site at Wadi Jebel. The next day was trekking to Wadi Tellah, where it was so isolated that camels carried our stuff. Enroute, we visited a local school - coeducational with male teachers. We continued on, eating lunches on the move - I managed to lose mine down on wadi or another. I declined an offer for an extra added climb ending in featuring a water hole for the swimmers. Turned out, no water hole and it was almost dark as that bunch felt their way down to the camp.
The following day, we clambered out of the Wadi and to Fox Camp and St. Catherine’s Monastery. The church/ monastery was golden and glorious as only the Greek Orthodox can do it. It dates back to 337 AD and has enticed a steady stream of tourists/pilgrims since.
At 1:30 AM, we gathered to start the climb up Mt. Moses: my notes read: will try for Mt. Moses with little expectation of reaching the top. I was a good predictor. By the time I had reached the final steps. the choice was climbing to the top and missing the sunrise, or going out on one of the cliffs and enjoying the sunrise. I chose the latter. But coming down, I was for once, no longer last!
That afternoon, all but me went on a three hour trek, reportedly was rough going at first but lovely, once the the climb was over. I hung about the camp, walked down to St. Catherine’s Village and did some hiking about the area. I enjoyed the solitary time.
We stayed in fixed camps for all but the beginning and ending nights. They were for tourists,with Western toilets -- even if superimposed on a pit - and toilet paper. Tents were used by four of us; the rest settled for sleeping bags only, except at Fox Camp, where there was an open air but covered area available along with rooms - five opted for rooms. Along with some of our Bedu helpers. I was - and am - committed to outside sleeping - watching the universe above is an exhilarating experience.
So it was back to Cairo, with a stop at the Red Sea for the swimmers. Seven check points with only one doing a pro forma passport check. And the following day, I moved to a 4* hotel in another part of Giza, far from the Pyramids. A part of Giza where goats, sheep and cows lived next to Toyotas and coffe houses. Where I ws able to walk down back streets and find the old Cairo I loved. Where village life continued. Where donkey and horse carts mixed with automobile traffic. Even on the freeways!
This was an Explore group of thirteen: two Danes and me were the non Brits. This tour involved travel by bus and 4x4, into the El Alamein area of WW2, down into Siwa where we moved into the Great Sand Sea and then, the White desert. Five nights in a hotel, including two in Cairo (I missed out on one of those, being at the airport, catching a flight home!) and three nights rough camping.
The beat-up tanks - and one crashed Spitfire - at the El Alamein Museum were of interest to me, for I remember media accounts of the desert battles. There was a ringer: a Sherman tank, left over from the Israeli conflict. The Museum divided artifacts into British, German, Italian and Egyptian sections, giving equal space to all sides in that conflict. We did wander about the immaculately kept British Cemetery but weren’t able to get into General Rommel’s cave.
Moving on, we were at Siwa for several days. I knew of the Sanusi via Russell McGuirk’s writing on The Sanusi’s Little War, when they were opposed to the Brits in WW1. So the historical implications of that area seriously interested me. Some bicycled to visit the Oracle of Amun and ancient Shalli - I and others rode a donkey cart instead. My bicycling skills are doubtful at best. I walked about the town a bit, trying to get a feel of the conservative place where women were totally covered.
Collecting an Army officer to provide security, we t went into the desert, driving into sand dunes where the 4x4 drivers thrilled passengers with charges up and down the steep dunes. It was much like The Wahiba Sands in Oman. Camped the night at Bahrein Oasis. Continuing on the Great San Sea to Ain Della, now a Egyptian Army outpost, but in its day, the WW2 base for the Long Range Desert Group, And earlier, the last known location of the Lost Army of Cambyses, an long lost Persian Army circa 514 BC.
There was a brisk wind that night so I found myself covered with sand - despite all efforts to shake it off, I ‘m still shedding.
Heading into the White desert, marked by surreal chalky eruptions throughout, very other worldly. There was a stop at touristy hot springs - though no tourists there. Then dropped off our Army guy as we were leaving his territory. Up early for a long drive back to Cairo, stopping enroute to visit the Golden Mummies at Bahariaya Oasis. A final dinner in Cairo for the group and I was gone - off t the airport and home. courtesy KLM., and I do recommend them.
Comparing the tours: The first one was an active, experiential one that I was lucky to survive, while the second one was more passive - sightseeing and photographing were the main activities. Leaders, assistants, drivers and cooks with both groups were excellent, particularly the group leader with the Sinai group, who nursed me along the treks.
Exodus provided water; we paid for our own water with Explore. Both are small group, British budget tours, very ecologically conscious.
Exodus tour cost $810 less $39.50 discount for past travel. Explore charged $1150 less 57.50 discount for past travel. Airfare (Air France/KLM) booked through Adventure Center: $1500. Most meals were included.
The hotels on the road, used by Explore were very comfortable resort hotels but few tourists about. For a country so dependent on the tourist industry, Egypt was hurting as a result of Arab Spring, though I saw nothing either in or out of Cairo that should deter anyone from traveling there.
I once said I would really take a serious look at my travels if I reached a point of being the last man moving. Which means I’d best read very thoroughly descriptions for anything labelled “trek”. And realize that much as I’d like to do it, there is a limit to my physical capabilities. Damn!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Sleeping in Airports
There is a website, Sleeping in Airports.com. Really! Lists and grades airports all over the world. JFK is one of the ten worst and Changi/Singapore one of the ten best. Some of the others I’ve slept in aren’t listed.
I didn’t think JFK was that bad but certainly, Changi is that good. As is Dubai, at least the main international terminal; can’t say that much about the secondary terminal where I waited after a Kam flight from Kabul. Most of my overnight stays have been at Heathrow, as I go yearly from there to/from Amman, then catching flights to/from SF. The timing is ok coming but way off, returning - I come into LHR afternoons and then fly out the next mid morning. The best timing is with British Air.
There have been three past stopovers at LHR. The first one was bad! While the lighting was low and the loudspeakers at a minimum, the cleaning crew was busy and the air conditioning was blasting away. So between the noise and the cold, I got little sleep even though stretched out on a bench.
The next year, there was a system. All the overnighters were corralled at one of the gates with chaise lounges and various vending machines. And at about 5 AM, staff came with tea and coffee. The same routine happened last year only no tea and coffee in the AM. Two of the sleepovers were very hung over Russian seamen, frightened they would miss their plane. I ended up herding them from Terminal 1 to Terminal 5, where the three of us were scheduled on our respective flights.
JFK’s system is similar. One terminal is assigned to house the overnighters. Again, there are chaise lounges and benches for sleeping, vending machines and, as I recall, one fast food stand was open. It worked for me. It wasn’t a bad set up.
Moving on to Changi: the international terminal has about everything you could want., including a hotel where rooms can be had by the hour - which I have done. In fact, I must admit my two overnight stays there were at their hotel - so perhaps I shouldn’t count that one. It wasn’t truly an airport overnight camp in.
There is a hotel at Dubai’s main terminal, but it is expensive and was not considered. The first time, I slept in chaise lounges and on the carpeted floor with many others of all shapes and sizes. As I was on an Emirates connecting flight, I had a chit for a meal. The second time was even better: there was a separate dining room for transit passengers, so I camped out there for a good part of the night. I was offered a free room off grounds as again, I was on a connecting flight, but I didn’t want to hassle with the security in and out of the airport - if it had been the airport hotel, I would have grabbed it. All in all, it was a fairly decent experience, as airport overnighters go.
The secondary terminal was almost the direct opposite. Bare floors, basic chairs. Seated in a line up before closed counters, waiting for boarding passes. If it weren’t for my companion, an ex-Army, contract truck driver, flying home to Texas, I would have gone mad. I might not have agreed with him, but he was someone to talk with.
The other basic overnight wait, has been at the Orange county/John Wayne airport. Several years ago, on several occasions, I combined a family visit with a Performing Arts Center program, flying down from San Jose in the AM and flying back the next morning. I would take the cab to the airport after the performance and spend the night in a metal chair, waiting for the dawn and an early flight out. The first time I was saved by a sometime minister from the Islands, going back to the mid-west to be formally invested; the second time, was with a young guy watching old Westerns on his laptop.
Because of a missed connection, I ended up spending a night in the cafe at a Buenos Aires airport - not comfortable but the inner woman survived.
The most recent over night was in Beijing's new International Airport. Again, I had the choice of a hotel room off grounds as it was a connecting flight with China Air. And again, I didn’t want to hassle. The terminal was a magnificent new one with hourly rate hotel and lounge onsite. And by the time I had decided I would try one or the other, they had closed down. I spent time as I have at LHR, using the free computer and wandering around before lights were lowered, shops closed up, and it was time to stake out a chaise lounge for the night. And I, along with other strays, settled in at our respective gates. It was quite quiet and away from the noise of the cleaners. I would rate this among the top 10, guys!
I didn’t think JFK was that bad but certainly, Changi is that good. As is Dubai, at least the main international terminal; can’t say that much about the secondary terminal where I waited after a Kam flight from Kabul. Most of my overnight stays have been at Heathrow, as I go yearly from there to/from Amman, then catching flights to/from SF. The timing is ok coming but way off, returning - I come into LHR afternoons and then fly out the next mid morning. The best timing is with British Air.
There have been three past stopovers at LHR. The first one was bad! While the lighting was low and the loudspeakers at a minimum, the cleaning crew was busy and the air conditioning was blasting away. So between the noise and the cold, I got little sleep even though stretched out on a bench.
The next year, there was a system. All the overnighters were corralled at one of the gates with chaise lounges and various vending machines. And at about 5 AM, staff came with tea and coffee. The same routine happened last year only no tea and coffee in the AM. Two of the sleepovers were very hung over Russian seamen, frightened they would miss their plane. I ended up herding them from Terminal 1 to Terminal 5, where the three of us were scheduled on our respective flights.
JFK’s system is similar. One terminal is assigned to house the overnighters. Again, there are chaise lounges and benches for sleeping, vending machines and, as I recall, one fast food stand was open. It worked for me. It wasn’t a bad set up.
Moving on to Changi: the international terminal has about everything you could want., including a hotel where rooms can be had by the hour - which I have done. In fact, I must admit my two overnight stays there were at their hotel - so perhaps I shouldn’t count that one. It wasn’t truly an airport overnight camp in.
