Young men who like their comforts, or who wish to pass their time pleasantly in the company of women, must not go to Arabia.
- Carsten Niebuhr, Description of Arabia, 1774
Aqaba (Jordan) appears to be booming with big money developments, but there’s still a kind of small town beach vibe that worked for us. Coming from desert to sea was a nice transition and we filled in a few days with easy exploring; walking the beach, finding the best cheap street food, and inventing ways to sneak beers past nosy Muslims.
It looked touristy but we didn’t see many. I guess it’s either off season or more likely set up to be more of a local’s destination. Maybe that’s why we were able to enjoy it without feeling ‘packaged’. A good way to illustrate what I mean is with this picture, yes you will find a McDonalds here but the all too familiar golden arches float above Arabic script and you are likely to see a couple guys on camels strolling past the drive through (there’s another good juxtaposition coming up in this post, spot the several thousand year old monuments framed by the franchised logo of a popular pizza purveyor).
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There was surprisingly little drama returning our tiny white rental car. At one point the guy did try to charge us an extraordinary drop fee so we just put him on the phone with the dude back in Amman who we picked it up from. After a bunch of back and forth in Arabic the guy eventually backed down and left with a ‘oh well, no harm in trying’ kind of look. It’s hard not to think about how many people just open their wallets for these scams. Saying no has almost become a reflex now, a survival skill. Start with an uncompromising ‘no’ and go from there. Take note if any of you are planning travel in the Middle East; basically everything is a scam until proven otherwise, the prudent traveler will place the burden of proof on the person asking for your money.
Our plan was to travel to Egypt over water. We had assumed that this would be possible from looking at a map printed on the back of the rental car contract. Our notion was supported along the way by people who pointed us towards Aqaba, and once here towards the ticket agencies. The good news was that our plan would be possible. The bad news is that the ferry is pricey and notoriously unreliable. We paid for our tickets and since the ferry didn’t leave until 10PM, left our bags at the hotel and killed some time in town. We negotiated a ride to the terminal and before long were on our way to the docks with the bald Jordanian cousin of the guy at our front desk.
The terminal turned out to be a massive commercial harbour well outside of town. Thousands of containers waiting for ships were lit with huge yellow flood lights. Hundreds of big trucks were lined up. It was windy and very cold. Our ride sped off into the night and we stood there with our bags taking in the scene and wondering why our lives always seem to resemble an episode of The Amazing Race. What to do next? Like moths we instinctively shuffled towards the light. Over the next hour and a half we managed to find various unmarked officials in various unmarked buildings. Line up, pay for something, get a stamp, go to another building and line up again. During the process your senses dull as your mind instinctively slips into a vegetative state in preparation for what is sure to be a nightmare of a travel experience.
At some point along the way we exchanged quick tips and information with a couple that were trying to get on the same ferry. We were at different stages in the ‘line up and pay for something’ program so there wasn’t much time for small talk. The next time we saw them they were speeding past us in a bus as we stood shivering on a curb wondering what to do next. We waved, they recognized us and replied with a bunch of frantic gestures that could only mean “your asses really need to be on this bus”. We started chasing them on foot and could see them moving up the aisle towards the driver. Whatever they said or did worked because the brake lights came on and the bus lurched to a stop. Fifty heads swivelled around and were treated to the site of Jaime and I galloping across the tarmac with straps dangling, bags bouncing and flip flops flapping. We thanked our saviors, and the driver for stopping, and grabbed onto the overhead bar for a trip across the big loading bays towards our vessel.
We found seats on the massive ferry. It wasn’t hard because we appeared to be the only foot passengers. The rest would trickle up over the next several hours (yes, several hours) as they loaded all those trucks and cargo. We eventually dozed off and woke up to an entirely different scene. The cabin was stuffed and stuffy. Smells from the meals, feet, farts and burps of a million Egyptian and Jordanian truckers now occupied every available inch of the cabin. The guy behind us treated everyone around him to selections of tinny sounding Arabic music played at full volume through tinny cell phone speakers. Beside us a fight broke out over what appeared to be a seating dispute. The clock ticked past midnight and we still were sitting there tied to the dock.
Conditions in the cabin were moving quickly from unpleasant to nightmarish. We were counting out our sleeping pills to see if there were enough for both of us to commit suicide when a uniformed crew member tapped me on the shoulder. He asked “how many are you?” The noisy cabin fell silent and a million smelly truckers made no effort to appear inconspicuous as they leaned in to see what was going on. I said “two” and he said “follow me please”.
