“It’s not what you know, but who you know” and his name is Rahul.

My obsession with checking CNN world news, and reading every page of our Lonely Planet guide books, (preferably the safety sections) could have never prepared for what awaited us when we got off the plane in Mumbai. After we claimed our baggage and went thought customs Justin received an email from Rahul (our contact in Mumbai) saying to call him immediately once we landed. Rahul was the nephew of Yogesh, one of Justin’s Father’s Clients back in New York. We had contacted Rahul several days before our arrival hoping he would be of a little help. Not thinking much of his email, we decided we would get a taxi and check into a hotel, get situated, and then call Rahul.  Luckily just as we were about to depart for downtown Mumbai, Justin thought it would be a good idea to touch base with Rahul, mainly to make sure we did not get ripped off with the taxi fair. This phone call turned out to be much more important than just a simple hello.

Rahul informed us that because of a recent arrest of a corrupt political figure, there was rioting in downtown Mumbai and that it would defiantly not be a good idea, or safe for us to even leave the airport.  Luckily there was a Hyatt, Intercontinental, and Four Seasons within 2 miles of the hotel.  Obviously we had no problem checking into the spa at the Hyatt to wait out the riots, but more importantly await further instruction from Rahul, which ironically turned into a trend throughout our stay in Mumbai.  After a few hours of sitting poolside at this 5 star hotel we received a call from Rahul saying that he sent one of his employees to meet us in the lobby.  We were greeting by a small, well dressed Indian man, who spoke zero English but had a mobile phone for us with Rahul on it.  

This was something out of a James Bond movie with the timing and directions in place, because our next goal was to find the concierge named Vijay (yes, Justin’s maturity was at an all time high).  Sure enough Vijay was just a few steps away and he had a car waiting for us to meet Rahul at his home.

Since there was a serious language barrier between the driver, Rahul’s employee and us, we had no clue where we were going or the level of sketchiness we were about to encounter.  However, when the two Indians exchanged some quick words before entering a very congested area, which followed by quickly locking the doors and checking the surroundings, we started to sweat a little.  After a few minutes of worrying we were relieved to finally meet Rahul at his apartment. 

Rahul quickly became our Mumbai hero, being 6’2 and a solid 220, former state-wide boxing champ and fourth degree karate black belt, he had such control over everyone and everything around him we felt invincible (and to a certain extent we were).  He informed us that the rioting had left the city and the authorities had gained most of the control back in the area.  Shortly after this he found us a great hotel, and personally warned the staff to not take advantage of us or else.

The next 3 days in Mumbai were excellent.  Rahul took care of us like we were his long lost sons, arranging drivers, a great tour guide, and even taking us to the newest hot spot in Mumbai, The Hard Rock Café, where we had some awesome American food, and shared some great laughs over a few beers.  However, our most memorable experience with him was when he met us on the street after our first day of sight seeing.  He asked if we were hungry and offered us some pizza, we obviously accepted and he brought us up to his office.  We were not sure what type of business he was in but assumed it had to be something important because of the amount of cameras and security guards we witnessed just to get to the elevator.  When we reached his floor, he showed us to his office where we sat down in executive chairs.  It was a pretty standard bosses office except for the right wall which was essentially a huge glass window, what was on the other side, we could have never imagined. Peering through the glass we saw 30 Indian diamond sorters, counters, re counters, and re, re counters, neatly organized and looking extremely efficient. However, while we were staring at them in awe, they to were staring at us. Then we looked across the desk and saw why the workers were so puzzled to why the two of us were in the office.  Two trays of diamonds worth approximately $2 million were directly across from us. But diamonds can never disrupt an old fashion pizza party. With one press of Rahul’s “magic button” conveniently placed under his desk, we (and the diamonds) were feasting on thin crust pizza, sodas, bottled water, and cookies.  This was unbelievable and we soon found out that Rahul was in charge of Shaneel Services, a company that designed jewelry, manufactured it, and distributed it to companies like Zales and DFS worldwide.  It was a pretty cool experience. 

"We're going to sink"

All this Shark talk made us curious, well actually made Derek curious, I could not have cared less about sharks. I had no interest in seeing those behemoth creatures by accident, so, why would I want to pay to see them on purpose. To me it was just stoking the fire, teasing the world’s scariest animal. After about 30 seconds of convincing, I agreed to go, but swore if I ever got eaten by a shark while surfing, it was all Derek’s fault. Nine hundred and ninety five rand later ($100) we were up at 5:30am to ride the Shark Shuttle 3 hours to “the sharki-est” point in Africa, coincidently named, Shark Alley. This shuttle was brand new, had cool shark decals on the side, and a “Governator” looking and sounding driver, equipped with a headset, and microphone, which kept us up the entire ride. Still, while it looked and was brand new, it was the most uncomfortable thing we had ever ridden in. The seats were so small and uncomfortable, I would have rather sat on the floor, and our dive guide/driver/most annoying man in the world at 5:30 in the morning, would not shut up!

