Week Seventy-One

Up at 07.30 again this morning and, even without breakfast, it takes us until 08.45 to get along the beach: we have two English Breakfasts (pretty decent for 5EP) and watch the calm sea - it's a dry, hot day in Dahab again. Ashref (who's turned out to be from Alexandria, but of Persian stock - he doesn't look very arab) joins us at 09.40, we collect and load up our stuff and set up camp at the same place as yesterday by 10.15: over a glass of tea we discuss the plan for this morning's underwater session. It turns out to be much the same as yesteday's original afternoon session, before our little problems.

Off we go (getting the equipment on does indeed take much less time than yesterday) into the water: miraculously, since I didn't think it would make any difference, my newly-shaved upper lip now lets the mask seal much better. Even so, Milla's much more confident then I am in the water: she submerges apparently effortlessly - it takes me a few attempts. In total it's ten or fifteen minutes before we're both underwater, kneeling on the bottom. We try the removing-the-regulator tests, but hit more problems: Milla's exhaling too quickly (and running out of air too soon); both of us have problems at the point where we start breathing through the regulator again; and I keep floating away - I'm too buoyant to stay put. This last problem is resolved by adding a couple more weights to my BCD, but the earlier problems persist: for both of us, removing and replacing the regulator is no problem, nor is clearing it of water prior to breathing, but we both lose it when we start breathing again. Milla's still doing better than I am, since at least she doesn't surface choking every time. Hey-ho.
Back onshore, again, we have long discussions and coffee: we talk about language, and different teaching styles, and how Dahab is filling with Egyptians (it's their "mid-year" holiday, presumably held now because they don't have that convenient Christmas-New Year combination). We also meet his solid Danish wife and, more relevently, talk about what we'll do going forwards: this is half-way through our second in-the-water day, and we haven't yet completed the skills scheduled for the morning of the first day. Milla's making steady progress but, realistically, I've still got exactly the same breathing problem I've had since the beginning. Ashref reckons we try again this afternoon and review our options - he seems to think taking a couple of days off to snorkel/practice breathing may be a good idea. Me? I'm thinking of quitting if I still haven't made progress by the end of today - it's beginning to get a bit pointless.
In we go, once more under the water, with a determination to get at least the first set of skills out the way - then we can move onto the second "confined" dive and an "open water" dive tomorrow. Down we go and successfully do the regulator removal/retrieval/replacement skills - Milla by dint of positive thinking and practice; me by dint of holding my nose while I do them. Flushed with success, we then move onto the mask flooding/clearing skills, and run into our old friend failure again: Milla's fine with the first test, but I get my breathing problem again and surface. We discuss the issue, floating there in the water, and try going underwater in various combinations without the mask on - all to no avail. Milla floats nearby, seeing if she can keep her eyes open in the salty water (it stings), while I immerse and re-immerse my head andface and accomplish little except swallowing a noticeable proportion of the Red Sea. We give up and return to the shore again.
Ashref is getting distinctly cooler in his enthusiasm (his longest course was 9 days - we're on day 3 already and haven't got anywhere): his suggested solution is to have a practice snorkel session (using the snorkel but not the mask) for the rest of the afternoon, and see where we are tomorrow. He suggests we could all go up to the Blue Hole (a noted diving and snorkelling site further up the coast) tomorrow and spend the day practicing breathing, if necessary. We send most of the equipment back, then Milla and I snorkel up (with fins - it's easiest to put them on in the water) and swim about face-down for a bit. It's still pretty much useless - I'm fine with my nose enclosed, but without it I can't stop breathing through my nose (sniffing in great quantities of salt water) unless my breathing is really shallow (in which case I'm re-breathing my own carbon dioxide and quickly run out of oxygen). Somewhat depressed we exit the water, drip back to the diving center, wash and rinse all our gear and head back to the camp.

