Diving in Dahab

Taba to Dahab

Distance: 29 km
Time: 2:17:00
Ave Speed: 12.7
Max Speed: 52.4
Temp: 25.4 C
Weather: Oh so hot and sunny!

Chris and I woke very late in our isolated Taba beach dwelling. Actually we woke early with the sun but I had been awake all night with the flu and intense body shivering so I was super tired. I rolled over and tried to block the sun for every last bit of rest my exhausted, aching body could absorb. Entirely not enough.


Morning in Taba (note the sun at a noon position)

We discovered Chris' glasses underneath his sleeping pad, busted in two. He got to bike blinded behind me while I warned him with shouts of "pothole!" and "glass!".

The road along the Sinai coast juts between deep blue ocean and dry, barren mountain rocks, without a sign of greenery or life. The exceptions to this are the random conglomerate resorts like Hilton and Club Med that appear, over the top and energy guzzling with their landscaped grass lawns and 100% imported supplies. Most of them follow a Saudi desert palace theme, and there are skeletons of dozens more in the process. In the last few years there have been large suicide bombings at these type of resorts, blamed on the bedouin who feel that their land has been taken away. I don't by that-- it sounds like scapegoating to me-- but all is luckily quiet for the time being.


Clear waters at an empty Sinai beachfront (the only empty cove we saw)

We climbed a few hills, disappointed slighty that the road didn't closely follow the water, and also feeling quite dehydrated in the strong sunlight. From Nuweba we caught a ride in a water delivery truck who carried us over the steep mountain pass to the Dahab turnoff.

After passing yet another checkpoint, (Egyptian roads apparently have them everywhere to check for bombs or something) Chris and I coasted down the hill to the beach town. We've been couchsurfing here in Dahab with the most fabulous couple- avid divers who run a conservation NGO. They lived a few years in Maritus, where their team of staff work with local fishermen to convince them not to kill the dugon, or sea manitee, that accidentally wash into their nets. Now they mostly manage from abroad, with a small office and staff here. Not a bad life!


With our CS hosts

Our hosts are also amazing cooks, and vegetarian. Upon arrival we feasted on a veggie, beans, and creamy mashed potatoe bake. The next night during their arabic lessons I baked eggplant pizzas, which luckily turned out well.


Delicious dinner with Patricia and Chris (and Chris)

Chris and I spent the days scuba diving, something we've been looking forward to since getting certified in Thailand. Dahab's beach boardwalk is lined with mostly wooden, mostly low key, lounge bars and restaurants, as well as dive shops, markets, and hotels. Overall it's still relatively small scale, lacking buildings over 2 floors, and not too outrageously priced, at least compared to Sharm El-Sheik. There has been a recent explosion of Russian tourists, however, who come with tons of money to blow, and thus the local vibe is shifting from the hippie getaway to a more refined high market.


Dahab's boardwalk, lined with lounge bars and dive shops


Chris enjoys hearty Egyptian koshari: rice, pasta, noodles, fried onions, lentils, garbanzo, and spicy tomato sauce


Twilight at the beach

Just away from the boardwalk the neighborhoods are full of new apartments and old, crumbling ones; the streets are teeming with herds of goats, thankfully munching away at the garbage that accumulates everywhere. Every so often we spotted a very white, European woman walking hand in hand with a young, half-Egyptian child. Apparently there is a trend of ladies who come for a beach holiday or yoga get-away, then fall in love with a bedouin man and decide to stay. In locals slang, that's called 'sampling the snackbar'.


Goats a plenty in Dahab!


Yoga retreat lures the women in... "snackbar" bedouins get them to stay!

We arranged diving with a shop out on the edge of the boardwalk: Adventure Spot Dive, a team of super friendly Egyptians with a few expats on board. Our instructor, Ahmet, spoke perfect English and has 16 years of dive experience. The first day he took us on a (manditory) refresher dive, to a central spot called the Lighthouse. In the shallow water we quickly reviewed our underwater skills, such as mask clearing and bouyancy, then decended for an exploration dive. The shore dropped off at a high angle allowing us to get down to our 30 m easily. At the bottom were a few scattered jugs with fish living inside, playing peekaboo as we glided passed. Outside of diving I forget why it's so amazing- then as soon as I'm underwater I instantly realize how beautiful underwater life is, a hidden world of fish and corals. I am reminded of my desperate desire throughout childhood to grow flippers and become a mermaid.