We gathered our things and reluctantly left our seats. A glance back confirmed our fears that they had instantly been usurped by the hordes, nature abhors a vacuum. There were already two fat truckers belching hummus at each other and yelling something over a thousand heads at an unseen friend on the other side of the boat as they farted contentedly into our former real estate. We were wholly committed to this new development and struggled to keep up with our mysterious guide as he expertly weaved through the sweating hordes.
Our departure was queue for the cabin to return to full volume chaos, the contrast from the momentary hush while we were being rooted out of our seats made it sound louder than ever. We trailed behind the uniform certain that we were either being kicked off the boat due to an immigration problem or subject to a scam that would involve further attempts at separating us from our money. We weren’t in the mood for either, and I began working up a head of steam in preparation for a good showdown. We jostled, pushed and shoved our way through the masses, went around a corner, through a door, up some stairs and into a crew area. Was he taking us to see the captain? With a whoosh two big doors swung open into a large room. There were giant padded first class reclining chairs, wrap around booths along the side with tables, televisions and a coffee maker. Our mysterious crew member began to look like an angel and for a moment I thought I was dreaming. We had just left the seventh ring of hell and been led into this hushed inner sanctum. The angel said “I trust you will find this a little more comfortable” and then disappeared. I almost cried. We didn’t care if it was a scam. We were prepared to pay anything to stay here, anything!
We dozed peacefully and comfortably still not sure what we did to deserve this but we weren’t asking any questions either. Every once in a while I would open my eyes and there would be a few uniformed officers sitting around one of the tables sipping at tiny little cups of steaming aromatic Arabic coffee’s. At 4AM we finally bumped into a dock in Egypt, we gathered up our things and as we exited the expected bribe attempt never came. In fact we didn’t even see our saviour again. How he found us, why he did it, and who was behind it remain a mystery to us.
Soon we found ourselves in a crappier version of the same enormous commercial shipping yard that we left behind in Aqaba. It was shabby to the extreme, unlit and there were tiny cinderblock shacks pretending to be customs buildings. It’s how you would imagine a commercial port in a post revolution African country to look, maybe because it was a commercial port in a post revolution African country.
We guessed which way to walk across the expansive tarmac and ducked between idling rigs which were waiting to load. Big trucks rumbled past us blending diesel fumes into the dry dust. We pulled our shirts up over our faces to try and filter some of the diesel dust before inhaling, but holding our breath until they passed proved to be the only effective strategy. The trucks turned out to be a necessary evil. They pointed out the direction to a potential escape route, and their fleeting lights gave a brief opportunity to spot obstacles like ditches, pipes, cinder blocks and boulders otherwise unmarked and invisible in the dark. Occasional clusters of glowing orange dots were exposed by the passing headlights as groups of shadowy men smoking cigarettes hand rolled in scrap paper.
This was Nuweiba on Egypts Sinai peninsula. Somehow we had negotiated our way through the dark concrete maze, found the world’s oldest functioning ATM, had our passports stamped and all without being robbed, cheated or run down by a sleepy truck driver who would likely be unaccustomed to seeing wide eyed breath holding Canadian couples trotting along with shirts pulled up over their faces. This felt like quite an accomplishment as we sipped scalding hot strong Arabic tea out of tiny cups while waiting for the sun to come up.
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We were occasionally bothered by rowdy, pushy, Egyptian bullies blatantly lying to us through smiles full of gold teeth. “My friend, the busses have been cancelled come with me and I will help you” or “please, you must go with my cousin who will be driving straight to Cairo, you pay him nothing”. All bullshit of course. They had a practiced answer for any objection you put up and the sell would escalate through what became a very predictable pattern. First the friendly greeting, the harmless questions, an introduction and warm welcome followed by their pitch. When you refuse the tout changes tactics. Pleading for the sake of a dying relative, taking a bullying and aggressive approach, trying to wear you down with relentless repetition were all standard devices. We had been in Egypt for little more than two hours and had already been exposed to the most shameless and brazen tout scum that we had encountered in our lives. Little did we know that this would be the norm not, as we wrongly assumed, the embarrassing exception perpetrated by desperate vermin at an outlying rugged commercial port.
The sun came up with a vengeance. Our cold dark squalid wasteland turned into a hot and blindingly bright squalid wasteland. Nuweiba looks better in the dark. By the time our bus finally lurched to a dusty stop in front of us we had spent five hours enjoying this fine neighbourhood.
