18. Egypt - No Hassle!!

Lake Nasser is the largest man made lake in the world providing 30% of Egypt’s electricity. The ferry sailed passed the temple of Abu Simbel, one of several ancient sites that was saved as the High Dam was built in the late 60s. This subterranean temple was cut up into pieces and rebuilt on the edge of the lake, inside an artificial mountain. The whole mammoth exercise cost $40m then, it is of course a world heritage site.

We had a remarkably good nights sleep despite the anticipated discomforts, although we were woken at midnight by a customs official reminding everyone on board that they must have their passport stamped before disembarking.  Our visas were easily obtained on the boat then we all made a tourist ‘train’ behind the Portuguese guy (he was the biggest!) through a sea of other passengers pushing and shoving with the best of them until we reached dry land.

Our fixer in Aswan was Mr Kamal +20105322669, or +20121393492, who was waiting for us. He whisked us through customs, and showed the carnet to the official who would check the car in when it arrives on Saturday - hopefully. He gave us a lift to the recommended Hathor Hotel, though he did try to persuade us that the Philae was newly refurbished and more suited to us. It was twice the price, and the Hathor has a pool on the roof so we opted to stay there whilst waiting for the cars to arrive. The hotel was a bit tired but the comfy bed, air con and pool made it feel like 5 star to us.

Aswan is a pretty place on the banks of the Nile, our hotel window overlooking Elephantine Island with Kitcheners botanical gardens, Nubian villages and the ruins of the temple of Abu with its’ two Nilometers. The view was slightly marred by the redundant cruise ships, moored 5 deep along the river bank. We could see about 100 of the 500 that ply the 220kms between here and Luxor. We played at being proper tourists, sampled Egyptian food from some of the many, empty tourist restaurants, went on a relaxing and pleasant felucca (sailing vessel) trip and were becalmed for about 3 hours. We visited a Sound and Light show at the Philae temple on the other side of the old Aswan Dam, tacky no doubt, but the ruins, especially lit at night, were remarkable.  This temple, like Abu Simbel was moved, onto a completely remodelled island when the High Dam was built. In fact when the Brits built the first Aswan Dam in 1902 this temple was  partially flooded and travellers on the Grand Tour used to row between the magnificent columns, shining torches into the water to marvel at the wonders in the murky depths. The souq here was something else, there were many many stalls and shops, some of which advertised actually say on their shop front ‘no hassle’ believe none of it, they all are determined to just get you inside their shop and give the really hard sell. After a while it became very wearing, so we donned sunglasses and hats, put our heads down and ignored them all. We returned 3 or 4 times because we could only cope with small doses but there were, among the Chinese Egyptian scarabs, gods, pyramids and musical instruments, lovely spices and bits of jewellery to be bought We wisely heeded the warning in the guide book that Aswan was a much less pushy place than Luxor. The whole place was a bit ‘touristy’ but we luxuriated in it after the austerity and isolation of Northern Sudan.

The cars were available on Sunday morning so MC and I stayed at the hotel whilst Terry and Graham went back to the port with Mr Kamal, armed with E£1000. They first had to go to the engineers house to tell him that he was needed at the port to check the engine and chassis numbers. Then to pick up the customs official who was still asleep in one of a maze of hundreds of blocks of high rise flats. All the dirt, potholed streets and connecting roads were filled with rubbish and building rubble, many are blocked with abandoned cars, you have to know your way around to get to any particular block. The customs clearance process was long and drawn out, made longer by the fact that they had moored the barge the wrong way round and filled it with boxes of Henna stacked neatly behind the vehicles. However even though this was a tedious process the $30 we paid Mr Kamal was well worth it, he is so well connected that there were no hitches at all, he even drove into town to pick up the obligatory Egyptian number plates, insurance and licence. The cost was E£520 for customs clearance, including a pencil rubbing of the chassis number, E£8 for carnet completion, E£225 for insurance, licence and hire of the plates and we have receipts for all of this.

Diesel was cheap in Sudan at around 33p a litre but what a pleasure to fill up here where it is only 11p!! We filled up to the gunnels just in case they changed their minds before setting off the next morning for Rezeiky Camp in Luxor. We chose to sleep in an air-con room again, rather than on top of the LR with night time temperatures of well over 35deg, another bonus was a swimming pool. The magnitude, intricacy and state of preservation of Ancient Egypt is truly awesome and enthralling, the sense of +/- 5000 years of history is almost tangible.

Has Rameses II aged much? (Jean in Luxor Temple)

We rose at dawn and, whilst it was cool, walked to Karnak temple. The complex is absolutely huge, about one mile by a half and just the Great Hall could contain the Cathedrals of St Peters and St Pauls. It was established almost 2,000 years BC and developed and improved over the next 1,500 years, at its peak it employed over 80,000 people and was still a place of worship in Roman times. We were ahead of most of the other tourists and we wandered wide eyed through the main complex. Pylons, columns and obelisks and everywhere the early sun sharpened the reliefs and cartouches that tell the story of thousands of years of Pharaoic rule. We recognised many of the symbols like Ankh (the cross), the Sun Disc, pyramids, the serpent and the staff of life. Some have even made it into our religious world. Pink and grey granite statues of the pharaohs stand like sentinels and watch the tide of humanity come and go. The reconstruction is amazing and in places original paint can still be seen where the sun doesn’t bleach. By late morning we were back in the campsite pool and temperatures topped 40.

The following morning we left at 04;30 to watch dawn over the Valley of the Kings from a hot air balloon, sadly we were not alone, the air was filled with the roar of 10 balloons and the pillars of Queen Hatshepsuts temple were eerily lit by the orange flames. A highlight was the last few minutes as we drifted slowly across the face of Seti 1 temple only metres from the ground with the ghaffir running beneath us waving his arms in horror. As many of you know, Jean is not a great lover of heights but was so involved that she didn’t even notice, and we have certificates and literally a tee shirt to prove that she did it! We were back at the campsite by 7 am. Later we walked to Luxor Temple to see the twin obelisk to that which now stands in Paris (it’s interesting how much of the antiquities that weren’t bolted down ended up in the museums of the colonialists). This temples claim to fame is its Son et Lumiere so we had it almost to ourselves. From here a 3km long avenue of sphinx reaches all the way to Karnak. The two were religiously connected and massive barques carried the idols between them. The ground level in the city has risen 3 or 4 metres since this period and the avenue now lies buried beneath modern Luxor. At various points in town the silent rows of ram’s heads have been exposed whilst their neighbours disappear under a busy road or an office block. At lunchtime it was cool in the Museum of Mummification where we satiated our morbid curiosity.