After a quick briefing, we had signed our life away, and were warned not to stick any of our limbs out of the dive cage. Soon after, we loaded the boat, put on our wetsuits, and began chumming for sharks. This adventure did not begin or end exactly as I pictured it, in fact I would go as far as calling Planet Earth a liar. Planet Earth made shark diving, look exciting yet peaceful.  Instead we were anchored 20 kilometers in the middle of the baron sea, howling winds and swells in the 6 to 8 ft range. Needless to say, when I received my first chunk of someone else’s breakfast on my wetsuit shoulder; I knew we were in for a long three hours. Well actually only about 1 and a half because this “barf” if you will, most certainly had the domino effect leading to roughly 8 of the 16 passengers flooding the ocean with that mornings breakfast. Then to put the icing on the cake, their was Miss Canada, or so we called her. She was a 50 yr old, over weight, loud, Canadian lady, with breasts so gigantic, they were noticeably flopping with the rolling of the huge swells. As if that picture is not enough, she was hysterically crying, praying, and yelling she “was to young to die,” convinced that the boat was going to sink. In Derek’s opinion her falling overboard would have been doing the world a major favor. I agree.  Three minutes later, and only two shark sightings the captain called an end to the trip because of safety reasons. Soon after, we were back on shore. All in all it was a let down, but on the bright side, or at least looking back on now, it was pretty hilarious, and we did see two HUGE great whites. How many have you seen?

Sharks Eat Seals!

While Derek was pretty spot on with our strand of bad luck, may I add that we did have a  great hour with local shaper and surf legend Mikey Meyer. He personally showed us his entire factory, treated us like old friends, and showed us just about every board he had ever shaped. At the end of our tour he even invited us to surf with him when the wind switched (the next day) but our impatience ended up biting us in the ass, because by that time we had already moved on. We really screwed that one up. However, despite our poor decision of having what would have probably been an epic session with Mikey Meyer, we did catch about 2 hours of 3-foot surf at Seal Point in Cape St. Francis. But in Derek’s defense, it was very sketchy. I obviously oblivious to the fact that, we were the only ones in the water, at a place named after seals, and correct me if I’m wrong but SHARKS EAT SEALS! After our short surf session we rested up watched, My Super Ex-Girlfriend, and walked to the only pub in town, where we enjoyed a dinner and a beer with a very localized crowd, at least visually. In actuality they were awesome, hilarious and traded stories of traveling with us for hours. 

"You Should Have Been Here Yesterday"

Justin and I arrived in beautiful South Africa with only one thing in mind, surfing.  In my opinion the only reason for visiting South Africa is to do two things, surf, and see some Great White sharks, but hopefully, not both at the same time. We thought the surfing wouldn’t be much of a problem considering the world famous Jeffery’s Bay and breaks with names like Supertubes is just a “short” 11-hour bus ride up the coast. For the Great Whites; duh have you ever seen Planet Earth or the Discovery Channel, they fly out of the water here, if we were to go on a tour designated to seeing them, we shouldn’t have a problem.   However after our first day in Cape Town where the cable car to the top of Table Mountain shut down literally as we were about to get onto it because of inclement weather (it was 75 and sunny) we knew that South Africa was not going to be as easy as we had hoped.

After spending one day in Cape Town we were up at the crack of dawn to catch the 11-hour bus to J-Bay.  This route is suppose to be one of the most pleasant drives in the country, hence the name the Garden Route to the Sunshine Coast.  Well it was very picturesque but it rained the whole time and there was a lot of construction on the roads so we did not experience much of the “sunshine” or “garden”.  We had already booked a room at a well-recommended place and although we were killing a day in transit we figured we could get a good nights sleep and get out early the next morning for some grade A surf.  This all changed when we arrived at the Island Vibes hostel. 

