Once we arrived in Aswan, we encountered a small problem, we had two fixers. The first being Masir and Magdi’s fixer named Kamil, and the second Muhammad. The obvious difference was that Muhammad Budda spoke much better English so we left for the hotel with Muhammad, promptly checking in before drinking a cold beer. The following day being Friday (an Islamic Sunday), there was nothing we could do. Saturday we were picked up by Muhammad and taken to customs. We waited two hours just to get inside, and then we were scolded by the customs guy for not taking Kamil, Muhammad was also given a bullocking, then we just had to go through the motions, at a very slow pace. It took both customs guys three hours to process five carnets, what most countries can do in just twenty minutes. Regardless, I don’t want to get into the whole lengthy description of what to do. My advice would be to take Masir and Magdi’s fixer and go with the flow.
The port man offered his office to us to get out of the sun, he also wanted Andreas to sit at his desk so he did, pretending to be an Egyptian official. No offense intended, just some tension release ….
In the end we all got our vehicles out of customs on Sunday at 2:30pm. Rui had to rush off as he needed to be in Cairo Monday night to catch a plane to South Africa to see his ailing Grandmother. The rest of the posse rode to Luxor to do some sightseeing. It is no longer necessary to travel by convoy, however one has to be off the highway by 6pm. We made it to Luxor at ten to six. As a side note, don’t bother trying to do the process yourself, unless of course you speak Arabic and have an uncanny sense of direction. In terms of the frustration of getting the bikes out of customs, I will relate a story that Rui told us while we waited, observed, and accepted the conditions with smiles … ‘Some scientists did an experiment; they put five monkeys in a cage with a ladder that lead to a bunch of bananas. When the first monkey climbed the ladder to get the bananas, water sprayed down on the monkeys, causing the first monkey to take a beating for getting the other monkeys wet. Later a second monkey tried climbing the ladder, and again the other monkeys got wet and beat the second monkey. As time went by, the scientists took out one of the monkeys and put in a new one. When the new one started to climb the ladder, the other monkeys immediately started to beat him even before the water sprayed down on them. Eventually they replaced all the old monkeys with new ones, and when the fifth new monkey arrived in the cage and tried to climb the ladder they beat him too, even though the water had never ever sprayed down on the new monkey’s history since their arrival within the cage’. Redundancy is a crazy animal, and one who is without reason or contemplation.
The four of us ended up here, a very nice hotel and if you book online you can save yourself 2/3 of the price, the Isis.
Seeing Dale off, we got stuck in the elevator for fifteen minutes ….
These are the local helmets, why bother is what I think.
It’s hard not to get frustrated from the hassling here, and the outright lies and deceit. We agreed on a price to get me back to the hotel, and once arriving he wanted double the money for the horse. They will try everything to get more money out of you.
Around here Andreas and I found a place to buy beer and wine, down an alley without the inflated prices of the hotel.
Please allow me to introduce The Temple of Luxor ….
Rudi, Andreas and I decided to stay an extra day, just to chill and not have to do something other than the free things we’re fortunate to do. Tomorrow we all head north, with no plan and no convoy, we shall see …..
Sandi my friend back in South Africa, sent me an article she wrote a while back, as if to remind me of our own thoughts again, and the timing couldn’t be better ….
Attitude is Everything
Published: April 26, 2010Posted in: Travel Stories
The difference between having a wonderful travel experience and a terrifying, horrible one is attitude. It’s the old thing of seeing the glass half full vs half empty. And remarkably, the outcome of a lot of encounters lies in your attitude.
Markus Wade finally arrived at our bike shop in Fish Hoek. I’d responded to his email and then a few weeks later he casually rolled up at our door. His bike was clearly his home and his best friend. He had a mound of luggage strapped on the back, a worn out sheep skin tied on this saddle and his boxes were dented and covered with stickers from all the places he’d travelled through. He’d also stuck on various things like keys, bullets, rocks and even a turtle shell. I started to go through all the curious items and each of them unfolded a story of the people who had given them to him. He spoke with fondness and wonder of all the people and their kindness, their intrigue with having met him and their wishing to be remembered on his travels.