20-Apr-2011 18:47, OLYMPUS IMAGING CORP. u1030SW,S1030SW , 5.0, 5.0mm, 0.003 sec, ISO 80 |
I’ve been on some nasty busses, really nasty, but this one really made an impression. Mismatched tires, flattened suspension, dirtier than dirt, torn seats and windows painted over; it would be our home for the next 8 hours. The trip to Cairo slipped past in dream like slivers of consciousness. We passed deserted hotels, camels, tanks, and at some point I’m pretty sure a guy with a machine gun was standing in front of me with his hand out. He was probably asking for my passport but the combination of prescription strength codeine and scotch helped me to just close my eyes and watch him melt away. It may be a bit crude, but it works. Egyptian travel survival skill number two: always carry earplugs, an eye mask, and enough drugs to tranquilize a horse with you because you never know when the need to render yourself unconscious may come up.
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We arrived the same afternoon just before dinner time. The bus may have stopped somewhere for food, I have a surreal memory of Jaime offering me a spoonful of steaming yellow turd curry surrounded by bleating goats and dusty moonscape. Whether or not this was a drug induced hallucination was the topic of animated discussion but it didn’t matter, we were starving.
After a taxi, two hostels, several blocks of walking and waving off countless scam artists we found a place to drop our bags. We chose “The Canadian Hostel” which is unsurprisingly staffed by a bunch of Egyptians who have never been to, nor know anything about Canada. It was in the city center a block or so from Tahrir Square, a name popularized by news broadcasts during the recent revolution. We headed out to get acquainted with the city of 18 million by sampling its food.
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A few things stood out to us from our visit. The traffic was chaotic, no rules and lots of horns. Crossing the street is an extreme sport and spending time anywhere near the main roads will fray your nerves and shorten your life expectancy. Fortunately our time in Sri Lanka prepared us well. The skills we picked up were put to good use on Cairo’s streets. For no good reason we expected the city to be in better shape. There’s I guess we hadn’t really thought too much about it before arriving and so were surprised at the crumbled shabbiness of the place. To be fair certain sections retained an old world kind of charm. There are plenty of beautiful old buildings and I’ll even admit that in some fleeting moments between fending off a pushy lying scammer, dodging an out of control taxi, and gagging on the smell of sun dried urine or a long dead animal that nobody has bothered to move, the spectacle of it all can be quite striking. The rest of the time it’s a nightmare.
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In ‘Baghdad Without a Map’ a great read for anyone contemplating a trip to Arabia, Tony Horwitz describes Cairo as a “giant overturned ashtray”, which we would eventually come to consider a generous description.
We wandered up and down the Nile, visited the Cairo Museum, and ferreted out some great little eateries and sheesha bars. The city has a lot to offer, but after only a couple days it just wasn’t worth the hassle anymore. From the moment we stepped onto the street to the moment we closed our hotel room door behind us we were shamelessly harassed. You can argue economics and unfortunate circumstance but our experiences in much poorer countries would indicate that this has nothing to do with it. Even with 30 years of civil war in Sri Lanka and decades of harsh trade embargos in Cuba we were left charmed by so much pride and dignity. From the persistent old ladies in Indonesia to the flirty laughing Thais there is typically some kind of underlying mutual respect between hawker and traveller. Treat them like the entrepreneurs that they are and have a laugh. Most are quick to mark whether or not you are a potential customer and then get on with it, business is business. Sure we’ve had our frustrating moments but they have exceedingly been the exception.
Egyptian hawkers and touts were something completely different.
They were angry, pouty, and aggressively plying their trade with absolutely no respect for you or apparently any shame or self respect for themselves. They colored our entire Egyptian experience with the awful but necessary impression that anyone being nice to you is lying to you, and if you are visiting their country then you are simply expected to endure their unrelenting shit and abuse. We have never experienced before (or since) the kind of consistent malice, trickery and childish tantrums that were served up in Egypt with dependable regularity. Surprisingly, their behaviour was acceptable and apparently supported. There were always plenty of locals around to witness the countless times Jaime put up with lewd comments, or we were grabbed at, pulled, pushed, or lied to and nobody would say a thing… unless it was to win your trust in order to run a scam of their own. The Pharaohs would roll over in their sarcophaguses.
To illustrate the point I’ll tell you about our trip to Giza; we were about 10 minutes away when the first group of men flagged our taxi down. After a quick exchange with the driver the guy leaned in the window and said “come with me”. I looked at the driver and he just shrugged. The guy tried to open my door, I slammed it shut and locked it. I asked what he thought he was doing, to which he replied “my friend, this is the entrance to see the pyramids, I help you”.