The people at the front desk were perhaps a little too island vibe-ed out because they managed to not have a room available for Justin and me.   This means that would have to spend the night in the dorm with 12 other people in bunk beds.  On top of this it was the normal bartenders birthday so the place was a complete zoo and everyone was hammered when we walked into the bar at 7pm, not the most fun atmosphere to be in when all you want in a little rest to be able to surf the next day.  After talking to some of the local guys and finding out that the surf and the weather was decent that day but the outlook did not look good for the next few days, we were bummed. Since we could not go back and sleep in our room (because it did not exist and we were in a dorm) we took part in the festivities and prayed the locals would be wrong.

After a night of very little sleep because of the 10 other people in our room, we got out of bed to what we would compare to a northeast storm, howling wind, rain, and cold weather, so much for the sunshine coast.  Obviously surfing was out of the question so we spent the day exploring the surf factories and stores.  We found ourselves very bored very quickly.  Luckily we had managed to get ourselves into our own room at a guesthouse just down the road from Island Vibes.

The next day was the same story so we decided we had to make a move up the coast in hope to find some better waves.  We got a taxi and headed for Cape St. Francis, made famous by Bruce Brown for its endless right-hand waves.  There were some waves breaking at one of the spots that we ventured so we went in the water and were obviously very disappointed.  On top of the surf not being any better here then J-Bay, this place was a ghost town and I’m pretty sure Justin and I were the only ones in town that didn’t live there year round.  Weighing our options we decided that in the morning we would make the 11-hour bus ride back to Cape Town because the surfing part of the trip was dead, now we had to get to the top of Table Mountain and find some Great Whites.

"Schaeff did you remember to close our door? This is Africa, we could come back and there be a Rhino in your bed."

I am not a gambling man, but I can bet on one thing for sure. Upon our arrival back to the States you can bet Montclair’s esteemed "Outdoor Store" will be paid an angry visit from Mr. Derek Serpe. For those of you who are not familiar with it, the Outdoor Store, formally the Patagonia store is know for its earthy staff, selling over priced wilderness gear, and its convenient location next to the delicious Raymond’s. Being that Derek and I both frequently visit the delicious Raymond’s, it only makes sense that we would acquire at least some of our travel gear from this purveyor of outdoor goods. In particular I am referring to the Patagonia safari shirt. This "safari blue" garment was the unstoppable. Long sleeve, yet crafted out of an extremely breathable lightweight fabric, water resistant, plenty of mesh vents, and most importantly "insect repellent."
As Derek so ingeniously described, our arrival to the Selous Game Reserve was nothing less than Dramatic. We stepped off the plane, both of us in our best Safari gear, Derek obviously better than mine, hence the "safari blue, safari shirt" got in the Land Rover and headed to the lodge. There were many awesome, yet peculiar traits about our lodge. In particular I am referring to the family style dinners, in which the entire lodge met at the bar at 7:30 to have a pre meal drink, then when Moody (the host, who matched his shirt to the table cloth each night) rang the dinner bell, the entire lodge, about 17 people would sit down at to two large tables and feast. The managers, Ricardo and Veronica eat with us, and generally at least half the people at the table did not speak English as there first language. Although initially, dinner was extremely awkward and uncomfortable, it turned out to be lots of fun. One night, Derek, Ricardo, and myself found it quite amusing how much this German guy looked and acted like Anthony Hopkins. Were very tempted to have him say "Hello Clarice".
We later found out the main reason for the family style dinner, was that when we had finished eating Ricardo and Veronica would discuss and arrange each group’s next day adventure. In these informal meetings they would tell us what we needed to bring, but more importantly what not to bring, or wear. This brings me back to Derek’s "safari blue, safari shirt", which made its way back to the hanger almost immediately after Ricardo announced, "Do not wear any dark colors especially blue, because, mosquito’s and flies are extremely attracted to them." While the "safari blue shirt" quickly became retired, Derek’s arsenal of safari gear was merely tested and by no means shut down. He obviously had the shirt in more than one color.
The next day we headed out on Safari, which was quite amazing. We got up close and personal with elephants, giraffes, lions, hippos, crocodiles, wildebeests, buffalo, monkeys, and our guides personal favorite impala. Over the next few days Derek and I learned a lot about the animals, and our surroundings. We conquered many obstacles and made an overly conscious effort to stay covered in bug spray at all times. To me this was the week of phenomenal Derek quotes. One night while we were both lying in our very comfortable mosquito netted beds Derek whispered over to me "Schaeff, you feel that wind? We got a major problem cause its blowing the mosquito nets". Before I could respond, this issue was solved, Derek had successfully tucked his mosquito net into the sides of his bed. At the time I found it a bit ridiculous but then again he wasn’t the guy with a bug bite the size of a golf ball on his wrist. However, my favorite quote of all was what became Derek’s signature line every time we left our bandana. "Schaeff did you remember to close our door? This is Africa, we could come back and there be a Rhino in your bed." End quote.
Before we knew it, it was time to go, and all that was left for us to conquer was trying to drive a 1971 stick, Land Rover Defender 109, and, survive a flight back to Dar as Salaam through a rainstorm. Both obstacles were a bit hairy, but ultimately successful. Tanzania was a huge success.
(PS. We have great pictures, its just very hard to find a strong enough connection to upload pictures on. We will when we can.)

