The latest was a tiring trip, but successful. I got great dancing shots and am very happy. I found out that Essam is a
wimp when it comes to “roughing it”, which is no surprise considering he has only traveled with tour groups in planes, air
conditioned tourist coaches, a/c mini-vans, never carries luggage, plus, he has never traveled Egypt’s obscure spots. His
first shock was that the (only) bus to Bahareya was not air conditioned—he could not believe it. I told him that once we
got on the road everyone would open the windows and it would be o.k. I made sandwiches the night before and he kept
saying “don’t bother, I’ll wait til we get to the rest stop or the restaurant at the hotel”. I made the sandwiches anyway,
telling him the rest stop was a health hazard and that there would be no restaurant at the “hotel” (seems I know more
about Egypt than he does!).
I tried to explain to him (I’ve been there) that it’s just camps where tourists stay overnight, then hit the road to go on
Safari where they camp out in the desert. “No, no, no—I saw the brochure—the “hotel” has a restaurant, and if it doesn’t,
we’ll go into town”. Again I explained, “there really isn’t a town, you’ll be lucky to find a coffee shop”. He laughed at
me—I just smiled. Thank God he has such a good sense of humor, all of his whining throughout the trip was actually
done with jokes and he made me laugh most of the trip.
While packing, I saw him adding nice shirts for our off time in the “town”. I said, “You won’t need those—just take a spare
t-shirt for the ride home and some clean underwear”. (I only packed clean undies and socks—wore the same shirt and
jeans the whole time because I knew that no matter how many changes of clothes—I'd be filthy within minutes). He didn’
t believe me, and packed them anyway.
As we left I told him I didn’t want Gammal to handle the combination-locked equipment suitcase, didn’t want him ‘tossing’
it into the cab or banging it. Essam wouldn’t let me carry it because it’s “shame on a man to let his wife carry things”. I
said, “o.k., but I’m willing, I know its heavy”. Essam just grunted (it was really heavy). Gammal fussed and fussed to
carry the suitcase (mostly because he wanted tips) but Essam kept arguing with him the whole way from the elevator to
the street. Finally Essam said something that made Gammal look horrified and he turned quickly and ran to his little nook
by the stairs (Essam had said the black suitcase might blow up). It was the only way Gammal would leave him alone
(later I worried if Gammal might think we were dealing with terrorists or something and inform the police—great—the
police come by weekly for reports about the neighborhood goings on).
After 3 boring hours of desert (the desert doesn’t get pretty until Bahareya), we got to the rest stop where Essam thanked
me a thousand times for the sandwiches (he ate 3) and told me I was the wisest woman he ever met. Nasty smells and
grime covered everything, the toilets were holes in the ground, and there were flies covering everything—and I mean
everything. The Egyptians went immediately to a plastic water jug (covered in flies) that they all shared (talking about
unsanitary) and the few tourists on the journey (now in total shock after visiting the ‘bathroom’) went for the bottled water.
As we got closer to Bahareya, Essam started saying he couldn’t wait for a shower and some clean clothes. I just smiled
to myself. I ended up being right--the “hotel” was a camp, there was no restaurant, but there was a small kitchen and
supposedly someone would make us “breakfast”. Our room was air-conditioned, but you wouldn’t know it. It was a
domed-shaped brick hut, with a high ceiling, which is great in theory (heat rises after all), but the small a/c was at the top
of the dome. If it was at human-height level we could have at least sat in front of it and gotten a breeze. The water was
pumped from a well. Bahareya is famous for its waters being therapeutic, full of salts and minerals, etc. But it’s pretty
weird colored and stinky (sulfur) and I was happy that I bought 3 bottles of water when we arrived at the bus station
(which was just a small hut with a convenience stand next to it). Essam was anxious to get to a shower and wanted me to
wait and buy water at the “hotel”—plus our bags were heavy enough without the water--but I'm glad I bought the water--
we ended up needing it later.
Every time we left the brick hut, even for a minute to go inquire about something, they’d turn the a/c and the water off (I
never did see who was lurking around—they were never there when we needed anything—like to turn the water back
on!). By the last night, the pump broke or something and we had no water for our last night or morning. Essam was
thrilled that I had hidden a bottle of ‘emergency’ water. We were able to wash our hands, face and private parts. The a/c
went off at around 3 a.m., we were miserable by 6 (those bricks made it like an oven). Plus, even though the beds had
mosquito nets, we still both got eaten alive. I brought cortisone cream, but it was tough keeping up with a new series of
bites every 10-15 minutes. The bug repellent I had brought didn’t work on these mosquitoes for some reason.