On our final day we took a guide to the west bank and the Valley of the Kings. These remarkable tombs have survived thousands of years but are now under threat from the weight of tourist sweat and camera flashes. Some of the best tombs are now closed to the public and photography is not allowed. Even so some of the colours still shine like they did 3,000 years ago as they tell the story of the occupant’s journey through the underworld to everlasting life and provide the passwords to the twelve gates of the night. This may be the origin of our twelve hour night and day. The Perspex model of the valley shows the extent and complexity of all the tombs in relation to each other. The longer the pharaoh lived the deeper and more intricate the tomb. Believe it or not new tombs are still being discovered here, the latest only 3 years ago. We also visited Queen Hatshepsuts temple (one of the few female pharaohs) from ground level and the Colossi of Memnon which used to “sigh” at dawn, until they were reconstructed. It is thought that they guarded the entrance of a temple even bigger than Karnak but that it was recycled in antiquity – no one dared touch the Colossi!

On the advice of our guide, we studiously ignored the persistent touts, souvenir sellers and taxi drivers, although we all felt rude and uncomfortable at the same time. The souvenir seller in the camp explained that for the last 8 months, tourism throughout Egypt has been dire, that he has been unable to pay the rent for his shop for 6 months and is now having to borrow money to send his daughter to college. The camp owner and staff are all Christian, who amount to less than 20% of the population. They find themselves in a difficult position, if the Muslim Brotherhood win the election they will have to live under Shariah law, if they lose the country will be wracked with riots.

Islam pervades all here. There are mosques everywhere with prayers blaring out so loudly that it is sometimes difficult to hear oneself think –maybe you are not supposed to! Prayer starts at 5am and then 4 more times during the day. It seems that the Imams are competing with each other from the sometimes glittering and always impressive minarets. There are 2 TV channels dedicated to continual prayer, subtitled in English and French which made for uneasy reading on occasion. We have talked before about the men forming lines on any street corner to pray in unison kneeling with their heads on one end of a prayer mat and their pink soled feet the other. Many have bruises or even scar tissue on their foreheads which they wear like a badge of honour. Most cars have a copy of the Koran on the dashboard and most people carry one. The old men, sitting in the shade of buildings, read it every time there is a gap in their reminiscences and even the young chant or sing praises whenever they get a moment to themselves. We even saw one young man chanting quietly to himself in the lift of our hotel.

We said a fond farewell to MC and G who are driving up the Red Sea coast and set off on the last leg through Africa via the Western Desert oases. Within a few kms of leaving the Nile there was not even a shred of vegetation, the mountains and hills were in stark relief and we drove along valleys where rivers once meandered. This was mother earth stripped to her bare stones, it was difficult to conceive that this was once lush savannah where early man hunted and gathered. It was the original overland route taken by hominids as they expanded out of Africa to the rest of the world until climate change turned it to desert. The remaining isolated oasis settlements then prospered during Roman times when new wells were dug, so that wheat and grapes could be grown and exported to Rome and new trade routes established. President Nasser improved the infrastructure in the 50s and 60s creating the ‘New Valley’ to provide agricultural opportunities away from the highly populated Nile Valley.

This was my first visit to an oasis and I had no idea what to expect, shades of a single palm tree and a muddy puddle were far from the truth. We passed through 4 main oases over 1600km, each consisting of several small villages and one main town, some with populations of 100,000 people, and all having hot sulphurous springs which would be a welcome diversion if the weather were not so hot. After our first night wild camping on our own since Mozambique, with the millions of stars twinkling and shooting almost down to the horizon all around us, we popped in to the small oasis town of Balak. This was a gem of a place, medieval mudbrick houses with almost no windows and tiny doors to protect the inhabitants from the heat and Bedouin attacks, built in a haphazard labyrinth of narrow lanes. We stumbled upon a teenage girl spraying the road outside a building with a hosepipe, she spoke a little English and shyly, but proudly invited us into one of the buildings. It was a functioning traditional bakery complete with flat clay plates to bake the bread on, and she, her mother and sister were renovating the mud plaster on the internal walls and bread ovens. The old hand hewn mill stone stood against the wall amongst ancient clay vessels (eat your heart out Screeto). As we left town Terry joined a long queue waiting by a kiosk, for bread from another bakery in the more modern part of the town, I waited in the LR on the other side of the ‘dual carriageway’ and watched. They insisted that Terry go to the front of the queue lumping him in with the town’s only disabled resident. We wanted half a dozen flat breads and proffered E£2 (20p), then a large tray full of about 80 hot, flat pita-like breads, were manhandled over the wall and unceremoniously off-loaded onto the narrow central reservation on the thankfully deserted road! Terry had bought two thirds of the tray and our new friend a third which he vociferously made clear. We took 8 for us and left the rest for this delighted young man with cerebral palsy. He thanked us with a crooked smile as we drove away. Yet another of those coincidences that happen and make us think.

By now we were running out of Visa time in Egypt and the shipping agent had emailed to say that the ETA for the Grimaldi ferry that we had tentatively booked had been brought forward to 25^th Aug. We drove all day along the blinding yellow edge of the Great Sand Sea, arriving in the next oasis town of Farafra at about 4.30pm. The Bedouin style hotel with good, cool pool and air con was expensive but too inviting, so we stayed there, ate a mediocre meal, swam and slept very well. We actually regretted this the following morning as our alternative had been to push on another 50kms and wild camp in the White Desert. This turned out to be one of the visual highlights of the trip. The extraordinary white chalk, wind eroded formations stand in massive groups and are surreal especially in the pink and orange hue of dawn. Our guide book talks of Salvador Dali and whipped cream. We saw the shapes of camels, horses, clowns, mushrooms and many ice cream cones in the formations. We meandered through this natural fantasy world, with mouths open, in silent amazement before breakfasting beneath a 20m high white lollipop.

 Later that morning we clambered over the Crystal Mountain, resisting the temptation to pocket one or two of the glimmering quartz crystals, sadly others before us have hacked away, leaving many scars in the rock face.

