Aqaba

Cairo, Egypt

 

There's not a whole lot to say about Aqaba. Jordanians get all excited about it because it's there sort of "summer playground", complete with beaches, hotels and lots of outdoor eating. In December, it's pretty much a ghost town. I had originally planned on spending two nights there, but after wandering around for an entire afternoon, I realized that I had seen everything I needed to see. There were few people, though the restaurants and cafes were prepared for thousands, which was kind of eerie.

 

It was also the first time that I saw a very visible Jordanian security force in front of every major hotel, which was no doubt in reaction to the somewhat recent bombings in Amman. When you come from a country where you rarely see a gun, it's strange to see armoured personal vehicles outside of hotels complete with policeman carrying AK-47 rifles. It's tough to say if they are actually doing anything other then just standing around, but their presence is at least visible, if nothing else. 

 

The following morning, I hoped in a taxi to get to the ferry terminal, which is located somewhat inconveniently out of town. After playing musical-windows to get my ticket, seat reservation, departure tax and visa stamps for leaving Jordan, I boarded the "fast" ferry bound for Nuweiba, Egypt. 

 

It's a rather boring ferry, completely enclosed with no deck access. I had hoped to stand outside for the journey across to Egypt but that just wasn't possible. The lower half of the ferry is for cars, while the upper half feels like a really large airplane. 

 

On the ferry, I bumped into Rob, Gassam and Fawaz who I had all met back in Petra. I had no idea they were going down to Egypt and meeting up with them was just dumb luck. The ferry ride across was rather uneventful and as everyone pushed (and I do mean pushed) to get off, Rob and I headed over to the visa booth to purchase an Egyptian visa and retrieve our passports. (They take your passports when you board the ferry and return them to you once in Egypt, that is if you don't have an Egyptian visa.) 

 

Purchasing the visa was straight forward enough and after clearing a rather bogus security check, complete with what I'm sure is a non-functioning x-ray machine and metal detector, we met back up with Gassam and Fawaz. 

 

Nuweiba is nothing more then a port town where the ferry arrives and just about every traveler who arrives in Nuweiba immediately looks for transportation to either Dahab or Sharm el Sheik, both found near the southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula. 

 

As a result, there is fierce competition for negotiating a taxi ride from Nuweiba to either of these towns. Since there are few buses that service that route, that taxi drivers pretty much know that you need to use them, and with Dahab around 100km away, the ride is not all that cheap.

 

Luckily, Rob and I had Gassam to do all the negotiating for us and from what I could tell it got rather heated at times. Rob, Fawaz and I just stood back as other taxi drivers approached us looking for business. Gassam was our point man and all I could do was to shoo the others away. 

 

Finally Gassam tells us to just start walking away from the taxi stand, towards the port exit. Somewhat confused, we all follow him and moments later a taxi pulls up along side us, to which we all pile into. Turns out there was some conflict between our taxi driver and another taxi driver because no sooner had we piled into the taxi and started down the road did a white mini-van pass us, then pull in front of us, essentially cutting us off just like in the movies. Of course, when you don't understand what is being yelled it can become a rather comical situation.

 

Turns out that the mini van driver was upset because he thought that our taxi driver had essentially cut in front of him in the taxi line for the next far and boy was he irate over that. (So much so that he continued to follow us to the gas station, where the local policeman had to calm him down.) I guess what had happened is that he was trying to fill up his minivan for 200 Egyptian Pounds with people going to Dahab, but Gassam thought that was too expensive, and our driver was willing to do it for 100 Pounds, so we went with him instead. Simple economics if you ask me... Eventually the minivan driver went his way and we went out way, heading south to Dahab at times at breakneck speeds in an old station wagon that couldn't have stopped within a few kilometers in an emergency without falling.

 

By late afternoon we had arrived in Dahab, and again with Gassams helped we all checked into two rooms at the "Mohammad Ali Camp", with Rob and I sharing a room.

 

Kenny