Ennui in Egypt - Lunacy in Luxor - 10th Feb 2002
Fellow Travellers
The Wrong Trousers Washing Technique
It's Him Again
That Elusive Part
The Ezzes
Deathrace 2002
The Handcrafted Replacement
Hippy & Mrs Ezz
Luxor got to be being a bit of a bind after we'd seen all of the sights. We hung around making daily visits to the post office and the hotel where we'd had our bits sent from Blighty. No joy and so we would return to our hotel to chat with folks, walk around town trying to avoid the omnipresent hawkers of tat. One day blended into the next.
We met some very charming folk at the Happy Land Hotel. Notably: Pete and Dianne who we have recently written about, a guy from Alaska whose name escaped us who had the most refreshing impression of American statesmanship (or lack of it), a lass, Hayley, who is aiming to set off from England to do a RTW trip in September and a lovely Canadian couple who have been working in Zurich for a while and were aiming to do a circumnavigation of the Med but have been scuppered by the unbending bureaucracy of Libya who seem to be spoiling everyone's fun.
You get some pillocks, too. There was a young fellah-me-lad from University College London who was taking a mid-term break from his studies relaxing in Egypt to write up an essay. I must confess a certain jealousy although his attitude was so post-Thatcher it was sickening. Here was a spoilt boy. Clearly he has never worked to pay for his travels or studies. There is no possible time that he could have done. He has been all over the world and speaks of it with a certain boredom. I have no problem with him having these advantages - in my case it would be a little hypocritical, but when he came out with the comment that when he is shopping for his provisions at University, he never looks at the price, I think we got his measure. Even I had to budget at University to maximise my beer buying potential. After emailing his essay to his tutor, he was flying on to Philadelphia (US) to go and see his girlfriend. He tried to tell us that students have to work harder than they did in our day. We did not get on. He was miffed that Bolton had managed to take 4 points off his beloved Liverpool. Shame.
There have been some amusing incidents with the Egyptians. They all seem to love having their picture taken, even though they will never see a copy or do not have a clue who the other people are in the photo. Whilst doing a bit of drawing at Luxor temple it was a great situation to people watch. Locals would walk up to European couples and place their child in their lap and snatch a piccy, or unashamedly ask a white female to have their photo taken with a young man. It is a nice change to see the foreigners being used to liven up a photo album much as Europeans like to take 'character/quaint' photos of the locals. The other incident was on leaving the hotel - Pete and Dianne wanted a picture of us ready to go on the bike. The fat controller of the hotel insisted in standing in front of the bike obscuring me totally. He seemed mighty put out when he was asked to move.
The Wrong Trousers Washing Technique
While we're slagging this chap off, it would be remiss of me not to mention what happened with our trousers. Cleaning our bike pants is something of a chore as they are made of several layers of sophisticated materials. We saw that the hotel had a laundry service and so asked them to quote for washing them. Their normal rates were 1.50 EP for trousers and we settled on 2.50. After they had had the trousers for about 20 minutes Mr Abrahim (for that is the Fat controller's name) summoned me to tell me that his girls did not have time to wash the pants and so he had to contract them out to a friend with a machine and so the price would be higher. The labels are adamant that these trousers should be hand washed and so I told him that if that was the case, I would prefer to wash them myself. He said that he could provide me with a big bowl if it came to that. When we got our gear back, it was clear that they had been through a machine by the fact that Hippies pants were covered in tissue in the way that they only can be when a stray tissue has been left in the pocket of a machine-washed item. You've all done it. I couldn't be bothered to moan about it, but I guess we'll curse when it turns out that Hippies pants are no longer waterproof.
What really annoyed me was when on the final morning, he came over and asked how I liked the pants. "Very clean," I said "But I asked that they would not be cleaned in a machine". He then claimed that he had watched his wife washing them by hand and then asked how I knew that they were done in a machine. He clearly conceded that I was correct when I told him, but was completely unremorseful about having told me barefaced lies. I really wouldn't have raised the issue myself and so I came away more annoyed by the lies than by the potential damage that may have been done to the gear. I am sure he thought he was doing us a favour - just like many other local buffoons.