There is a hotel at Dubai’s main terminal, but it is expensive and was not considered. The first time, I slept in chaise lounges and on the carpeted floor with many others of all shapes and sizes. As I was on an Emirates connecting flight, I had a chit for a meal. The second time was even better: there was a separate dining room for transit passengers, so I camped out there for a good part of the night. I was offered a free room off grounds as again, I was on a connecting flight, but I didn’t want to hassle with the security in and out of the airport - if it had been the airport hotel, I would have grabbed it. All in all, it was a fairly decent experience, as airport overnighters go.
The secondary terminal was almost the direct opposite. Bare floors, basic chairs. Seated in a line up before closed counters, waiting for boarding passes. If it weren’t for my companion, an ex-Army, contract truck driver, flying home to Texas, I would have gone mad. I might not have agreed with him, but he was someone to talk with.
The other basic overnight wait, has been at the Orange county/John Wayne airport. Several years ago, on several occasions, I combined a family visit with a Performing Arts Center program, flying down from San Jose in the AM and flying back the next morning. I would take the cab to the airport after the performance and spend the night in a metal chair, waiting for the dawn and an early flight out. The first time I was saved by a sometime minister from the Islands, going back to the mid-west to be formally invested; the second time, was with a young guy watching old Westerns on his laptop.
Because of a missed connection, I ended up spending a night in the cafe at a Buenos Aires airport - not comfortable but the inner woman survived.
The most recent over night was in Beijing's new International Airport. Again, I had the choice of a hotel room off grounds as it was a connecting flight with China Air. And again, I didn’t want to hassle. The terminal was a magnificent new one with hourly rate hotel and lounge onsite. And by the time I had decided I would try one or the other, they had closed down. I spent time as I have at LHR, using the free computer and wandering around before lights were lowered, shops closed up, and it was time to stake out a chaise lounge for the night. And I, along with other strays, settled in at our respective gates. It was quite quiet and away from the noise of the cleaners. I would rate this among the top 10, guys!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Seventh Raleigh Spy Conference: August 24-26 2011
I had heard about the Spy Conference several years ago, when they focused on female spies but had other places to go and things to do. This year, the timing worked.
The topic was: Spies Among US, the Secret World of Illegals concluding with former NSA/CIA director General Michael Hayden, reviewing the Bin Laden operation. Sponsored by a local magazine, the gathering is the major intelligence conference specifically for “civilians” by the Association of Former Intelligence Officers.
This year’s topic was inspired by the FBI’s detention of ten Russian illegals in the US last year, including the rather flamboyant Anna Chapman. It was fascinating to hear the back stories of this and other incidents, beginning with pre-WW2 and Rudolph Abel affair. And it did help that I joined up with a retired USAF colonel/ DIA agent and a British researcher - the Colonel and I being WEB Griffin fans. They identified various players in the Intelligence game. Also, one of the speakers, Nigel West, was familiar to me from a symposium in the UK several years ago - he is a prolific writer and facile speaker.
In addition to the British perspective, a former director of CIA’s clandestine service, gave a historical overview of use of illegals, who operate in addition to a foreign embassy’s legal staff in obtaining information. A retired Canadian intelligence officer talked about how prospective operatives transited via Canada. Another retired CIA officer - the “other man” in the Robert Hanssen case - discussed “the spies next door”, the ten individuals who were returned to Russia in exchange for four of ours.
There was a round table featuring the author of the new biography about OSS founder William Donovan - which has had very good reviews; a journalist who has a new book out on American-Chinese spy wars, and an ex-CIA officer who has concerns regarding covert influences on American/Western institutions.
The keynote address was the concluding event: General Hayden’s discussion of the Bin Laden operation, which involved at least ten years’ effort, several Presidents and CIA directors, before it came to fruition, I found it most interesting for I had recently heard Admiral Eric Olson, who headed up the Special Operations Command, talk - or avoid talking - about B-L take-down at the Aspen Security conference on C-Span several weeks ago. One comment General Hayden made which caught my attention was that the CIA is reverting to its roots, using more of the OSS approach - which was to the good. Considering that Petreaus and Panetta had done a bit of a switch, it fits - see John Berry’s June piece, Obama’s Secret Wars (Daily Beast).
It was largely the gray-haired set that attended the two day event: active and retired veterans of various government agencies, researchers, interested citizens and IT “groupies”. Unlike me, many had come before - there have been seven previous conferences. There were handouts from the CIA Historical Collections division and books for sale by participants. The two social gatherings featured marvelous buffets - one at an excellent restaurant and the other at a jazz club - : live music with bass, guitar and vibes, with a sometime tenor sax.
I stayed downtown. As there are no overpasses or ring roads, all the traffic charges through the City. I did a fair amount of walking, including into the Farmer’s Market which was alive, interesting and active as Farmer’s Markets tend to be. Buildings range from old brick and stone to modern concrete and glass. There is some greenery with trees along the walkways and kept - and unkept - grounds..
I would return, but only for the Spy Conference.
There was the threat of hurricane Irene so I left Friday afternoon rather than Saturday morning - United was most helpful in changing the flight even though I was traveling on miles. And the airport is most modern and comfortable and with a second hand bookstore - I did make use of that. So home midnight Friday, to be greeted by a loving Siamese.
With use of FF miles for airfare, cost ran less than $700: United Airlines ($40), hotel ($240), meals ($50), conference fee($150) shuttle ($40) and cat care ($140).
The topic was: Spies Among US, the Secret World of Illegals concluding with former NSA/CIA director General Michael Hayden, reviewing the Bin Laden operation. Sponsored by a local magazine, the gathering is the major intelligence conference specifically for “civilians” by the Association of Former Intelligence Officers.
This year’s topic was inspired by the FBI’s detention of ten Russian illegals in the US last year, including the rather flamboyant Anna Chapman. It was fascinating to hear the back stories of this and other incidents, beginning with pre-WW2 and Rudolph Abel affair. And it did help that I joined up with a retired USAF colonel/ DIA agent and a British researcher - the Colonel and I being WEB Griffin fans. They identified various players in the Intelligence game. Also, one of the speakers, Nigel West, was familiar to me from a symposium in the UK several years ago - he is a prolific writer and facile speaker.
In addition to the British perspective, a former director of CIA’s clandestine service, gave a historical overview of use of illegals, who operate in addition to a foreign embassy’s legal staff in obtaining information. A retired Canadian intelligence officer talked about how prospective operatives transited via Canada. Another retired CIA officer - the “other man” in the Robert Hanssen case - discussed “the spies next door”, the ten individuals who were returned to Russia in exchange for four of ours.
There was a round table featuring the author of the new biography about OSS founder William Donovan - which has had very good reviews; a journalist who has a new book out on American-Chinese spy wars, and an ex-CIA officer who has concerns regarding covert influences on American/Western institutions.
The keynote address was the concluding event: General Hayden’s discussion of the Bin Laden operation, which involved at least ten years’ effort, several Presidents and CIA directors, before it came to fruition, I found it most interesting for I had recently heard Admiral Eric Olson, who headed up the Special Operations Command, talk - or avoid talking - about B-L take-down at the Aspen Security conference on C-Span several weeks ago. One comment General Hayden made which caught my attention was that the CIA is reverting to its roots, using more of the OSS approach - which was to the good. Considering that Petreaus and Panetta had done a bit of a switch, it fits - see John Berry’s June piece, Obama’s Secret Wars (Daily Beast).
It was largely the gray-haired set that attended the two day event: active and retired veterans of various government agencies, researchers, interested citizens and IT “groupies”. Unlike me, many had come before - there have been seven previous conferences. There were handouts from the CIA Historical Collections division and books for sale by participants. The two social gatherings featured marvelous buffets - one at an excellent restaurant and the other at a jazz club - : live music with bass, guitar and vibes, with a sometime tenor sax.
I stayed downtown. As there are no overpasses or ring roads, all the traffic charges through the City. I did a fair amount of walking, including into the Farmer’s Market which was alive, interesting and active as Farmer’s Markets tend to be. Buildings range from old brick and stone to modern concrete and glass. There is some greenery with trees along the walkways and kept - and unkept - grounds..
I would return, but only for the Spy Conference.
There was the threat of hurricane Irene so I left Friday afternoon rather than Saturday morning - United was most helpful in changing the flight even though I was traveling on miles. And the airport is most modern and comfortable and with a second hand bookstore - I did make use of that. So home midnight Friday, to be greeted by a loving Siamese.
With use of FF miles for airfare, cost ran less than $700: United Airlines ($40), hotel ($240), meals ($50), conference fee($150) shuttle ($40) and cat care ($140).
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Book Recommendation
A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle that Shaped the Middle East
James Barr has a new book out. Simply put, a good read and I recommend it.
I’ve wandered about the Middle East a bit and done a fair amount of reading about the area particularly from WW1 through WW2. And I have a fascination with the predominately British characters who haunted the area, for self and Empire. In my simplistic script, the French were the Bad Guys, holding the Arabs back. So did the Brits, but I was inclined to forgive them. After all, they had TE Lawrence in his flowing robes.
And that certainly didn’t endear them to the French!
The French are still the Bad Guys - not that the Brits were always the Good Guys. Both were out for what they could get, damn the torpedoes - or rather, the Arabs. And James Barr’s latest work is about the over the thirty-four year competition between the two countries to obtain/retain supremacy in the Middle East.
It isn’t just that the French resisted freeing Syria after WW2, but the way they went about revenging themselves on the British who seemed one step ahead in the Intelligence game. But then there was the equivocations of the British government; their failure to face down the French! It was in Palestine where the French got theirs back, supporting in one way or another, both Irgun and Stern terrorist gangs Even the US got into that act with well meaning and, hopefully, unknowing citizens paying into those particular Jewish coffers (much as occurred later, during the Irish Troubles).
Barr documents this all in a well written history and thoroughly documented history of the time. While I knew the ending, the journey was memorizing.
I can’t resist but conclude with a comment by the former Chief Secretary of Palestine, a survivor of the King David Hotel bombing, that might be a guide in today’s foreign policy: “.....it’s not your business or my business .....to interfere in other people’s countries and tell them how to run it, or even to run it well. They must be left to their own salvation.”
James Barr has a new book out. Simply put, a good read and I recommend it.
I’ve wandered about the Middle East a bit and done a fair amount of reading about the area particularly from WW1 through WW2. And I have a fascination with the predominately British characters who haunted the area, for self and Empire. In my simplistic script, the French were the Bad Guys, holding the Arabs back. So did the Brits, but I was inclined to forgive them. After all, they had TE Lawrence in his flowing robes.