"Gentlemen, we have reached our cruising altitude of 120ft"

Justin and I had both been on some small aircrafts before, mostly when going to and from Nantucket or skydiving. However, as we walked along the tarmac in Dar es Salaam to our connecting flight from Zanzibar to the Matambwe airstrip in the Selous Game Reserve, we agreed we had never even planned on flying on a plane of this size, ever.
The cabin of our 4 passenger “airplane” was no bigger then that of a twin bed. Justin and I were in the middle seats, a large Brazilian man was sitting co-pilot because the plane was most stable with him there, and a small Belgian man behind us with our bags to further “stabilize” the aircraft. Our pilot was a confident Canadian named Richard, who had been “flying in the bush his whole life” (he was no older then 27). To say the least we were sweating as we taxied to the runway.
We had a 50-minute flight to the first landing strip where we would drop off the other two passengers. As we made our descent to land we realized this landing strip was something out of a movie. The “airport,” had no lights, no control tower, and certainly no terminal. Just a dirt strip with a faded flag signaling the pilot the direction of the wind. Once on the ground and realizing that we could indeed take-off, fly, and land without any problems, Justin, obviously wanted a little more with the next flight. Being that the man at the check-in counter told us that these pilots enjoyed flying low so the passengers could view the wildlife from the air, Justin, no longer as nervous, intended to see if the ticket man gave us actual information. Without hesitation Justin not only asked to sit co-pilot, but hinted that it would be in the best interest of all of them for Richard to fly as low and fast as the plane would let him. Suddenly this young Canadian’s eyes lit up, and his response “absolutely eeehh” For the next 15 minutes we flew no higher then 120 feet off the ground at 125 mph, nearly skimming treetops and narrowly making ridges. This was certainly an adrenalin rush and a great kickoff to our safari. As we approached our landing strip, Richard made a fly-by to pick his spot to land. We touched down flawlessly and were greeted by the manager of the Sable Mountain Lodge, Ricardo.
Ricardo was a rugged looking Spaniard who informed us that he ran the lodge with his Czech wife Veronica. He was very nice and welcoming but seemed a little on edge upon our arrival. Later that night at dinner we found out why. Veronica informed us that Ricardo, normally mellow and easygoing guy had had his fair share of problems this week. Veronica explained that it had rained very hard the last few days which left the solar powered lodge very low on energy, destroyed the dirt roads (we saw two 4x4s stuck on our way to the Lodge from the landing strip) and many of the guests were unhappy do to the soggy weather. As she said “this is supposed to be the dry season.” On top of this she said that she would have never flown, or landed where we did today because it was far too muddy from the rain. (Thanks) Although our maverick pilot landed us safely, Ricardo did not have as much faith as we did in Richard. Ricardo even insisted on waiting for the plane to take off again just to make sure he did not have to call the ambulance in case of a issue. We were the only people at the landing strip. Being that our arrival day was so exciting, we could only imagine what the rest of the safari would have in store for us.

The Lion King remains true, In Africa they actually say, "Hakuna Matata"

