update 31.
sudan surprises
Cycling in Sudan
2 January 2009
Total kilometers cycled: 46,805
Specific country info on routes & roads/food & accommodation/the locals available here.
Africa,
once visited,
creeps insidiously into the travelers blood and draws them back into
its depths
with an uncanny fascination. William Hoffman
The ride to Wadi Halfa got off to a less than auspicious start. We got lost on the way out of sprawling Khartoum and added an extra 20 kilometers to our journey. I become distracted, hit a rough patch of gravel and took a hard fall. My hitherto 'unbreakable' Nalgene water bottle sprung a leak. The wind blasted us with such force that a call to nature left my shoes splattered with urine.
And, as always, things did look up. The angry northern headwind refused to relent, but gradually our days in the
A young man passing in a
battered Toyota pick-up pulled over to present us with a bag of fresh
pita-style bread.
Two smiling guys in a delivery truck offered us containers of yogurt.
Shopkeepers
refused payment for biscuits and soft drinks. An old Nubian man on a
donkey handed Eric two tomatoes--quite a treasure in the desert. And
surprise of all surprises, a devout looking man clad in a long, white
robe and turban slowed down his SUV and thrust two small bottles of
imported whiskey at
us (don't forget that
Sudan is a country in
which sharia
law is in effect and alcohol is strictly forbidden). An
elderly
man invited us to his home for a delicious breakfast (complete with
salad and sweets) when we innocently asked if there was a restaurant in
town.
Sure enough, after being shuttled from the police station to the immigration office and from this counter to that counter, filling out numerous forms that had to be scrutinized and rubber stamped by a small army of tea-drinking officials, we were awarded the coveted exit stamps from Sudan. No mention was made of our lengthy overstay.
After four tedious
hours of waiting and bureaucratic nonsense, it was finally
time to
board the Lake Nasser ferry bound for Egypt. Eric had gotten
tickets for the upper deck--we'd enjoy fine views of the passing desert
scenery, be invigorated by the breeze,
and usher in 2009 gazing up at the midnight stars and out at the
temples of Abu Simbel, he promised. Why take a claustrophobic
cabin like the other tourists when we could have the upper deck all to
ourselves? In fact, 2009 began being splashed by the waves, scrunched
up in the fetal position with the sleeping bag pulled tightly
around trying not to freeze
to death or be blown overboard. So much for a romantic voyage.
Egypt is something of a shock coming from Sudan. Aswan's main thoroughfare is crammed with touts and hustlers keen to empty the pockets of the hordes of aging European tourists, many of whom trail behind their multi-lingual guides clad in bermuda shorts and capri pants despite the chilly weather. McDonalds golden arches deface the Nile promenade and battalions of overly-eager touts offer ancient papyrus, felucca trips, pyramid t-shirts, camel rides, authentic Nubian swords and a wide array of kitschy souvenirs all for very cheap price--for you my friend I make big discount--no hassles- you look, no pay. And so on goes the pitch.
In spite of all the hassles, we plan to play tourist for a few days before setting off into the desert again for the 1,600 km ride up to Cairo. There are temples and tombs to visit, exotic souqs to explore and lots of tasty looking food to feast on. Then it will be time for a gentle stroll by the Nile to watch the feluccas sailing between the palm-fringed islands. And then back to the room to revel in the luxury--hot running water, a small balcony, electricity that never fails, clean white sheets, a sit down toilet that flushes. I could get used to this life.

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