Turkey: Worst case scenario.

The travel gods had been nice to me. Too nice...I was within my budget, had accommodation arranged for all but three nights of the trip. Family cooked meals, amazing friends from around the world, great deals on souvenirs, and sick only once.

…I should have known disaster would hit.

Anyone who travels knows that worst case scenario aside from getting kidnapped and sold into the sex trade is the loss of a passport.
…and a wallet
…and your debit card
…on a bus
…that is going god knows where
…and you have no more phone credit
…and you have no idea where you are
…all you know is that you don’t speak more than three words of the language.
AWESOME

What do you do?

My answer was to walk towards the city center, until I found a travel agency (the travel gods do pity us mortals from time to time) A few calls later, Can Akdogan, (great name, huh?) the general manager of Apandana Travel Agency had located my wallet and offered the use of their transport vehicle for a reduced cost to pick it up.

At the bus station, we picked it up….with everything exactly where it was left. Amazing. That means I still have a debt to the travel gods. They will collect, but not today.

No Cairo Blog

...for the past several days I have tried to collect my thoughts on Cairo to form them into some type of prose half worth reading. Unfortunately, my heart was never belonged to the city. I stood in awe of the Pyramids, and was glad to stay on the island in the middle of the Nile (yes there is one)...but it never felt...right.
So I leave you with photos...

Ramadan Kareem

A few days before Ramadan the wind came alive in Egypt. Silvery streamers cris-crossed from building to building and rustled according to the demands of the sea breeze in Alexandria. Much like Christmas in Christian culture, people decorate for Ramadan and Coca-cola makes special packaging for their beverages. My favorite decorations, however, are the the lanterns hung over crowded streets.



Several days after the streamers and lanterns are put up a man appears at 3:30am wandering the streets banging a drum as he yells Allah knows what in Arabic. Anywhere else, most people would be asleep (please note in Egypt, no one sleeps...ever)...and that is exactly why he is out there. Apparently, it is his job to wake everyone up at least an hour before prayers so that Muslims during Ramadan can eat (Sahoor) and pray in the wee hours of the morning. I heard him in Alexandria, then another fellow in Cairo and a scary drummer in Turkey. To me if a person embodies Ramadan, it is him and his drum.

Fasting during this time is supposed to re-direct minds from the superficial activity of daily life to a more...elevated state of self-control, humility, and empathy for others. I see a lot more fights between strangers during this time of year. Almost saw one guy go crazy in the checkout line a Carrefour in the Hong Kong bus killer kinda way. At the same time, it really is beautiful to be in Muslim countries through this month and I am glad I got to celebrate it with the Akl family.

Ramadan is also the time where 20% of all food is consumed in the Middle East. Crazy considering that no one eats or drinks during daylight hours. Night time comes alive and the new tv season starts during this time.

In Turkey, it is quite a bit different, but since life seems to go on as mostly normal, I thought it would be more interesting to relay the culture of Ramadan from an Egyptian perspective. (God forbid the West starts realizing that the Muslim world is not homogeneous).

Regardless, Ramadan Kareem everyone!

Two blocks from the Canal.

The thing about guide books is they never really explain that native Alexandrians probably won’t know where their world cultural heritage sites are located. They also won’t mention that the craziest shit you will see in Egypt appears when your native Alexandrian friends get lost in Carmous, the area around Alexandria’s world cultural heritage sites

…Of course, Simi and Kareem were lost because they relied on my directions…

Regardless, on the trip to Pompey’s pillar I saw Street Chickens....though they weren't nearly as impressive as---
Street Ducks AND Street turkeys


Now, it is “normal” to see people using donkey carts to pull fruit…but I thought this was kinda cool


…..but I would like to also mention (and I am sad I didn’t get a photo of this) that I also saw a guy pulling what was either petrol or possibly kerosene by donkey as well while we roamed around Carmous

Pompey's pillar was pretty rad though as well...Simi tried to convince them I was his cousin so I would get the Egyptian price. It failed miserably...
Anyway, wikipeadia says this about the pillar:

"Pompey's Pillar is a Roman triumphal column in Alexandria, Egypt, and the largest of its type constructed outside of the imperial capitals of Rome and Constantinople.[1] The only known free-standing column in Roman Egypt which was not composed of drums,[1] it is one of the largest ancient monoliths and one of the largest monolithic columns ever erected.