And that certainly didn’t endear them to the French!
The French are still the Bad Guys - not that the Brits were always the Good Guys. Both were out for what they could get, damn the torpedoes - or rather, the Arabs. And James Barr’s latest work is about the over the thirty-four year competition between the two countries to obtain/retain supremacy in the Middle East.
It isn’t just that the French resisted freeing Syria after WW2, but the way they went about revenging themselves on the British who seemed one step ahead in the Intelligence game. But then there was the equivocations of the British government; their failure to face down the French! It was in Palestine where the French got theirs back, supporting in one way or another, both Irgun and Stern terrorist gangs Even the US got into that act with well meaning and, hopefully, unknowing citizens paying into those particular Jewish coffers (much as occurred later, during the Irish Troubles).
Barr documents this all in a well written history and thoroughly documented history of the time. While I knew the ending, the journey was memorizing.
I can’t resist but conclude with a comment by the former Chief Secretary of Palestine, a survivor of the King David Hotel bombing, that might be a guide in today’s foreign policy: “.....it’s not your business or my business .....to interfere in other people’s countries and tell them how to run it, or even to run it well. They must be left to their own salvation.”
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A Ger, not a Yurt: Two weeks in Mongolia & the Naadam Festival
On June 30, 2011, I was at SFO, checking in at the Air China counter, the only Westerner in line, with a reservation clerk very doubtful about my beat up passport and lack of visa (not required for US citizens in Mongolia). After several consultations, I finally succeeded getting my boarding pass and then, through Security to the lounge where I chatted with a guy who looked ex-Special Forces, who was hoping for a Shanghai flight - wondered how he got that far without some sort of boarding pass?
This was the start of the two week Mongolian journey that took me to Chinggis Khan country that still has elements of the old days and an appreciation of past history. But like most developing nations, Mongolia is a combination of old, new and undecided. The capital, Ulaanbaatar, shows evidence of the past communist influence and is a work in progress. A dozen of more cranes lurk above the City along with "moderne"structures and uncompleted Russian block houses hiding the old, ill kept ethic buildings. There is no consistency.
And why was I there? Certainly not to spend time in UB, but to get out to the countryside, to the mountains and meadows and above all, the Gobi desert. I was with an Explore group of six: three Brits, an Irish and a Portuguese and me, the token American. It was an exceptional compatible group with a knowledgeable tour leader. There were few glitches, other than stolen Blackberry and a wrecked ankle necessitating one woman's early flight home.
The Itinerary, backwards or forwards, was pretty standard for travelers at this time of year: Ulaanbaatar-Magno Khan-Karakorum-Saikhan Ovoo-South Gobi-Dafanzadgad. Motor transport one way and fly the other. We went by a sturdy fifteen passenger Russian bus out and flew back. Then, drove onto Jalman Meadows for several days before returning to UB for the Naadam Festival, a yearly celebration of wrestling, archery and horse riding skills. There were a fair number of tourist - people came for horse riding trek, camping expeditions and, as we did, just looking-around tours.
After a day orienting to UB, we left, bumping our way to the most basic of the five Ger camps - but one of the best located. In the mountains, with scrub valley terrain, reminding me of Algeria/SW United States, Morocco/The Sudan. The air was clear; the scenery awesome. One day was spent on a 10K hike, at least 3K up into rocky passages before the struggle down a more graduated path. Both evenings, several of us clambered onto nearby rocks to observe/photograph the astounding sunsets.
The next major stoop was at Karakorum, the ancient capital of Mongolia, much in need of restoration. Equally significant was the nearby Erdene-Zi Monastery, established in the 1500s, now more of a museum. Recently, the practice of Buddhism is returning so the Monastery is being restored, albeit slowly. There was also a beautifully executed new museum, focusing on Mongolia's history - all but barren of visitors.
Windy, cold and wet, the bus struggled toward the Gobi, overheating several times. Bumpy tracks and barren landscape until The Flaming Cliffs, similar to Canyonlands in the US, An area where Roy Chapman Andrews found dinosaur eggs. Enroute I did my bactrian (two humped) camel ride - very brief when you consider I've suffered on dromedaries (one humpers) for ten days. But muh more comfortable - and with stirrups! Two Ger camps and several villages on and we were on the Gobi, with surprisingly green scrub from the rains.
One hike was in the Gobi Gurvansaikhan National Park, where we got in as far as the glacier; then to another path into the rocks where we were slowed by a second glacier. Flora and fauna abounded with the photographers busy, snapping away.
From here, it was a flight to UB and onto Jalman Meadows, described as a true wilderness, a transition zone between steppes and forest. Though much of the countryside so far had seemed quiet and peaceful, Jalman Meadows seems most serene. Several of the group took the opportunity to ride horses, several simply walked about the area with its nearby river, and all went on a yak cart ridge across the river and into the trees.
Throughout, we passed nomads with their gers and livestock. I have never seen so many free range horses. Sheep, goats and cows populated the landscape, blocking traffic (such as it was). It seemed another era.
Back to UB for the Festival: the city was crowded with both Mongol and overseas visitors. The opening ceremonies on the main square had heavy military and political attendance. Then to the main stadium where the Olympic-type proceedings continued. Bands, drill, gymnastic exercises - all before a large enthusiastic audience. By afternoon, the wrestling was in one stadium and archery was in another - with women allowed to compete in the archery contests.
The audience was of as much interest as the performances: clothing ranged from tunics and sashes of the old days to micro-mini skirts and t-shirts of new times - and everything in between. Many of the older folk wore medals stemming from the communist days. Concessionaires were all over. There seemed a party atmosphere of a State Fair.
Horse Racing was the second day, in a venues way out of UB. Though we left early, we had competition from hundred of others. I have never experienced in such a automobile jam, going or coming Suddenly a four lane road is eleven lanes, all going the same way. Checkpoints ignored, cars squealing through gas stations and across streams with police efforts to corral the chaos, unsuccessful!
The horse racing venue was lovely: grassy hills with a fence defining the track and the army providing some security. Concessioners sold kites, people brought small pup tents and picnicked and the horses did not run on time. About an hour plus, late, the trotted to their starting point and too off, one firmly took the lead and stayed throughout.
Then, back to the chaos of returning to UB. And the fight home the next day!
Accommodations: I had called them yurts, which is apparently the Russian term - yurt or ger - all the same. Portable, felt covered over a rounded wooden lattice-=like frame with waterproof fabric covering it all, they are quite quite comfortable. Several of the one I stayed in had a wood stove with the smoke exiting via a hole at the apex. Two had electricity - otherwise, it was candle power. All were set up for two person occupancy with comfortable beds and plenty of bedding. If I were rating them: 1-2 star; 3-3 star and 1-4 star. The UB hotel with a standard 3 start, good location and with internet and wi-fi.
Facilities: Two of the ger camps had buildings with toilet and sowers. The rest had shower-gers with hot water heated on the wood stove, mixed with cold, poured into a cylinder with a presssure pump to push out water for showers. It worked ok, though I found it easier to mix hot and cold water in a pail and do a Hindu bath. The toilet at one camp was a set of chemical units; the other were put toilets with a Western seat (though the first place had a squat pit toilet for those inclined).
The food: Plentiful but basic meat-rice-potatoes diet. Mornings were good: often cereal/muesli. eggs. bred. cucumbers and tomatoes. Sandwiches, tomatoes, hard boiled eff and apple/orange for lunch as often, we ate on the run. Salad, soup and meat-rice-potato at night. As a non-meat eater, it was difficult for me - I recall chicken four times in two weeks. Out of desperation, I did end up chewing on some meat though did ignore the "mystery meat" sandwiches.
Entertainment: On one of the last evenings in town, Nomadic Journeys, who was the local provider for this tour, had all their groups together for dinner (maybe the worst meal of the trip) and entertainment. A ethnic musical group who did throat singing was outstanding. The style show was unique. I would have preferred both in a different setting than a standard hotel dining room with a bunch of noisy tourists. busy with picture taking.
Accommodations: I had called them Yurts, which is apparently the Russian term - they are the same. Portable, felt covered over a rounded wooden lattice-like frame, with waterproof fabric covering it all, they are quite comfortable. Several of the ones I stayed in had a wood stove with the smoke exiting via a whole at the apex. Two had electricity; otherwise it was candle-power. If I were rating them: 1-2 star, 3-3 star and 1-4 star. The UB Hotel was a standard 3 star, good location and with Internet.
Facilities: Two of the Ger Camps had buildings with toilets and showers, The others had Shower-Gers with hot water (heated on the wood stove) to be mixed with cold, poured into a cylinder with a pressure pump to push out water for a shower - in one instance I found it easier to mix hot and cold water in a pail and take a Hindi bath. The toilet at one camp was a set of enclosed chemical units and others were pit toilets albeit with a Western seat. (though the first place had a squat pit toilet for those inclined).
The food: Plentiful but a basic meat-rice-potatoes diet. Mornings were good: often cereal/muesli, eggs, bread, cucumbers and tomatoes. Sandwiches, tomatoes and hard boiled egg at noon for often, we were eating on the run. Salad, soup and meat-rice-potato at night. As a non meat eater, it was difficult for me - I recall having chicken four times during the two weeks - and two of those times was at lunch. I ended up eating some meat, though did ignore the ”mystery meat” sandwiches.
Cost: Explore Worldwide Land of the Great Khan-Naadam Festival tour: $3500 for two weeks including almost all meals. (I get a discount as a prior Explore client). Air China: $2000 including an overnight hotel in Beijing due to the long layover. Also, I was upgraded to Business class Beijing to SFO - a nice touch!.
This was the start of the two week Mongolian journey that took me to Chinggis Khan country that still has elements of the old days and an appreciation of past history. But like most developing nations, Mongolia is a combination of old, new and undecided. The capital, Ulaanbaatar, shows evidence of the past communist influence and is a work in progress. A dozen of more cranes lurk above the City along with "moderne"structures and uncompleted Russian block houses hiding the old, ill kept ethic buildings. There is no consistency.
And why was I there? Certainly not to spend time in UB, but to get out to the countryside, to the mountains and meadows and above all, the Gobi desert. I was with an Explore group of six: three Brits, an Irish and a Portuguese and me, the token American. It was an exceptional compatible group with a knowledgeable tour leader. There were few glitches, other than stolen Blackberry and a wrecked ankle necessitating one woman's early flight home.