Generally speaking a "high speed" ferry is of high speed, right? Wrong, or at least the day Derek and I took it. After finally getting out of Egypt and landing in Tanzania we decided that since none of the Safari companies were open (it was Saturday), we should hop on the 1.5 hour fast ferry to Zanzibar and relax by the beach for the first half of our time in Tanzania.
At first, arriving to the Sea Bus, seemed no different than the train in Egypt. Getting out of the car everybody hassled you, and once on the dock, we found out that the boat was an hour and a half behind schedule. Being, that we now trusted know one, (thanks to Egypt), Derek and I sat down, tried to stay positive, and kept to ourselves. About 30 seconds later, my Attention Deficient Disorder kicked in and the mingling began. Of all the interesting people we met on dock, Louie, the 45 year old South African, left the biggest impression on us.
For starters Louie explained to us that you CAN trust theses people, that they are kind hearted and if they hassle you just mutter Toka Toka (go away), and they leave you alone. We also found out that five months ago he decided to leave Durban for good and get out of the city leading him to his current job on Mnemba Island, where as he explains "Its great, I get to have my feet in the sand every day."
Together the three of us boarded the fast boat and headed for Zanzibar. However, about 1.5 hours in, when we should have been arriving, the engines died. For about the next 5 minutes while they figured out what was happening we just rocked in the middle of the ocean. Additionally may I add, that despite Zanzibarians living on the water, the ferry ride was notoriously known for making them all sea sick. Moving on…..and about 45 minutes later we arrived in Stone Town on one engine instead of two, got in a car and headed to the furthest northern point of the island, Nungwi.
This place was insane. The water was a perfect aqua blue and the powder white, fictional to say the least. If you can imagine an entire town including hotels, bodegas, bars, restaurants, first aid centers, schools, etc all being along one beach you would have Nungwi. The beach was route 80, you had to use it to get from one part of town to the other. At high tide….well either you swam or just stayed put. To add to this amazing place were the people. Let's see, there was Captain TMK (Tanzian Marlin King) The Governor, FBI, Mr. BBQ, Jack Sparrow, Kobe Bryant, and many more. Those were there nick names they introduced themselves as, called each other, and all claimed to be the original.
These guys were great, all they were concerned with was good music, what time people were going to Cholo’s (the beach bar completely made out of boats with a dirt bike suspended in the trees) and whether or not we thought Obama was going to be our next president. Some of the most laid back people we had ever met. After a few evenings with theses guys we said our goodbyes headed to Stown Town for sightseeing and plan to fly out today for our Safari in Selous Game Reserve. Hakuna Matata.

When Cameron when to Egypt Land, let my Cameron GOOOOOO

After all of our experiences in Egypt, Justin and I found ourselves unusually excited to board our Ethiopian Air flight for the 10 hour trip to Tanzania. However, Egypt was not ready to let us go quite yet. After taking a quick flight from Luxor to Cairo we entered the international departure terminal. What we found out was that our fight was moved from the original time of 3:35am to 2:20am. Considering it was only 1:30am we figured if we were quick we could make it. Wrong. Unlike the United States or any other civilized nation, you needed to go through two security checkpoints just to get to the ticket counter. We got through the first but the guard at the second would not let us by. Not knowing what to do I went into panic attack mode, and Justin, business mode, demanding to talk the superior in charge. However, since the only people in Cairo that speak English are the scam artists, we did not get very far. Even with the plane still on the ground and the gate open we had no shot. So we did what we were trained to do, find the nearest Hilton, considering it was 3am by this time, it was definitely the rite choice.
After getting comfortable in our room, and talking to STA about what we should do, we fell asleep, assured we would be able to get on the same flight the following night. The next morning I woke up feeling terrible, with congestion, nausea, and a slight fever. Not a good sign since we had a busy day ahead of us where we had to find the STA travel office in Cairo, get our paper tickets changed, and get on the flight to Tanzania. Once at the travel office we were informed that we could not get on the flight we were promised, and needed to wait to the following night to get out. We realized later that this was not so bad, considering I was not feeling any better. When we arrived back at the hotel I saw the doctor and he informed me that in fact I did not have the west nile virus, which Justin secretly feared I somehow contracted.
This next morning, after ingesting half a pharmacy, I am feeling better and we are praying to leave Egypt. Hopefully we will not have any problems. In the great words of Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off “When Cameron when to Egypt Land, let my Cameron GOOOOOO.”

"The monuments and felucca ride were great but, GET US OUT OF HERE"

