Amen To That

Disclaimer: Israel isn't exactly on the way to Cairo from the Cape, but Cape to Cairo sounds alot better than Durban to Tel Aviv...

Saying goodbye to our truck buddies wasn't as difficult as we'd envisaged but only because it didn't seem quite real. Four months is a long time. Zoe still wakes up in the morning and expects to see the cast & crew and feels a bit lost without them. Sharing the experience of traveling on the truck is something we both savoured and will miss.

The bus ride from Cairo to the Taba border crossing with Israel was smooth & punctual. Exiting Egypt was also a breeze. Crossing into Israel was another matter. Israel is a country which has a permanent state of war declared against it by two of the countries we'd visited in the past year, namely Syria & Sudan. Israelis and anyone with Israeli passport stamps cannot even set foot in those countries. Add to that the recent murder of eight Israelis on the Eilat highway by Arab terrorists and an upcoming unilateral declaration of independence by the Palestinian Territories, and it's no surprise they're a bit twitchy.

The situation could have been more tense due to the recent deaths of five Egyptian policemen on the Israeli-Egyptian frontier. We were a bit concerned that this would affect our plans. The usual suspects got a bit shouty for a few days, particularly in Cairo & White City, but the faux outrage died down very, very suddenly. When it became clear that they were killed in a gun battle with the fleeing terrorists, the world's media pretended not to notice and conveniently forgot all about the incident. Apparently, Arabs deaths don't matter unless Jews or Americans can be blamed.

The presence of Syrian & Sudanese visa stamps in our passports set off alarm bells so we were held for over three hours while I received security clearance. This involved a not particularly intense interrogation and alot of waiting. I didn't mind so much, however there was an air of self importance and a lack of urgency which riled. Not good PR from the Israelis; a bit like the attitude typical at JFK. I hid my annoyance because they were just waiting for me to crack. Zoe wasn't as calm as me and my superficial calmness really, really got under her skin. Amusing stuff.

Arriving in Eilat, and back into the first world, we quickly adjusted to the new rules:

• Everything is as expensive as Europe
• We're no longer a pair of walking ATMs
• Prices are as marked
• "No" is understood
• People aren't as "nice", real or otherwise, mainly because you are no longer a novelty or a source of infinite riches
• Things work and are on time
• Going to the bathroom does not mean dicing with death
• There isn't piles of rubbish strewn everywhere
• Service with a smile, if you're lucky
• Road rules exist and are generally observed, although Israelis exhibit Mediterranean levels of impatience & self importance when driving (and queuing)

For all intents and purposes we were back in Europe. Most importantly and refreshingly, women aren't treated like dogs, and dogs aren't treated like dirt.

We were also struck by the cosmopolitan and multi-racial nature of Israeli society - Jewish people were obviously dominant but there were Levantine, Maghrebi & Arabian Jews, European Hasidic Jews, secular European Jews, Persian Jews, Ethiopian Jews, even Indian Jews. I knew there were Indian Jewish people but hadn't really thought I'd see any. There were also plenty of Muslim & Christian Arabs who seemed to contentedly and quietly intermingle with the Jewish majority.

Another eye opener was how "armed" and militarised Israeli society is. While the police maintain a surprisingly low key presence, off duty soldiers are ever-present. There are young men & women everywhere, particularly at bus stations, (generally) smartly dressed in military uniform, physically fit and immaculately groomed, many carrying short barreled M16 rifles. Once again I was fully aware that military service was compulsory for non-Orthodox Jews (Orthodox Jews, Christians & Muslims are able to volunteer but are not subject to conscription) but it was confronting all the same.

Zoe was particularly amazed by the number of young women in the security apparatus who were armed with lethal weapons, well fitted uniforms, designer sunglasses, thick black lustrous hair, an inch of glamourous make up and a catwalk strut. I didn't notice at all. I swear.

It is also the most wifi rich place on the planet. All hotels, cafes, bars and kebab shops have free wifi. Intercity buses have free wifi as well. Even some beaches are wifi enabled!

We caught a bus from Eilat, crossing the Negev & Judean Deserts, up the Jordan Valley, past the Dead Sea, past Jericho, through the disputed territories and into Jerusalem. The bus journey highlighted the harsh dryness of much of Israel; hardly a land of milk & honey, although Israeli farmers seemed to be able to grow things where others wouldn't even bother trying.