The white limestone eventually changed to black gravel covering the yellow sand as we travelled through the Black Desert towards Cairo. There was however lots of evidence of oil wells here, the first we have seen in Egypt. The price of a litre of diesel is less than a litre of drinking water. There were huge trucks hammering their way out into the desert, leaving a sandy haze in their wake, some tankers, some carrying drilling equipment, some transformers, some aggregate, and some taking sand and gravel from the desert,  presumably for the building industry in Cairo. The long empty road started to get busy as we approached Cairo. We were determined not to resort to staying in a hotel on this, our last opportunity to wild camp alone. The terrain got flatter and flatter so eventually we had to drive about 2km into the desert, and ‘hid’ behind a slight rise. We could hardly see the road so happily camped in the middle of nowhere for what may be our last night in the roof tent. As night fell the lights on the oil wells and gravel quarries that were too far away to see in the daylight surrounded us,  we were invisible to them, so long as our lights were kept to a minimum, so once again, early supper and bed just after dark. The trouble was that then the wind blew so hard that we couldn’t sleep because of the noise, so, in the middle of the night, Terry had to take the flapping fly sheet off dressed only in sleeping shorts. 

We had planned to avoid Cairo as we didn’t really have time and the traffic is often gridlocked. The famous Pyramids of Ghiza are on the western side, just off the ring road, so we decided to pop in and take some photos for old time’s sake. We eventually found the road that we posed on in 1975 with the old blue L/R . Sadly this was now closed off by a huge metal gate and despite my best negotiations they wouldn’t let us inside to take a photo. Somehow it doesn’t look the same with steel gate in front.

We had planned to avoid Cairo as we didn’t really have time and the traffic is often gridlocked. The famous Pyramids of Ghiza are on the western side, just off the ring road, so we decided to pop in and take some photos for old time’s sake. We eventually found the road that we posed on in 1975 with the old blue L/R . Sadly this was now closed off.

We arrived into a gridlocked city on Monday at about lunchtime then took 2 hours to find the Marina Shipping agent who closes at 2.30pm during Ramadan. She told us that we need a ‘Customs Broker’ and arranged for us to meet him the following morning. Turns out that this is a pseudonym for ‘fixer’ and it will apparently cost more to leave Egypt on a ferry to another country than it did to enter, on a ferry from another country.

I’ve just got back from the port and write these few paragraphs for the benefit of other travellers, and to get it off my chest, so if you are bored by our trials and tribulations just skip them.

• As you know I’m much against “fixers” (they have a vested interest in ensuring that it remains broke so it needs fixing) and have refused to use them at any border crossings anywhere except Sudan / Egypt despite continual harassment and touting. Even those that force themselves upon you to “help” then demand payment get short shrift.
• We turned up at Marina’s offices and met Mr Ahmed who is a 71 year old retired port worker and said the whole process would cost €200 (we paid just over €100 in Aswan but that included Insurance, licence and the rent of Egyptian number plates). The shipping agent looked a bit surprised when I said that I would do it all myself and explained that unaccompanied vehicles are classed as freight, and this was a whole different set of rules. There was also an Egyptian client there who was using Mr Ahmed and he seemed to think it necessary. Eventually I reluctantly agreed since our carnet and visa run out before the next ship arrives and you need another fixer to extend those! The shipping paperwork was quick and efficient. The charges are €280 for shipping our short wheelbase plus €132 for customs etc on the Italian side and must be paid in foreign currency (we paid $607) plus E£ 300 for loading plus E£30 to telex the bill of loading to Italy (you could collect this and take it with you). Ahmed then followed us back to the hotel and we took a taxi to the Traffic Police head office to take the Egyptian Licence and get a Traffic Police clearance document. This is quick and easy and you could do it yourself – if you knew which department and what to ask for. Even so it necessitated thanking Allah several times. The next morning we went to the port entrance to obtain a pass to enter the port and filled in some forms in Arabic, with passport. Ahmed would collect the pass that afternoon. Again a simple process if you know where to go and what to complete on the forms. This morning, armed with port pass and passport we left at 09;00 and took the L/R to the port. Entry was easy although it involved a long conversation with the gate people. Then the fun started… First the traffic police to find the engineer to check the engine number and chassis numbers, he took a rubbing of both even though there was no rubbing of the engine number on the way in. He completed a form which we then took to the chief engineer’s office for him to sign too (small amounts of money changed hands at these and most subsequent transactions). Then to the chief of traffic police for him to sign too. Downstairs to another office to complete another form and return the Egyptian number plates then the cashier to pay.
• The customs office was a bit more complicated! First we visited three offices for forms / stamps and signatures then outside for copies of our work to date. Then to another three offices / desks for more additions and back to the first to show them what we had achieved so far. A lot of hand shaking ensued which I took to mean that we were doing well. Two more counters were followed by another visit to the cashier and the photo copier. By now we had around 30 pieces of paper. Then we started to swap these for stamps and signatures on the remaining documents at another string of offices and desks including some we had visited before, I was now on nodding acquaintance with these. I really did try to keep track so I could write this for other travellers but was now struggling. At one stage an official came outside to where we had double parked on a dual carriageway to check the contents. He spent most of his time fiddling with the radio, which doesn’t work, then decided that the careful rubbings that we had prepared weren’t legible so he made another from the vin plate (he must be an engineer in his spare time). Eventually we were back at one office for the third time when it became obvious that we had unknowingly broken one of the game rules and a shouting match broke out. A small crowd gathered and there was much gesticulating and spraying of saliva in a very small office filled with stacks of dusty paperwork and dog eared ledgers whilst a couple of officials started to take the desk apart. I stood back smiling, after all this is Egypt, until I realised that they had lost my Carnet de Passage and were hoping it had fallen down the back of one of the drawers! “But I saw you give it that young man at the window” I offered. The office went quiet. What did he look like, when did you see him, is he still outside??? There was an air of panic and some more finger pointing but they assured me that it had just gone to be copied – again. I went outside to smoke a cigarette (I gave up last February but somehow found it necessary). We sat in a waiting room whilst Ahmed tried unsuccessfully to convince me that it was only being copied and would be back soon. Eventually the guy I had seen wandered back into the room and I recognised him (no one else did), I pointed him out and half the office descended on him. At first he wasn’t sure how he had committed the foul but agreed to open his brief case and there in among his other papers was our Carnet. He was another client doing the rounds of customs offices and had been given it by mistake but he still got a thorough dressing down, presumably for not keeping his eye on the ball.
• The Carnet was then stamped and signed in three new offices and the “car import” stamp in my passport cancelled so we could leave the country. We then did a lap of honour around selected offices and collected a few more stamps and signatures on our remaining few bits of paper which Ahmed kept. All of the above took place in packed halls in an atmosphere of total chaos with hundreds of other people shouting and pushing (there is no such thing as a queue). One bonus of using Mr Ahmed was that he has so many contacts that we didn’t have to queue at all, he seemed to have access behind the counters everywhere. . At least 50% of the officials are busy reading newspapers and a continuous stream of hawkers (who seem to have access to both public areas and the corridors of power and who must get their own port passes) offer everything from tooth brushes, pens, tissues, glove puppets, phone chargers and loofahs, yes loofahs!
• At 12;30 we took the L/R and parked it on a dock side and I reluctantly handed over the keys and E£1,600 (€200). Although “all receipts” were promised I forgot to ask but have since phoned but nothing has arrived yet.
• Incidentally, for other travellers, all personal effects are the responsibility of the shipper (you) so we have chained the sand ladders to the back of the front seats as a sort of dog guard, emptied the cab and padlocked the back door. You also have to empty the gas bottle (or hide it in the back) and it must be empty of cheap Egyptian fuel (or the fuel gauge disconnected). Hopefully we will see it all again.
• All in all there is no doubt that the charge is a rip off for the amount of work that was required. I would say it is possible to do it alone but you would need at least an interpreter and several days and a strong constitution!