The ‘town’ was totally shut down during the day because of the extreme heat, and as I had told Essam, there was no
restaurant, and nothing to do during the day. The boredom got to Essam a little—but I enjoyed the down time. We went
into town once, gave up and turned around and came back, never to try it again. But we ended up making up games and
having fun.
The filming part was great and an adventure. I wasn’t allowed to film women. In fact, since the last time I was there (4
years ago), all of the women have taken to wearing a full black veil with black gloves and only the eyes exposed. This
was a shock as last time there were only a few head scarves—and no one was veiled. Since I wouldn’t have a translator
with the women, and had lots of questions, I opted to film the men instead of going to the women's quarters. In the
evening, a caravan of 4x4’s arrived to pick us up. When I was there last time, most of the locals still used camels. This
time there were no camels. In front of every 4 or 5 houses there was a 4x4. So we caravaned out into the oasis by 4x4. It
was a white knuckler as the Bedouin drove like idiots, at very high speeds, and drove on the slanted part of dunes. I
feared several times that we’d roll (and there were no roll bars). There were containers sloshing wildly in the back and
when I asked if they were filled with water, I was told it was gasoline. At one point Essam said, “Cheri, its just like in
Syriana! (the movie)”. I said, “yeah, but George Clooney lived, I think we might suffer the same fate as the Emir” (who
gets blown up). Essam nodded grimly and looked back at the gas jugs while holding on to the seat in front of him for dear
life. We got there and back alive and I got some fantastic shots. The Bedouin of Egypt have Arab background, so their
dance was very different. So I’m seeing some nice regional variations.
The bus back to Cairo was worse than the first—very dirty and old. Again Essam yelped. People carried chickens and
ducks and Essam shouted “Bird Flu, Bird Flu!”. There have been several deaths in Cairo, but I assured Essam that it was
because the people that died in Cairo had slept, ate, and lived with their chickens on filthy rooftops (poverty). This
situation was different and I doubted there was any danger. He was nervous none-the-less and we changed seats a few
times (him making an embarrassing fuss each time). Finally we were on our way when the driver turned on a Koran
tape—blaring. Essam started to get up, but I grabbed his shoulder (I know him so well). “If you are going to ask him to
turn it down or off—don’t you dare blame it on me and make Americans look bad”. He sat back down with a frown on his
face. (He doesn’t like it either, but won’t risk looking like a bad Muslim). When I took the trip 4 years ago, the bus played
Egyptian pop music and it made the trip fun. These days, more taxi drivers and bus drivers play the Koran. At first its
kind of peaceful, but then it gets depressing. And very irritating if its too loud. Egyptian pop at least keeps everybody
smiling and having fun. Kids used to even dance in the aisle. I fear that things are slowly changing in Egypt.
The bus was rather dilapidated and it took us much longer to return to Cairo. We were both starving as we had
“breakfast” at the “hotel”, which was a small slice of feta cheese and a cup of Nescafe. When we got to the rest stop I
whipped out 2 tins of sardines I had brought from home and Essam said he “loved me more than life itself”. We ate as if
it were a 7-course meal from a 5-star hotel. We arrived in Cairo to the rush hour stand still traffic which made it take
almost an hour more to get home. It was very hot in the traffic, plus exhaust fumes and pollution made me feel even
dirtier. Finally the trip got to me. I was drenched in sweat and I felt so grimey. Gammal was sitting in a chair in front of
our building when our taxi pulled up. When he saw us getting out of the taxi (Essam carrying the mysterious black
suitcase with the combination lock), Gammal scrambled to his nook. I had to laugh.
Our apartment was hot, but we blasted the a/c’s, took showers, went to bed, and slept 10 hours ! It was a tiring trip, but I
can’t wait for the next one!!! The next 3 trips are lined up. I go to another henna night the first weekend in August, where
this time I’ve been promised to be able to film women (it’s the wedding of my assistant, Mohammad’s niece). Then, I’m
off to Khaf el Sheik near Alexandria the second weekend in August, then to Marsa Mahtrough and Siwa Oasis the third
weekend in August. I’m not sure when I’m going down south to Suhaug, Kharga Oasis, and Aswan. I think Ramadan
starts in September, so I’m hoping to get all of my filming done before then so I don’t have to wait a month. As I
mentioned, a new Minister might be appointed in September and I’m concerned my project may be stopped.