The Itinerary, backwards or forwards, was pretty standard for travelers at this time of year: Ulaanbaatar-Magno Khan-Karakorum-Saikhan Ovoo-South Gobi-Dafanzadgad. Motor transport one way and fly the other. We went by a sturdy fifteen passenger Russian bus out and flew back. Then, drove onto Jalman Meadows for several days before returning to UB for the Naadam Festival, a yearly celebration of wrestling, archery and horse riding skills. There were a fair number of tourist - people came for horse riding trek, camping expeditions and, as we did, just looking-around tours.
After a day orienting to UB, we left, bumping our way to the most basic of the five Ger camps - but one of the best located. In the mountains, with scrub valley terrain, reminding me of Algeria/SW United States, Morocco/The Sudan. The air was clear; the scenery awesome. One day was spent on a 10K hike, at least 3K up into rocky passages before the struggle down a more graduated path. Both evenings, several of us clambered onto nearby rocks to observe/photograph the astounding sunsets.
The next major stoop was at Karakorum, the ancient capital of Mongolia, much in need of restoration. Equally significant was the nearby Erdene-Zi Monastery, established in the 1500s, now more of a museum. Recently, the practice of Buddhism is returning so the Monastery is being restored, albeit slowly. There was also a beautifully executed new museum, focusing on Mongolia's history - all but barren of visitors.
Windy, cold and wet, the bus struggled toward the Gobi, overheating several times. Bumpy tracks and barren landscape until The Flaming Cliffs, similar to Canyonlands in the US, An area where Roy Chapman Andrews found dinosaur eggs. Enroute I did my bactrian (two humped) camel ride - very brief when you consider I've suffered on dromedaries (one humpers) for ten days. But muh more comfortable - and with stirrups! Two Ger camps and several villages on and we were on the Gobi, with surprisingly green scrub from the rains.
One hike was in the Gobi Gurvansaikhan National Park, where we got in as far as the glacier; then to another path into the rocks where we were slowed by a second glacier. Flora and fauna abounded with the photographers busy, snapping away.
From here, it was a flight to UB and onto Jalman Meadows, described as a true wilderness, a transition zone between steppes and forest. Though much of the countryside so far had seemed quiet and peaceful, Jalman Meadows seems most serene. Several of the group took the opportunity to ride horses, several simply walked about the area with its nearby river, and all went on a yak cart ridge across the river and into the trees.
Throughout, we passed nomads with their gers and livestock. I have never seen so many free range horses. Sheep, goats and cows populated the landscape, blocking traffic (such as it was). It seemed another era.
Back to UB for the Festival: the city was crowded with both Mongol and overseas visitors. The opening ceremonies on the main square had heavy military and political attendance. Then to the main stadium where the Olympic-type proceedings continued. Bands, drill, gymnastic exercises - all before a large enthusiastic audience. By afternoon, the wrestling was in one stadium and archery was in another - with women allowed to compete in the archery contests.
The audience was of as much interest as the performances: clothing ranged from tunics and sashes of the old days to micro-mini skirts and t-shirts of new times - and everything in between. Many of the older folk wore medals stemming from the communist days. Concessionaires were all over. There seemed a party atmosphere of a State Fair.
Horse Racing was the second day, in a venues way out of UB. Though we left early, we had competition from hundred of others. I have never experienced in such a automobile jam, going or coming Suddenly a four lane road is eleven lanes, all going the same way. Checkpoints ignored, cars squealing through gas stations and across streams with police efforts to corral the chaos, unsuccessful!
The horse racing venue was lovely: grassy hills with a fence defining the track and the army providing some security. Concessioners sold kites, people brought small pup tents and picnicked and the horses did not run on time. About an hour plus, late, the trotted to their starting point and too off, one firmly took the lead and stayed throughout.
Then, back to the chaos of returning to UB. And the fight home the next day!
Accommodations: I had called them yurts, which is apparently the Russian term - yurt or ger - all the same. Portable, felt covered over a rounded wooden lattice-=like frame with waterproof fabric covering it all, they are quite quite comfortable. Several of the one I stayed in had a wood stove with the smoke exiting via a hole at the apex. Two had electricity - otherwise, it was candle power. All were set up for two person occupancy with comfortable beds and plenty of bedding. If I were rating them: 1-2 star; 3-3 star and 1-4 star. The UB hotel with a standard 3 start, good location and with internet and wi-fi.
Facilities: Two of the ger camps had buildings with toilet and sowers. The rest had shower-gers with hot water heated on the wood stove, mixed with cold, poured into a cylinder with a presssure pump to push out water for showers. It worked ok, though I found it easier to mix hot and cold water in a pail and do a Hindu bath. The toilet at one camp was a set of chemical units; the other were put toilets with a Western seat (though the first place had a squat pit toilet for those inclined).
The food: Plentiful but basic meat-rice-potatoes diet. Mornings were good: often cereal/muesli. eggs. bred. cucumbers and tomatoes. Sandwiches, tomatoes, hard boiled eff and apple/orange for lunch as often, we ate on the run. Salad, soup and meat-rice-potato at night. As a non-meat eater, it was difficult for me - I recall chicken four times in two weeks. Out of desperation, I did end up chewing on some meat though did ignore the "mystery meat" sandwiches.
Entertainment: On one of the last evenings in town, Nomadic Journeys, who was the local provider for this tour, had all their groups together for dinner (maybe the worst meal of the trip) and entertainment. A ethnic musical group who did throat singing was outstanding. The style show was unique. I would have preferred both in a different setting than a standard hotel dining room with a bunch of noisy tourists. busy with picture taking.
Accommodations: I had called them Yurts, which is apparently the Russian term - they are the same. Portable, felt covered over a rounded wooden lattice-like frame, with waterproof fabric covering it all, they are quite comfortable. Several of the ones I stayed in had a wood stove with the smoke exiting via a whole at the apex. Two had electricity; otherwise it was candle-power. If I were rating them: 1-2 star, 3-3 star and 1-4 star. The UB Hotel was a standard 3 star, good location and with Internet.
Facilities: Two of the Ger Camps had buildings with toilets and showers, The others had Shower-Gers with hot water (heated on the wood stove) to be mixed with cold, poured into a cylinder with a pressure pump to push out water for a shower - in one instance I found it easier to mix hot and cold water in a pail and take a Hindi bath. The toilet at one camp was a set of enclosed chemical units and others were pit toilets albeit with a Western seat. (though the first place had a squat pit toilet for those inclined).
The food: Plentiful but a basic meat-rice-potatoes diet. Mornings were good: often cereal/muesli, eggs, bread, cucumbers and tomatoes. Sandwiches, tomatoes and hard boiled egg at noon for often, we were eating on the run. Salad, soup and meat-rice-potato at night. As a non meat eater, it was difficult for me - I recall having chicken four times during the two weeks - and two of those times was at lunch. I ended up eating some meat, though did ignore the ”mystery meat” sandwiches.
Cost: Explore Worldwide Land of the Great Khan-Naadam Festival tour: $3500 for two weeks including almost all meals. (I get a discount as a prior Explore client). Air China: $2000 including an overnight hotel in Beijing due to the long layover. Also, I was upgraded to Business class Beijing to SFO - a nice touch!.
Monday, June 13, 2011
June 2011 at Ashland, Oregon
Oregon Shakespeare Festival 2011
Whether I am gone two days, two weeks or two months, I take the same amount of stuff - what I can fit into a carry-on, usually a backpack. It’s been at least twenty years since I’ve checked luggage. Two incidents of late arrival checked baggage with severe inconveniences made a believer of me.
I was reminded of all this at the Medford Airport when I flew in for two days at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Two were scheduled for the shuttle to Ashland but I had to wait for the other passenger, not only to discover her checked bag was a no show but hang around with the other half dozen passengers to report missing luggage. .
I did feel a bit smug with all my stuff stashed about my shoulders.
Eventually, I got to the Columbia Hotel, where I’ve stayed past years: a reasonably priced hotel on the main street with Victorian motif and shared facilities, close to theatres, park, stores, library and restaurants. I first attended the Festival in the mid-fifties and then, faithfully since the mid-sixties. I’ve traveled from the Bay area by auto, bus, train and plane.
I love Ashland with its small town feel, the incomparable Lithia Park and the State University. When I was doing an agonizing reappraisal of my life some six years ago, it was high on the list of places where I considered living. I settled for remaining in the Bay area but continuing the yearly trek to Oregon.
This year I had signed on for four plays: two Shakespearean - Julius Caesar and Henry IV # 2, The Language Archive and G&S’s Pirates of Penzance a la Johnny Depp. Three were superb: Julius played by a woman was surprisingly effective, The Language Archive was more affecting than I expected: I thought it would be more of a intellectual exercise. Henry IV #2 was ok, not the strongest of Shakespeare’s historical plays and I wasn’t taken with the portrayal of Falstaff, particularly the Prince’s termination of his relationship with the old man.
From Spring through Fall, there are a dozen plays performed in three theatres, including an outdoor Elizabethan venue. There was a great selection this year. Unfortunately I always have to squeeze in time between more major trips so don’t always get to plays of choice. My hope is next year I can return to the Ontario, Canada Shakespearean productions and the Shaw theatre in Niagara-on-the-Lake.
Besides theatre, I did my usual walk to my favorite restaurants - breakfast at Morning Glory is worth the trip. There is a stop at the library to use the computer, up the town’s hills along tree lined streets for aerobic pump and the hike through Lithia Park. I suspect I’ll allow another day next year and river raft on the Rogue, something I’ve put off for far too. long. I did get to to several extra events, the post play discussion and evening pre-play musical performances.
A good couple of days but needed to be longer.
Round-trip air fare non stop from SFO-Medford via United $511 - I should have use frequent flyer miles and will do so next year. (The other way to go, cheaper, is Alaskan from San Jose to Portland with a connecting flight to Medford.) Round trip shuttle to Ashland: $60. Accommodation for three nights : $269.50. Four plays: $260.:
Whether I am gone two days, two weeks or two months, I take the same amount of stuff - what I can fit into a carry-on, usually a backpack. It’s been at least twenty years since I’ve checked luggage. Two incidents of late arrival checked baggage with severe inconveniences made a believer of me.
I was reminded of all this at the Medford Airport when I flew in for two days at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Two were scheduled for the shuttle to Ashland but I had to wait for the other passenger, not only to discover her checked bag was a no show but hang around with the other half dozen passengers to report missing luggage. .