Markus is now off again on more explorations in South Africa but I miss his daily visits to the shop. And this made me realise that the key to having a wonderful travel experience is all in attitude. It is about being open to meeting people and even though you have almost nothing but the bare essentials, sharing your stories and good nature is what people really want from you. In exchange, they share their country, culture and kindness.
I’ve also met people who fear the places they travel through. They see every person on the road as a potential threat and avoid getting involved. They complain of bribes, theft, fights and come to hate the whole experience. Sadly there are so many of this kind of traveller about and quite honestly, they are missing the point and beauty of being out there.
I am one of those happy travellers who have nothing but serendipity to report on. I’ve pack-packed, package holidayed, weekend-breaked, gap-yeared and ridden my bike across Africa. I consider myself to be a travelling soul with some great experiences – so here are some tips on how to handle travel and get the best out of the people you meet.
Smile
Do you remember the song in the King and I that says “I always whistle a happy tune so that nobody knows I’m afraid”? You could whistle but that might irritate so you should simply smile. A smile is a good way of showing your attitude up front and hopefully will hide any fears you have. I remember crossing the border into Bulgaria where bribes were standard. The car in front of me was clearly having problems and the passengers were clearly getting all hot and bothered. When my turn came to face the border patrol I took my helmet off, got off my bike and approached the surely face as if he were my old friend. “Hello!” I smiled. His stoney face broke into a smile. I had to ask all kinds of stupid questions about insurance and road tax and by the time I left he saluted me off and sang Queen’s song “I like to ride my bicycle” out loud as my bike puttered off.
Patience
The guys who work at the border are doing jobs. They work certain hours and I don’t. I might really want to get through the border as quickly as I can but there really is no reason to rush things if I can use time to my advantage. For instance, there have been a few officials on my travels who clearly would have done their job a lot faster if I paid “extra” to motivate them. I’ve taken my maps out, read my travel guide and almost had a full-on picnic at the counter. I know of guys getting their cooker out and even planning to put up a tent. I think the thought of having you there all day is too much and amazingly the paperwork gets done. 
Diplomacy
When I was in Sudan, the two Swedes we were travelling with made the error calling an official corrupt. The Swede’s English was good but not that good and the official’s English was good enough to take massive offence to the accusation. They narrowly escaped, running out of the building yelling to us to “Go! Go! Go!” We didn’t question, just jumped onto our bikes and started riding out of town as fast as possible, not stopping at any of the police blocks. Sudan is the kind of place I didn’t want to get stuck in some prison cell for a minor offensive use of language.
My travel partner Paul was the master of diplomacy. Once in Poland we were being roughed up by some tram official that we both suspected was a scam. While I started a massive verbal onslaught of manners and pointing out how unfair this all was using a bit of foul language to make my point, Paul took out his note book and pen. He calmly asked for the man’s name and details as he would first verify the legitimacy of the encounter first. Just like that, the man turned around and walked off. We were left by ourselves wondering what had happened – and then hurried off to get lost in a crowd.
Another time at a border we were being asked for a lot of money by an official. Paul very politely explained that perhaps he hadn’t explained the situation and in his proper British way gave our story again of how we had already crossed the border and didn’t pay this fee then so it was a misunderstanding after all. In no time we were off with handshakes and stamps in our passports not having paid any extra.
When in these situations, be polite and wise with words. Negotiate with the greatest of respect to the person involved giving them the option to be the bigger person and solve your problem. That way you get to go and they get to be helpful.
Entertain
I know it is tough to be a socialite when you have just spent eight hours in the saddle traversing tricky roads and now you are in need of a shower and an ice cold beer while watching the sunset on you own. But sometimes you need to entertain the masses. Especially when travelling in places that people don’t see that many big adventure bikes with scruffy bikers and all our curious gear. We humoured many children with our cameras, gps and various technological bits and pieces. Nothing was stolen. There were many times, especially in Ethiopia, when just making a cup of tea on our tiny hi-tech cooker drew a large crowd. Fixing a bike can also draw an entire village out to sit there and watch in absolute fascination. This is the beauty of travel. We are travelling to see them but they wish to see us just as much. Let’s face it, adventure travellers are a curious bunch of individuals. Locals pick up on this fact. Also, by demonstrating and interacting it is less likely to have things stolen because you are giving them what they want – the thrill of seeing you in action and sharing your time and making friends.