Thanks to our overly luxurious, 18 and a half hour train ride the day before, waking up at 2:30am the next day, seemed the most fitting way to begin day two in Aswan. At such an hour what awaited us was a 3 hour drive to the world renown Abu Simbel, and a boxed breakfast our hotel so conveniently put together for us.
Let's talk about the box breakfast first. This cardboard lunch box, consisted of a hard boiled egg, a warm Tang juice box, and three rolls so tightly saran wrapped that if something had happened to us on the three hour police convoy, it could have been used as a weapon. From first glance you would never be able to tell that this baseball of yeast was bread, let alone 3 separate rolls. The only reason I knew this was because, what else did I have to do. Sleep? Yea right! We were headed directly in the direction of the 15 person kidnapping that happened no more than 5 days earlier. Sleep was not an option, realizing my natural weapons, Bear Grylls style i.e. the “bread baseball” was.
Now for the van ride. This tin can was like the United Nations. Everyone spoke a different language, and only their native tongue, including the driver. This posed many issues, which will be explained later. To make matters stranger a French family was so unhappy with this arrangement that after boarding from their hotel, they demanded to be let off a block later. (To the best of my French translation) What can you expect, they aren't called the French for nothing. Finally after the three hour bus ride in which it went from night to day, leading to our van heating up like an oven, and the driver not understanding air con being yelled at him in 6 different languages, we made it to Abu Simbel.
This to me was one of the coolest monuments yet mainly because it was moved from being completely underwater, and also roughly 4500 years old. However, after we had our 30 minutes of Indian Jones time where I looked for secret passages, and Derek yelled at me to stop touching, we got back on the bus for the three hour ride back to Aswan.
That is where we met our felucca Captain, Ali and his first mate Muhammad, easily remembered because when put together it created..... Our Captain Ali was, 60 yrs old, about 6-3, 145lbs, and had roughly 3 teeth in his entire mouth. This dental fact was easily noticed, presumably because, he was always smiling. I mean if my job for the past twenty years was sailing up and down the Nile, I’d imagine I too would always be smiling, I'd just hope to have a few more teeth in my mouth. Anyway, we boarded and were off, just Derek, myself, and our two sailors on essentially a 25 ft. sail boat. To make matters even better they both spoke surprisingly good English. Once on the Nile we had the pleasure of listing to Ali’s favorite cheesy American music, had many laughs, and found it very funny how interested Ali was to talk to Derek about Scandinavia and the beautiful women who populate it. The Felucca ride truly saved the trip. No, hustlers, great company, and nothing to do but relax. Just enjoying the beautiful surroundings. If you wonder about the bathrooms....Nature was the answer, which was a HUGE step up from the train. The only down side was the "Egyptian meat". I thought it was for the stray dogs that sparsely lined the coast. Wrong!
After two days of real relaxation, we got off the boat, said our good byes, and got in another United Nations-esk van, where everyone spoke some dialect of English and felt the same way about Egypt. "The monuments and felucca ride were great but, GET US OUT OF HERE".

Planes, T-R-A-I-N, and Automobiles

Justin had never been on an extended train ride before.  I had been on a few in Europe and vowed that I would never take a long distance local train again. This is because after experiencing an 6 hour ride that was suppose to be 3 from Florence to Rome I was fuming. So, when Nabil, the owner of Hotel Osiris and the planner for the rest of our time in Egypt, told us he could not get us on the desired express sleeper train for the 12 hour overnight ride from Cairo to Aswan I was, to say the least, a little concerned.  Turns out because it was the end of Ramadan everyone is Egypt was traveling to their home away from Cairo and we were “lucky” to get our “first class” tickets on train 996.  We both asked many times about the quality of the train, how many times it stopped and if the service was normally on time.  Nabil assured us it was a quality train, we would arrive on time, and all we needed to do was “Relax”. We trusted him, big mistake.

            As the dirty, rusty wagons squeaked into the station we looked at ourselves and knew we were in for an interesting journey.  The doors opened the chaos began. Egyptians rushed the doors, all yelling at each other in their native tongue, loading bicycles, tied up cardboard boxes, piles of luggage, and entire families from infants to great grandparents being carried on from their wheelchairs (decathator and all, literally).  When the storm of people began to clear we boarded the train and found our seats.  Luckily, we were not in one of the 6 person cabins but rather in a smaller 3-person cabin, so no matter who else boarded the train, we had the 2-1 advantage on them.

            The “first class” was certainly anything but, before the train even departed we had sanitized our hands a half a dozen times because of how filthy it was, and the seats certainly did not allow for a pleasurable nights sleep.  Then there was the public bathroom, I am not even going to go there just use your imagination then double the filth, no joke.  Now we waited, waited for the other passenger to board and waited for the train to depart, we soon found that waiting was the theme of this journey.  The train scheduled to depart at 10pm did not start moving until 11:15, then it made a stop about every 15 minutes.  Around the third stop a young student joined us in our cabin.  We were relieved to have a “normal” person, so we dozed off with the help of the mini pharmacy from our packs.

