Thoughts on Durban

Durban is pretty small. In our five days, Abbie and I were able to see most of the city. Like the rest of South Africa, Durban is a segregated city and most of our interaction with black folks was through the service economy. Granted we spent a majority of our time near the beach front where the only people to be seen were sun-kissed white folks enjoying the surf. I think we all agreed at times when Durban felt more like Australia than Africa. If it wasn't for the safari and the vervet monkeys trying to steal our food we might as well have been in Australia.

Once you leave the beach front, however, Durban transforms into a landscape reminiscent of cities in America. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, the World Cup organizers provided walking trails of the city, marked by different colored footballs, that mostly avoided the unseemly neighborhoods of Durban. But these paths could not hide the stark difference in the complexion of the people living in the city and those along the beach front and Umhlanga, the suburb where we were staying.

It was only when we got off the beaten path and decided to stroll in the Indian section of Durban that there was signs that we were visiting a developing country. Walking along Dr. Yusuf Dadoo street reminded me once again of Karachi. This time, however, it was more than just the sight vendors hawking their wares, but also the sounds of local Indians speaking in an amalgamation of Hindi and English. But even this excursion off the FIFA Fan Map of Durban belied the poverty that probably comes from having a 43% unemployment rate.

It is only on this drive to Drakensberg that we are getting a glimpse of the poverty that exists in South Africa. The sides of the highway are pocked with settlements comprising of mud-brick houses covered with either thatch roofs or corrugated steel. I am not sure who lives in these homes. These could be the homes of agriculture workers or just black settlements outside the cities. This is probably as close as we are going to come to the unmediated lives of black South Africans. Such are the “perils” of tourism.

Now that I have got the depressing stuff out of the way, I can concentrate on the football. In Durban we went to see South Korea vs. Nigeria. What a match! So far every team I am rooting for besides the USA has found a way to lose or draw when they should have won (Note on 7/4/10: this has been a trend that I am unable to shake). For a more detailed description you need to read Abbie's blog post about the match at the Virginia Quarterly Review blog. Unfortunately Abbie has stolen all my blogging ideas about the match and has incorporated them into her post. So there is not much for me to write.

We are all looking forward to the US vs Ghana tonight, which we will be hopefully watch somewhere in Jo'burg. I feel guilty rooting against the last African team in the Cup but the US's cannot be faulted for that. North Korea has to share some the blame because the laid such an egg against Portugal and eliminated all hope for the best African team. Well, we are about to go on a hike in Drakensburg so I have to go. Tomorrow we are off to Cape Town and I will blog when I can.

Ma'salama Cairo – On the road to Durban

On my way to the airport, I knew that I had short changed Cairo. The four nights I had spent in this congested metropolis were woefully inadequate. As soon as I got my bearings in Cairo, I had to get up and leave. The city is teeming with history, of which I only scratched the surface.

If you only visit the tourist sites in Egypt, you will get a distorted sense of the country. The touts, the scams, the haggling are mainly just part of the tourist experience. What you won't realize is that in Egypt there exists a vibrant intellectual community that spearheads the robust opposition to the regime. In the many bookstores you will find texts dealing with sociology, history, and politics of Egypt. Though Cairo and Karachi look very similar visually, the intellectual curiosity of many middle class Egyptian Arabs is a fundamental difference that sets the two cities apart. I would love to come back to Cairo one day to learn more about the lives of everyday Egyptians. (It goes without saying that without Betsy's help, I would have experienced Cairo only through tourists sites.)

Scuba Report: By Popular Demand - Cairo

Breathing under water for the first time is a revelation for most people. The same was true for me. I learned that I am really really really scared of drowning. That combined with the fact that I am not strong swimmer turned me into the world's biggest wuss the first two days I went diving. Luckily my instructor had more faith in my abilities than I did. He kept pushing me and pushing me every time I wanted to call it day. I think a lesser man would have given up on me.

Everything came together on my last day and I finally got the hang of it. On my last dive breathing underwater seems as normal as breathing above water. All the little discomforts I had been focusing on melted away and I started paying attention to the amazing sea life surrounding me. The coral reefs of the Red Sea are an incredible sight. As the cliché goes, it is a strange and wonderful world under the sea. The highlights of my dive included hovering next to an octopus and seeing a manta ray and barracuda. If you want to know more about the experience go diving yourself. After all the hemming and hawing, I am really glad I did.

On Tourism: Luxor - Senmut Bed and Breakfast

Luxor is a maddening city. I am counting the hours until I escape tomorrow morning. Part of me wishes I had never left the peace and quiet of Dahab but I know that I would have regretted skipping the ruins located here.

Unlike Dahab, my expectations for Luxor were much higher. The initial drive from the airport to the Senmut Bed and Breakfast, located in the largely agricultural West Bank only raised my expectations. Luxor, seen from the comfort of my taxi, comprised of lush agricultural land on either side of the Nile buttressed by rugged mountains. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful. The city appeared to be worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Cairo or the kitsch of Dahab. It is not hard to see why Luxor became the cultural center of ancient Egypt. Initially, I thought the people of Luxor probably measured their days based on the needs of land. Spending a few hours in Luxor, however, quickly disabused me of such romantic notions.

Thomas Cook brought mass tourism to Egypt when his first tour group arrived in 1869. Nearly 150 years later, the tourism industry has left indelible impact on the people of Luxor. At this point the only other industry, outside of agriculture, is catering to tourists. As a result, every foreigner is seen as an opportunity to make money. Walking down the Corniche an-Nil one is met with a barrage of offers; everyone a great deal. There is not a moment of peace anywhere near the many attractions Luxor has to offer. Every transaction is also fraught the peril. If you have not signed a contract in blood before hand the price is likely to be astronomical. Even if there is an agreement that is no guarantee that the person will not try squeeze a few more pounds out of you based on some flimsy pretense. And frankly, it has left me exhausted.