Adventure spot, our dive shop


Juvenile Lionfish [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/], plentiful at the Lighthouse


Between dives at the Lighthouse

After surfacing we detanked and drove to another sight at the edge of the boardwalk, away from the populated areas. This site is called the Eel Gardens. After a swim out over some coral we decended between more coral plumes, then down a long sandy shore. The white sand almost looked like snow. Suddenly we noticed that in all directions were hundreds of tentacle-like worms, sticking up about 2 feet from the sand and waving rhythmically in the current. Eels! They are pencil thin, long, and as we swam near they would sink back into the ground, always forming a ring around us. We also saw a ton of red sea puffers, though try as we might we couldn't get them to puff.


Creepy eels from the Eel Gardens [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/]


Sinai Puffer! [courtesy www.richard-seaman.com/]



The next day we went early to meet for our slightly farther dive, requiring a truck ride north of town to a place called the Canyon. Along the way are hundreds of camels and bedouin, ready to take tourists on rides along the beach.


Camel rides along the beach...

Out on this stretch of beach are no hotels, only a handful of wooden beach restaurants and divers. We jumped into an area called The Bells, a shaft of coral and rock that makes an eerie echoing sound as you swim down. Unfortunately, my flu has died down to merely a killer sinus infection, so when I began to descend the otherwise unnoticed airbubbles in my head cavities began throbbing, making my forehead hurt like I had a pen jabbed into my skull. I started freaking out. I couldn't equalize. I was whirling in the bubbles desperately trying to blow out my ears and make the pain stop (point being, I didn't hear the bells).


Blue Hole beachfront awaiting divers


Aerial view of the Blue Hole [courtesy aquaviews.net/must-dive-sites-dahab-blue-hole/]


Suiting up! Its diving time!

Eventually it all worked out and our trio moved along, following an endless coral wall that dropped down into oblivion. Coral walls are amazingly vivid, this one with wispy white flowery bulbs fluttering in the current. Millions of fish of all sizes scamper in and out, some pecking at the coral, others at my face (tiny blue ribbon fish that occaisionally mistook my lips and ears for a snack).


Swimming down the Bells [courtesy www.responsibletravel.com/copy/dahab-dive-sites]

We drifted in the current along the wall until reaching a big hole, appropriately called the Blue Hole. Here is where free divers plunge to insane depths without a tank or gear- just one deep breath to get down as far as possible. Inside the hole I watched one diver slowly ascend to the surface in his long thin flippers.


Free diving atthe Blue Hole [courtesy http://aquaviews.net/]

Before heading home Chris and I rocked Dahab in true form by drinking a strawberry smoothie at a plush beach bar. We could only afford one between us, but that's ok because the shady booth and sea breeze was all we were after...


Post-dive rest on the pillow lounge

Oh and yes, Chris did find a clever welder to solder his glasses back together.


Chris' mended specs

Biddo

Following Mahmoud's instructions, we took a shared van to Biddo, where his family lives. To get there the van passed through a long series of tunnels; crossing under one of many guarded fences that keeps Palestinians from being freely mobile. Clever planning has created borders of strategic fences and walls around Palestinian villages (or village clusters) so that at any time if the Israelis decide to quaranteen them all they have to do is shut down one check point.


Hey let's a build a fence for world peace!


Breakfast with Om and Abu Hussein

Mahmoud's father was born east of here, and at 6 years old his family fled to this region. Their village is one of a few built around the beautifully terraced jabels, slowly shrinking as the Israeli walls come closer to make room for settlements. The architecture is strikingly different: Palestinian homes are organically built by hand out of cement while the Israelis live in carefully planned cookie-cutter homes in neat rows.


Israeli settlements on Palestinian hills (security road shown below)

One day Mahmoud took us on a tour of the villages, pointing out the fence and settlements, views toward Tel Aviv and the coast, Jerusalem, and the wadi where he was once shot at by Israeli soldiers. Everyone has a lot to say about how dehumanizing and unjust the Israeli occupation is, and really can you blame them?


Walking around, looking at settlements

Mahmoud's mother and father go every Friday to Al Axa (Dome of the Rock) to pray, a journey which used to take 10 min by car. Now they are required to take a taxi into Ramallah to wait in line and apply for a day pass to enter Jerusalem; the whole trip now takes over 7 hours.


With the family in Biddo

While in Biddo we also watched a news report about a group of Israeli soldiers busting into a Palestinian home, shooting an older man in his bed, then realizing Oops! We got the wrong guy! Turns out his nephew downstairs was the one the wanted. No apologies to his wife and family.