            When we regained full consciousness around 8am, we expected to be at our stop in Luxor, thus having only 2 more hours on the train.  When we asked one of the “staff” how much longer, we found out that because of all the stops we were still a good 4 hours from Luxor and at least 7 from Aswan.  Of course this was all “Allah willing” (which seems to be the theme in Egypt, anything goes wrong they blame is on Allah, meaning god did not want them to be on time. We think its just a excuse for their incompetence).             Then the train “waiter” asked us for a tip after telling us the about the 7 hour delay. A tip after telling us our train was a good 7 hours delayed? Ha, might.  However, every couple of hours the “staff” would come by and demand a tip, for what we are unsure, but just to get them to leave us alone we would give them an Egyptian pound (25 cents) and tell them to get lost.  The hours came and went and for the last hour of the ride every member of the “staff” approach our cabin and say, “10 minute to Aswan, tip.”  We were almost ready to kill these people when we got off the train. Finally after 18 and a half hours, it was  4:30pm and we made it to Aswan.  We got in a cab, went to our hotel, which was pretty nice, and went straight for the pool trying to laugh off the experience. Well, we did but also agreed from now on, tourist trains, ONLY! 

A wise Egyptian once said, “Man fears time, but time fears the Pyramids”

If you took the largest Pyramid of Giza apart, block-by-block, you could build a ten-foot by one-foot wall around the entire country of France.  This of course was just one of the many fact’s told to us by Hamdee, our pyramid tour guide but more importantly, Egyptian history extraordinaire. From a far he was just another Egyptian, jeans, an old t-shirt, and a snazzy pair of dark sunglasses.  But once you got up close and realized the jumbo size binder he ALWAYS kept close full of Egyptian facts maps and I'm pretty sure mine and Derek’s entire personal history, you would realize he was the man. Appropriately, and to our pronunciation ease, we quickly nick named him “HD” because he was High Definition.  From the step pyramids to the sphinx HD new it all and since our tour began at 7:30am till 3pm he had plenty of time to pump us full of information. 

            The tree major pyramid sites are not very close together. In fact they are several kilometers apart. While it seemed that HD would have carried us on his back from pyramid to pyramid if we wanted, instead we had the pink flower coach as a form of transportation. As if the name wasn't enough it had gigantic flowers all over it and when Derek and I stepped out in our matching yellow Timbo shirts we certainly got some looks, but at the same time a force to reckon with.

            Our highlight of the day was the “small adventure” HD told us about in which he wisely opted to stay in the air-conditioned van. We pulled up to the Dahshur pyramid and HD said, “You guys are young and strong I think you will enjoy the adventure of climbing into the pyramid.” To us it was a no brainier, a chance to be Indiana Jones? I think yes. What were next our legs will never for give us.  Fully crouched and basically leapfrogging down the 60 meter tunnel into the center of the pyramid was truly amazing. I remember looking at Derek and yelling “Can you believe this were 60 meters below the ground and relying on the craftsmen ship of a 4,500 year old structure this thing could fall down on us any moment.” His response, “Ahhh yea Justin I know lets not think about that.” Then there was the climb back up. Holy Sh*T our legs were on fire, it was worse than Timmy Glens endless run, worse than Mr. G’s Greenbrook work out, and most importantly we had to then climb down 50 stairs carved out of sand, with our legs feeling like they could give out at any moment. When we got back to the van, dripping in sweat and gasping for air HD was hysterical and told us in the 10 years he had been doing these tours he has only done that “small adventure” a handful of times.  We certainly walked like an Egyptian.    

In Ancient Hieroglyphics, Cairo is spelt: S-C-A-M.