There was a little knock on our door one night and guess who was on the other side - be-Jesus it's a Sculley monster. I have to confess he's a hard man to shake off. He had spent the previous night in a derelict building on the Red Sea coast and was heading to Aswan in the next mornings convoy. He did not look his best. The reason for the rush was that he had to get to Aswan to put the bike into customs, to get clearance so that he could return to Cairo to claim his deposited money and head back down to Aswan to catch the ferry to Sudan with the Hot Rockers. As an old lecturer of mine would say - do you follow? Anyway all this complication could have been avoided if the silly sod had got a carnet in the first place. I have yet to see if he is able to get his money back or catch the ferry. It is looking increasingly difficult for him to join the Hot Rockers ferry, as they have had to get a ferry for 2 days earlier than expected. I have to say the man has managed so far with a clapped out FZR he will probably continue to pop up in the most unexpected places. It does seem a shame that for all this travelling he missed out on Petra because he got lost and saw only a hotel room in Luxor due to running around sorting out the lack of carnet.
To all the Man City fans out there (more in Manchester than the scorned Man U) you will be pleased to know that your fan base stretches to Luxor. The pub where we had lunch one day had a team photo on the wall from 97-98 or maybe it was a lot cheaper than other football clubs.
It was another one of those days. Our good friends at Motorworks have sent me a parcel containing the missing part for the steering bit. (I've been told that I've been too technical for the average reader in the past.) It was sent by normal airmail for good reasons - customs clearance is easier, it's far cheaper and it supposedly takes about the same time. The only trouble is that there is no way of tracing its progress.
As we've been waiting 8 days, we decided we'd go down the post office to see whether our parcel was gathering dust on a shelf. A very helpful chap cordially showed us around the inner sanctums of Luxor post office. He told us that we could find out where our parcel is by tracing the docket number from when it was posted. We went straight off to get on the net to Motorworks to find that essential number.
No immediate response, we were traipsing back to the hotel when we came upon a Rover Cyclops (ask your Dad) parked by the side of the road. While giving it the admiring once over as it was in mint condition, we were hailed over by a lady at the adjacent house. We made introductions and she explained that her husband had restored it and that he was an engineer. Kismet strikes again.
We explained the missing part problem and she invited us in to see if her hubby was up and about. Engaging us in charming conversation, it was clear that she was English and had settled in Egypt. Tea was called for and we settled for a while in general chat. A few moments later, the boss arrived. A giant of a man and as affable as you like. I tried to explain the exact requirements and we struggled to communicate effectively so I went off to get the bike for him to see for himself.
He decided that he knew a man that could and so we set off round to his place to get him on the job. No one home, so we left a message and returned to base for more tea and chat. Shortly, a chap turned up who was a motorcycle mechanic and he suggested that we went off to his place to sort it out. Mohamed Ezz, for that was the affable giant, told me that I should give this guy 20 Egyptian pounds and he would sort me out. To make navigation easier, he decided that he should ride (the mechanic, not Mohamed).
After a couple of hundred yards, I showed him how to turn the fuel on as we had cruised to a halt at the side of the road. Then I showed him how to turn the indicators off. Then I showed him how to operate the horn. That was a mistake. Delighted by how loud the horn was, he used it leading up to every crossroads for about 5 seconds and then blasted through the blind junctions. I told him in no uncertain terms to slow down and for a moment he seemed to take some notice. It was quite clear that his command of English extended only to "Hello, what's your name?" but I thought the message was quite obvious. But then the red mist descended and he found a street full of innocent pedestrians who he could aim at. Hooting the horn with gusto, he shot through the crowd and when he hit someone with the mirror, I loosed another tirade at him. This bloke was clearly a complete pillock.
I was fuming and shaking with fear and anger when we pulled upside a lathe shop. Barry Sheene then got in the way while I tried to explain to these guys what I wanted. The self styled mechanic explained his version of what I wanted just to muddy the waters. While the guys got on with the machining, he tried to wheedle the use of the bike out of me to go around town doing whatever his business was. He was even puzzled as to why I declined. So he settled himself to hassling the excellent machinist who could have very happily got on with the work by himself.