I kind of understand how extreme propaganda and brainwashing has shielded Israelis born and raised here from fully understanding their actions against the Palestinians. However, for those who continue to immigrate from secular countries around Europe and America (actually I don't think USA is secular but let's be honest we're pretty Jew friendly), I just can't fathom how they justify their actions.


Tom, Jerry, and the hookah smoking monkey.

It was really hard to get here but I'm glad we came. Even just a few days and it's easier to see (though still hard to understand) the fight for power and control, and the will to go on.

Into the West Bank

After our marathon interrogation at the Israeli border we were finally given our passports and an ok, just as the sun descended behind the mountains. We biked up toward the highway and were immediately distracted by an herbal shop, featuring dozens of loose herbs, spices, and teas. Tables were set around the room with bowls of aromatic spice mixtures like Mix for Spicy Rice and Mix for Mushroom and Garlic Fish, etc., all the more enticing because we couldnt read the Hebrew ingredients. Bright sensual colors and textures coupled with the bulk foods style bins I love in markets (and Tempe's co-op) had me drooling...


We were welcomed with a 6 hour reception


Herbal goodies in bulk, yum!

Chris and I biked on along the highway in the dark, pulling over to a semi flat area. We set the tent behind some thorn trees, far away enough from the cars to be unseen. In the middle of the night we both woke to the overwhelming stench of sewage, too groggy to do anything but hope it wasn't some toxic Bhopal-like gas. We later learned that the nearby Israeli kabutzim (communal farms) irrigate with filtered sewage water from the large southern city of Eilat, which we wholeheartedly admire on an environmental level but are also a little turned off by the image of camping over sewage pipes.


Camping in the stones

On we biked in the early sunshine. Lots of construction and lack of a shoulder encouraged us to hitch a lift. Plus, we really have no intention to spend any time in Israel. The reason we detoured here is to visit a friend from university who lives near Ramallah, in the West Bank. Curious to see Palestinian life, we sacrificed a ferryride to the warm Red Sea coasts along the Sinai to backtrack up the Dead Sea into the cold northern hills.


Where is Rome?

The two friendly guys who picked us up came from a nearby kabutz, en route to another village cluster. From where they dropped us we waited about 3 hours trying to get a truck to stop, without any luck. Finally a car pulled over and the driver advised that no truck will stop, and kindly agreed to hold our bikes at his house inside the village. We followed him through some farms, down a shady lane toward his house. Not what we expected of an Israeli guy, he seems well educated and not a religious zealot, more like someone from a Roger Clyne APM concert. We hope to talk with him again on our way back south, find out what life born in Israel is like.


Bicycle love


Yes, where are we?

Without the bikes it's usually much easier to hitch, however we still had very tough luck despite frequent traffic. We blame Chris' beard. Eventually, 3 cars and many hours later, we arrived in Ramallah, well after sunset. We waited to meet our friend, Mahmoud, at the Stars and Bucks (yes that's an unregistered copycat like the Kolonat in Tirane) upstairs by the central circle. Mahmoud came with a young, English-speaking girl, and together we went to a chic restaurant in the fancy neighborhood. Judging by Chris' street stall shwarma ($4 compared to $1.50 Jordan, 50 cents Syria, and $1 Turkey) and the $25 pizzas at Stars and Bucks, we quickly decided Ramallah is not the town for us.


Dinner at Sangria, Ramallah a la Scottsdale

Turns out the entire West Bank and Israel are exceptionally expensive, as Israel has one of the highest costs of living in the world. I expected the Palestinian area to be more run down, cheaper and with limited imports. Instead we found large stone mansions and high-end restaurants; I can't understand what their economy depends on.


Hookah and mint lemonade in Ramallah

The following day Mahmoud took us out for many adventures, beginning with a stroll to Yasser Arafat's tomb (next to the compound where they killed him and the soon-to-be museum). From there we looked at the wall and some armed guards, something of normalicy here.


Yasser Arafat's tomb

Bright sunshine for an hour or so, we also went to the outdoor market, where we saw avocados for the first time in years! Even in Albania they are extremely rare to come by (and by that I mean some other volunteer brought them back from a trip to Greece or the States).


In Ramallah's market (avacados not shown, but eaten in great quantity)


Jericho fountain

Mahmoud, Chris, and I hopped in a shared van to Jericho, where we walked up to a rock cut monastery atop Mt. Temptation. The priests inside let us peek inside to the cave shrines and walk along the cooridor to the chapel, full of modern and what I would call New Age frescoes. The waving Greek flag and inscriptions lead me to believe it's a Greek orthodox church, and the nearby caves once housed small community of anti-social monks.