After checking into one of the best hostels either of us had been to, we ventured out into the area around Jaffa Rd and Davidka Square. The area was busy but not teeming and had a quaint feel. We were pleased to happen upon a bar in the local souk with a live band, good food & drink and a rowdy crowd of market workers & other locals.

Food first, then old stuff

Hmmmmmm...Meat and Beer!

The following morning we joined a walking tour of Old Jerusalem, led by an American professor, resident in the city. We visited the exterior of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Western (wailing) wall, as well as the Christian, Muslim, Jewish & Armenian Quarters. The Temple Mount, which takes up a massive area of the city, was off limits to non-Muslims due to Eid. Despite it being the most important place in Judaism, Jewish people are not allowed access to pray there at any time. Instead, they pray and leave notes at the Wailing Wall, which is the closest accessible point. I went to the wall but didn't leave a message; apparently I can send it a Twitter at my leisure.

Ethiopian section of The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Ninth Station of the Cross

Prayers at The Wailing Wall.  Notes are stuffed in the cracks.

Dome of the Rock

It was both interesting and eye opening to witness the compact layout and demography of the city. While each ancient Quarter represents about a quarter of the physical area, the population not proportional. The Christian, Jewish & Armenian Quarters each have under 4000 residents, are well maintained, clean and tidy. The Muslim Quarter, easily identifiable from the thousands of satellite dishes adorning rooftops, has 27,000 residents and is more overcrowded and a bit dirty & dilapidated.

Graffiti on the house of a Hajj Lottery winner, Muslim Quarter

Venturing into the Jewish Quarter for lunch, Zoe (to her delight) discovered Holy Bagel, was converted and fell in love with Jerusalem forever. Speaking of food, the food in Israel has been excellent. It's as pricey as London but the quality is excellent & the portions mammoth.

All hail the Holy Bagel

View from Jewish Quarter across the Temple Mount

That evening we returned to the Old Town to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre...and an Armenian pub.

The Holy Sepulchre is a basilica which contains chapels on the alleged site of Calvary, where Christ was crucified, and the place of his burial and resurrection. It was quite impressive if not a little overdone.

Mosaic, Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The church is shared by six Christian denominations which have an agreed hierarchy called "The Status Quo". The Status Quo defines rights and ownership of artifacts within the church. The Orthodox Church is the big cheese, followed by the Catholics, then Armenians, Syrians, Copts and, lastly, at the bottom pile, the Ethiopians. In fact, the Ethiopians don't even have a place inside the church. They are relegated to the roof. And quite rightly, I say.

(Being latecomers to the game, the Protestants have shifted the goalposts by declaring the site is not the place of the crucifixion and resurrection, and built their church elsewhere.)

Despite the treaty, the monks still find reason to beat each other up on occasion and have to be separated by the Israeli army. The sectarian infighting, backstabbing and theft of each other's artifacts stretches back millennia. It was so bad in the middle ages that Saladin decided that a local Muslim family would hold the keys to the church, thereby placing ultimate authority in the hands of someone that nobody would cut a sly deal with. The same Muslim family still holds the keys and each night at 9pm locks the doors and takes the keys, leaving a monk from each denomination inside. Fun. As we departed, we witnessed a particularly grumpy Arab perform his nightly duty.

The pub was more a museum than a drinking establishment. It's the sort of place where you wouldn't dare get drunk for fear of breaking some priceless chalice, spear, suit of armour or crucifix. The beers were ok but a bit overpriced.

Old Jerusalem is certainly a place I'd recommend. That said, it's not as great as we'd envisaged. Being religious would have made it more interesting. But we're not.

The next morning we caught a bus back down the Jordan Valley to the Dead Sea, passing through the lowest point on Earth at En Gedi (there's an achievement) and on to Masada. Masada is the site of an ancient and historically important hilltop fortress and palace built by Herod. It's the site of the final stand of a Jewish revolt against Roman rule nearly two thousand years ago. Surrounded by cliffs several hundred metres high and equipped with huge water reservoirs & food stores it was deemed impregnable. The Jews held out only for a matter of months. They were surrounded by industrious Roman legions who built an enormous earth and timber ramp, over 100m high, to breach the walls. When they did breach the walls they found that the rebels has committed mass suicide rather than become captive slaves. Israeli soldiers take their oath at Masada: "Masada shall not fall again".