The monolithic column shaft measures 20.46 m in height with a diameter of 2.71 m at its base.[2] The weight of the single piece of red Aswan granite is estimated at 285 t.[2] The column is 26.85 m high including its base and capital.[2] Other authors give slightly deviating dimensions.[A 1]

Erroneously dated to the time of Pompey, the Corinthian column was actually built in 297 AD, commemorating the victory of Roman emperor Diocletian over an Alexandrinian revolt.[2]"

The coolest part of the pillar was that it was built on top of the "temple of the Serapis, once a magnificent structure rivaling the Soma and the Caesareum. Nearby are subterranean galleries where sacred Apis bulls were buried, and three sphinxes. After his defeat by Julius Caesar in the civil war, Pompey fled to Egypt where he was murdered in 48 BC; mediaeval travelers later believed he must be buried here, and that the capital atop the corner served as a container for his head."

Which...was wrong. Anyhow, it was these galleries that were the coolest/creepiest. They were filled with a thick chemical smelling fog. Simi wanted to pass the "keep out" sign, but with no way of see where we would be going, Kareem and I persuaded/dragged him out, cause the rest of the way looked like this:

Can we take photo with you?

They point to you….then to the camera. I think, “sure, I will take a photo for you.” I reach for the camera, but they hand it to someone else. Suddenly, I am in the picture.

Fleur, the Dutch woman I am staying with explains that people in Alexandria always take photos with Western European-Looking people. As I think about it, I haven’t really seen any white people, and as the day progresses at Fort Qaitbey we end up taking photos with at least ten different groups of people. It is not just hormonal teenage boys, in fact it is mostly women and families that want to take photos with us.

…it is so weird. Grinning little girls say, “Hello” and go deer-in-headlight when you respond, “Hi, How are you?” The look on their faces says, “wait…it talked back..”
Kind of adorable for now, though it could get kind of annoying if I lived here…

Aside from taking photos with a million people, Fort Qaitbey was super interesting in its own right. Built around 1500, the Fort was placed on the site of the former Lighthouse of Alexandria (which had been ruined in an earthquake), using some of the same materials.


These are the fishermen that you see around alexandria. I took this from the fort, because it was a great angle to really view it.

From Dubai to Oman

I should have known that Oman would hold a special place in my heart when I bought my bus ticket in a stationary shop in Dierda, Dubai that doubled as a bus station.


More amazing than the “stationary bus station” (I don’t know if that is a pun or a double entendre or what….) was the bus itself. Here I am pictured with the “castle” that delivered me to the magical land of Oman. I am pretty sure Howl’s Moving Castle was not a Japanese anime, but rather, a different bus that went from Dubai to Oman.




The ride was just fine, except that I had an Omani guy that was trying to be overly helpful sitting behind me. Not a problem just a bit annoying. At the border, we all had to get out of the bus and stand around our luggage while dogs inspected it. It must have been at least 50 (120) degrees outside…but other than that, the castle was less of an experience than I expected it to be.

Since it is such a small world, I had a friend from University in Oman, and I was able to spend time with him. I also met Issac, a recent graduate from Ohio in Diplomacy and International Relations. He mention to me that he wanted to live in every continent before going to grad school to pursue international diplomacy. "I think you have to live everywhere to understand where people are coming from, you know?" I hadn't thought of it before...but yes, it makes perfect sense. Probably more sense than most international relations.

I loved Oman...with the exception of the men. Walking anywhere, I felt the penetrating stares. It wasn't the stare I get in other countries cause I am a random white girl--- it was a lusty, depraved stare. I assumed the stares would be as far as it would go...till one day I went to Mutrah.

Everyone else was at work, so I wasn't going to sit at home. I decided to embark on a walking tour of Mutrah. I began at the fish market and walked along the Corniche. I wandered around the souq and found it a bit more intriguing than those that I had seen in Bahrain or Dubai, and climbed up to the fort.







Around mid-day I went to a restaurant. Normally, I don't worry about sitting in the family section (a special area of a restaurant where only women and their families are allowed to go) but I decided it would be a good idea in this case. So I walk into the family section, sit down and begin writing postcards to my family. Some fellow has the gall to follow me in and begin asking if he can practice his English. I politely mention that I am writing to my family, and don't have much time. He finally admits, "I saw you walking and I though you are the most beautiful woman I had seen."
Four. Hours. Walking. In the blistering Oman heat. Bull. Shit.

Before I go any further, I would like to clarify that the riskiest clothing I wore covered everything but my forearms. That still didn't deter Ahmed.

After lunch, I decided to go to the beach, but needed a taxi to do so. We agreed to go to Qorum beach for 500 Baisa. It was on the way home for the folks with whom I stayed. They could drop by and pick me up....or that was the plan until I let Ahmed the cab driver convince me that I should go to Qantab beach instead. "Ahmed welcome"

Ahmed seemed nice enough...but we were going pretty far from the city and winding into the mountains. Not a big deal...I have my cell phone...I kept thinking to myself...