Then, blow me down, the taxi driver on the way back to the hotel tried to rip me off. The fare should be E£5 (50p) we had agreed 10 so he tried to charge me US10!

So our 5 night stay in Alexandria has been taken up with red tape. We had little opportunity for sight seeing. The city has a faded grandeur about it, most of the buildings, from 19^th or early 20^th century have been elegant hotels and villas for the rich and famous of bygone days. We ate mostly in a restaurant that has existed since 1922, with a fairly good cosmopolitan menu. The view of the Corniche around the eastern harbour and the Med from our hotel is impressive, especially when you imagine Alexander the Great and subsequent Roman armies sailing there. Today there are fishing boats plying their trade and sailing boats racing around among the detritus and effluent that somehow finds its way into the harbour. This is a holiday destination now mostly used by Egyptians, so the amount of hassle and touting for us has been minimal. One of the remnants from it’s hey day are the elegant horse drawn carriages, with lovely, well fed, mostly Arab horses (unlike some we saw in Luxor) taking passengers for trips along the Corniche, from restaurant to hotel and back or around the various ancient and modern attractions here. The Alexandria Biblioteca, a mammoth piece of modern architecture, built in 2002 on the site of the original library from Ptolemaic times it is an attempt to put the city back on the world cultural map with symbols from every known alphabet in the world carved into the walls in order to provide ‘the world’s window on Egypt and Egypt’s window on the world’. 

Like Cairo its not possible to drive here without blowing your horn so, on this last morning on the continent of Africa, we sit in the breakfast room with the windows wide open overlooking the Mediterranean serenaded by a cacophony of sound (some of the taxis even have police sirens but only use them if the traffic is really bad!!) punctuated by the occasional screech of brakes and in the background the rumble of the ancient tram system and the wail of the mosque.

How we will miss you Africa…’You  can take a man out of Africa, but you cannot take Africa out of a man’…… 

We will be back.

17. Sudan - Cool or not?

The torrential rain as we crossed the border into Sudan disappeared within about 50kms and soon we were travelling through desiccated desert, what a difference altitude makes. We passed numerous, actually hundreds of dead cattle in various stages of decay along the stoney shoulders of the tar road. We caught up with MC and G in Gedaref, (where we were ‘imprisoned’ for a couple of days in ‘75)  and drove on to wild camp up a valley in the most idyllic spot about 1 km from the main road. There was a village on the other side of the hill, but no-one came near- what a difference from Ethiopia where we couldn’t have even contemplated wild camping because of the numbers and intrusive/inquisitive nature of the people. We had our first puncture the next morning which turned out not to be from an acacia thorn from the campsite but a good old wood screw from wherever!

The temperature rose steadily the closer we got to Khartoum reaching about 45 deg,  Khartoum is huge, with many modern and some high rise buildings in the centre the newest of which is a modern hotel reputedly owned by Col Gaddafi. Our couch surfing host, Omar gave us directions by phone, more and more specifically the closer we got to the city. Eventually we found the Blue Nile campsite where most overlanders stay, causing interested stares from the locals as we crossed the Nile in both directions over fabulous modern bridges. The campsite loos were nowhere near as bad as others have described, the shower worked and the manager was nothing but helpful. Kitcheners gunboat the Melik from the late 1800s English campaign against the Mahdi is now used as the Blue Nile sailing club office. More phone calls then, more bridges, and yet more traffic eventually arriving at Omar’s 3 storey modern white painted flat roofed palatial family home. Not everyone is as fortunate as Omar’s family – across the road from Omar’s house was an incomplete building where a family were living, in the open between the concrete floors of the yet to be built walls.

Omar was out having his bike fixed and his mother was ill. We were shown into a huge (8x8m) triangular tiled sitting room with couches, each as wide as a single bed, lining 2 walls and a huge dining table complete with labels and some plastic covers giving the impression of a new hotel foyer. The maid brought us cold drinks, we waited for our host to return home and wondered where we would sleep. The rest of the ground floor apartment which Omar shared with his mother consisted of kitchen, bedrooms and another, smaller sitting area. The other 2 floors were similar apartments where his older brothers lived with their families. It was dusk by the time that Omar arrived, a tall handsome 30ish vet, who had lived, studied and couch surfed in SA, USA, Europe and India. It became apparent that the sitting room was to be our shared bedroom for the next 3 nights. The toilet and wash hand basins were adjacent and the shower for our use in the back yard. Despite this being a new experience for us all, we soon became used to this home away from home.

Omar explained that this was to be the last night before Ramadan (when Muslims fast between dawn and dusk for 30 days) and that we were all invited to a party for couch surfers that night. Over dinner he talked about his late father, who had led the military coup in 1959 against the Sudanese government 3 years after independence from UK andEgypt. He had worked as a consultant to other governments including Kenya and the current Senegalese government and the family name Kibeida is held in great esteem amongst Sudanese people, although Omar and his brothers are not welcome into the army, in case revolution is genetic! The party was on a rooftop in central Khartoum, the only 3 other women there were young Italians and French working for NGOs in Sudan, one of them leaving to become the press officer for an international news agency in Darfor. In Khartoum she had been working closely with journalists from The Press Association (based in Howden). The male guests were mostly Sudanese musicians, accountants and the like who went out of their way to be friendly and involve us, despite being half our age!