Considering ourselves to be fit we opted to walk Snake Path, the winding path up the 300m high eastern face, rather than taking the wussy cable car. We didn't quite factor for the 38C heat and the fact that we'd spent most of the previous 4 months sitting in a truck. Small mistake. By the time we reached the summit we were exhausted and drenched in sweat.

Snake Path, Masada, with Roman encampment at the base

The site was amazing and the views of the Dead Sea and desert quite breathtaking. We are glad we did it because, although there is a religious angle to Masada, it's a very real piece of history set in an awesome environment.

Herod's Palace, Masada

Dead Sea, Masada

Roman encampments, Masada

On our final day in Jerusalem we ventured to Bethlehem in the disputed territories. It wasn't much to write home about. As soon as we stepped off the bus we had to deal with the same old boorish nonsense: we were hassled by conmen, the word "No" ( or "La" in Arabic) had to be said fifty times to be understood, Zoe was letched at, we hailed a taxi and agreed a generous price only for the driver to change his mind, people were littering despite there being bins and, last but not least, I was shot in the arse at point blank by a BB gun wielding infant trainee terrorist in a Palestinian cap. Talk about playing up to prejudices. I'm glad I don't have neighbours like that. I'd build a huge wall too.

Door of Humility, Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem

Souk, Bethlehem

We went to the Church of the Nativity, took some photos, watched some Russian pilgrims weep & wail at a naff nativity scene and then caught the bus back to Jerusalem. The checkpoint going back to Israel was as terrorising as being hit with a feather duster. We also made a resolution that we wouldn't return to the Arab world for quite a while.

Returning to Jerusalem we picked up our gear and caught a bus to Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee. At the checkpoint exiting the disputed territory, we were singled out for an ID check by Israeli intelligence despite there being other foreigners on the bus. Although, this time it was only a few minutes before we were waved past. I must have a guilty looking face or something.

We went to Tiberias to do some hiking around and swimming in the lake. We ended up doing neither as it wasn't particularly accessible or attractive. It also cost at least $8 to go sit on a pile of gravel which allegedly passed as a beach.  Instead, we visited The Church of the Beatitudes which sits on the site of The Sermon on the Mount.

Sea of Galilee

Church of the Beatitudes, Galilee

Tiberias itself is a bit like Margate in England. It's a tacky "seaside" town that's seen better days. On the upside, we were there for the end of Eid. Local Muslims, Jews & Christian families thronged to the town centre in celebration with everyone enjoying themselves as Israelis.

To avoid potential public transport nightmares caused by Shabbat, we decided to hire a car for our drive to the beachside community of Mikhmoret (just north of Tel Aviv) where we'd spend our final few days of the vacation.

Driving into Mikhmoret, we were relieved to see that it featured, not only an actual beach, but a really nice beach and it was free. Mikhmoret reminded us of beautiful Port Edward, where we spent our first few days of the journey being hosted by George & Elbe. Lovely white sand beaches, glassy waves, bougainvillea, quiet serenity.

Mikhmoret

We whittled away the days by the Mediterranean - swimming, lazing on the beach, drinking cold beers & eating top notch Israeli grub. Then suddenly it was upon us - time to go home. After 21 weeks and over 20,000km we had to say goodbye to the sun and head back to London and to reality.

The sun sets on our journey

Bye-eee

It was an amazing adventure - bigger and better than we could ever have imagined. But all good things, we realised, must come to an end. Just like this blog.

Hallelujah and amen to that!

An Apology in Advance

You're going to get yet another installment by me, Zoe is enjoying the last of the sun and says she "...can't be arsed.".

Can't blame her, really.

Blessed Be The Yellow Datsun Ute

After the anarchic introduction to Egypt we were pleased that Aswan turned out to be quite a nice place. The locals were fairly easy going, the streets clean and quiet, and the setting quite beautiful.

Immediately following checkin almost everyone from the truck headed straight to McDonalds, the first since Stellenbosch. Zoe & I aren't junk food shy but the gusto with which some of our co-passengers gorged themselves on burgers & fries was a little disconcerting. Overlanding can be tough stuff for some. In the evening we kicked back in the roof terrace pool, sank beers and watched the Saharan sunset. Overlanding can also be easy: we were now in package tourist mode.

View from our hotel over the Nile, Aswan

Setting off early the next day we visited the Aswan High Dam and Temple of Philae. While both sites were undoubtedly impressive, our guide was disinterested and we were treated to a boring and sometimes confused and dishonest explanation.