I did feel a bit smug with all my stuff stashed about my shoulders.
Eventually, I got to the Columbia Hotel, where I’ve stayed past years: a reasonably priced hotel on the main street with Victorian motif and shared facilities, close to theatres, park, stores, library and restaurants. I first attended the Festival in the mid-fifties and then, faithfully since the mid-sixties. I’ve traveled from the Bay area by auto, bus, train and plane.
I love Ashland with its small town feel, the incomparable Lithia Park and the State University. When I was doing an agonizing reappraisal of my life some six years ago, it was high on the list of places where I considered living. I settled for remaining in the Bay area but continuing the yearly trek to Oregon.
This year I had signed on for four plays: two Shakespearean - Julius Caesar and Henry IV # 2, The Language Archive and G&S’s Pirates of Penzance a la Johnny Depp. Three were superb: Julius played by a woman was surprisingly effective, The Language Archive was more affecting than I expected: I thought it would be more of a intellectual exercise. Henry IV #2 was ok, not the strongest of Shakespeare’s historical plays and I wasn’t taken with the portrayal of Falstaff, particularly the Prince’s termination of his relationship with the old man.
From Spring through Fall, there are a dozen plays performed in three theatres, including an outdoor Elizabethan venue. There was a great selection this year. Unfortunately I always have to squeeze in time between more major trips so don’t always get to plays of choice. My hope is next year I can return to the Ontario, Canada Shakespearean productions and the Shaw theatre in Niagara-on-the-Lake.
Besides theatre, I did my usual walk to my favorite restaurants - breakfast at Morning Glory is worth the trip. There is a stop at the library to use the computer, up the town’s hills along tree lined streets for aerobic pump and the hike through Lithia Park. I suspect I’ll allow another day next year and river raft on the Rogue, something I’ve put off for far too. long. I did get to to several extra events, the post play discussion and evening pre-play musical performances.
A good couple of days but needed to be longer.
Round-trip air fare non stop from SFO-Medford via United $511 - I should have use frequent flyer miles and will do so next year. (The other way to go, cheaper, is Alaskan from San Jose to Portland with a connecting flight to Medford.) Round trip shuttle to Ashland: $60. Accommodation for three nights : $269.50. Four plays: $260.:
Friday, April 22, 2011
March-April 2011: Three Weeks in Northeast India
Back in India again - fifth time! Ten years ago, my husband and I arranged a rip from Delhi via the Golden Triangle to Lucknow, Allahabad and the Kumbh Mela, ending at Varanasi, traveling by auto and train. In 2004, I traveled with Explore from Bangladesh to Darjeeling, Sikkim and Bhutan. Several years later, I was with Sundowners on a journey which included a train ride from from Delhi to Amritsar before venturing onto Pakistan, China and several of the ’Stans. Last year, it was back with Explore, Delhi to Lakdakl: Manali. Leh and Amritsar.
This time out, I was with an American company, Advantage Travel, who had arranged an extensive, three week tour of the northeast portion of India, the so called Seven Sisters, which borders on Bangladesh, Burma and China. Tripura, Assam, Nagaland, Manipur, Mizoram, Meghalaya and Arunachal Pradesh: all different tribes, all in transition, all feeling neglected by the central government. And all well policed by the Assam Rifles, para- military units with a long history predating the partition. Because of unrest in the region for years, travellers were not allowed into the border states; even now, special permits had to be obtained.
In several states, there were demonstrations protesting the high cost of living and lack of government concern for the area. Women led the marchers with a lesser number of men in the rear. The parades were relatively quiet with no conflict.
Surprisingly, Christian missionaries, both Western and Indian, have left their mark on several states, though Hinduism is still the predominate religion overall. Buddhism, Islam and Animism continued to be practiced. The government is concerned enough about the encroachment of Christian proselytizers that permits into the area included a prohibition against missionaries.
In Tripura, a flag lowering ceremony is performed at the border between Bangladesh and Indian troops, not as elaborate at the one at Wagah, the Pakistan-Indian border. But impressive enough. As with Wagah, the movements are all very precisely, exaggeratedly British, one of the many things left from the British Raj.
There were several festivals: the Monyu festival in Nagaland and the Goru Bihu Festival in Assam. Some differences: our group of ten were strictly observers in the earlier event while several of our group got more involved in the Goru Biru Festival, with photos in the newspapers and television interviews. This one involved washing of cows in the river - cows’ protestations resulted in more people getting washed than cows - and an afternoon presentation by various drummers and dancers. Between these two festivals, a exhibition dance group performed atop our Mizoram hotel with people and pigs observing from nearby buildings.
Houses were built on stilts - concrete, wood or bamboo, with wood or bamboo matting flooring and walls. Roofs were either thatched or corrugated - or both. The cooking place was in the middle of the kitchen-eating area. Above was a rack to store goods. Other rooms were very plain, with coverings rolled up along the walls. I was in several houses, from very basic or more elaborate but all followed this simple plan. In both the flat land and the hills, stilts were needed due to the rains.
One of my big interests in seeing this area was the importance of Kohima and Imphal during WW2. I reread John Master’s Road Past Mandalay and a biography of Michael Calvert to prepare myself for the sites: Kohina had been he scene of a significant British- Japanese battle and Imphal has was significant staging area for British and Indian Army troops during WW2.
The large cemeteries were immaculately kept, by the Commonwealth, unlike the British cemeteries in Kabul and Gilgit . I photographed the grave of the one Assamese soldier killed on one of the conflicts - and the grave of a forebearer of mine, a totally unexpected discovery. As I looked at the huge number of graves, mostly of young Brits, Scots, Irish, Indian and Gorkha, I could only think, what a waste - a waste we are continuing even now!
Throughout, there were museums, mosques, palaces, temples, monasteries, shrines - all old and significant to the religious believers of the area. Time was spent in a Tibetan community, where they were sure of a return to Tibet! At one monastery, a great banging of cymbals was part of The ritualistic circling by one to two dozen acolytes.
Shillong had been a summer capital for the British Raj who were driven there by the South’s heat. a delightful place with some of the old British bungalows still surviving, and a hugh golf course, now overrun with local families. Out a ways, was living Root Bridge and the Elephant Falls - the Falls weren’t too spectacular as the water level was down but a bridge from tree roots was pretty unique.
We spent time in two schools: one in Mizoram,the other in Arunachal Pradesh. The Mizoram facility was Christian run for abusers and users, orphans, and the mentally challenged. No money, lots of rice and a willing spirit. The one in Arunachal Pradesh was a boarding school - the kids were from two different schools, one of girls and one co-ed, ages through high school. They put on a charming program and were very open in talking with us.
In lieu of an semi-built bridge, we rode a ferry across one river, than did two more ferry rides to/from the Majuli Island. And these ferries were really basic: old wooden barges where vehicles were driven aboard via planks with blocks at front and back. As passengers, we simply stood around., handing onto some railing or another. On two of the trips, the boat got stuck on a sandbar - crew dived in with bamboo poles to push off. Now when I read about ferries going down in in one of the far corners of this earth, I know what they mean. I wondered what our tour leader, a former Navy Commander, thought of it all.
Throughout Assam were the tea plantations with colorful dressed women, plucking the tea leaves. We stopped at the manufacturing plant where the Sikh manager explained the process and his wife served us tea. The field workers were there, waiting for their pay.
Toward the end, we started seeing more Westerners, particularly at Kazieranga Park. Early on, there had been a couple of Russians, an Footprints editor, two European guys, and a missionary couple from Tennessee. But at Kazieranga, there was an European couple, two Kiwis on their way to Nepal, a journalist from Vermont, and a retired Britisher and his wife, now living in Palo Alto . Altogether though, less than two dozen.
All in all, the trip was well worth it: the mountains awesome and the people friendly. I felt I was moving through living history, particularly when having tea with a Sadhu, along the river bank. I was able to talk with people and see areas before they were affected by tourism. Our local guide was superb and intelligent - this was his home turf and he made sure all went well for us.
Accommodations: Overall, better than I expected. Though some stops had only squats, most had Western toilets which helped as some of the group was unfamiliar with squats. With one exception, the hotels all had Western plumbing. Several hotels were quite luxurious - local politicos stayed here - several were nicely picturesque and the remainder were basic. One place managed to have Western toilet, no tub or shower but pail, bucket and plumbing for Hindu bath - with no drain! But did have an internet! Others were sans hot water. Ah, c’est la guerre!
Roads: Ah, the Indian roads have not changed. Still bumpy, narrow and chancy. All sorts of vehicles on them from the colorful trucks to the hand drawn carts. Not as bad as they are during the rainy season but still bad! Two lane asphalt on a good day - with three vehicles trying to pass. And obeying signs to honk. The several internal flights were a relief.
Cost:: $7580 which included flights from SFO-India plus internal Indian Flights. All other expenses, including meals, were included. I paid an additional $300 for local tips and donations.
NB: I really lucked out on my roommate. A lady with a sense of humor who put up with my warped approach with life.
This time out, I was with an American company, Advantage Travel, who had arranged an extensive, three week tour of the northeast portion of India, the so called Seven Sisters, which borders on Bangladesh, Burma and China. Tripura, Assam, Nagaland, Manipur, Mizoram, Meghalaya and Arunachal Pradesh: all different tribes, all in transition, all feeling neglected by the central government. And all well policed by the Assam Rifles, para- military units with a long history predating the partition. Because of unrest in the region for years, travellers were not allowed into the border states; even now, special permits had to be obtained.
In several states, there were demonstrations protesting the high cost of living and lack of government concern for the area. Women led the marchers with a lesser number of men in the rear. The parades were relatively quiet with no conflict.
Surprisingly, Christian missionaries, both Western and Indian, have left their mark on several states, though Hinduism is still the predominate religion overall. Buddhism, Islam and Animism continued to be practiced. The government is concerned enough about the encroachment of Christian proselytizers that permits into the area included a prohibition against missionaries.
In Tripura, a flag lowering ceremony is performed at the border between Bangladesh and Indian troops, not as elaborate at the one at Wagah, the Pakistan-Indian border. But impressive enough. As with Wagah, the movements are all very precisely, exaggeratedly British, one of the many things left from the British Raj.