Sudanese bureaucracy cut in the following day when we had to register at the Alien Registration office (N15.55887  E32.53653), and get a stamp in our passports to prove it, as well as tracking down and obtaining a photo/travel permit from the Ministry of Tourism (N15.58000  E32.56441). This was a long drawn out affair, culminating in failure as Omar had to accompany us the following morning to obtain the said stamp. Incidentally we then had to photocopy the travel/photo permit to hand out when asked to police along the way (and we needed them on at least three occasions).  All this in temperatures exceeding 45 deg, necessitated spending too much time in an air conditioned shopping centre, drinking divine fresh orange juice. Late one afternoon the Haboob (hot wind) blew hard, the dust obliterating much of the Khartoum skyline. This heralded a massive rainstorm that flooded the streets and initially gave some respite from the dry heat, then the humidity increased which made it even worse.

The Sudanese people were definitely the friendliest and most helpful we have encountered apart from the grumpy official at Alien Reg. We were often invited into their homes, for tea, to stay, to camp on their land and to take their photo, purely for the pleasure of seeing themselves on screen. Apparently Islam teaches that a stranger should never be left without food and shelter, and the Sudanese take this literally. The only notable exception was when the four of us ventured out one evening in search of a local fish restaurant. The welcoming owner of the very basic pavement restaurant showed then fried in a giant wok beautiful fish, fresh from the Nile. We felt like really experienced travellers, eating with the fingers of our right hands only until unfortunately he then demanded 200SD£ each (the previous night we had paid 20 each for a curry). We had committed the cardinal sin of not agreeing the price before ordering. With our tails between our legs we phoned Omar, he warned him that we were Americans and would report him to the USAembassy, so he reluctantly reduced the bill by 75%.

The two Niles converge here, the mixing of the colours is sometimes visible from one of the bridges. This was particularly relevant for us, bringing back memories of the White Nile in Rwanda before it flows through Lake Victoria and the source of the Blue Nile at Lake Tana in Ethiopia. Each evening the population of Khartoum migrates to the banks of the White Nile where literally thousands of people meet to drink sweet, spiced tea (shai) or coffee (kahawa) sitting on plastic garden chairs, blankets or bits of cardboard and put their world to rights. It’s the same the whole world over one way or another I guess. An enormous number of tea sellers make the drinks from flasks, some carrying the necessary equipment in large baskets.

The souk is a must do for tourists and so we headed in that direction with a mental list to find a maze of narrow streets and  covered alleys containing anything and everything that can be bought or sold in a relatively small space. Goods ranged from cheap Chinese junk to lovely antique jewellery, crocodile and snake skin handbags, galabiyyas and brightly coloured Nubian tobes. Aromatic spices were displayed in huge sacks, and the traders were keen to describe their use. Haggling is a necessity and always politely and respectfully undertaken until a mutually suitable price is established. We bought a selection of spices and incense. MC and I went back into the souk as they hadn’t found the spices, so the men waited by the cars. Big mistake—we found the spices fine, but then couldn’t find our way back! About 45 minutes later after being helped by various locals who spoke very little English, and we no Arabic, we arrived back, hot and bothered but otherwise fine---.

Drivers here are much more considerate, even in Khartoum in rush hour there is order, sometimes imposed by rifle toting police who seem to close roads just because the traffic is too busy. OK for locals who know where they are going, but not so easy for us, although the Sat Nav coupled with Terry’s sense of direction saved the day on all occasions. The Sudanese vehicles especially desert busses and tuk-tuks are unique, obviously the pride and joy of the owners. They are decorated with fringes and tassles, lots of chrome, chariot wheel hub caps, with blacked out windows and velvet or white leather upholstery. Even the windscreens of the busses are blacked out except for a narrow slit in line with the drivers’ eyes, Terry says they look like high speed burkahs!

We had 2 week visas for Sudan and needed to be in Wadi Halfa to catch the once weekly ferry on Wed 10Aug, so headed on through the desert, visiting various historical sites en route. The ancient temples at Naqa, stand about 25 kms off the main road into the desert, incredibly, on T4A which was a good job as there were many other tracks across the desert and we did unfortunately veer off the straight and narrow at one stage and have to dig ourselves out. We wild camped about 100 metres from the The Lion Temple, and were all thrilled by the reliefs there and at the Temple of Amun that overlooked us as we cooked and eventually slept under the stars. We were woken next morning by the sound of  a desert bus coming to pick up the ghaffir who collected the 20 SD£ fee from us before rattling off to market, leaving his donkey and dogs to look after his house. The only other person we saw was a man herding his goats to drink at the well..

The pyramids at Meroe are thought to be about 1000 years older than those at Giza near Cairo though they are much smaller. We set up camp just over the crest of the hill away from the pyramids and waited til early evening under our awnings to escape the blistering heat (by now the temperature was just over 50 deg!!). At about 5 pm 3 men on camels turned up offering to give us a ride over the top to the Pyramids. Marie Claire and I jumped at the chance whilst the men drove round. It was fabulous riding on these smelly yet strangely majestic ships of the desert to the pyramids, with their handlers walking alongside, dressed in the galabiyas and turbans as if out of the New Testament. We wandered around marvelling at the engineering, and the sense of ancient history that prevailed here, not to mention the isolation. Tourism and the antiquities in Sudan are definately much underrated!

Sleeping in blistering heat is not so easy so when we reached Dongola, back on the banks of the Nile we checked in to a local hotel with air con.-all I can say is that our standards have dropped somewhat and that  we will not be returning there. However Atef the owner spoke good English and was able to translate for us when attempting to have our fridge repaired, Mohamed Ali Osman the engineer was very competent and of course he and Terry had a great deal in common so we have arranged to send essential equipment out to him via Atef. Unfortunately the fridge repair was not a success.

At the hotel we also had a nice example of “lost in translation” – He asked “double or single beds”. “Double” we replied and he showed us a room with two single beds. “No, double we said”. “Oh, a single bed in the room” he said and showed us a room with one double bed!

We spent another night on the Nile bank in a lovely date palm grove at the ferry crossing to Sai Island which has more ruins, but it was so hot that we rested in the shade and didn’t bother to take the ferry across. The land owner, a man of at least 60, was up a palm tree apparently pruning as we arrived, he came down to greet us, told us we could sleep anywhere on his land, then led us to his best tree, shinned up 20metres and presented us with fresh, crisp, sweet dates.