I shifted uncomfortably for a couple of hours while the guys knocked up something that, although somewhat different to the original, should perform the requisite function. Everything complete, the machine shop put in their bill for 5 EP. I was taken aback by how cheap this was and stumped up the cash with pleasure. However, the actual cost was 50 EP and we hit a bit of a stand off. I handed over the 5 yer man gave them the 20 he had got and that seemed to be sufficient.
We then headed back to where Hippy had been left for the afternoon by way of all Mr. Fixit's mates. He seemed to simply be out for a grand old pose. Having got the part made, I was quite happy to install it myself. He could not be shaken off, though, and so it was with great pleasure when we arrived back at base where Mohamed Ezz could sort stuff out. My mate then took the handlebars off - this was not necessary. I asked him to step aside so that I could finish the job off myself. This created a great amount of consternation and I had to get a bit stroppy to get him to bugger off. Poor Mohamed Ezz was caught in the middle as peacemaker.
After all was done and the bike was in a rideable state, I settled the bill by handing the gofer the balance of the 25 for the machine shop and his 20 arranging fee. At last he was gone, although he left unhappily.
I went in to find Hippy replete after a meal. There were no sour grapes from me as I really had lost all appetite through the afternoon. We had a bit of chat about the ballooning business that Mohamed Ezz runs over the Luxor ruins. When he said that they charge 90 Pounds Sterling for a ride and I mistakenly thought that he could get 40 people in a basket, I commented that his business must be good. Clearly, September the 11th has had a dire effect on trade and he got a bit huffy. I did not realise the cost of balloon flights until Jennie, his wife, explained the cost of the canopy, insurance rates, pilot costs, etc. On top of that, they have very little trade recently and the on costs have been mounting. I could not apologise enough. Unfortunately, I think he had decided by now that I was questioning his integrity about the cost of fixing the bike and his profit from ballooning. If I could have made him understand that his help had been invaluable and that I wished him every success with his most excellent venture, I would have come away more relaxed, but I fear I failed. Maybe I read his thoughts wrongly.
So the bike is sort of fixed and no doubt the parts will arrive from England tomorrow.
While Pat was off with Mohammed Ezz doing biking things I was entertained by Jennie. She is an amazing woman who obviously runs the business with a fair hand that was not about to let standards slip. She and Mohammed Ezz had set up a ballooning business that had struggled for many years and had now come good. Unfortunately the success had brought with it other problems her brother-in-law has recently set up a rival firm possibly seeing it as a clear way to make more. What with the simultaneous drop in tourism due to Sept 11th she is having to do some creative marketing. I am sure that she will be able to turn things round and it seems she has a number of alternatives up her sleeves.
It was lovely to spend the afternoon with her chatting. To describe her joining Islam as a conversion would be something of a misnomer. She had felt religious but other religions hadn't fitted her values. Unfortunately some of the Egyptian Christians have not reacted kindly to her, as they assume that she is a lapsed Christian and berate her for leaving the faith. Jennie's relationship with her wife-in-law is clearly a special one and she talked fondly of her and how there are no jealousies between them.
In the course of the afternoon, she explained several things that we had not understood about Egyptian society. For instance, the way that men believe that Westerners regularly have sex in the streets comes from a naive belief in what Hollywood churns out. The reason that guards had got quite on edge about us wandering freely through the ruins was because a number of tourists had started to sue the government when they fell over. And the reason that Pat and I were picked on by the tourist police was that he had a beard at the moment, which they associate with terrorism. All was becoming clear. It was sad to hear however that some European tourists saw Egypt as an easy touch and came here with the express purpose to abuse young boys, knowing that even if they are caught the country needs tourism so much that they do not prosecute. Personally I don't see why an international border to ten should mean that a pervert can get away with his crimes!
Her clear contentment and full and active life in business and the community was testament to the virtues of Islam and the misconceptions about the position of women. Again it seems that it is not the Koran that is sexist merely some of the male interpreters.