"Banana Land" and Jericho Valley from Mt. of Temptation


Monastery of the Temptation in Jericho


Corridor of the Monastery


View over Jericho Valley


Top secret Jesus stuff


The road to the monastery passes through a delux Russian inspired mansion-- supposedly Putin himself came here. (Afternote: Dmitry Medvedev was visiting in attempt to rekindle the Iraeli peace talks) The guard pointed to a tree across the lawn, also explaining its relation to Jesus. Supposedly this is where Jesus sat for 40 days meditating. Funny, I've heard of someone else meditating under a (mango) tree for 40 days in search of enlightenment... and another one about Muhammad resting 40 days... Talk about exploiting religious tourism! Did you know there are apparently two Lot's Caves? One on each side of the Dead Sea? Traveling through this region is like getting sandblasted by religious fables. And they're not even orginal.


Guardkeeper explains the Jesus tree


Old tree supposedly associated with Jesus

51st State

This morning we woke comfortably at Katrina and Francisco's apartment. We did the normal tea, packing, toothbrushing routine, then set off toward the border (with a quick falafel and chocolate bar stop, as we hear Israel is expensive). The road to Eilat is somewhat lined with palm trees, surrounded by purplish mountains.


Purple mountains and palm fronds of Aqaba

Approaching the border felt normal enough, and despite my inhibitions about supporting Israel with money or even my attention, I couldn't help but feel refreshed by seeing young, energetic, uncovered, English speaking women commanding the post as compared to the universal theme of old, fat, uneducated men.


Goodbye Jordan!

However these girls and everyone here seems convinced that Chris and I are up to no good, starting with a lengthy game of 20 questions and proceeding to a ridiculously thorough bag and bike search. A team of 10 or so young workers painstakingly routed through all of our tightly packed possessions, dumping (very delicately) everything from every bag and filling plastic bins around the room. They confiscated my sunblock, later interrogating me about them but eventually returning the bottles. It would have all been humorous had it not lasted well over 6 hours. I wish I could have captured the process on film but that's a big No No around here.

We also got strip searched. The female security very thoroughly scanned every inch of me to see if I had hidden weapons or who knows chemical bombs inside my pelvis and breasts. Again, hilarious.

We must appear suspicious because Chris has a beard (Muslim?) and admitted to studying Arabic (minor alarm when flipping through his mosque- and script-filled sketchbook). We also have Syrian stamps and admitted we have a Palestinian friend in Ramallah, who we intend to visit. However the guards are all incredibly nice and I think they believe we are innocent, it's just procedure.


6 hours and counting..

We are now waiting for our passports and approval to enter. The sun is slowly creeping down and I'm afraid our chances of getting to Ramallah today are dashed.

Sun Shining Aqaba

Somehow Chris and I managed to get ourselves up and out Matt's door by 7 am sharp. Kind of a shame because a thick fog covered the ground and, in addition to being ungodly cold, we couldn't see too much in front of our bikes.

Foggy morning in Qrain


Chilly!

After a brief tea stop at the only market open in the next village we continued onwards, my hands wrapped in plastic bags to keep from freezing. Twenty km from the house we reached the pass, a long downhill that would take us into the deep, lower valley. We happily glided, not really aware of the temperature change (7 to 22 C) until stopping for a rest later (when I promptly and suddenly tore off my scarf and thermals).

Overlooking the Jordan Valley

Foggy mountain pass

The road south continues through the valley, cutting through karst and jagged mountains. On the left we passed Wadi Musa, an area of mountains with bedouin camps tourists can pay to sleep in. It's very nice but in my opinion Sedona is better and I'm not really interested in paying $50 for one night in the camps when we've been camping so often on this trip. We moved on, over 100 km to the port city of Aqaba. Mostly industrial, Aqaba has a large downtown area full of tourists, a few super fancy hotels, and American chain restaurants.

Movenpick decor


Swiss ice cream, yum

Not too overdeveloped though, I guess maybe the port and factories provide enough employment that people aren't desperate for tourism. We stayed two nights with Katrina and Francisco, two Americans employed through USAid to work in small business development. They have a nice house and comfortable enough salaries that even though they basically have Peace Corps roles and frustrations, life is not too stifling for them here.One afternoon Chris and I biked on the southern coast, toward the Saudi border to explore the beaches. We found an empty stretch of sand backed by mountains and facing Israel across the water.