There were several festivals: the Monyu festival in Nagaland and the Goru Bihu Festival in Assam. Some differences: our group of ten were strictly observers in the earlier event while several of our group got more involved in the Goru Biru Festival, with photos in the newspapers and television interviews. This one involved washing of cows in the river - cows’ protestations resulted in more people getting washed than cows - and an afternoon presentation by various drummers and dancers. Between these two festivals, a exhibition dance group performed atop our Mizoram hotel with people and pigs observing from nearby buildings.
Houses were built on stilts - concrete, wood or bamboo, with wood or bamboo matting flooring and walls. Roofs were either thatched or corrugated - or both. The cooking place was in the middle of the kitchen-eating area. Above was a rack to store goods. Other rooms were very plain, with coverings rolled up along the walls. I was in several houses, from very basic or more elaborate but all followed this simple plan. In both the flat land and the hills, stilts were needed due to the rains.
One of my big interests in seeing this area was the importance of Kohima and Imphal during WW2. I reread John Master’s Road Past Mandalay and a biography of Michael Calvert to prepare myself for the sites: Kohina had been he scene of a significant British- Japanese battle and Imphal has was significant staging area for British and Indian Army troops during WW2.
The large cemeteries were immaculately kept, by the Commonwealth, unlike the British cemeteries in Kabul and Gilgit . I photographed the grave of the one Assamese soldier killed on one of the conflicts - and the grave of a forebearer of mine, a totally unexpected discovery. As I looked at the huge number of graves, mostly of young Brits, Scots, Irish, Indian and Gorkha, I could only think, what a waste - a waste we are continuing even now!
Throughout, there were museums, mosques, palaces, temples, monasteries, shrines - all old and significant to the religious believers of the area. Time was spent in a Tibetan community, where they were sure of a return to Tibet! At one monastery, a great banging of cymbals was part of The ritualistic circling by one to two dozen acolytes.
Shillong had been a summer capital for the British Raj who were driven there by the South’s heat. a delightful place with some of the old British bungalows still surviving, and a hugh golf course, now overrun with local families. Out a ways, was living Root Bridge and the Elephant Falls - the Falls weren’t too spectacular as the water level was down but a bridge from tree roots was pretty unique.
We spent time in two schools: one in Mizoram,the other in Arunachal Pradesh. The Mizoram facility was Christian run for abusers and users, orphans, and the mentally challenged. No money, lots of rice and a willing spirit. The one in Arunachal Pradesh was a boarding school - the kids were from two different schools, one of girls and one co-ed, ages through high school. They put on a charming program and were very open in talking with us.
In lieu of an semi-built bridge, we rode a ferry across one river, than did two more ferry rides to/from the Majuli Island. And these ferries were really basic: old wooden barges where vehicles were driven aboard via planks with blocks at front and back. As passengers, we simply stood around., handing onto some railing or another. On two of the trips, the boat got stuck on a sandbar - crew dived in with bamboo poles to push off. Now when I read about ferries going down in in one of the far corners of this earth, I know what they mean. I wondered what our tour leader, a former Navy Commander, thought of it all.
Throughout Assam were the tea plantations with colorful dressed women, plucking the tea leaves. We stopped at the manufacturing plant where the Sikh manager explained the process and his wife served us tea. The field workers were there, waiting for their pay.
Toward the end, we started seeing more Westerners, particularly at Kazieranga Park. Early on, there had been a couple of Russians, an Footprints editor, two European guys, and a missionary couple from Tennessee. But at Kazieranga, there was an European couple, two Kiwis on their way to Nepal, a journalist from Vermont, and a retired Britisher and his wife, now living in Palo Alto . Altogether though, less than two dozen.
All in all, the trip was well worth it: the mountains awesome and the people friendly. I felt I was moving through living history, particularly when having tea with a Sadhu, along the river bank. I was able to talk with people and see areas before they were affected by tourism. Our local guide was superb and intelligent - this was his home turf and he made sure all went well for us.
Accommodations: Overall, better than I expected. Though some stops had only squats, most had Western toilets which helped as some of the group was unfamiliar with squats. With one exception, the hotels all had Western plumbing. Several hotels were quite luxurious - local politicos stayed here - several were nicely picturesque and the remainder were basic. One place managed to have Western toilet, no tub or shower but pail, bucket and plumbing for Hindu bath - with no drain! But did have an internet! Others were sans hot water. Ah, c’est la guerre!
Roads: Ah, the Indian roads have not changed. Still bumpy, narrow and chancy. All sorts of vehicles on them from the colorful trucks to the hand drawn carts. Not as bad as they are during the rainy season but still bad! Two lane asphalt on a good day - with three vehicles trying to pass. And obeying signs to honk. The several internal flights were a relief.
Cost:: $7580 which included flights from SFO-India plus internal Indian Flights. All other expenses, including meals, were included. I paid an additional $300 for local tips and donations.
NB: I really lucked out on my roommate. A lady with a sense of humor who put up with my warped approach with life.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Quick Trip to London: 8-14 March 2011
It’s over a year since my last foray to London - time to return! So when 1) there was an TE Lawrence-Middle East presentation by Rory Stewart, now a MP, at the Army Museum, 2) my niece, Linda, was willing to accompany me, 3) my colleague was available so we could plan our December Rajasthan trip and 4) the Royal Ballet had a new Wheedom piece - well, what could I do but take off. And to add to it all, just before leaving I was notified the Army Museum was showing a film about TEL with Michael Asher, my camel trekking leader.
It was a full five days and I didn’t get a seat for the Ballet performance - it had been sold out for sometime. But I and my colleague waited it out at the National Theatre and eventually got seats for Frankenstein, an absolutely stunning theatrical event. And we used our waiting time to sketch out the Rajasthan excursion.
And there were two other performances I attended, but not nearly as spectacular. Priscilla was a very Las Vegas type musical while Rattigan’s Flare Path was a WW2 drama, directed by Trevor Nunn.
And in lieu of the sold out Ballet performance, I spent the evening with another traveling companion of yore. While we’ve met in London before, we keep missing each other on trips. She was on one tour ahead of me In Georgia, I keep hoping we’ll met, for she is a good company. If I can arrange a Balkan trip next year, she may be interested.
Impelled by my niece’s enthusiasm, I got to the both the House of Commons and House of Lords. We heard a bit of the debate of Woman’s Issue (Commons) and Falklands (Lords). It is rather overwhelming to walk about the buildings, housing the traditions preceding our democratic system.
I chatted with a Security Officer about how it all worked for there was security personnel backed by unarmed and armed (Heckler-Kochs?) police. All were from the Metropolitan Police - no privatization here.
The Army Museum was in Chelsea, much smaller than the Imperial War Museum, but well designed. There was a nicely presented exhibit about the Afghan Wars - I couldn’t help but think of George MacDonald Fraser’s Flashman, as the first of the series for me was the one on Afghan War #1, which I had picked up in Kabul. It was almost a full house for both film and presentation.
The film, In Search of Lawrence, was well done: about the effort on Asher’s part to verify two of TEL’s desert journeys - he was successful with one but unsuccessful with the other. Conclusion was that TEL exaggerated - probably not for the first or last time. The real delight was meeting Michael’s son, a really nice young man who is studying in the UK.
Rory Stewart was on a fast schedule. Quick trip from Cumbria and an equally quick return. A engaging and facile speaker, he talked about half an hour - with slides - about TEL as one of the mavericks (my term) who were active on Britain's behalf in the Middle East during and after WW1. The theme seemed to be a need to have new, knowledgeable personnel in the Foreign office. The discussion ended with comment on the current Libyan conflict and whether Britain should be involved. Not unilaterally but with UN sanctions appeared to be the consensus. With Stewart’s schedule, no chance to chat. A hail and farewell, and barely that.
We got out to the Wigmore for the Sunday morning chamber concert and then, lunch. I did see the office of the Palestine Exploration Fund,a rather dingy exterior quite hidden away with little identification in a rather small mews. The PEF are another link in the Lawrence legend for it was at their behest, Lawrence and Leonard Woolley mapped the Negev desert pre-WW1.
I did pop for the £10 to see the magnificent Afghan exhibition at the British Museum, probably much safer here than in Kabul. In fact, both times I was at the Afghan Museum in Kabul, they had more photos of their precious artifacts than artifacts for most were out of the country, on display. This was a much more elegant presentation than the one I saw awhile back in San Francisco. Well worth the cost.
I did stop by The Traveler to see about going through Saudi Arabia as part of following the Hejaz RR from Syria through Jordan to its ending in Medina. Not much optimism there about that. They had tried to combine Jordan and Saudi Arabia in a tour featuring he Nabataean sites with no success.
It worked out, traveling with Linda. We did some things together and then, went out on our own - she was into riding the tube and checking out various tourist sites while I was more into walking about, taking care of odd bits of business and checking out performances. The weather held: just a few sprinkles and even some sun!
Meals: Mostly, picked up bits and pieces along the way, at the National Theatre and Pret A Manager. Linda and I did have two proper meals, one at the Wigmore and another at the West End Kitchen on Panton street. The Wigmore was at the going rate while the Kitchen was less expensive.
Accommodation: We stayed at my preferred B/B, the Hotel Celtic at Russell Square, Cost for the two was £88 per night: for a small insuite room. Breakfasts are great!
Airfare: I flew United as I could cage an Economy Plus seat for the price of an Economy seat. $707.40 SFO-LHR. (And on the return flight, a kind steward gave me a glass of champagne to sip!)
It was a full five days and I didn’t get a seat for the Ballet performance - it had been sold out for sometime. But I and my colleague waited it out at the National Theatre and eventually got seats for Frankenstein, an absolutely stunning theatrical event. And we used our waiting time to sketch out the Rajasthan excursion.
And there were two other performances I attended, but not nearly as spectacular. Priscilla was a very Las Vegas type musical while Rattigan’s Flare Path was a WW2 drama, directed by Trevor Nunn.
And in lieu of the sold out Ballet performance, I spent the evening with another traveling companion of yore. While we’ve met in London before, we keep missing each other on trips. She was on one tour ahead of me In Georgia, I keep hoping we’ll met, for she is a good company. If I can arrange a Balkan trip next year, she may be interested.
Impelled by my niece’s enthusiasm, I got to the both the House of Commons and House of Lords. We heard a bit of the debate of Woman’s Issue (Commons) and Falklands (Lords). It is rather overwhelming to walk about the buildings, housing the traditions preceding our democratic system.