Be Grateful
In Turkey we were treated like royalty. This is because the Arab culture believes that a traveller is a gift from God. On a regular basis complete strangers bought us food and helped us with our bikes. They would accept no money and weren’t hoping to cash in on a free holiday one day. In Sudan people were very hesitant to communicate with foreigners because it would mean a meeting with the police for them. But even so, when we camped in the evenings inevitably a child would come over with a bowl of dates and some fresh water. In return we were grateful. We appreciated their kindness and made sure we expressed gratitude and didn’t abuse the generosity.
Some of the poorest people in the world are the most generous. I think that any traveller will agree with this truth. It is a humbling experience. We should feel gratitude for their generosity and for all the luxury and money we have that enables us to travel.
Respect
I know it isn’t easy to fit in to a culture when it doesn’t make sense and possibly you fundamentally disagree with certain things. For instance, as a woman and a biker, I often find myself in a situation that I’m pushing the boundary of what is considered to be a woman’s role. Some guys find this difficult to handle. Some guys are outright outraged. When I was in Syria I had to completely disguise myself as a man and avoid being seeing on the bike at all. I hated this! I’m a biker chick and proud of it. But at the end of the day, I was in their country and whether or not I liked it, the fact remained that I was in their country. I had to show respect.
Follow your Gut
When we travel we will meet some bad people who know we are unsuspecting, potential victims. We find ourselves in places that are dangerous. No travel guide can prevent these situations from arising. But you can trust your gut. If you aren’t sure or don’t feel at ease about something, leave as swiftly as you can. I would avoid making a scene and simply try to smile, say thank you if you must and leave. I’ve often thought that one of the reasons my travels have been safe and happy is because I listen to my gut. This helps to avoid danger. It also helps me to recognise good people and places.
Serendipity
Serendipity has been voted one of the top ten English words hardest to translate. All be it a really hard to get your head around, it is one of those things that a happy traveller will get to appreciate and understand even if they can’t explain it. Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally stumbles upon something fortunate, especially while looking for something entirely unrelated.
And so whatever it may be that sets you off on a journey; take a great attitude with you. The world is a wonderful, curious place full of adventure and interesting people. Take the time to enjoy the whole experience because travel is a journey of the soul.
I was up early to hit the road, said good-bye to Andreas (and Rudi through Andreas), and we agreed we would probably see each other in El Minia the same night.
I encountered countless police checks, and for the most part they said ‘Go’. But eventually, I started landing at police checks or roving police trucks, stopping me, asking me where I’m going and then asking me to follow them, without ever knowing the reason why, for when they asked if I spoke Arabic and answered no, they would just use the sign for come/wait, which in Italy and other countries means fuck you.
This was my first escort, following at 50km/hour. After becoming restless I would sign to the guys in the back, ‘Me, go ahead’. No was the answer with the wag of the finger. Eventually I pulled over to get some fuel, to leave them driving ahead. Unfortunately the petrol station had no benzene, so I got back on the road to find the truck coming at me and the police waving for me to pull over. I still had no idea why I had to follow them in the first place, and of course had no choice but to stop. After five minutes on the police phone, I was told by the leader to go. Really? So I left.
After this police check for ten minutes waiting for I don’t know, I was then told I could leave. This went on all day, at least twenty times. As it was I was trying to cover close to 500km’s, and growing more and more impatient as the day wore on.
One time I was passing a parked police truck parked in the shade on the side of the road. In that split second I saw the ‘four fingers pointed together sign again’, but chose just to wave and keep going. Ten kilometers later I was stopped at a police check, to pull over and wait for the police coming in a truck I was told in sign language. It was the same truck I had passed earlier. He said, ‘Do you speak Arabic? No. (the four finger sign and again I had to follow this truck at 50 km/hour for another 2o kilometers, until we reached another police check/provincial border post). Many officials came out asking me the same questions I’d been answering all day, ‘Where you go? El Minia. Not Asyut. No El Minia, if I can ever get going that is. Finally I guy who could speak the most English said with his four fingers to come. Four policemen again hopped in a car this time, and asked me to lead and I did. Riding through the Eastern Desert at 100km’s, I lost them a few times up the small but long upgrades, with a friendly chuckle within my helmet.