We pass our internet guy and make our excuses again, and then do a little shopping (the supermarkets are packed with Egyptians, who have no concept of queueing). We also notice that the Egyptians are mainly just walking up and down the promenade, slowly - mainly due to not visiting the bars. Then we return to our room (no beer today), shower and hit the sack. The camps are also full of Egyptians, so the night is pretty loud (their main method of communication seems to be shouting, like most other arabs we've come across so far).

We're up late, with alarms at 07.30 and 08.00: Milla's, of course, is the one at 07.30 - it wakes me up, while she blithely returns to sleep. I'm ready to leave a little after 08.00, as a result, and desert my barely-conscious wife: she joins me as I'm finishing breakfast at 08.45. Our idyllic breakfast on the shore (punctuated by Bedou kids selling cheap jewellery, optimistic cats, determined flies and the occasional stiff breeze) goes on until 10.45 when Ashref finally joins us: he claims to have looked for us earlier, but we have our doubts. Knowing that Mohammed, from stores, and Pia were both looking for him earlier and that he was at a party last night, we figure he was actually curled up under a tree somewhere.

Our two-hour sitting-around session has given us plenty time to talk about our future with the course. I think I might be able to master the breathing issue given time (possibly a couple of days in the water), but not with any confidence - and I don't want the problem to re-emerge (as it were) when we're 10m deep and I don't have the option to quickly surface. My concern is with Milla, who can probably finish the course without too many problems. She, however, says she's not that comfortable underwater, and wouldn't want to carry on without me. So we tell Ashref that we've decided to cancel. He seems pretty cool with this (so possibly Zach, his boss, has been giving him hassle over our lack of progress), and opines both that some sports aren't for some people and that he has doubts over whether Milla would complete the course anyway.
Milla's in a bad mood from the moment we tell Ashref we want to cancel, and his comment doesn't help. It later turns out, of course, that she actually wanted to carry on and was just saying that she didn't (we have to work on this communication thing). She gets increasingly aggressive as we return our books and equipment (and make an appointment to see Zach, the boss, later) and through the afternoon (between lots of sex and a snooze) she shifts the blame for our failure onto Ashref, the diving center (yep, the one we chose) and indeed onto all Egyptian dive instructors and Egyptians in general. By the time we eventually go to talk with Zach, she has a whole tirade of complaints (Ashref was too laid back; a bad instructor, we should have spent more time in the water - this last is the only one I possibly agree with): Zach points out that we could have mentioned our dissatisfaction earlier, and offers us a change of instructors (to a female European) if we want to continue (Milla's not interested in continuing with them). Otherwise he's charging us $28 each for each of the two non-theory days (the price of an "introductory dive"). I'm reasonably okay with this: it's normally a 5-day course and I figured he'd therefore try to charge us 60% of the total, especially since he had outlay for the optical masks. I pay the $16 difference from our deposit (we get our deposit-passports back), and this time it's Milla who feels we need to work on the communication thing.

We head on up the shore (Zach recommended a bar), and a little wandering reveals an entirely unexplored chunk of Dahab - local streets and shops, some normal accommodation, local kids in the streets and so on. It seems we may have stumbled on Assalah proper, rather than the resort. Zach's recommendation ("if I was an alcoholic", he said - hopefully a misunderstanding of the English) first asks us "Is this your dog?" (we've picked up a dog) and then sells us beer at 5EP 'cos it's Happy Hour (lasting two hours, here). We sit towards the water (after walking along the dark beach for a bit to stargaze - there's no paved promenade or lighting here past the Lighthouse point) and watch a magnificent moonrise as we drink, over the Gulf of Aqaba and the Saudi mountains: it's huge and red, and gradually becomes smaller and white (fnarr, fnarr).
Eventually, in late evening, we decide to eat at one of the countless open shore-side restaurants (they've been hassling us to do so since our first evening here), which is a surreal and strange experience with much laughing. There are cats and dogs fighting around us, strange green garlic bread, and Milla's shark steak turns out to be mere fish (she still crams the lemon-soaked remnants into an empty cigarette box to take home). Our waiter also has a pronunciation problem with "h", so his "hot" comes out "what" ('And a glass of water, please', 'hot?', 'water', 'hot?', 'what?', 'hot?', 'water', etc.). Even with a flaming brazier at the end of the table (and a little candle on the plate, inside a hollowed onion) it gets pretty cold, and Milla gets pretty cold with it, so we don't stay too late (23.30) and push back to the room.