I chatted with a Security Officer about how it all worked for there was security personnel backed by unarmed and armed (Heckler-Kochs?) police. All were from the Metropolitan Police - no privatization here.
The Army Museum was in Chelsea, much smaller than the Imperial War Museum, but well designed. There was a nicely presented exhibit about the Afghan Wars - I couldn’t help but think of George MacDonald Fraser’s Flashman, as the first of the series for me was the one on Afghan War #1, which I had picked up in Kabul. It was almost a full house for both film and presentation.
The film, In Search of Lawrence, was well done: about the effort on Asher’s part to verify two of TEL’s desert journeys - he was successful with one but unsuccessful with the other. Conclusion was that TEL exaggerated - probably not for the first or last time. The real delight was meeting Michael’s son, a really nice young man who is studying in the UK.
Rory Stewart was on a fast schedule. Quick trip from Cumbria and an equally quick return. A engaging and facile speaker, he talked about half an hour - with slides - about TEL as one of the mavericks (my term) who were active on Britain's behalf in the Middle East during and after WW1. The theme seemed to be a need to have new, knowledgeable personnel in the Foreign office. The discussion ended with comment on the current Libyan conflict and whether Britain should be involved. Not unilaterally but with UN sanctions appeared to be the consensus. With Stewart’s schedule, no chance to chat. A hail and farewell, and barely that.
We got out to the Wigmore for the Sunday morning chamber concert and then, lunch. I did see the office of the Palestine Exploration Fund,a rather dingy exterior quite hidden away with little identification in a rather small mews. The PEF are another link in the Lawrence legend for it was at their behest, Lawrence and Leonard Woolley mapped the Negev desert pre-WW1.
I did pop for the £10 to see the magnificent Afghan exhibition at the British Museum, probably much safer here than in Kabul. In fact, both times I was at the Afghan Museum in Kabul, they had more photos of their precious artifacts than artifacts for most were out of the country, on display. This was a much more elegant presentation than the one I saw awhile back in San Francisco. Well worth the cost.
I did stop by The Traveler to see about going through Saudi Arabia as part of following the Hejaz RR from Syria through Jordan to its ending in Medina. Not much optimism there about that. They had tried to combine Jordan and Saudi Arabia in a tour featuring he Nabataean sites with no success.
It worked out, traveling with Linda. We did some things together and then, went out on our own - she was into riding the tube and checking out various tourist sites while I was more into walking about, taking care of odd bits of business and checking out performances. The weather held: just a few sprinkles and even some sun!
Meals: Mostly, picked up bits and pieces along the way, at the National Theatre and Pret A Manager. Linda and I did have two proper meals, one at the Wigmore and another at the West End Kitchen on Panton street. The Wigmore was at the going rate while the Kitchen was less expensive.
Accommodation: We stayed at my preferred B/B, the Hotel Celtic at Russell Square, Cost for the two was £88 per night: for a small insuite room. Breakfasts are great!
Airfare: I flew United as I could cage an Economy Plus seat for the price of an Economy seat. $707.40 SFO-LHR. (And on the return flight, a kind steward gave me a glass of champagne to sip!)
Friday, February 4, 2011
In the Sudan with Michael Asher: January 2011
A introductory day in Khartoum, eleven on the road with ten of those camel trekking, and three more decompressing in Khartoum - thus began 2011 and a good beginning it was. Full of varied sights and sounds including agonizing groans of protesting camels as they were packed up in the early AMs. Then there was finding a place to unroll the sleeping bag, somewhere between the camel leavings and the snake holes after cleaning away the rocks. And one morning, awakening to find a camel seated just in front of my nose. If it had been Sam, my cat, he would have fought to the death for inclusion in the sleeping bag.
This was an expedition I had wanted to take on for several years but it had been canceled as either not enough travelers signed up or was thought too dangerous. Subsequently, I did go on one of Michael Asher’s Moroccan treks and survived. But Morocco is not the Sudan with an itinerary rich in British military history - the trail of the failed Camel Relief operations for Gordon in the 1880s when the dervishes attacked Khartoum. In fact, Asher, an author and the last of the great desert explorers, wrote the definitive book about that “Ultimate Imperial Adventure”, Khartoum.
Five of us had traveled with Asher before while seven came from Kenya, including their trip organizer. Ages ranged from twenties to myself, one of four Seniors. We were Brits, Americans, Germans, Kenyans and a South Korean. Our backup? Thirteen camels, four camel men with their mounts and a cook: “participatory camping” as the tour books label it. Everyone pitched in with the Kenyans doing more than their share. Tents were available, but for me, the joy in this kind of travel requires sleeping in the open, counting stars as best I can, nearsighted as I am.
Khartoum was not impressive. A combination of the old and dusty with the new and incomplete. Someone (Bashir?) saw Khartoum as a potential Dubai (and we can carry that back to Dubai’s genesis, Las Vegas - and why would anyone want to copy that?) so there are bits and pieces of “Moderne” architecture, incongruent with itself and certainly, with the landscape of the country. For example, the old brick post office, left over from colonial days, could have been the basis of government. offices, at peace with the surroundings. The City Planner, if any, was not in touch with Frank Lloyd Wright’s precepts. There was not even a theme of Islamic styling which would have made sense for a Moslem state, guided by Sharia law. Anyway, the country didn’t have the money to finish the Dubai-inspired building spree. A work not in progress?
The two Niles, Blue and White, converge at Khartoum, which is a three part city. Khartoum proper where we stayed, the old City of Omdurman with its souk, the Mahdi’s tomb and the Khalifa’s House, and North Khartoum, a more industrialize area. Before starting off on the camels, there was time to tour the City with stops at several museums. I was most interested in seeing two of the existent gunboats remaining from the Sudan War with the Madhi. I did miss the Commonwealth War Cemetery - for some reason, I like the old burial grounds and am certainly glad I saw the British cemeteries at Gilgit and Kabul. Actually, I even enjoyed the day spent wandering around Arlington some years back.
The trek started at Metemma (near Shendi) and went through the Bayuda Desert to Kosti. From there we drove to the final camp site near the Old Meroe pyramids and the Lion Temple at Musawarat es Sufra. The terrain was mixed: sandy to scrub to shaley to rocky. The trek totaled some 287K of which I walked about half. The longest day was some 40K, coming into Jakdul Wells, an alcove of greenery in a very rocky land. Arrival was after dark and I had made the mistake of walking the last segment, figuring I’d trust myself trekking in, rather than the camel. Bad decision. I had no flashlight and was trailing far enough behind that I. lost sight of our group. A couple of shouts and the German veterinarian - who walked almost the entire trip - dropped back to give aid and comfort. Without his help, I might still be there.
Earlier we camped at Abu Klea, where the bloodiest battle of the Sudan War was fought. Nearby was a monument to the bravery the doomed soldiers. As I - or the camel - trudged along, I thought of those guys, over a hundred years ago, coming across this same land with hopes of saving their fellows from the enemy. Mike’s familiarity with the area and the history made it come alive for me. It is always the historical bit that catches my fancy - trekking in the footsteps of the past, as it were. And except for the first and last days, no signs of “civilization”.
There were some nomads herding goats, donkey riders passing by, camels grazing and car/truck tracks occasionally - but no vehicles. Water was gotten from local springs and wells. At one bleak spot, there was well used by the locals. For a price, a man and a young girl, with the aid of a donkey, would haul water up. They appeared to live nearby in a quite basic shelter. The meeting spot of the Bayuda. Wall Drug Store lives! (and E-mail me if you miss that allusion!)
The drill: a break every hour. I tried to alternate between walking and riding; certainly, I did better in the saddle than on the Moroccan trek. But often it was a toss up between bum butt and bum feet. Noon time gave us a ninety minute rest. Though nippy in the early AM it was quite warm in the afternoon . A couple of days there was a really significant wind chill factor. In fact, the first night, I was quite cold - it was the first and last night I changed into my nightshirt. From there on, it was sleep with clothes on. But on finding out this trip has been done in 100F weather, I realized how lucky we were.
For the most part, I manged with my camel - though we did not become close. Several of the women were devoted cameleers who identified with their mounts. But a early on, head-over-heels fall over the top when I thought to get off and he thought to get up, probably influenced our relationship: I didn't really trust him nor he, me! Neither of us were damaged though I had a sore pelvic bone from contact with the saddle horn.
The pyramids and the temples were impressive, though smaller than the Egyptian ones at Giza. The tops of the pyramids had been sheared off by an Italian treasure hunter circa 1834, There is a model showing how they would have appeared had not the Italian drifted by. We drove (for by now, we were in a minibus) on a non existent dirt road to the other artifacts: the Great Enclosure and the Lion Temple. And after a final camp lunch in a lovely shaded garden, we left for Khartoum. There was a coffee/chai stop at Ed Damer, a local market town, and a conversation with a friendly Nubian. Then back to the Acropole where the real world came to life as people sorted out their flights home.
But before leaving, there several hours with the Whirling Dervishes. A combination of county fair and religious ceremony, it was for the Sudanese. It was not a performance for tourists but was an expression of their religious belief. The grounds around the mosque were crowded with locals. The drumming was insistent and repetitious. In the early hours, would-be dervishes moved about, jumping and spinning. Later, the real pros appeared, dressed in green with red trim, circled by believers who undulated back and forth as they chanted to the drums’ rhythms. It all came to a halt with the evening Call to Prayer. I saw about a dozen Westerners and about the same number of photographers. It was a mind blowing experience, similar to some Ogalala Sioux ceremonies I’ve seen.
I had two days left after the rest had gone which I treasured. After two weeks as part of a group, I enjoyed being on my own. I wandered about, confirmed my fight, bought some scarves at a nearby souk and cleared off E-mails. The last day, the hotel proprietor arranged for me to go to Sabalooqa Falls, the Sixth and final Cataract of the Nile. A most tranquil place, I basically crashed for the half day there before heading back through the nearby small village, to town. And a 2:30 AM call for the ride to the Airport.
Khartoum was quiet during my time there, excepting some student activity in concert with the Egyptian protests. I heard some of this on the last day but saw nothing. The energy centered on the referendum occurring in the South, land of oil. The North had the refineries, built and run by Chinese, with no benefit to local workers - the Chinese brought their own. As we finished the trek, infrastructure set up for industrial use made its presence known. Cars, pickups and trailer trucks rumbled by. A sadness really, after the time of walking and riding in the isolated desert setting.