We drove on to Wadi Halfa along a perfect empty new tar road and whilst this made life easy there is no doubt that it diminished the awesome experience of finding a way through pristine desert. We met our fixer Magdi who needed the paperwork to ensure all the boxes were ticked for the ferry up Lake Nasser. Other travellers had recommended him, we in fact met another fixer Mazar who seemed equally on the ball and offers a much wider service including home stays.

 Contacts-Magdi Boshara  nubatia51@yahoo.com.-- mob 012173885, or  0905568968

-Mazar Mahir  mashasharti@yahoo.com;  mob +249122238740, or +249911075226, or indeed ask anyone in WH for Mazar BMW (he still has the BMW motor bike that belonged to a German who was eaten by a hyena in 1989.)  

The Kilopatra hotel (yes Kilo--see pic on the blog) was on the same lines as the Dongola one and the newly completed alternative mentioned in the Bradt guide little better so we opted to find somewhere on the lake to wild camp for the next 2 nights. This was a good decision. Apart from distant fishermen we saw no-one, and spent the time relaxing, taking frequent dips in the lake, but not for long as there are reputedly some crocodiles,  washing clothes and the LR. Our camp shower has been worth its weight in gold, nothing nicer than to have a cool(ish) shower before bed, drip dry then fall asleep with the water gently lapping against the shore, the LR parked so that we caught the slight breeze on the roof tent.

Wednesday was sailing day, we met Magdi at 10am as arranged. Then waited until 2pm, went to the port for final passport stamps and carnet check, waited again. Loaded the vehicles on their barge (this is towed up the lake separately to us) boarded the ferry at about 4pm and were shown to our air conditioned first class cabins. Unfortunately ours was across the corridor from the gents and although the odour reduced when we were sailing, it was a matter of holding one’s breath when opening and closing the cabin door. I hadn’t thought to bring my sweeping brush and fairy liquid from the LR so had to turn a blind eye to the level of cleanliness. We left WH at about 6pm, the vehicles were to leave the following day.

Jean is being “positive” here and everyone knows that I’m not worried about a bit of muck – but actually the boat was filthy. Our feet stuck to the floors in the Dining Room. Everything you touch is filthy dirty and sticky. The waiter carefully avoided the ash falling off his fag into our food. The decks have never been cleaned from the continuous spilling of any and everything and many of the men spit all the time. It was difficult to see out of the windows because of the level of grime and I wouldn’t let my dog sleep on the mattresses. In fact I wanted to throw the pillows out of the port hole so they would have to replace them, but it was stuck closed with muck. The toilets are squat, which is fine, but were a disgrace and don’t appear to have been cleaned in the 30 years of the boat’s life so the terrible smell is from the encrustations in the trays and even up the walls. Thank goodness they weren’t actually blocked on this voyage.

Everyone talks about the trials of travelling on this boat and it’s certainly an experience which we won’t forget. Eventually they will open the road along the coast and this boat will rightly stop abusing travellers.

Seriously though, hindsight is a wonderful thing so other travellers may want to be a little more prepared than we were;- so -Doom to spray for potential bed bugs and take your own pillow and a sheet to cover the mattress, we weren’t bitten, but just in case. The air con did work in the cabin, but we did adjust the cold water flow otherwise ironically it would have been too cold to sleep! The cabin doors do not lock, but there was security and we had no problems. If we were to do it again we would definitely ask for cabins away from the toilets. At a cooler time of the year, and if the ferry is not too crowded it may be better to sleep on the steel deck or take a hammock.

Nevertheless we made the best of it, and drank lots of water, I declined most of the food at the restaurant (we had dates, biscuits and fresh fruit in the rucksack). We played silly card games, met more backpackers, an unlikely trio of Portuguese, Russian, and Canadian and put the world to rights again with them for a while. Whilst wandering on deck (choosing not to spend too much time in the cabin) we chatted to the only English speaking crew member, explaining that we had travelled the same route in 75. He showed interest so we found the photos on the lap top and took them to show him. It turned out that the paddle steamer from the 75 trip was the Isis and the captain of this ferry had been 2IC of the Isis. Great excitement on the bridge as various old hands came to reminisce. They told us that the engineer from the pic had died only weeks ago.

Tomorrow we arrive in Aswan where we wait for the LR.

16. Ethiopia Rocks.

Once in Ethiopia the route took us to the South Omo valley, brought to British TV by Bruce Parry in the programme called Tribe. He lived with the Hamer people of Bull Jumping ceremony fame there. We were lucky to see some of these people and took a few photos, unfortunately having to pay for the privilege, though certainly one has to accept that posing for photos is a symptom of increased tourism and often their only form of income. Even though we were only about 100 kms north of Sibiloi the people look, dress and have very different customs to the tribes in Kenya. There are numerous other and equally interesting tribes in this part of the world still living in traditional ways. Here we learned that until 50 years ago many of them were not even aware of the existence of Ethiopia. To explore the valley and spend time with the peoples would be very interesting, but we felt awkward and almost voyeuristic, perhaps because we didn’t have enough time to stay for a while and begin to understand their various lifestyles.

Camping in this country is a challenge, there are very few sites so we have stayed in hotel gardens and sometimes hired a very simple room including loo and shower in the local hotels which are amazingly cheap. We stayed at an ecotourism village in Karat Konso, called Strawberry Fields owned by an English chap, Alex who is a 30 yr old hippy who dresses in Arab attire. He is an Oxford graduate and has developed the property over 4 years, using permaculture techniques so is now able to produce all the vegetables for the village. He also runs permaculture courses for people from all over Africa. The long drop toilets scattered around the site were each supplied with hay and ash, to prevent smells, and by comparison they were a pleasure to use! Cooking was done on a super efficient wood fired clay oven and water for the showers was heated by heat exchangers in the compost heaps. Maybe we should all take a leaf out of his book?

Some of the women around Konso region wear traditional dress, this consists of hand spun and woven cotton, gathered, the top turned over, a cotton rope tied round their waist, so looks similar to a long full skirt with a frill at the top. We visited a village, Dorze 14 km off the main road and 2 km above it, where the cotton is grown, spun and woven into cloth, so made just a few little purchases. The local housing here was very pretty, houses made of natural materials, standing up to 6 metres tall.