Justin and I had read that Egypt and particularly Cairo was notorious for its scams and street touts. We didn’t think much of this because we considered ourselves experienced travelers. However, from the moment we got off the plane, where we were unable to find a working ATM, which was needed to purchase our visas, to the fact that no one in customs really cared that we were aimlessly walking around customs, just barely off the tarmac, we realized we were in for a rough few days.
In our guide book there are a number of scams listed, the first one being the hotel scam and of course this was the first one that was thrown at us. Finally, after getting our passport stamped were immediately met by some fat guy with a ridiculous ID card (which looked like it could be made in Mrs. Dormers art class) waiting, and pretending to be some type of government official, asking us where we were staying. We told him “Hotel Osiris” where we had already spoken to the owners and arranged transportation from the airport, in hopes of evading this type of problem. After this he was quick to respond with “Which Osiris, there are two and one is closed, do you have a voucher.” This typical line is right out of our guide book and often used by these types of people because there is only one Osiris, and it is up and running just fine. This guy was trying to make us second-guess ourselves and go with him to a far less hotel where he could get a commission for bringing us to. We caught onto this right away and after about a five-minute argument we walked away and found our driver who was waiting with a sign with our names on it just like home.
We followed him to his cab that felt like a 70’s nightclub inside, complete with a furry dash board, all types of ordainments hanging from the ceiling, an array of red lights, black lights, and strobe lights, but our favorite, about 50 different mirrors where you could see every angle of the road perfectly. Driving from the airport we noticed a good amount of cars on the road, which we though was funny considering it was 1:30am on a Wednesday night. They were all driving like it was a NASCAR race, honking, and swerving lanes as if there were no lane lines at all. We arrived at our hotel shortly after 2am where the owner, Nabil, was waiting for us. He gave us a quick tour around the place and showed us to our room. The beds were comfortable and had great air conditioning. We got a good nights rest in preparation to tackle Cairo in the morning.
After waking up rather late and enjoying a wonderful breakfast high above the skyline, we found out we would not be able to see the pyramids our first day, do to our late start. So we decided to explore Cairo and the Egyptian Museum instead.
We were warned of the numerous street touts and scams by the young guy at the front desk and were told not to talk to anyone because all they would want was money. We had already again read this in our guidebook and were well aware of these scams that could cause us a great inconvenience. Cairo in daylight was unlike anything either of us has ever seen. Imagine the hottest day, mid August, midtown, New York City. Double the amount of people and cars, triple the smog, and add about 15 degrees to the temperature and you get downtown Cairo on a regular basis. We soon concluded that Cairo was the closest thing to hell you can get on earth.
As we sweltered in the sun and could literally see and feel the dirt collecting on our clothes and skin, we walked down the street to the museum were we were approached by the normal papyrus sellers and people asking to be our guides. We avoided all and made our way to the museum where we wondered until we met a man named “Moses” who offered to show us around the museum (for a price of course). One thing that we found particularly shocking was the fact that you had to bribe the museum guards in order to see certain exhibits. For instance, to get to King Tutankhamen’s room you had to walk up a set of stairs that was blocked by guards, and to get by the guards you had to give a few Egyptian pounds. Call me crazy but isn’t that suppose to be included in the entrance fee and shouldn’t any person in a uniform be fired for taking bribes? Nope, not in Egypt just another normal part of life that which we unfortunately got more accustomed to.
As we left the museum we looked for a place to eat. After wondering the streets for a solid half hour we found nothing. During this time a young man approached us with perfect English, greeting us to Egypt and asking if we were looking for anything particular. We said nothing particular and he pointed us to an area where there were more shops and things to look at because apparently we were walking into a bad area of town (as if the whole town wasn’t bad enough). This interaction introduced us to Cairo’s famous “art of scamming,” and the beginning of scam number 2.
After a short conversation that went relatively well this mystery man disappeared. We continued down the way he pointed us. No later then 3 minutes from his “vanishing act,” he reappeared in front of us and struck up conversation again, “My friends from New York we meet again, let me take you to the good shopping area,” it all became apparent now and we thought, oh great here we go scam number 2, but, lets go along with it, maybe we will get a laugh. On the way, this con man offered to show us his shop and car that was parked out front of it. He said,
“This is my shop, come in for some tea, no money, just “Egyptian hospitality.” Sure buddy, we enter and he shows us a ticket stub from New York “My brother lives in New York, here look I love it very much,” then comes a picture of Muhammad Ali “This is my father with Muhammad Ali, American yes? When he come to my shop, he sat right there, my father imports these fragrances to United States for Bath and Body Works, you hear?”
After this story and more meaningless conversation we had heard enough. We tried to leave but he didn’t let us and got hostile about us not accepting his tea. So we sat down, signed his visitor’s book and drank the tea as he began trying to sell us perfumes, which we refused and got up and leave. He then gets even more hostile and blocked the door, demanding we pay for our tea. We gave him a couple of pounds for the tea and got on our way cursing him as we left his shop. This was only the first of many similar schemes where people approached you and pretend to be your friend just to get you into their shop. We saw half a dozen similar scams that day and later that night a different guy gave us the exact same story, pointed to the exact same car, and to the exact same shop we laughed at him and told us how the rest of the scheme would work out and he didn’t know what to say. We felt accomplished that we got one back on these thieves.
Besides from the scams you could not find anything in Cairo, not even a place to eat, a decent internet café, or a nice enough place to sit and enjoy a sheesha (which Egypt is famous for) As we returned to our hotel completely exhausted with upset stomachs (because we were forced to eat KFC and Pizza Hut for our meals) we watched the dirt rinse off in the shower and got excited about seeing the pyramids the next morning.