wimp when it comes to “roughing it”, which is no surprise considering he has only traveled with tour groups in planes, air
conditioned tourist coaches, a/c mini-vans, never carries luggage, plus, he has never traveled Egypt’s obscure spots. His
first shock was that the (only) bus to Bahareya was not air conditioned—he could not believe it. I told him that once we
got on the road everyone would open the windows and it would be o.k. I made sandwiches the night before and he kept
saying “don’t bother, I’ll wait til we get to the rest stop or the restaurant at the hotel”. I made the sandwiches anyway,
telling him the rest stop was a health hazard and that there would be no restaurant at the “hotel” (seems I know more
about Egypt than he does!).
I tried to explain to him (I’ve been there) that it’s just camps where tourists stay overnight, then hit the road to go on
Safari where they camp out in the desert. “No, no, no—I saw the brochure—the “hotel” has a restaurant, and if it doesn’t,
we’ll go into town”. Again I explained, “there really isn’t a town, you’ll be lucky to find a coffee shop”. He laughed at
me—I just smiled. Thank God he has such a good sense of humor, all of his whining throughout the trip was actually
done with jokes and he made me laugh most of the trip.
While packing, I saw him adding nice shirts for our off time in the “town”. I said, “You won’t need those—just take a spare
t-shirt for the ride home and some clean underwear”. (I only packed clean undies and socks—wore the same shirt and
jeans the whole time because I knew that no matter how many changes of clothes—I'd be filthy within minutes). He didn’
t believe me, and packed them anyway.
As we left I told him I didn’t want Gammal to handle the combination-locked equipment suitcase, didn’t want him ‘tossing’
it into the cab or banging it. Essam wouldn’t let me carry it because it’s “shame on a man to let his wife carry things”. I
said, “o.k., but I’m willing, I know its heavy”. Essam just grunted (it was really heavy). Gammal fussed and fussed to
carry the suitcase (mostly because he wanted tips) but Essam kept arguing with him the whole way from the elevator to
the street. Finally Essam said something that made Gammal look horrified and he turned quickly and ran to his little nook
by the stairs (Essam had said the black suitcase might blow up). It was the only way Gammal would leave him alone
(later I worried if Gammal might think we were dealing with terrorists or something and inform the police—great—the
police come by weekly for reports about the neighborhood goings on).
After 3 boring hours of desert (the desert doesn’t get pretty until Bahareya), we got to the rest stop where Essam thanked
me a thousand times for the sandwiches (he ate 3) and told me I was the wisest woman he ever met. Nasty smells and
grime covered everything, the toilets were holes in the ground, and there were flies covering everything—and I mean
everything. The Egyptians went immediately to a plastic water jug (covered in flies) that they all shared (talking about
unsanitary) and the few tourists on the journey (now in total shock after visiting the ‘bathroom’) went for the bottled water.
As we got closer to Bahareya, Essam started saying he couldn’t wait for a shower and some clean clothes. I just smiled
to myself. I ended up being right--the “hotel” was a camp, there was no restaurant, but there was a small kitchen and
supposedly someone would make us “breakfast”. Our room was air-conditioned, but you wouldn’t know it. It was a
domed-shaped brick hut, with a high ceiling, which is great in theory (heat rises after all), but the small a/c was at the top
of the dome. If it was at human-height level we could have at least sat in front of it and gotten a breeze. The water was
pumped from a well. Bahareya is famous for its waters being therapeutic, full of salts and minerals, etc. But it’s pretty
weird colored and stinky (sulfur) and I was happy that I bought 3 bottles of water when we arrived at the bus station
(which was just a small hut with a convenience stand next to it). Essam was anxious to get to a shower and wanted me to
wait and buy water at the “hotel”—plus our bags were heavy enough without the water--but I'm glad I bought the water--
we ended up needing it later.
Every time we left the brick hut, even for a minute to go inquire about something, they’d turn the a/c and the water off (I
never did see who was lurking around—they were never there when we needed anything—like to turn the water back
on!). By the last night, the pump broke or something and we had no water for our last night or morning. Essam was
thrilled that I had hidden a bottle of ‘emergency’ water. We were able to wash our hands, face and private parts. The a/c
went off at around 3 a.m., we were miserable by 6 (those bricks made it like an oven). Plus, even though the beds had
mosquito nets, we still both got eaten alive. I brought cortisone cream, but it was tough keeping up with a new series of
bites every 10-15 minutes. The bug repellent I had brought didn’t work on these mosquitoes for some reason.