A lazy day, back into our old routine: up at 08.40 for breakfast out (American - with pancakes and chocolate sauce - and English) at 09.15. We eat, and sit and watch the waves, and pet the cats, and don't buy jewellery from the Bedou kids - all until 11.00. Then we wander along the promenade (covered suddenly in litter, with all these Egyptians staying, as is the beach) and visit our internet place: his super-charged PC amazingly renders Milla's internet banking services operational. Equally amazing is the fact that our guessed balances on her two accounts are both less than $5 out (boy, we're good with currency). Even more amazing, it rains twice (once for ten minutes, once for fifteen) while we're in there - it gives the Egyptians filling the coffee houses something to look at other than the foreigners. Our internet guy rushes round in a panic, fitting specially prepared plastic bags onto his PCs: apparently the roof leaked and he had a couple of short-circuits when it last rained (some time in 2002).
We leave mid-afternoon and spend the rest of the day reading, writing, snoozing and playing cards.

We eat out for breakfast again (Milla risks banana juice rather than the usually watery coffee), play some backgammon there, put in some internet time and then spend six hours on the cushions in the camp's big gazebo, talking, drawing schematic maps, planning our trip and playing cards. We also experiment with my bought-in-Scotland mosquito coils (reasonably effective) as night falls, and share the area with a group of Japanese who're struggling over dive tables. In the evening we walk along the strip to the Blue Beach Club (where we saw the moon rise on Tuesday), pricing other things to do in/from Dahab. Our options are limited to a safari into the Sinai interior by 4x4 (best price $22 each) or camel, a trip to St. Katherine's Monastery and Mt. Sinai (best price $9 each), and various snorkelling/diving locations up and down the coast.

The moon opts to rise much later today, so we don't catch it over our beers and instead decamp to Tota's for food (they have a 'Dance Evening' tonight, to encourage people in during the Egyptian holiday, but let us in for free) and playing with/feeding the large family of cats there. After that we head home, where the mosquito coil has stunk out the room, and hit the sack early (ie. before 01.00).

This morning Milla experiments with a "Mexican Breakfast", which turns out to be seriously hot and probably a mistake at that time in the morning: subsequent glasses of fruit juice and games of backgammon take us into the afternoon before we leave the restaurant. After an internet session, we retire to our usual spot in the gazebo until 20.30: while we're there, the old Bedou driver we met in one of the travel agencies visits us and offers us St. Katherine's/Mt. Sinai for $6, as long as we don't tell the office. Great - we'll do that tomorrow, then. He also advises us to take our own water, since a bottle there is 5EP (normally 1.50EP), and tells us he'll collect us from the camp at 08.00 tomorrow.
We nip out to the supermarket to stock up on supplies, then to Tota for our usual evening meal/beers and tussle with the cats there - the place is pretty much deserted, despite the staff's efforts: as one of the barely-English-speaking guys comments, "Fucking Egyptians" (Dahab is still pretty much overrun with Egyptians). We meet Troy on the way back (he's still here, then) with new English friend Ben - he's going to Mt. Sinai tonight to watch sunrise and coming back tomorrow (we figured overnighting on the mountain would be really cold). He, incidentally, got the same story as we did - that the monastery is closed on Sunday for the Christian holy day, and on Friday for the Muslim holy day (?!): we figure it's actually because Friday's an orthodox holy day as well.
Meeting Ben, who's been enthusiastically diving, also gives Milla an opportunity to expound her theories on Egyptian instructors once more, until I drag her away to the room - we need to have an early night, if we're to rise early and breakfast tomorrow before 08.00. Our efforts in that direction are partially sabotaged by the hunt for mosquitos - they're as much a problem at night as the flies are in the morning, and they bite (actually suck blood, but it feels the same). Oddly, the flies are no problem after sunset - they sleep (presumably), immobile and high on the walls, facing head down and only become active again in the morning.