 The children in the Ethiopia react strongly to tourists and wave enthusiastically this quickly turns to frantic begging and signed “hungry” even when they blatantly aren’t. They stare indignantly and shout Highland, Highland (the biggest bottled water supplier) asking for empty bottles even though they often have plenty. They sometimes perform (quite good) gymnastics or approximations of cultural dancing on the sides of the roads then earnestly offer outstretched hands in the hope that we will stop and give them something At Dorze they were more enterprising still as they ran down through the bush between the hairpin bends, so we saw the same children dancing two or three times as we drove down the mountain. We have often wondered if this is a result of the massive (necessary) handouts that this country has seen over the years? The advise is rather to give to organised charities as these street performances keep children away from school and don’t necessarily help those in most need.

En route to Addis we stopped to view a 700 to 900 year old Stelae field with carved standing stones marking the burial place of both male and female warriors, all in foetal position and showing by the number of swords carved the number of enemies they have killed. The style and carvings on these Stelae is similar to those found in Italy andWales as well as other places around the world. No one yet understands why. Also saw our first rock hewn church, below ground level and carved in one solid piece, separated from the bedrock by a trench, 900 years old, and still in regular use.

We must be getting used to busy African capital cities, as we elbowed our way through rush hour traffic, heading for Wim’s Holland House, where most overlanders stay right in the centre of Addis Ababa. The map was slightly wrong and we were given directions by a very friendly Ethiopian businessman who knew where we were heading because he ‘recognised the vehicles’. We had to do a u turn across 3 lane dual carriageway, but nobody seemed to turn a hair. Wim’s HH consists of 3 properties, in each the house has been divided into rooms for backpackers, and the gardens into camping space. The restaurant serves Ethiopian and Western food and reputedly the best pizzas in town along with draft Dutch beer and fastish internet. It was great to have a hot shower again since it’s the short rainy season and quite chilly as Addis at 2300ft.

This morning at dawn we sent a greeting to Sue who’s birthday it is and I felt it described the sensation of Addis so here is a bit of it - Addis Ababa is probably the most evocative sounding city we have visited. Even here the silky call of the African Collared Dove wakes us up before the alarm and before the growl and horn of the grinding traffic belches it way through the city. Today is Saturday and all the mosques compete with each other in a tuneless dirge that threatens to break into Michael Row the Boat Ashore but never does.

We had several torrential downpours but mostly at night. Coincidentally most of the overlanders were over 50, one English couple in their late 70s who had been travelling for 12 years, popping back to UK only when they have to. Another retired UK couple from York , emigrating to Knysna on the Garden route, bought their fully refurbished 101 Forward control LR from Holme on Spalding Moor.(Eat your heart out Smithy!).

Wim, a Dutchman who has lived in Addis for 22 years, appears to be in his 70’s too and is married to Rachel, a beautiful Ethiopian lady in her 40s who runs a really tight ship. They are both exceedingly helpful. During the weekly vehicle check Terry discovered that one of the universal joints had failed and two were on the way, (he had fitted 2 complete new Britpart prop shafts before leaving UK 27000 kms ago). Wim took Terry across the city to the local bus builder Ultimate Motors, bought by Ethiopian 8 years ago from Wims’ Italian  friends, he is still loyal to the business. Then on to another Italian friend -6ft 4in blonde hair, blue eyes, born in Ethiopia - who fitted all 3 joints for £7.50. En route Wim described part of his amazing life, in the 70s a motor accident left him with 12 percent of his sight. After 12 months in hospital he started designing novelties (rubber ducks) for truck drivers which became very popular, off the back of this he established Holland’s largest trucking association and magazine. This gave him unparalleled access to the trucking industry and in 1986, with the help of the Dutch government Wim organised a 180 truck convoy of volunteer drivers to distribute Bob Geldoff’s Food Aid toEthiopia and Darfor. Later he helped to establish Addis Ababa’s largest orphanage, now semi retired he enjoys chatting to and helping the constant stream of travellers and local who frequent his place.

The following day Wim organised a taxi to take me to pick up the repaired prop shaft, it turned out to be a ride of a lifetime. The vehicle was a 40 year old lada carrying about 20 kg of body filler. The full turn of slack in the steering gave a new twist to weaving through the traffic. It sounded as if the prop shaft was rubbing on the body. We were the slowest car on the bypass and the lorries belched black smoke in through my window, I closed it as far as it would go (about three quarters), then it got hot so I tried to wind it down – not possible said the driver. A new Toyota cut directly across our path, “he wouldn’t do that if he new what my brakes are like” said the driver - bear in mind all this is in Amharic but his confidential tone and frantic pedal pumping said it all. The whole experience wasn’t helped by the piece of chipboard which had replaced the springs in the passenger seat. Strangely I found I was humming a hymn on the way back.

Everywhere we drove in Ethiopia we were amazed at the number of people, men carrying rifles, shepherds’ crooks and/or umbrellas, sometimes all three, women with huge bundles of wood on their backs, bent almost double, walking on the roads. We had heard many horror stories of all the children throwing stones at tourists and a few actuallt did although half-heartedly (usually) throw them at the car, we are not sure whether this is because we didn’t give them money or just for fun. Farenji fever, as it used to be known, has abated a bit in recent years but when we were travelling slowly through a crowded village, even the adults sometimes started chanting you, you, you…… or Farenji, Farenji……it can be wearing and a bit intimidating at times.

We left Addis for Bahir Dar, travelling through the Blue Nile gorge on a good tar road unlike in '75 when the road was still dirt, it took most of a day then, this time covering the 14kms in about 2 hours whilst dropping 1.6 kms down to the Blue Nile and climbing back 1.4 kms vertically. This was another remarkable road, unfortunately the views were obscured by low cloud and rain which helped cool the poor old L/R. We overnighted in Bahir Dar on the southern shores of Lake Tana, camping in the grounds of a less than ok hotel, they did however give us the key to a room so we could shower etc, unfortunately the water ran out before we got there! It seems the new UJs are slightly too small in length so we have a lot of vibration from the shafts.  We went to a local garage to have some very thin shims fitted as a probable temporary job. It certainly helped so we headed off towards Lalibela, through probably the most beautiful scenery we have experienced on this trip enhanced greatly by the thousands of people walking, herding cattle, tending their crops, the men dressed in short tunics with cloth wound around their heads turban style, the women in similar cotton some with embroidered edges wrapped around their bodies- almost like a scene out of Biblical times. Power in th Land Rover is low and the local diesel produces lots of black smoke as this is the highest we have been at 3,500 metres. Lalibela is a UNESCO World Heritage site famous for its numerous rock hewn churches where we stayed in a cheap but clean small hotel owned by Sophie, who had spent 10years in France before returning home. Here we experienced excellent Ethiopian food for the first time, a very different cuisine for us, the staple being injera – a sour flat pancake/bread made from fermented tef served with tibs, (spicy stew) and eaten with the fingers by pinching a filling into a piece of Injera. Whilst in another restaurant at lunchtime we spied 3 other people sharing what looked like delicious injera with another more crispy flat bread and a variety of vegetables and small pieces of meat. Feeling like experts we returned in the evening, discussed our food choices with the very helpful waiter— but were surprised when 4 portions were delivered (enough for 16 people)! After some negotiation we settled for 2 doggie bags and manfully waded our way through 2 platters about 2 ft diameter between the 4 of us. We gave the doggie bags to the family who had allowed us to park the cars in their muddy yard.