He asks if I need anything to eat or drink. "Ahmed welcome" I politely mention that I just ate lunch and have plenty of water. So when we stop at a gas station. I am a little confused....is this normal?

Ahmed walks out with a snickers bar and guava juice for me. What the hell? When I remind him of the refusal he starts making angry leaking air sounds. "Pshhht" "Stttttsss" "Ahmed welcome" So, I provide an obligatory swig of Gauva juice.
...I am pretty sure that means I am married to Ahmed according to Omani culture...
Each moment was getting more and more uncomfortable...I was still in the mountains, with a semi-pissed cab driver heading god knows where.

Suddenly, one left turn later I see possibly the most beautiful beach I had seen at the time....and then we make a right. And stop at the top of a cliff. He points and says we should go down there. Down there is a valley that curves around a boulder so the beach is not visible from the road. I tell Ahmed I want to go back down to the beach with people. "You decide." He motions for me to follow him out of the car and into the valley. "Ahmed welcome" At the same moment, a black car with tinted windows pulls up next to us.




This is how human trafficking movies start. Screw this. "You decide" he keeps saying. I HAVE DECIDED, asshole. I grab my stuff and start walking to the beach. He pulls up next to me....makes the same angry, leaking air noises, and agrees to take me back down to the beach. "Ahmed Welcome" It was as if he couldn't believe that I would feel uncomfortable..cause he was there to welcome me. He plops down on the sand, and tells me to go swim. He will wait for me.

Like. hell. I will prance around in a bathing suit in front of this guy. So I make up some excuse that I need to leave cause my friends are leaving the office early. It works. Thank you Jesus...and Mohammad too.

The next day, we went back to Qantab...without Ahmed

Um...Dubai...

Back track....(circa July 2nd)

FlyDubai was gracious enough to provide me a ticket to Dubai and back for 50 BD ($125), and the visa officials in Bahrain were insistent that my visa had expired. So I did what any person would do.…I went to the United Arab Emirates and Oman.

An extra 40 BD later, I was on a plane to Dubai with Tima. We arrived early afternoon, exhausted and homeless. The AIESECers were in Abu Daubi for the day, and wouldn’t be home for some time. So, we did what any normal budget traveler would do….go to the mall. We grabbed some food from Carrefoure (my favorite grocer, maybe ever) and plopped down in the food court. That day, I experienced one of the greatest cultural fusions ever conceived in Carrefoure----the veggie puff. Indeed it is a combination of the veggies and spices in a samoosa wrapped in a french puff pastry. Delightful.

After lunch, I feel into the arms of Morpheus in the middle of the food court. One of the things I do best in this entire world is sleep in public places.

So after a nap, we began fulfilling my dream of learning the Dubai public transit system....and Tima came too. All public transportation throughout the Muslim world has a separate car for women and children, which is more for the comfort of the women. All I know is that it smells much nicer than the other cars/areas, and I don't have to worry about being stared at constantly. After Tima and I became masters of our own universe and the Dubai transit system, we dropped by the public beach and saw the fanciest hotel in the world...from the outside. We would spend another several days there, mostly in the company of some delightful AIESECers on the national staff.



Dubai was just a kind of....unexpectedly....not impressive. At one point a guy handed me his business card and told me to call him and ask him out....a bit later in the gold souk I got to haggle with a gem merchant and bought some loose stones---two sapphires and a garnet.



In all, the area near the creek in Dubai is the area I would suggest spending time. There is also the Gold Souk's bus station, which is by far the most helpful place for a traveler to get their bearings and learn how to get around the city. Their customer service is excellent. The area in general feels alive still, surrounded by an indiscriminate international-ish culture. Everywhere feels like a caricature of somewhere else...it is the Chinese place in the Midwest that is operated by Mexicans...all with one exception---the huge abandoned car lot.

Perhaps the most interesting place in all of Dubai was a simple, massive car lot. It is the one picture I should have captured, but didn't. Each vehicle's shell was painted with dust. It is the kind of dust that you only find in the Gulf...and to anyone reading this outside of the Gulf...I can't describe it. It weighs heavy on everything it stains---everyone carefully removes it from buildings, cars, and clothes. But here, by the side of the highway close to the lavish Palm island, it caked these thousands of cars.

It was explained to me that these were the cars left at the airport. I still didn't understand....there were thousands, as far as I could see. During the financial crisis, these were the cars left at the airport by everyone that simply got up and left Dubai, leaving behind everything...it was going to be repossessed anyway.

To me...I guess that was Dubai. But I still got a t-shirt.