Our alarms go off at 06.30 and 06.45 (we only synchronise sometimes), and we're up at 07.00 (see - there's no point). I'm out at 07.50, pretty much as a minibus pulls up outside the (locked) back gate to the camp - I have doubts to start with, since the driver isn't the old Bedou guy, but he seems to be here to collect two people for a day-trip to Mt. Sinai. We walk through the neighbouring (and open) Camelot camp and are joined in the bus by a French/Italian couple from there. The bus drives round another few camps and hotels, filling up completely (14 people) by 08.30: during this little circle, we check our prices with the driver - he wants to charge us 30EP each, but we get him back down to the original 25EP offer from last night (everyone else is paying minimum 40EP). After that there's a detour via the tourist police in Dahab "City" - they get a list with all our names and passport numbers, and the driver gets some kind of form to get us through checkpoints. We finally set off properly at about 09.00.

The route takes us along the Nuweiba road (through two checkpoints) and then cuts left/west into the interior: it's the first time we've really seen the Sinai, and it's very impressive. The sheer and barren mountains get even more stark and impressive (and artificial-looking) further inland, there are wide vistas of tyre-track-covered sand (a proper desert here, rather than what we saw around Palmyra and Wadi Musa), and almost no vegetation or colour of any sort. Despite this, there are little Bedou camp from time to time, little herds of apparently wild camels, and an old Bedou woman walking determinedly across the sands with a plastic shopping back (seriously - these people are immune to the word "inhospitable"). The road is interesting as well, insofar as how crap it is - bumpy, half-finished in places, climbing and dropping to afford excellent views, and with little stretches where the desert seems to have reclaimed it. The driver takes it all at speed, including weaving around unnmanned checkpoint barrels - it's at that point, with the little bus lurching from side to side, that a French couple behind asked him to slow down ('It's not a race, you know', in that patronising way they have). That's the same French couple with whom Milla was struggling earlier to keep the window closed.

We pass through "St. Katherine City" (some huts), and a more serious checkpoint: our driver explains that all these checkpoints are to stop Israelis but honestly - the big gun pointing at us would be enough to deter a large tour bus, but probably not a tank (or indeed anything that could fire back, like a Bedou kid with a rock). We pass another vehicle, with the old Bedou guy driving, going the other way - that'll be Troy and company heading back. And then, at 10.45, we reach the Visitors Centre: and it's mobbed. I mean, I know it's the middle of the Egyptian holiday, and a Saturday, but there are lines of tour buses outside the little row of tourist/souvenir stalls and people milling about everywhere: Egyptian families, Western package tourists, a party of schoolgirls, lots of black Africans in colourful dress. Gosh.

After using the free toilets and inspecting the pointless tourist information office, we follow the crowds east along a wide road/path to the monastery. First up are the modern caf#, bookshop and dorm rooms (they offer $7.50 per person accommodation), and then some (?)medieval outlying buildings (only one is open - it contains hundreds of bones of ex-monks just piled up: the skulls have been separated from the rest, presumably after death). And then we're at the main part of the monastery, a little complex of buildings tucked away inside a square of massive Byzantine walls (dating from Justinian): the only ways in are through tiny, easily-defensible doors, one in the middle of each wall. The tourist entrance is in the north wall, past an armed guard who looks inside all our bags.

Inside is a narrow courtyard, packed with people (yes, packed) - beyond the courtyard is the 90% of the monastery which we don't get to see. First off here, though, is the Sacristy, full of gold and silver and stuff - it's 20EP each, almost as much as we paid for transport here and back, and as much as pretty much any site we've seen in the Middle East: so we decide to skip it. Next up is Moses' Well, apparently: it's an old iron water pump next to a little basin - lovely. Next is the chapel, which we have to go round very slowly because it's shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists (the monks must love it when they close at 12.00). The first thing you notice about this chapel (apart from the Greek writing everywhere, like the rest of the monastery) are the doors: the outer pair date to Fatimid times, and inner pair (wooden!) all the way back to the 6th century - and they're looking pretty good.