We hired a great informative guide, Taye, who showed us around the nine main churches, hand hewn from bedrock about 1000 years ago. Taye was born here and grew up with the church, he still worships here and knows each intimately. Legend tells us that all the churches were completed in 24 years with help from the angels, but research suggests it would have taken 45,000 people to do that, believe what you like. This was a magical, awe inspiring experience as we went from wonder to wonder. The magnitude is immense, and the quality of the carving and painting incredible. Each church is different in size and shape and each represents a different cornerstone of Christianity (Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity is similar and related to Greek). There is a Mount Sinai and another of Olives and a 120m dark tunnel representing hell where the light at the end is Heaven. There is even a River Jordan and everywhere there are nuns grinding corn for the holy bread or hermits praying quietly in a corner. There were priests guarding the holy of holies in each of the church’s inner sanctums (each has a replica of the Arc of the Covenant which, supposedly, resides in Axum, Ethiopia. It was taken there by the Falasha Jews after Solomon’s Temple was destroyed.). St George and his dragon feature strongly here too. We experienced a healing that was taking place in one church (Taye claims never to have been to a doctor for sickness). To cap it all the last church had a service in progress as it was the feast of St Gabriel. Two groups of elders chanted rhythmically to the slow beat of the two church drums which made the air vibrate. The four of us stood, alone and mesmerised as we glimpsed another world. And it’s been like this for 900 years! It’s a place of pilgrimage, still today. The tourists that complain about the modern World Heritage steel and plastic roofs that protect the churches spoiling their photographs miss the point – these roofs mean that Christianity can be practiced here for the next thousand years too.

The road to Lalibella is one of the last dirt roads we will travel and we were hoping that the rear ball joint would hold out ‘till we got back to the tar and so get us home. The rattle was getting worse so some investigation was needed. It turned out not to be the back at all but the front and we discovered that the two front shock absorber turrets had come completely loose, all eight nuts. One was worn through so sheared off but the others tightened up nicely and it feels like a new car, well almost.

The next day we drove on to Gonder which is another important historical city, this time complete with castles built by emperors in the 16^th century and used by royalty right up to Haille Selassie’s time. Again another informative and very well educated guide explained the complicated and brutal history, apparently monarchs were assassinated by their sons/ brothers with impunity. The complex contains a series of buildings which were built to impress and included luxuries such as a sauna and a lion’s cage. Gonder was marred a bit for me as at the restaurant where we had lunch there were a group of street children begging for food. This made me very sad, more so as we could do little to help. There are supposed to be meal vouchers available at the castle but there were none available that day.

That night and the following two nights we camped on the northern shores of Lake Tana at Gorgora, the campsite is owned by Dutch people, Tim and Kim who are developing it as a community project to help the people of Gorgora. This little break was an oasis of calm and quiet with wonderful bird life, however no chance of swimming in the lake as it is full of Bilharzia, a parasite that lives in a minute snail, then enters our bodies through the skin and causes quite serious liver problems.   

At Tim and Kims we were all busy researching our next border crossing into Sudan when we remembered that we had a letter from the British embassy in Addis guaranteeing our car.  We had heard that some people who had followed the same remote route into Ethiopia as us had struggled to leave without this letter. MC and G don’t have one, so they left the day before us to try to rectify this with the SA embassy in Addis from Gonder where there is contact with the outside world. The sat phone came into its own when they rang us from Sudan later in the day, they were through the border, even without the letter!  That night it started to rain as we started to eat fresh but boney fish (that we had bought that day from a fisherman in a canoe made from reeds) supper and it poured almost all night. A couple of hours before dawn the wind blew and dried the tent so we were able to pack it away. The heavens then opened again and it rained throughout our journey. The border town was ankle deep in mud and there we met yet another old English couple driving their TK Bedford truck to South Africa. Not only are there many parallels with our 1975 trip but, it seems, many of the same people too!

Ready for another coincidence? At Tim & Kim’s we were sitting around the fire chewing the cud when I recited a story from my early days at Barlows in South Africa (about 1976) when my bosses name came into the conversation. “Lazlo Zarbo” said Graham - he was in my office just before we left! The age, place and profession sound right and there can’t be many with that name in RSA. We’ll see when they get back and speak to him.

Ethiopia was fascinating, incredibly beautiful, disturbing because of the poverty, and puzzling too because much of the green countryside that we travelled through was being farmed (although the yield must be reduced because of the traditional methods they still use). It was the norm to see farmers taken their oxen to the field at dawn carrying the plough over their shoulder. Yet the whole country was subjected to incredible famine as we all can remember back in 85. Ethiopia uses a Semetic language (Amharic) written from right to left and the Julian calendar with 13 months Their time is based on 12 hours but starts at 06:am (so mid day is six o’clock!). So we think it was Saturday at seven o’clock when we left – it was certainly Jeans birthday.

The road itself was good tar from Gonder but we were left with telling memories of the poverty in this beautiful country, illustrated by the hordes of people walking to market, herding their livestock, driving their laden donkeys whilst wrapped in swathes of wet cloth or if lucky a plastic sack or sometimes an umbrella. That morning we had subdued waves from bedraggled children.

Blow me down when we met up with MC and G the next day in Sudan they had sailed through the border, nobody asked them (or in fact us) for a letter—then we remembered that is still in fact Africa!

We now plan to head north to Khartoum for a few days where MC and G have arranged for us all to stay with a Sudanese family. This is through a web based organization called Couch Surfers….. we wait to see what this will mean for us.