We were pulled over on the side of a road with traffic whizzing by and no pyramids in site. Pretty confident that this was not the entrance to the pyramids and that my new friend had no intention of helping us I rolled up the window and asked the driver to carry on.
We drove for another 60 seconds before another group pulled us over. Their story was that the pyramids were closed today but not to worry because they knew a secret entrance and would be happy to show us in. This time we didn’t roll down our windows or unlock our doors so this was all yelled at us through the drivers’ window. It was all getting very tedious so once underway I asked the driver to roll up his window and lock his door. He was pretending not to speak any English at this point but did as asked.
Less than a minute later the third group was flagging us down. I told the driver that if he stopped we would get out and not pay him anything. He understood that well enough and swerved around the thieves. It worked but we were within sight of the next group who witnessed the evasive manoeuvre and knew what to expect. They countered by literally throwing themselves in front of the car! With the windows up and doors locked they had no way to get at our money or tell their ridiculous stories so started banging on the windows and jumping on the bumpers out of frustration. The whole scene was unbelievable and rapidly escalating.
The stunned driver looked very unsure and frozen there with wide eyes and hands gripping the wheel. I kept saying “drive drive” and pushed down on the knee of his right leg to illustrate my point. He snapped out of it and we bumped a few out of the way to get back on the road. We were all laughing nervously, surprised at how quickly the situation had flared up. We were a kilometre down the road now looking ahead for the next ambush when Jaime shrieked from the back seat. We spun around and saw that one of the guys from the last stop had jumped onto the back of the car! He had been hanging on the whole time and was now beating on the window and screaming at us like we were in a bad horror movie.
Panicked, the driver began lurching around and throbbing the brakes trying to shake him off. With his eyes on the rear view mirror he didn’t see the next blockade. We were about to plough through four Egyptian men standing in the middle of the road. I yelled and put my hands up expecting one to come through the windshield, the driver slammed on the breaks sending our uninvited passenger spinning off the side as we screeched to a halt 3 inches from the guys in front of us. Surprisingly they weren’t the least bit concerned about how close they had just come to being road kill. They were too busy fighting over which one we would choose to be a tour guide. I could see the gates ahead so we paid off the driver and jumped into the melee.
We held hands and literally pushed our way through this horde to the gates. Fat barking liars would take turns standing in front of us yelling about closures, guides, dead relatives, camels and discounts. The tempo, volume, and intensity reached a crescendo as we approached the queue at the ticket window. Even while I was asking the guy behind the counter for 2 adult tickets I had a jackal chirping away on each side of me. Finally we made it through the gates expecting some relief, but this was only beginning.
Here we were suddenly face to face with the pyramids, the pyramids! Perfect geometry, impossible scale, so many secrets wrapped up in these 4000 year old mysteries. A sight so fantastic and astounding that you need a few moments of contemplation just to take it all in, but here`s the thing; you don’t get a few moments. We were pestered, nattered at, harassed and tugged at the whole time.
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The place has been an ancient tourist attraction since long before the Romans even came to town so to say that these hawkers have had some time to perfect their craft (and loose all sense of dignity and self respect) would be an understatement.
If you must see Egypt (and this will be one of the only times we would ever say this) then take a packaged tour! Arrive in a comfortable jet to the modern Cairo Airport, get whisked away in an air conditioned shuttle to an all inclusive chain hotel and let them put you together like Lego. Insulate yourself from the real Egypt and let some tour guide shuffle you around from monument to monument, snap some photos and move on to the next one. Independent travel in Egypt sucks and in our humble opinion is not worth the hassle.
The site itself is incredible. We began walking towards a plateau that would allow for an incredible view of the whole scene. There was a guy off in the shade waiting for his sons to gather up his horses. He was finished for the day and about to head back to camp, he was a Bedouin from an encampment just visible across the plains here to make money from tourists with his pretty looking Arabians (horses). We found his disinterest interesting and before long had talked him into letting us take a couple for a total of 60 Egyptian pounds (about $10). We would meet near the Sphinx, it was in the general direction he needed to go anyway which may help to explain the good price.
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Galloping across the desert on Arabian horses was thrilling to say the least. With the clap trap of the Giza plateau behind us and nothing but a vast desert in front of us it was easy to forget where we were. There were trains of camels in the distance and Bedouin camps here and there. We forgot all about the hawkers and hassles, instead out here surrounded by this blanket of haunting desert silence had a little peace for the first time in days.