Impressions: The roads, even asphalted ones, were full of all sorts of travelers, ie: walkers, wheelchairs, donkey carts, three-wheelers, cars, pickups, buses, and trucks up to two trailers. A safe country: never felt ill at ease. People were very friendly and helpful. But you do not travel freely: there are numerous checkpoints where one’s authority to travel out of Khartoum is carefully examined.
Accommodations: When not wrapped in my sleeping bag, I stayed at the Acropole Hotel, an oldie but goodie. Marvelous place with a proprietor who was very solicitous of our well being. and a long time friend of Mike Asher. The hotel has atmosphere and good food. I have no reservations in recommending it. Full board was about $150/daily.
Food: The first question I always get from friends: what did you eat? At the hotel, ate regular food. Traveling, the camels carried our food. So much was concocted with canned this and that after the first few days of fresh fruits and vegetables. Often in the mornings, lovely pancakes with cheese or honey. Salads of one kind or another at noon. Pasta/beans at night. It took a creative genius to come up with some of the combinations. By trip’s end, the camels must have been relieved as they certainly had less to tote - no food, no riders!
Clothing: There seemed no requirement in Sudan the women be covered. though most local women were. Some men wore Western attire while others, the long, often white, gown and with a turban or pillbox hat. One of our camel men did the trek, wearing leather soled, shinny pseudo-alligator skin loafers while another was mostly barefoot.
Visas: That can get complicated. For the US, there appears to be a visa approval authorized in The Sudan, which is sent to Sudanese authorities in the US who have your passport and visa application. As I always do whenever it becomes too complex, I contact G3 in Washington DC to sort it out. I got the passport back with the visa shortly before I left.
The tour cost about $3000; air fare was $1500; tips were $200: extra time in Khartoum was $300 for he hotel and $200 for the trip to the Sixth Cataract. Care for Sam: $780.
Good trip and well worth the cost.
This was an expedition I had wanted to take on for several years but it had been canceled as either not enough travelers signed up or was thought too dangerous. Subsequently, I did go on one of Michael Asher’s Moroccan treks and survived. But Morocco is not the Sudan with an itinerary rich in British military history - the trail of the failed Camel Relief operations for Gordon in the 1880s when the dervishes attacked Khartoum. In fact, Asher, an author and the last of the great desert explorers, wrote the definitive book about that “Ultimate Imperial Adventure”, Khartoum.
Five of us had traveled with Asher before while seven came from Kenya, including their trip organizer. Ages ranged from twenties to myself, one of four Seniors. We were Brits, Americans, Germans, Kenyans and a South Korean. Our backup? Thirteen camels, four camel men with their mounts and a cook: “participatory camping” as the tour books label it. Everyone pitched in with the Kenyans doing more than their share. Tents were available, but for me, the joy in this kind of travel requires sleeping in the open, counting stars as best I can, nearsighted as I am.
Khartoum was not impressive. A combination of the old and dusty with the new and incomplete. Someone (Bashir?) saw Khartoum as a potential Dubai (and we can carry that back to Dubai’s genesis, Las Vegas - and why would anyone want to copy that?) so there are bits and pieces of “Moderne” architecture, incongruent with itself and certainly, with the landscape of the country. For example, the old brick post office, left over from colonial days, could have been the basis of government. offices, at peace with the surroundings. The City Planner, if any, was not in touch with Frank Lloyd Wright’s precepts. There was not even a theme of Islamic styling which would have made sense for a Moslem state, guided by Sharia law. Anyway, the country didn’t have the money to finish the Dubai-inspired building spree. A work not in progress?
The two Niles, Blue and White, converge at Khartoum, which is a three part city. Khartoum proper where we stayed, the old City of Omdurman with its souk, the Mahdi’s tomb and the Khalifa’s House, and North Khartoum, a more industrialize area. Before starting off on the camels, there was time to tour the City with stops at several museums. I was most interested in seeing two of the existent gunboats remaining from the Sudan War with the Madhi. I did miss the Commonwealth War Cemetery - for some reason, I like the old burial grounds and am certainly glad I saw the British cemeteries at Gilgit and Kabul. Actually, I even enjoyed the day spent wandering around Arlington some years back.
The trek started at Metemma (near Shendi) and went through the Bayuda Desert to Kosti. From there we drove to the final camp site near the Old Meroe pyramids and the Lion Temple at Musawarat es Sufra. The terrain was mixed: sandy to scrub to shaley to rocky. The trek totaled some 287K of which I walked about half. The longest day was some 40K, coming into Jakdul Wells, an alcove of greenery in a very rocky land. Arrival was after dark and I had made the mistake of walking the last segment, figuring I’d trust myself trekking in, rather than the camel. Bad decision. I had no flashlight and was trailing far enough behind that I. lost sight of our group. A couple of shouts and the German veterinarian - who walked almost the entire trip - dropped back to give aid and comfort. Without his help, I might still be there.
Earlier we camped at Abu Klea, where the bloodiest battle of the Sudan War was fought. Nearby was a monument to the bravery the doomed soldiers. As I - or the camel - trudged along, I thought of those guys, over a hundred years ago, coming across this same land with hopes of saving their fellows from the enemy. Mike’s familiarity with the area and the history made it come alive for me. It is always the historical bit that catches my fancy - trekking in the footsteps of the past, as it were. And except for the first and last days, no signs of “civilization”.
There were some nomads herding goats, donkey riders passing by, camels grazing and car/truck tracks occasionally - but no vehicles. Water was gotten from local springs and wells. At one bleak spot, there was well used by the locals. For a price, a man and a young girl, with the aid of a donkey, would haul water up. They appeared to live nearby in a quite basic shelter. The meeting spot of the Bayuda. Wall Drug Store lives! (and E-mail me if you miss that allusion!)
The drill: a break every hour. I tried to alternate between walking and riding; certainly, I did better in the saddle than on the Moroccan trek. But often it was a toss up between bum butt and bum feet. Noon time gave us a ninety minute rest. Though nippy in the early AM it was quite warm in the afternoon . A couple of days there was a really significant wind chill factor. In fact, the first night, I was quite cold - it was the first and last night I changed into my nightshirt. From there on, it was sleep with clothes on. But on finding out this trip has been done in 100F weather, I realized how lucky we were.
For the most part, I manged with my camel - though we did not become close. Several of the women were devoted cameleers who identified with their mounts. But a early on, head-over-heels fall over the top when I thought to get off and he thought to get up, probably influenced our relationship: I didn't really trust him nor he, me! Neither of us were damaged though I had a sore pelvic bone from contact with the saddle horn.
The pyramids and the temples were impressive, though smaller than the Egyptian ones at Giza. The tops of the pyramids had been sheared off by an Italian treasure hunter circa 1834, There is a model showing how they would have appeared had not the Italian drifted by. We drove (for by now, we were in a minibus) on a non existent dirt road to the other artifacts: the Great Enclosure and the Lion Temple. And after a final camp lunch in a lovely shaded garden, we left for Khartoum. There was a coffee/chai stop at Ed Damer, a local market town, and a conversation with a friendly Nubian. Then back to the Acropole where the real world came to life as people sorted out their flights home.
But before leaving, there several hours with the Whirling Dervishes. A combination of county fair and religious ceremony, it was for the Sudanese. It was not a performance for tourists but was an expression of their religious belief. The grounds around the mosque were crowded with locals. The drumming was insistent and repetitious. In the early hours, would-be dervishes moved about, jumping and spinning. Later, the real pros appeared, dressed in green with red trim, circled by believers who undulated back and forth as they chanted to the drums’ rhythms. It all came to a halt with the evening Call to Prayer. I saw about a dozen Westerners and about the same number of photographers. It was a mind blowing experience, similar to some Ogalala Sioux ceremonies I’ve seen.
I had two days left after the rest had gone which I treasured. After two weeks as part of a group, I enjoyed being on my own. I wandered about, confirmed my fight, bought some scarves at a nearby souk and cleared off E-mails. The last day, the hotel proprietor arranged for me to go to Sabalooqa Falls, the Sixth and final Cataract of the Nile. A most tranquil place, I basically crashed for the half day there before heading back through the nearby small village, to town. And a 2:30 AM call for the ride to the Airport.
Khartoum was quiet during my time there, excepting some student activity in concert with the Egyptian protests. I heard some of this on the last day but saw nothing. The energy centered on the referendum occurring in the South, land of oil. The North had the refineries, built and run by Chinese, with no benefit to local workers - the Chinese brought their own. As we finished the trek, infrastructure set up for industrial use made its presence known. Cars, pickups and trailer trucks rumbled by. A sadness really, after the time of walking and riding in the isolated desert setting.
Impressions: The roads, even asphalted ones, were full of all sorts of travelers, ie: walkers, wheelchairs, donkey carts, three-wheelers, cars, pickups, buses, and trucks up to two trailers. A safe country: never felt ill at ease. People were very friendly and helpful. But you do not travel freely: there are numerous checkpoints where one’s authority to travel out of Khartoum is carefully examined.
Accommodations: When not wrapped in my sleeping bag, I stayed at the Acropole Hotel, an oldie but goodie. Marvelous place with a proprietor who was very solicitous of our well being. and a long time friend of Mike Asher. The hotel has atmosphere and good food. I have no reservations in recommending it. Full board was about $150/daily.
Food: The first question I always get from friends: what did you eat? At the hotel, ate regular food. Traveling, the camels carried our food. So much was concocted with canned this and that after the first few days of fresh fruits and vegetables. Often in the mornings, lovely pancakes with cheese or honey. Salads of one kind or another at noon. Pasta/beans at night. It took a creative genius to come up with some of the combinations. By trip’s end, the camels must have been relieved as they certainly had less to tote - no food, no riders!
Clothing: There seemed no requirement in Sudan the women be covered. though most local women were. Some men wore Western attire while others, the long, often white, gown and with a turban or pillbox hat. One of our camel men did the trek, wearing leather soled, shinny pseudo-alligator skin loafers while another was mostly barefoot.
Visas: That can get complicated. For the US, there appears to be a visa approval authorized in The Sudan, which is sent to Sudanese authorities in the US who have your passport and visa application. As I always do whenever it becomes too complex, I contact G3 in Washington DC to sort it out. I got the passport back with the visa shortly before I left.
The tour cost about $3000; air fare was $1500; tips were $200: extra time in Khartoum was $300 for he hotel and $200 for the trip to the Sixth Cataract. Care for Sam: $780.
Good trip and well worth the cost.
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