It was also the first time we encountered some convenient historic revisionism which seems to pervade the minds of Egyptian tour guides. The guide's most emphatic point was that the vandalism of the faces of figures depicted in paintings and carvings were the work of "the Coptic people" (Copts are Egypt's Christian minority). She made the point over and over and over...and over. Those of us who'd travelled extensively in the eastern Mediterranean, and witnessed the results of defacement of ancient artwork (including Coptic art) knew better. There is barely an ancient sculpture or fresco in this part of the world which hasn't been damaged.

Temple of Philae, Aswan

Later that evening we took a cruise up river for a Nubian dinner. We stopped en route for a dip in the surprisingly clear waters of the Nile. The village was quite beautifully decorated with bright pastel colours. Adorning the doorways of the houses were mummified crocodiles and in our host's home were live crocodiles in a tub! The dinner was otherwise forgettable.

River cruise to Nubian Village, Aswan

Mummified crocs!

Real crocs!

We departed by bus for Abu Simbel at 4am the next day. The early departure is due to the fact that the tourist buses must travel in a military convoy. The shoreline of Lake Nasser is a no-go area as the Egyptians are a little paranoid about sabotage of the dam. Maybe rightly so. A poisoned water supply or a burst dam wall would be utterly catastrophic for the whole nation.

When we reached Abu Simbel, a massive temple complex built by Rameses II, we were again treated to a pointless & careless tour where we learned almost nothing. Although, the Copts were again blamed for the defacement of the art and he was keen to sell us photos. Thankfully, the temples met expectation and were very impressive from an engineering and artistic perspective.

Unfortunately, cameras have been prohibited inside the temples because of tourists not observing a ban on flash photography. Hence the keen attempt to sell us photos. Photography on the outside was also made a little difficult by droves Russian tourists posturing & posing in the most ridiculous manner; ridiculous to all but themselves, of course.

Temple at Abu Simbel

Rameses II

Mummy pose

Babushka pose

The next morning we ditched Andi & Hastie once again and embarked on a felucca trip down the Nile toward Luxor. At $20 pp it was a bargain. For the next two & a half days we slowly tacked upwind, drinking cold beers, lazing on deck, stopping occasionally for a swim or something to eat.

Sunset on the felucca

Kids harvest dates, Nile River

Teaching some bombing skills, Falcon displaying other skills

The feluccas dropped us at Komombo Temple and after a quick self guided tour we boarded a bus to Luxor via the impressive Edfu temple complex. Upon arrival at Luxor we attempted to visit the Karnak Temple in Luxor but it was closed due to Ramadan. What didn't stop, however, was the ranting lunatic at the nearby mosque who led a call and response prayer at a thousand decibels at all hours. His call would often be responded to in unison by hundreds of followers shouting "Allahu Akbar".

Hieroglyphics, Komombo Temple

Egyptian childbirth

Edfu Temple

Inside Edfu Temple

Entrance to Edfu Temple

I had my hair and beard cut by a Copt barber while in Luxor. As he was trying to ascertain how he could emigrate to Australia, our conversation was being drowned out by the caterwauling from the mosque; at which point he stopped and said:

"I leave Egypt with my family because of these crazy people. They are shouting blah blah blah all the time. They do not say nice things."

I felt really sorry for the guy. I've spent 10 years away from Australia mostly by my own volition but it'd take something pretty serious to make me want to leave permanently.

Close shave

He then proceeded to torture me with a length of cotton thread...

Excruciating

Another early start saw us taking a balloon ride over The Valley of The Kings. Neither of us had flown in a balloon before so it was a great experience. Aside from the fantastic views of the valley, the sunrise & the other balloons, the smooth & effortless flight of the balloon came as an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

Firing up the balloon, Luxor

Afterwards, we visited The Valley of The Kings (this time on foot) entering the tombs of Rameses IV, Rameses VI & Rameses IX. All were incredibly beautiful and well preserved. The quality of the workmanship was well beyond expectation. Our guide, too, was refreshingly good, displaying great enthusiasm and knowledge of the subject. Once again we were banned from using cameras due to certain tourists who failed to observe rules regarding flash photography. Some vandalism was present. Naturally, the blame for this was leveled at the Copts. Although it was obvious that our guide knew better and didn't press the point.

Next stop was the Valley of the Workers. Here were smaller tombs built, for themselves, by the craftsmen who'd built the tombs of the pharoahs. The artwork in some was superior to that in the Valley of the Kings.