At the top of the plateau we pulled our horses around and both gagged at the view, it was better than we had imagined. Up here surrounded by all this silence with just the smell of our sweating horses and nobody hassling us we took in the 4000 year old view while imagining who else had done the very same thing over countless centuries. Despite having spent most of the day already climbing in around and on the pyramids this was the first time that we really saw them.
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23-Apr-2011 02:27, OLYMPUS IMAGING CORP. u1030SW,S1030SW , 5.0, 5.0mm, 0.003 sec, ISO 80 |
We walked, trotted, catered and galloped our way back stopping here and there for a picture or to see the pyramids in a new light or from a different angle. We were subconsciously delaying our arrival. We made it back before sunset, handed the reins over to their Bedouin owner moments before being rudely swept back into the fray.
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We were told numerous times that trains and busses to Luxor were being stopped due to continued political rebellion in the South but our time in Egypt had already taught us that every piece of helpful information received was in some way a self serving lie, so we made our way to the train station the next day to see for ourselves.
Neither of us was prepared for the sprawling catastrophe that is the Cairo train station. Trains and their stations in Sri Lanka were better kept and far more organized, and that’s saying something. It’s worth checking out just to see how bad it really is. There is only one window that foreigners are allowed to buy tickets from, it took us the better part of an hour to find it only to discover that it was closed for no apparent reason. We turned around to see another couple waiting expectantly behind us, “lunch” the guy said with a shrug. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.
We hung around and waited in a few line-ups to pass the time. Each time we spoke to someone at a ticket window we received different and conflicting information. In Egypt your request for a ticket anywhere may be met without explanation by a simple “no”. It’s then your job to painfully extract any further tidbits of information from wholly disinterested officials and public employees. Arranging transportation from Nuweiba to Cairo taught us that “no” could mean anything from not today, to not now, to something as simple as you are in the wrong line. If it wasn’t for our doggedness and constant probing questions, cross examinations and fact checking we would still be there now. After an hour of this we compared notes with the other couple trying to get to Luxor who had been conducting their own independent investigation in like manner. So the collective findings of 4 reasonably competent humans, all of which were experienced travellers amounted to this; there wasn’t a train today, but maybe there would be one tomorrow.
The most frustrating thing about this scenario is that if we had asked the right person at the right time in the right way, there very well could have been a train to Luxor that afternoon. We`ll never know.
We spent our last evening wandering around Tahrir Square. It has taken on a bit of a carnival like atmosphere with all manner of t-shirts, buttons and trinkets for sale commemorating the revolution. Anything big enough to have “Free Egypt” painted, sewed, pressed or stencilled onto it was available. Other guys were selling roasted peanuts or balloons but the police building that was burned during the protests was a gloomy reminder that things weren’t so cheery here a few weeks before.
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Twice I was asked by annoying kids that kept jumping in front of the camera if I worked for CNN when I tried to snap a few of these photos, they wanted to be on TV. In the park we managed to mix and mingle without too much trouble. There was a crackling energy and a lot of optimism there. People were only too proud to tell stories about their small part, and how the people stood here in defiance and together changed things. But nobody we talked to seemed to have a good idea of what to do next. We couldn’t help but wonder if anything would change, or if more likely they would see new faces present the same problems.
We checked out and walked to the curb. While waiting 30 seconds for a cab we ignored 3 different touts. When a cab stopped we made sure that the taxi had a working meter before getting in. The driver was incensed that we wanted him to turn it on and exacted his revenge by driving us around in circles. We were worn down and didn’t have the energy for another fight, instead just pointed in the direction of the airport (behind us at this point) while the driver mysteriously lost the English he commandingly demonstrated while negotiating our fare. It was so exhaustingly typical. Our Egyptian adventure would end the same way it began; being cheated and lied to.
I wish we had a better story to tell, but the truth is that our week in Egypt couldn’t end quickly enough. We looked over our shoulders at the country shrinking beneath us as our flight lifted off then quickly forgot about the whole mess. We were on our way to Turkey, to our boat!
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I’m sorry you did not enjoy your time in Egypt. I am American and I have been living here for 6 months. I have never been harassed or even rudely spoken to. Everyone I have meet here is very nice. Yes the cities are not as clean as the US but you can still find beauty here. I’m sorry to say this but I was very interested in your blog, I was excited to read your experience in Egypt, after reading it I feel very sad, and somewhat insulted by your negativity toward Egypt. I’m sorry that you could not experience Egypt the way others have. I have not read any of your other posts, and I won’t be reading them, I would like to experience the world in a positive light.
