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A Sentimental Journey Across Egypt, Libya, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and Italy II
(cont. from now205.)
Day Three:
Have fleeting thought that this might not be day three, but day two.
After morning-long tussle with questions as to the validity of counting Day One, the Late Day, as it has been christened, as Day One, decide that it probably is Day One, even if it began late, and that makes this Day Three. Which is handy, as that's what the title at the top of the diary page says. Actually, the titling of the page Day Three may have had more sway in defining that day than anything else.
Remember, with a start, about the scorpions and whip the covers and mattresses off the beds, leaping to one of the bedposts. Bedposts in Egypt are not made with the thought in mind that travellers may be leaping on to them to escape potential scorpions. This could be considered Egypt's major flaw. Maybe if they'd put platforms of some sort and reinforced metal bars or something, with the metal bars covered by something soft, like extra pillows or something, I'm not entirely sure, that might be a matter of personal taste and flair, a bit of creativity in the whole enterprise.
At any rate, if they had drafted proper laws about the solidity and stability of bedposts I probably wouldn't have fallen off and nearly concussed myself on the marble floor. Unable to stand for a few moments, surveyed the floor for scorpions and/or snakes. Seeing none of either, took the opportunity to enjoy the smoothness of the marble floor against my cheek. Attempted to stand when I realised I could wiggle my toes and my neck appeared to have full range of movement again. Couldn't speak, but decided to worry about that later and went out to get breakfast, which consisted of a hard boiled egg, bread with a little sand on it, and tea.
Made our way into the desert in jeeps, which people of the Bahariya Oasis learn to drive at a very early age (which is where we were, it wouldn't make very much sense commenting on how people drive in other parts of the world, say, Boston, from an early age, when we were in the Bahariya Oasis). They drive remarkably similar to how I'd imagine Boston people would drive, were there giant piles of sand and rock and the occasional bush all over Massachusetts. Which is to say, they pretty much drive in a straight line until it might be hazardous to their health to continue straight on, which they do for a further 50 metres, then veer wildly to the left or right (according to whim, largely, despite recent scientific studies' results), and continue straight on once they appear to regain some sort of control over the vehicle.
After a bit of that, we arrive at a swimming hole, which is a concrete tank lined with slimey green stuff which is probably safe to swim in, if not easy to walk on, and we lose one member of the group, as they can't manage to not slip long enough whilst trying to get out of the pleasantly warm, if a bit sulphur-smelling water, and we have to abandon them. After cooking a real Egyptian meal of chicken and rice and something else they call tomato sauce we return to the pool with a bit of the food to see if they've managed to get out of the pool or throw a bit in, if they've not managed to and haven't drowned as of yet, and find they've been replaced by a load of French people. This apparently happens quite regularly in Egypt, and our guides make no special deal out of the incident.
We all reflect quietly on the departed/French-transmogrified colleague in travel as we pile back into the jeeps and begin our journey out to our camp for the evening, somewhere out in the middle of the desert, which is almost dark at this point. You're reminded you're still in the desert, however, by the large amount of sand and lack of much else and the decided lack of trees to bump into with the jeep.
Day Four:
Fairly comfortable calling this Day Four, trying not to recall the doubts that plagued me yesterday morning. Day Three morning, to reinforce the naming scheme we've decided to use.
Very much more quickly remember imminent scorpion threat, which I'd apparently forgotten to my own peril the previous evening when stumbling about looking for the traditional desert toilet facilities. Throw shoes away from near the sleeping bags and against someone else's sleeping bags. They seem mildly disgruntled, which I hope isn't due to any potential snoring I may have done the previous evening, as I'm known, on occasion, to snore lightly. Attempt to point out to them to sheer luck they've not been bitten by scorpions, which could have crawled out of my shoes. Wind up having to give them my hard-boiled egg from breakfast that morning. Sandy bread and tea is all that's left for me.
Realise the sun hasn't entirely come up yet. And my sandals smell like sulphur, which I'm hoping is down to them having been near and possibly in the pool from yesterday. We are herded into the jeep by people considerably more used to being awake at before sunrise than we are and sit like sheep who aren't used to getting up early in the back of the jeep for the ride back to town.
A brief stop at the hotel for a shower to attempt to wash the sulphur smell off the lot of us, and then we're back in another jeep, bound for Farafra Oasis and the fabled White Desert (well, maybe not so fabled, but we were told a story about it being one part of the inspiration for some of the Star Wars (tm) scenery and so forth, so I suppose that counts as fabled). Desert scenery alongside the roads in Egypt being what it is, and getting up before the sun is up being what it is, much napping occurs throughout the jeep.
Hours later, we arrive. We park at a hotel owned by the Libyan president's cousin, and are allowed to use the bathrooms and they serve us lunch. Which is chicken and soup and bread with not so much sand on it.
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disclaimer:
And we're back to the travellogue! Woo!
Enjoy, kiddos.
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