We reached another provincial border post and the police car behind me put on the lights and siren for me to stop, turn around and pull over. Again not knowing what the heck was going on, but knowing instinctively that I was being escorted, I stopped to take a piss with all the men and then was swapped cops and vehicles to continue with my fifth escort for the day. I said good-bye to the police car dudes, for they were the coolest. Actually at one point I said to the coolest dude that the armoured doors that the police hide behind had bullets punctured in the wee bullet proof glass. He answered by pulling out his gun, swinging it around like Clint and then mock shot at it. After 20 minutes, I left them behind with their front hood open, trying to cool the engine down, before leaving with the next group. The main guy pointed to my speedometer which doesn’t work, at the 90km mark. It didn’t matter as we rode at 50 kms/per hour again, the two cops in the back bored as usual, but then again, what do I know.
Then the truck pulled over about half way to El Minia. They waved for me to go on, after the truck broke down or they ran out of gas I don’t know. Actually maybe they were again swapping with the police truck coming from the direction we were headed in. I don’t know, I just left.
Again I was stopped at the last police check for the day, was told to follow yet another vehicle into El Minia, but that was stopped by someone on the other end of a cell phone. So finally I rode into El Minia and found a hotel to stay in. While walking up to my room with my courier bag unzipped, the man behind the desk said, ‘Close your bag’. ‘I don’t think so’, I answered. I have to say, maybe it’s a language thing but I’m really losing patience with the forcefulness of the Egyptians …. Walking into a shop to see if they have maps of the middle east I was told, ‘Sit down here. I don’t want to sit down. Do you have maps of Jordan, Syria and Turkey? Yes, look at these. Those are tourist pamphlets with a map of a ten mile radius in Luxor, Egypt. (do you think I’m stupid I’m always thinking). Anyway the truth is I’m tired of this type of travelling. There is no nature any more, no quiet peaceful roads to ride with the bike alone.
So I’ve decided to skip the Jordan, Syria, Turkey, Bulgaria, Bosnia, Macedonia, Serbia, Croatia route, opting for the only ferry connection out of Egypt which only started running in May of 2010, Alexandria to Venice. I had researched two months ago, but was innocently reminded by my father who asked a couple of days ago, if I was going to take a ferry out of Egypt or ride around. This started the mind rolling again, and today I booked the last berth on the entire boat; most certainly serendipitous. I long for personal freedom, an everyday ease and interaction, a place to stay for more than two days, a place I can remember for more than just the name; female encounters, male revelry without a purpose, a good bottle of wine, time for my journal, and most importantly, to feel without feeling too much and to really feel, to give and receive, to speak honestly without harsh judgment, to trust and be trusted, to live and let live. Maybe just maybe, I may be doing exactly what I desire, and maybe too, it is also just mine, no lo say.
As a side note, it turned out that Rudi and Andreas found a hotel right across the street from my hotel, so we had dinner together, and I met some real domestic, happy dogs from some ladies sitting nearby. I couldn’t believe it when these dogs came up to me without fear, tails wagging and healthy and all; such a treat. Tomorrow I will ride with A&R to Giza, to get a picture of the Pyramids, and hopefully to avoid more than necessary hassle from the safety police, for I believe the idea is to protect the tourists, considering the recent killings from days gone by …. for it’s kind of like the other analogies I’ve made before …. to protect oneself is to provide fuel for the food of fear’s necessities. I have to go with John and Bob on this one….
We left El Miani early in the morning, only to be stopped by an armed off duty plained clothed traffic cop claiming we needed a personal escort to Cairo, for the Armenians were so terrible. I said nothing, not knowing anything, though thinking I’ve gotten this far so why do I need you for the obvious costs. Andreas had had enough too, and said to the man just get in the truck, and we left, skipping the police checks along the way because of the traffic cop who just waved, ‘I’ve got gringos wish me luck’ I was thinking, which was nice, especially after yesterdays delays. I was pleasantly sandwiched in between Rudi and Andreas’ cars (trucks) for the ride to Cairo, which was good to share the road together, suddenly free of being the only traveller riding on a bike and subsequently stopped all the time as you’ve heard already before. 