The chapel itself is covered wall-to-wall with icons (some of which look pretty old - you can buy postcards of the best in the gift shop), and hundreds of lamps are hanging from the ceiling. There's a rope up, isolating the front third of the building from us infidels, but small parties are led downt he side by a monk to see the altar (from the side): as well as even more silver and icons, there are deep seat-like steps around the apse and an ornate casket which apparently contains what's left of St. Katherine. Behind and slightly below the back of the apse is a tiny old chapel built at the supposed original burning bush site (shows how much I know - I thought that bit of the story was before the Israelites hit Sinai) - there's a (presumably) symbolic flame burning. After seeing the chapel, we visit the supposed actual burning bush (it's not burning today), which was presumably transplanted when they built the chapel. Obviously originally contained in a tiny walled garden, the bush now tumbles up and out and over the walls - it's more of a tree. I have no idea what type of bush it is, by the way, but it had thorns and the dead brittle leaves crumbled when I tried to pick one (they've trimmed it to a couple of metres above the ground, so you have to jump if you want a souvenir).

Outside, able to breathe away from the crowds, we climb some of the rocks in front of the monastery (to get a better look at the bits they didn't let us see). There's a small cluster of camels (and Bedouin) to help those who want to climb Mt. Sinai (c. 2250m) - we can see the trail leading into the hills and out of sight so we set off on foot, optimistic that the summit isn't much further than where the track disappears over the horizon. It's 12.00 when we start and before too long we're resting at a little hut for biscuits and water - we share it first with a group of 10 or so energetic arabs, and then with an English trio and their arab driver. The hut is apparently half-way, according to him: good. Off we go again, in the hot midday sun, up the increasingly steep climb - soon we're turning the corner beyond which the valley and the monastery are no longer visible. We pass the struggling English and, after ten more minutes, hit the first coffee/tea shop of the ascent (the arab/Egyptian group is inside): we press on to the next (closed) café and rest there for a bit instead. Again, there's another sweeping corner after this stop, after which we can see the path snaking up the side of a large massif some distance above us - it's quite clear that our first stop was not, in fact, half-way. Ah well.

The path carries on steeply, and we see the English trio abandon their ascent below us - also a lot of discussion takes place among the arab group and, as we climb, their number quickly whittles down to two. The penultimate section at last (after three hours since we started climbing) ends in a little cluster of huits (including an emergency medical aid hut, with a wheeled stretcher outside - not too much use up here, we feel). There's a little valley below us, which we clamber down to - it's Elijah's Basin, where Elijah apparently chatter with God: a 500 year old cypress tree marks the spot, with nail-holes around its trunk where people have stuck notices. In fact there's a walled-around cluster of trees here (about the first we've seen on the mountain), and a little dry dam, and an even drier well. We have two revolting and expensive coffees from the little shop there, and watch other people ascending and descending past us (Elijah's Basin is on the alternative, stepped route to/from the summit).

Eventually, after the Australians and Christians have moved on, we head on up the last section, which is pretty much all steps (pretty crappy steps - the sort which look more like a jumble of rocks to the untrained eye): it takes another half-hour or so to reach the summit. We have a lot more respect for Moses now, since it was a bit of a scramble (and the steps probably weren't there when he visited): thankfully God doesn't speak to us and give us any stone tablets to carry back down. In fact it's remarkably quiet at the summit, even with two coffee stalls and about twenty people (including the last two arabs - one of them has really dodgy footing and keeps stumbling, alarmingly at this height and with all these precipices - no safety fences up here on Mt. Sinai, just a little locked chapel). A lot of people are turning around and heading straight back down (including a Portugese/German couple and their daughter, from our bus, and the irritating French couple - after taking artistic posed photos of each other!). There are still us, an Australian guy and the French/Italian couple - and some animals. Yes, up here in the barren wilderness are a group of fout cat-goat-fox creatures on a little nearby ridge, and a little gerbil-like rodent running about the little stone walls.