Lastly, we visited the Temple of Hatshepsut, an Egyptian queen who infamously dressed as a king to placate her oddly gullible subjects. It is more recently infamous as the site of the massacre of 62 Swiss tourists in 1997 by Al Qaeda; obviously to teach the Swiss for their invasion of...of...whatever...they must've done something to insult them.

And taken somewhere else?

Temple of Hapshepsut

Leaving Luxor we headed east toward Hurghada. The plan was to bush camp near the Red Sea coast a couple of hours from Cairo then drive into Cairo on Friday morning while everybody was at mosque, thereby avoiding Cairo's crazy traffic. An hour and a half into the drive across the desert road, less than 24 hours to the scheduled end of the trip, we hit a snag. An ear-piercing metallic screeching sound from the rear axle saw Hastie pull the truck over immediately. After an initial inspection we slowly backed the truck up about two kilometers to the only shaded area in miles - a eucalyptus lined driveway to an isolated water pumping station.

Disaster strikes

Close inspection revealed a cracked wheel bearing. Hastie had the parts but when he tried to extract the casing he found it had fused to the wheel. Disaster. Any other moment during the trip and we could have adjusted the timetable but, with people having onward travel plans so soon, there was no contingency. Andi made the immediate decision to call the crew of another Oasis truck, which coincidentally had arrived in Luxor, to arrange the truck to bring out a hydraulic bearing puller (a fairly specialised piece of equipment) and mechanic & return us to Luxor. The plan was then to travel by train to Cairo overnight or the next day. It meant not completing the journey on the truck, missing out on our final bush camp and leaving Hastie behind. Needless to say, we weren't happy. It didn't seem a fitting end by any measure. Very depressing.

But, this is Africa...

While Hastie and a couple of the lads were brainstorming and trying any weird and wonderful way of extracting the casing, The Yellow Datsun Ute pulled up, packed with Egyptians. They were delivering something to the pumping station, so we had to clear the driveway to let them past. As the The Yellow Datsun Ute drove past Hastie his eyes lit up. He took off after The Yellow Datsun Ute banging on the side for them to stop. There, in the back of The Yellow Datsun Ute, in the middle of the desert, right there and then, was (yes, we still cannot believe it) a massive hydraulic bearing puller. Oh, and there was a mechanic among the passengers too. By nothing but pure blind luck the crew in The Yellow Datsun Ute had been sent to the pumping station to repair a bearing on the pump.

You cannot make it up. Only in Africa. This is the sort of incident which makes Africa what it is for overlanders: an emotional rollercoaster ride. One minute you're up shit creek in a barbed wire canoe with a sieve for a paddle; the next you're farting through silk cushions, being fanned with a palm leaf and being hand fed grapes by an attractive, semi-clothed person of the correct sex & sexual orientation. Metaphorically speaking, of course...

The heaven sent bearing puller

With the help of the Egyptians and to our cheers of joy, Hastie had the casing extracted in no time. He then fitted a new bearing & hub and we were ready to get back on the road; five hours behind schedule but better late than never. We said our thanks and goodbyes and as The Yellow Datsun Ute drove off, I half expected it to be swooped on and carried away by winged horses.

All Hail The Yellow Datsun Ute

We pulled into our last bush camp on dusk. In the middle of the desert and not a minaret in sight - perfect. Team Local kept form and cooked a great grilled chicken dinner, albeit one headcount down because Laura, celebrating the repair of the truck, downed a bit too much booze in her excitement.

With all the elation and excess booze to consume before Cairo, The Black Boy was reopened by popular demand. Janine was in full swing as she and Shane, her new Australian boyfriend, with a striking resemblance to a clean shaven Bazza, entertained guests from all parts of the world. "Born With One Tooth" from Alberta and her cousin-husband, "Balding Eagle" from British Columbia were first to arrive, followed by Gertrude from Nuremberg who was amazed & perplexed by hodge-podge of pre and post 1940s architecture to be found in the East End. Bubba from Indiana helped out in the kitchen for payment in beers, Rangi from New Zealand's South Island sat quietly and drank, and the Irish lass slept off the booze in the corner. Meanwhile, Mervyn from Somerset had to be separated from Dave from Worcester by Baz from Coventry when a contest involving a fushion of Morris Dancing, Soccer Hooliganism & Beer Can Juggling went pear shaped. With a final rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody accompanied by a naked performance art sound & light show performed by Roy from Lancashire, The Black Boy closed its doors forever.