Below is the armed escort siting in the passenger seat of Andrea's car, and we tipped him of course, who could not, it's such a belligerent excuse for getting rid of your money ....
Once in Cairo, we gave up on the idea of saving money by camping somewhere we knew would be impossible to find if even if it existed, and booked our rooms online inside the lobby of the hotel I found on the internet, saving ourselves one hundred US, settling for $45US per night. A palatial enterprise to say the least, a depot for rich travellers who land here via an aircraft and taxi, prepared to spend loads of money on Coke and Pepsi, food and a few drinks.
The next day we took a taxi to the mall 30 kms away to get Rudi a new GPS which was not working, it took fifteen minutes to negotiate the price to get there, and changed every kilometer after that, the car and driver pulling over to start the process again (I feel really sorry for those who land here in Egypt/Africa by air, with no process riding up to here if you know what I mean), and even still we had to reconfirm many times over. I’m sorry to say but, the Egyptians are crooks, they lie and deceive, and yet there is a respect when one has had enough. It’s difficult to explain just now, for it’s like your new best friend suddenly telling you that he is not who he was before, the previous negotiation lost and forgotten in the pasts of horns and flashing lights.
I said good-bye to Andreas and Rudi, gave them some of Stephen's golden eggs, before leaving for Alexandria ....
I got lost for hours, looking for the hotel I had booked online, the Raddisson Blu which was the cheapest of all, except it wasn't in Alexandria, in fact twenty K outside, so I hired the first cabbie to take me to the Raddisson, which wasn't the Blu but rather the Raddisson Windsor, and the second to take me outside of the city to the Blu, which cost me 14US, both escorts included, and I even helped the second cabbie find the place, seeing a large sign on the side of the road which he quickly drove past and missed.
Going back in time, I stopped under the shade of a tree, and was asked to leave immediately, a government/embassy place I assumed, they wouldn't even let me look at my GPS, for fear of a bombing or something. ''Thank you Alexandria', I said to the most hostile guy, the soldier being the coolest dude I said I would go, after not imputing the information I needed to find out where I was going. (huge huge sigh goes here)
Eventually I found the Raddisson with the help of a second cabbie, finding the most luxurious place I have ever stayed in. Oh my word, I can't tell you how desperately I want out of this kind of life style. All I dream of is a quiet little abode that doesn't cost much without any amenities whatsoever, not including a private bathroom, nor free tea and a waiter at your hand and feet. I am so powerless here, and wish only for a place to stay that isn't what it is, even though it is something I have always wondered about. Camping with a fire would be ideal .... I dream of Canada now, like Tom Waits says ....
Here is a recording of an Egyptian Wedding at 12am the other night as I was falling asleep ...
Click here and there .... CairoWeddingMusic
The best thing that happened to me in a long time was while I was riding through Alexandria, a woman looked at me riding by, smiling genuinely, and as I looked back, she did too. Female interaction is pretty much void, so it was a big deal, and left me feeling natural again.
In the morning, after thinking is everything sorted in terms of the process of leaving Egypt, I called the man I talked to yesterday, Mr. Walid. He said he had received my photocopies of passport and carnet, and then added, did you get the release papers from the traffic police? No, I thought you were doing this. So I jumped into action; firstly having reception call Walid to reconfirm the process in Arabic, secondly to give the address to a driver who spoke English, then to give him the instructions for my purpose in Arabic to doubly make sure, then to drive there with the driver as my guide and interpreter. Being Ramadan, everything was going to close early, so I had the driver step on the pedal. Once there we found hundreds of people queuing, and told that they were going to shut in fifteen minutes. It was then, Karib the driver said he was going to phone someone and maybe pay them, and that's when a short, friendly woman showed up to ask Karib what we wanted. He told her and then the process began. She kept running from window to window, grabbing papers from me, and then returning to other windows, returning to give me back papers and take some new ones, rushing off to other windows and then giving me some more. Eventually the whole thing was done in less than 30 minutes, and cost me $20US, and $10US for Karib. The other people would unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow if they were lucky. While leaving I had Karib call Mr. Walid, to confirm over the phone that the wee document I had was the one he needed, and it was, 'You are finished', he said. I had Karib read the paper out loud to me to confirm what the Arabic writing said, and all seemed good. I really wish I could have taken pictures of these office windows, behind the workers, tons of papers falling out of folders stacked to the ceiling. It really is a wonder how any office can keep track of everything.