Apart from the interesting single-shack toilet, that was about it for a while: basically we just sat around and admired the view - it's a great view, for miles around (especially south) even though (surprisingly) there are a couple of higher peaks visible nearby. A loud group of Japanese arrive: they take lots of photos, spontaneously burst into song (hymns in harmony - more Christians, it seems) and try to break into the chapel. There are also a lot of colourful, cheerful Africans turning up. At 16.40, bells peel from the chapel (either deliberately, or as a result of the Japanese' efforts) and echo amazingly around the surrounding mountains - and the sun eventually drops below the horizon at 17.30 or so. Everyone takes a photo or two and then almost immediately begins their descent (not many overnighters tonight, it seems) - it's getting rapidly cold and dark. As we descend, there are still tons of (mostly) Africans climbing up: 'Congrats', 'God bless you, they greet the (mostly) African descenders who respond with 'Almost there', 'Only five minutes' and in one extreme case 'God will talk to you when you reach the top.' They also greet each other 'Shalom'.

Just before Elijah's Basin, a couple of guys are directing everyone down the shallow, easy path - we have other plans, though. The alternative route is the 3,000 "Steps of Repentance", laid some time ago by a single monk, which go straight down the side of the mountain (past Elijah's Basin) and more directly to the monastery. So far the light's been holding better than the temperature, but it's beginning to fail now: the guy at the shop in Elijah's Basin reckons it'll be fine if we have a torch ("flash") so we press on (we have two). It's a nice route, with occasional stone-built arches, but even with our torches it's pretty tricky - very steep in places, and winding sharply past larger boulders, and twisting past sudden drops, and running through narrow crevices: it's a bit of an adventure. The fact that the "steps" are uneven and irregular, and turn sharply (at night it's difficult to distinguish some of them from unlaid rocks), is compensated for by the fact that the stars above us (when we occasionally switch off the torches) are fantastic. It's also pretty eerie, especially since there's no-one else coming this way tonight. The descent's pretty demanding (I'm expecting at least a handful of cardinal sins remitted) and takes a bit of a while, even though we glimpse the monastery pretty early on from high above - we can also see a little winding line of tiny torches leading down the longer route towards it. We eventually reach the back of the monastery, and obviously take a wrong turn somewhere since we end up clambering through their garden to get out.

We took an hour and a quarter to get down; the others took about an hour - we get picked up by the minibus en route from the monastery, and then it's off on our way back. This time the swaying of the bus (or possibly the difficult and long climb in the midday heat) is too much for the Portuguese woman - we stop for a few minutes while she leans out a window and throws up onto the road.

A good day sees us back in Dahab in comfortable time to do our regular beers and meal at Tota before eventually retiring with aching bones - it seems we've got a little out of practice: probably because of all this loafing around.

After our usual breakfast (we're back on English breakfast, which we reckon are the best value), we drop off my laundry and spend much of the day in the internet place, checking flights around and from Africa - prices and frequency. We're looking at accelerating through Africa, which will probably mean flying over some bits, so we need to find out what's feasible. After collecting my cleanish clothes (believe it or not, the laundry also uses salt water - it's about all there is in Dahab), I do a serious repack of my rucksack and work out our recent spending. It turns out that this last week was pretty expensive, mainly due to the cost of food: as Milla comments, "Egyptians trick you in with their cheap accommodation and their fucking pyramids" - I think it's more likely because we've got into the habit of eating out both for breakfast and in the evening. We resolve to change our bad ways, and to cut back on the alcohol as well.
Oh, and I change my film as well, having discovered the camera rewound: I thought I'd left one picture unused after sunset on Mt. Sinai yesterday, so either I've got a surprise photo waiting or else No. 37 of that film will be a shot of the inside of my day-bag.