Sporting a hangover which should probably have ended all hangovers (but won't) we rose early, ate our last bushcamp breakfast, packed our kit and headed off on our final drive day to Cairo. The drive was incident free until we entered Cairo. A burning, fuel laden minivan held up progress temporarily. It wouldn't have taken so long to get past if the locals hadn't turned their vehicles around en masse and driven the wrong way along the freeway toward the previous exit ramp, thereby creating a two way gridlock. The locals, with total lack of consideration for their own safety and that of others, were attempting to douse the fire with buckets of sand (correct), CO2 extinguishers (correct) and buckets of water (wrong move). Soon after we passed one of the buckets of water spread the flame and caused a huge fireball. We couldn't see what happened but, selfishly, I'd rather not know.

Freeway Hijinks, Cairo

Burning minivan, Cairo

We'd been to some fairly grim places on our journey but the outskirts of Cairo immediately assaulted the senses - sight, smell and sound. We had to sit down in the truck and remain our of sight as local drivers swarmed around us to try and leer at the girls, point, wave, take photos with their cell phones or just yell "Hello! Welcome! Welcome!". Mad but very funny.

As we headed to the mechanic workshop to drop off the truck we passed through Giza and passed by the pyramids. What an incredible sight. I've met people who've been to the pyramids who say they're smaller and somehow less impressive than expected. Pigs to that. They're utterly amazing. What an incredible feat of engineering and of the imagination! For the first time in my life I got a lump in my throat looking at a historical sight. Tremendous stuff.

After unloading and saying farewell to the truck, our home for the previous 4 months, we were driven back downtown to a lovely, quiet, comfortable boutique hotel (with free wifi!) in a nice neighbourhood. Everyone crashed out for a few hours then emerged for our farewell dinner, clean, fresh, donning newly laundered clothes. In making it to Cairo, Danny won his bet with a mate by not shaving for ten months and promptly had it hacked off by a local barber. He looked about 12 years younger. Mike also had a shave and looked about 30 years younger. The food was unimpressive but we kicked on fairly late for a bunch burdened with hangovers, and made sure we thanked our fantastic tour leaders, Andi & Hastie, for their patient & hard work on the trip.

Heather & Adam

Kim

Alex (otherwise known as Alan) & Ryan

Dan & Kirstin

Falcon & Laura

Tim & Jono.  Frightening.

Hastie & Andi

Mandy & Lee

Kat & Zoe

But the tour wasn't officially over, we still had to visit the National Antiquity Museum and the Pyramids & Sphinx at Giza. Thankfully Andi bribed our local fixer to not take us to the perfume & papyrus factories. So early next morning we headed off on a chartered tour bus. First stop was the Modern Russian Anthropological Exhibition which features Russians posing, pouting and posturing for photographs, dressed in clothing two sizes too tight and twenty years behind fashion (if ever). There was also some ancient Egyptian mummies & gold stuff.

We loved the museum. Several days could be spent exploring it. Zoe enjoying it much more than any museum she had been to.

After the museum we headed to another Russian wannabe model shoot, this time with the Pyramids & Sphinx featuring as props. The Pyramids were excellent, as was the Sphinx. Our guide was very knowledgeable and a great help swatting away the swarms of touts. He obviously was a man of great integrity because the touts were shouting "He is shit!" and "He is a no good man!" as we passed through the ticket gates. He also displayed intellectual honesty lacking in the other guides: instead of towing the official line and falsely blaming the French (or the Copts or Gay Masonic Jews) for defacing the Sphinx, he correctly named one Muhammad Sa'im al-Dahr (religion unknown but probably Presbyterian) as the culprit.

Pyramid of Cheops, Giza

Sad

Going Russian

And that's that. After a year of planning the trip on the Oasis truck that part of our adventure has come to pass. It's been a wonderful experience; opening our eyes to new ideas, confirming some of my positive preconceptions & worst prejudices about other cultures (and our own), dealing with trials laid before us and, most of all, enjoying the privilege of traveling Africa in a way that many will never do. We've had some great times, great laughs, eaten great food, seen & done great things, walked in the footsteps of great people, met some great locals and made some great friends.

We'd like to thank Yellow Datsun Ute (Bearing Puller Be Upon Him) for watching over us and without whom we wouldn't have made it to Cairo. It's been great.

Next stop: Israel...

p.s. We won the bloody Tri-Nations! Thanks Be to The Yellow Datsun Ute!