Good luck in your endeavors and stay safe in your travels.
Posted by Jasmine | 04. Jan, 2012, 4:43 amOh man, Egypt. Your descriptions are so vivid that it actually stressed me out reading it! We certainly were scammed and lied to and bothered constantly when we were there as well, but that trip was the fancy organized bus thing so we didn’t have to fend for ourselves as you guys did. Kudos to you for surviving and sticking it out long enough to see what you went there for! Hope those pyramid views were worth it. At least now you have an easy answer to the question you’ll get when you come home: Which country did you like the least?! For what it’s worth, Luxor is way better than Cairo… not that you’ll be back!
Posted by Pamela Bayntun | 01. Aug, 2011, 12:59 amYeah we wanted to see Luxor too but after our week in Egypt we really just wanted to book it out of there. We’ll look at your pretty pictures of the place and call it a day.
Posted by theslapdash | 15. Aug, 2011, 8:05 pmA whole week in Egypt! Wow, that’s a long time.
Posted by A & C | 29. Jul, 2011, 10:45 amToo long. Wayyy too long.
Posted by theslapdash | 15. Aug, 2011, 8:05 pmReading about your cab ride to the pyramids, I could actually feel my pulse quicken and my fight or flight reflex kick in.
Kudos to the author.
Posted by Kevin | 28. Jul, 2011, 10:22 amGo for the flight option Kevin. Run!!!
Posted by theslapdash | 15. Aug, 2011, 8:06 pmI was in Egypt 30 years ago. Ah, yes… the antiquities. But also the sounds, the smells, and the hassles. It doesn’t seem to have changed.
Posted by Bob S. | 27. Jul, 2011, 8:07 pmReally?? 30 years ago it was the same? Oh man, that makes me sad thinking of what the next 30 will look like.
Posted by theslapdash | 15. Aug, 2011, 8:07 pmyeah, def more posts and not tarting fruckers!
-one of the many fans who follow your adventures on the web, and dream of the day i follow in your wake.
Posted by Robert Brutzman | 27. Jul, 2011, 2:04 amOh good stuff! We’d like to read your story Robert.
Posted by theslapdash | 15. Aug, 2011, 8:10 pmGlad to see a new post! Sorry to hear that Egypt wasn’t all that. Better times ahead!
Posted by Mid-Life Cruising! | 26. Jul, 2011, 11:23 pmYeah no worries. Egypt is the first country that we didn’t enjoy so we think that’s pretty cool; all those countries, we’ve loved bits and pieces of every single one.
Posted by Jaime | 27. Jul, 2011, 12:21 amOh i have been following you crazy kids and your adventures for a long while. Today i finally gotta post.
This story could have been written about india, i swear!
I feel your pain about egypt, cause it was the exact way i felt after going to india. In fact i bailed from a planned 6 month trip to india after just 3 weeks, running to sri lanka, just to save my sanity!
Its exactly the same kind of 24/7 assault and abuse you decribed. the land of bullshit artists and snake oil salesmen.
it’s a real shame when such amazing places are tainted by greedy touts. It wears you down….and let’s the whole country down.
Anyhow, keep up the adventuring…I love it!
Posted by misslolly | 26. Jul, 2011, 8:21 pmHaven’t been to India yet but I could guess that it wouldn’t be our cup of tea either. Will give it a shot one day though, in the name of adventure. …Could bail after a few days too; a traveler’s perogative. It can’t all be amazing. That was a good lesson for us. Haven’t had any country that we’d disliked yet…until now.
Posted by Jaime | 27. Jul, 2011, 12:25 amSo glad you’re back! Your writing makes what would be an interesting story completely engaging (you really need to do a book.) Definitely worth the wait! Thanks for continuing to share your adventures.
Posted by Lisa D. | 26. Jul, 2011, 8:20 pmThanks Lisa. I will pass that on to the author. He paints a good (and smelly) picture.
Posted by Jaime | 27. Jul, 2011, 12:26 amOne of my favorite posts yet. Could have been the farting truckers. Glad you are “back” and look forward to more.
Posted by Mike R | 26. Jul, 2011, 7:37 pmI hope you mean more posts, and not farting truckers.
Posted by Jaime | 27. Jul, 2011, 12:26 am