The ‘town’ was totally shut down during the day because of the extreme heat, and as I had told Essam, there was no
restaurant, and nothing to do during the day. The boredom got to Essam a little—but I enjoyed the down time. We went
into town once, gave up and turned around and came back, never to try it again. But we ended up making up games and
having fun.
The filming part was great and an adventure. I wasn’t allowed to film women. In fact, since the last time I was there (4
years ago), all of the women have taken to wearing a full black veil with black gloves and only the eyes exposed. This
was a shock as last time there were only a few head scarves—and no one was veiled. Since I wouldn’t have a translator
with the women, and had lots of questions, I opted to film the men instead of going to the women's quarters. In the
evening, a caravan of 4x4’s arrived to pick us up. When I was there last time, most of the locals still used camels. This
time there were no camels. In front of every 4 or 5 houses there was a 4x4. So we caravaned out into the oasis by 4x4. It
was a white knuckler as the Bedouin drove like idiots, at very high speeds, and drove on the slanted part of dunes. I
feared several times that we’d roll (and there were no roll bars). There were containers sloshing wildly in the back and
when I asked if they were filled with water, I was told it was gasoline. At one point Essam said, “Cheri, its just like in
Syriana! (the movie)”. I said, “yeah, but George Clooney lived, I think we might suffer the same fate as the Emir” (who
gets blown up). Essam nodded grimly and looked back at the gas jugs while holding on to the seat in front of him for dear
life. We got there and back alive and I got some fantastic shots. The Bedouin of Egypt have Arab background, so their
dance was very different. So I’m seeing some nice regional variations.
The bus back to Cairo was worse than the first—very dirty and old. Again Essam yelped. People carried chickens and
ducks and Essam shouted “Bird Flu, Bird Flu!”. There have been several deaths in Cairo, but I assured Essam that it was
because the people that died in Cairo had slept, ate, and lived with their chickens on filthy rooftops (poverty). This
situation was different and I doubted there was any danger. He was nervous none-the-less and we changed seats a few
times (him making an embarrassing fuss each time). Finally we were on our way when the driver turned on a Koran
tape—blaring. Essam started to get up, but I grabbed his shoulder (I know him so well). “If you are going to ask him to
turn it down or off—don’t you dare blame it on me and make Americans look bad”. He sat back down with a frown on his
face. (He doesn’t like it either, but won’t risk looking like a bad Muslim). When I took the trip 4 years ago, the bus played
Egyptian pop music and it made the trip fun. These days, more taxi drivers and bus drivers play the Koran. At first its
kind of peaceful, but then it gets depressing. And very irritating if its too loud. Egyptian pop at least keeps everybody
smiling and having fun. Kids used to even dance in the aisle. I fear that things are slowly changing in Egypt.
The bus was rather dilapidated and it took us much longer to return to Cairo. We were both starving as we had
“breakfast” at the “hotel”, which was a small slice of feta cheese and a cup of Nescafe. When we got to the rest stop I
whipped out 2 tins of sardines I had brought from home and Essam said he “loved me more than life itself”. We ate as if
it were a 7-course meal from a 5-star hotel. We arrived in Cairo to the rush hour stand still traffic which made it take
almost an hour more to get home. It was very hot in the traffic, plus exhaust fumes and pollution made me feel even
dirtier. Finally the trip got to me. I was drenched in sweat and I felt so grimey. Gammal was sitting in a chair in front of
our building when our taxi pulled up. When he saw us getting out of the taxi (Essam carrying the mysterious black
suitcase with the combination lock), Gammal scrambled to his nook. I had to laugh.
Our apartment was hot, but we blasted the a/c’s, took showers, went to bed, and slept 10 hours ! It was a tiring trip, but I
can’t wait for the next one!!! The next 3 trips are lined up. I go to another henna night the first weekend in August, where
this time I’ve been promised to be able to film women (it’s the wedding of my assistant, Mohammad’s niece). Then, I’m
off to Khaf el Sheik near Alexandria the second weekend in August, then to Marsa Mahtrough and Siwa Oasis the third
weekend in August. I’m not sure when I’m going down south to Suhaug, Kharga Oasis, and Aswan. I think Ramadan
starts in September, so I’m hoping to get all of my filming done before then so I don’t have to wait a month. As I
mentioned, a new Minister might be appointed in September and I’m concerned my project may be stopped.
Subject: 4 X 4's Replace Camels