Back at the hotel, I talked with for quite some time to the receptionist who helped me get the ball rolling, describing my decision to travel as I do, and to answer her curious questions. I also re-re confirmed the route to take to ride to the correct port gate tomorrow, before tinkering on the lobby piano sitting lonely off in the corner of this massive hotel.
Later I researched places to stay in Venice, affordable accommodation for Egypt has taken a serious bite out of my finances, except for fuel of course. It took hours but I eventually learned and figured out the pro's and con's of staying in Venice, booking a camping place outside of the island and on the mainland. The only thing I can't quite nail down even though I am confident I will on arrival, is where to buy my 'Green Card', third party insurance for the bike in most of Europe. I'm quite certain I won't be able to take my bike out of the port until I produce to the customs people proof of insurance, but know that there is an ACI office at the port so it shouldn't be a problem, just spending the money is all that hurts these days, just like everyone else in the world.
Currently I'm waiting for an expensive shite bottle of wine to arrive at my room, but now the Muslim staff are having 'Break Fast', so I must wait to toast my father's birthday which is tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY POPS!!
Excerpt from Journal .... Day 231 Bariloche, No rain but dark and cloudy. Not much to do but talk, watch TV, music, eat, nothing more. Now I feel she has pulled away, so I try, and I watch her and maybe they see me too. I don't know, the feeling's are mixed, hot and cold, she takes birth control so how could she be totally gay, or maybe so? She's not, but she's young, with an old soul. So I drink wine, and talk and wait .... in the morning she asks immediately as I enter the room, 'What's wrong Markus?' 'How do you know something is wrong?, I wonder. ' 'I can see it in your face'. 'Yes .... well the weather is dark and cold ....', as they keep packing while I drink mate and smoke. 'What are you doing Markus?' 'I think I'm going but the weather sucks' I answer. We pack, and say good-bye, and I see them hitching on the road an hour later, so I stop for a smoke and another good-bye to see them one last time. Why does a man who hates good-bye's go on a motorcycle all over the world to say good-bye again and again? So I left, didn't even see Nick, or talk about the future, that relationship I was hoping to end to move further from a sacrificial lamb sort of way ..... mucho ablo.... , nada comminando, so I rode out of the dark cold, and a few hours later reached the hot and windy; heat rash on my shins again over and over again; the kind that remembers you, and the places you've been before. I miss you my friends, and wish you the very best for the future always. XO Damn I miss you my friends. XO
I arrived at the Alexandria port, and while waiting two motorcycles arrived separately, one a Spanish dude named Raul, and an Italian couple Federico and Bruna. I asked them if they had gotten the release paper from the Traffic Police, but they had not. Ummm, so I thought best not to show this paper until asked, so I don’t create a disturbance for the other travellers. A while later three cars arrived, an Italian couple, Mauricio and Greta, a French couple, Pierre and Diana, and a German man, who’s name I have forgotten or never really knew, for I believe he is more of a ghost than me. After waiting for three hours, we handed our passports to the shipping agent, and received our copies of the ticket for the Vismar 1 ferry. They couldn’t find mine at first, and already I was having terrible thoughts about being left in Alexandria for another week, until the boat arrived again from Venezia. However, I asked to look through the papers myself, and found my name, whew.