Empty beaches along Aqaba's coast

Coastal road to Saudi

Eilat, the border town, looks like any other western city with a panorama of lights and sky scrapers. Both nights were very relaxing, eating healthy vegetarian food and watching some Al Jazeera with K and F. They have memberships to use the gym at the uber fancy hotel Mövenpick, which includes use of the spa, sauna, pool, and jacuzzi, which makes me very jealous. They go almost daily and thus are very fit, something I actually look forward to when I get back home.

Dinner with Katrina and Francisco

Our final night in Jordan! We are still torn on whether we should go through on a detour to visit our friend in Palestine tomorrow... Neither of us wants to go into Israel or back north into the cold, but it's really quite an opportunity not to be missed.

Peace Corps Life and a New Year

Biking out of Amarin Village is pretty rough; we left early in the morning after tea with Khaled, pedaling slowly over the rolling hills and finally coasting into town after an hour or so. From Wadi Musa we walked uphill, not stopping until 5 hours later on a cliff overlooking the valley. Another hour later we were pushing along the ferociously windy mountain peak, even higher. Finally the pass inland gave way and we found ourselves near Ayl at sundown. Some girls ran out of a small stone home and welcomed us inside-- after all that we readily accepted.

Bulbous hills around Amarin Village


Wadi Musa (city) and Petra's canyons from above

The family, Egyptian daughters and father, were very excited to have us over. He runs a flour mill adjacent to their house; the young girls go to school and the oldest stays home. Edison, our pcv friend who lives in the village, joined us and we all ate dinner together. My favorite, fhool, accompanied by hummus, olives, tomatoes, and pickled radish. After a few glasses of tea we bid farewell and walked to Edison's house, covered overhead by a deep blanket of stars.

Outside Edison's bait

Ayl is pretty high in elevation, and thus cold. Like our place in Gjiro indoors can be unbearably refrigerator-like, but we huddled by the sobe and stayed cozy. While Edison went to school Chris and I took advantage of the government sponsored Knowledge Station computers. On the third day all three of us set off into the fog, stopping in a nearby village to have tea and meet Edison's counterpart and family. From there we continued through barren land, albeit shwaya (little) sunnier in the afternoon, but terribly windy. So much wind that we had to pedal downhill, the worst.


House visit with Edison's counterpart and family

Sunny but windy ride

Critical Mass to Qrain (Edison and Chris)

Eventually we arrived in Qrain (sort of like Grain but with a throatier Qawf sound), where another pcv, Matt, lives. After a quick tour of his village, stopping in one of two markets for snacks, we bundled up in Matt's house and learned to play Mexican Train Dominoes. He also cooked us a Jordanian dish, cousa mashi, meaning stuffed zucchini.

Culinary pleasures of Qrain's market: "chipz", chocolate, and soda


Matt making cousa mashi, Jordanian stlye stuffed zucchini

Mexican Train Dominoes on a chilly winter night. Ahh Peace Corps.

Time-consuming, it was delicious and worth every squash-hollowing minute. Spontaneously, we decided to follow Edison and Matt on a quick trip up to Amman to celebrate New Years. Their friend, Katrina, an EMdabber from Aqaba, picked us up on her way and together we drove back to the jabels. Easier by car for sure.

We spent the night meeting dozens of volunteers, EMdabbers, Fulbrights, and a variety of random expats. Pizza and alcohol were had in great quantities, then the crowd moved over to a hip French bar to countdown the new year. Normally I would refer to that as watching the ball drop, but in this case it was a sudden screen shot of a Lebanese woman in a studio counting backwards from 10 in Arabic. The crowd of 100 or so Arabs on TV looked pretty excited (Dec 31 is not really new year in the middle east).

Awaiting the New Years party in Amman


Pizza heroes of New Years

The next morning/afternoon a small gathering of people in the apartment we stayed ordered shwarma from Reems to ease their stomachs. We hopped in the car and drive south, back to Matt's village. His landlord, the sheik, or head of his tribe, invited us for tea, which turned into dinner. I relented on the request to visit his wife, but was glad because she was so friendly and showed me tons of photos on their computer. I love looking at people's lives through photography. I kind of make up my own story and feel instantly more acquainted with people when they open up that way. Maybe I'm part of the Facebook generation.


Matt's landlord gives us an Ahlan wa Sahlan (welcome)