After a five star man arrived, yelling at the two young agents, we were escorted into the port, to be searched with a mirror and sniffing German Shepherd. Then again lead to the customs office, where we were told to take our bags out and open them for inspection. After this long process, we handed in our carnets, passports and watched the guy do the pencil rub again, copying the VIN numbers by rubbing a pencil over on a piece of paper. After standing around for hours , we were asked to remove our Egyptian license plates, finally something is getting done. And again we hung around waiting ….. after the sun set, all of the government staff ate for the first time in the day, and when they had all finished, we hung around looking at our watches thinking when are they going to stamp our carnets and return them to us. At this time it was already 7:15pm, and the boat was scheduled to depart at 8pm. And then the great play unfolded it’s timely final act; I was asked to present my Traffic Police form, ‘Yes I have it, but no one has asked me for it until now.’ 'Give it to me'. The German travelling solo had also gotten his in the morning before arriving at the port, he told me he paid $150 Egyptian pounds, I had paid $100 EP. But none of the others were told to get this paper, and of course they did not have. By 8pm, the customs people gave back all our carnets stamped, so everything was looking good once again. While cueing up in line to travel to the Vismar, a commotion erupted amongst the customs people, the police and the agents. Then the agents came over to us and presented this choice to the other two bikes and two cars; ‘You can stay, or you can pay’. The excuse was they needed $100 Euros each to insure the vehicles, in case their release forms were not cleared after we had already set sail. So faced with no alternative, before some pleading with the agents and customs people, they all had to pay. This process took 30 minutes to do, including yelling back and forth among the Egyptians, probably about the price of such a process, for originally they wanted $500, all of them wondering if they could actually get more, until finally they waved us out of customs. We followed the police escort through the port and were stopped again. This time some other customs people were making an Egyptian man take out all of the things in his van for inspection again. We were all standing by our vehicles saying now what? We could see the ship in the distance, all of us fearing that we would not ever get on the boat as it was already 8:45pm. Then after the fleecing with the Egyptian man, they went to the German and asked him to remove everything from his truck, including the fridge. And that’s when the German had finally had enough. He was yelling back at the Egyptian Customs, ‘You stupid man I cannot take the fridge out of the truck, it is impossible! Impossible!! I am not going into Egypt, I am leaving you asshole!!’ The customs guy started yelling back at him in Arabic and then left without looking in the German’s truck at all. All hell was breaking loose, and I thought for sure we were all going to have to strip our vehicles, or pay some quick money to catch the ferry. Then suddenly while we were contemplating our fate, we were asked to move on. But yet again we were stopped, without an apparent reason, and again finally asked to move on.
And much to our relief, we arrived at the rear of the Vismar, hundreds more Customs people standing or sitting around with their official white uniforms, paid to do who knows what, except maybe to intimidate. And just when we thought we were going to get out of Egypt and aboard the ferry, we were asked to turn off the vehicles, and step far away, so we did. And that’s when they pulled out the 5 ton truck/x-ray machine on wheels. So for another twenty minutes we watched while this truck crawled along our vehicles, us standing only 20 feet away with all the customs people. I was thinking if this truck had an xray machine powerful enough to see inside these consumer trucks and our bikes, well then surely the device which is pointed in our direction is driving through our veins as we think about it. Crazy, and maybe just a show of some sort, like a sex act in Amsterdams redlight district. And then the moment I was now begging for from the spirits above; to get the hell out of Egypt, came as peacefully as we were never there. We drove into the cargo holding area of the ship, and suddenly the energy shifted. A few Italian men were quietly strapping down our bikes, and organizing the trucks quickly and efficiently. I was unpacking my bike with such a hatred for Egypt, looking out at the men standing around in their white suits thinking I never will come here again. When we were heading up the elevator to reception, I asked Frederico the Italian biker to ask the porter if this boat was employed by Egyptians or Italians and the answer was, ‘The Captain, the Chef and the crew are Italian, but the Bad Man on the radio is Egyptian’. It’s such bullshit, so asinine, so corrupt and disgusting that this country works like this, every where and all the time, even also for the Egyptians themselves. The hatches sealed, all of us checked into our rooms, and the boat sailing out of the harbour, the group of us sat together toasting with beers, at having made it out. I must say, despite the emotions and stress of the day, we all kept our humour, and had some laughs throughout the day. At one point one Egyptian had said to Diana the French woman, ‘You Europeans have watches, and we have time’.