All in all I spent the same amount of money in my two nights in Luxor as I would have if I had been on a package tour. I do wonder if taking a package tour would have made more sense. On one hand it would have cost the same without any of the hassles. On the other hand very little of the income from package tours trickles down to the residents of Luxor. The bulk of the income from package tours probably ends up as profit for the operators, with a small portion going towards the salaries of those lucky enough to have such jobs. Leaving most of the population out of the income stream and giving them no choice but to eek out an existence by competing aggressively for the remaining tourist dollars. Not only does this not improve the lives of the residents of Luxor, it also forces independent travelers to bear the brunt of their aspirations. It is a classic example of the deleterious effects of mass tourism, and something I had yet to encounter in Egypt. That being said, after my experiencing, I would not blame anyone for choosing the comforts of a cruise ship and guided tours when visiting Luxor.

A Broken Watch - SSH Airport

I am glad that I waited until my time in Dahab was over before writing this blog post. My first impressions of Dahab were not very good. The town seemed cheesy, geared towards beach bums and overrun with Bedouin kitsch. I was terrified of being bored to death. I quickly signed up for scuba lessons to occupy my mornings and began planning treks into the desert during the evenings. However, It did not take long for the town's magic to start working. By the second night I decided to cancel all my trips into the desert except the one that was already paid for.

I would highly recommend staying at The Penguin Hotel if you are ever in Dahab. The wonderful staff at the Penguin Hotel made me feel like I was family. They were extremely patient when I asked them to teach me a few phrases in Arabic. They would also pull me aside to show me You Tube videos of famous Egyptian singers and soccer players. Many of them are now my friends on Facebook.

I also met many wonderful people hotel restaurant. There was Joe and Louisa, who had been traveling from England over land for the last four months and were planning to get to New Zealand after another year of traveling. There was Paul and Peter, my breakfast mates. We all had dives planned in the morning and we were usually the only people up at 8am for breakfast. Paul is a chef from York and Peter is a nurse from Southern France who is currently working in the West Bank. There were the girls who had been studying in France; Kristy, Kelsy and Sherry. There was Rob from Holland, who had planned to come for four nights and ended up staying for ten. And many others with whom I struck up conversations just because we happened to be sitting next to each other, going on the same camel ride, or just watching the match at a bar.

On my last night in Dahab I was sitting in the hotel restaurant when I noticed the cheap watch I had purchased at Hudson News in Terminal 4 had stopped working. The time on the dial read 7:51pm. It was an apt metaphor for my time in Dahab. Time had slowed down to a grinding halt during my six nights in the lazy beach town. In the mornings I would go diving at 8am and return to the Penguin Hotel around 4pm. For the rest of the afternoon I would laze around the hotel restaurant, drink instant coffee (the cheapest drink on the menu), chat with whoever was sitting next to me, and try to follow the football match between lulls in the conversation. Some nights I was able to muster the energy to go into town for dinner.

Sitting at the hotel restaurant the days blurred into each other. When asked about how many nights I had been in Dahab, I struggled to answer. I like to think that maybe my watch realized the futility of its existence and simply decided to call it a day. Or maybe the watch knew that I desperately wanted to stop time so I could spend a few more hours in Dahab. And if I was to ever to write a novel it would start with a broken watch that stopped the flow of time.

Cairo: First Impressions

I finally have some down time to write a blog post. Egypt has so far been a little overwhelming. Arabic is a tough language to try to pick up using a Lonely Planet guide. But I have managed somehow with a lot of help from Betsy.

As I drove down to Zamalek from the airport my first impressions of Cairo was that it felt a lot like Karachi. Not only was the landscape similar but the buildings , store signs, and people would fit in perfectly in Karachi. The only difference is that Cairo's traffic is crazier. Red light, green light – it does not matter, cars and pedestrians do not stop moving. Crossing the streets felt like playing frogger.

Betsy, my brother's friend from UVA, was a tremendous asset during my first two nights in Cairo. She showed me around downtown as we walked to The Citidal, while passing 700 and 800 years old mosques (pictures coming). She even braved Khan al Khalil. Finally, she took me to meet one of her friends at a posh eatery over looking the Nile Without her help and Arabic, I would have been completely lost.

One of the coolest things I did in Cairo by myself was visit the Egyptian Museum. The museum is literally overflowing with antiquities from ancient Egypt. The first floor has the feel of a cluttered basement, with statues and stone tombs pilled up next to each other. About 75% of the pieces have no description. The museum has two floors. The first floor is arranged chronologically if you walk clockwise but little else in terms of guidance. The second floor is better curated and is the home of the treasures excavated from King Tut's tomb, which I learned was surprisingly messy. But what can you do with teenagers, right? Walking around the museum I was struck with how successful the rulers of ancient Egypt had been in achieving the immortality they sought for themselves. The significance of the Egyptian Museum's collection cannot be overstated. Visiting the museum has gotten me excited about visiting Giza and Luxor after I leave Dahab.

I have to go to bed now because I start my scuba lessons tomorrow. I will write about Dahab in the next few days.

PS A note on editing. I decided I am going to minimal editing because re-writing is very time consuming. If you see a big error please point it out. Thanks!

Year Zero - somewhere over the Atlantic

At 8:01pm EST the half empty Boeing 777 finally took off. We had been sitting on the tarmac for nearly two and a half hours. It is strangely comforting that my first foray into travel blogging started in such a familiar setting - stranded on the tarmac at JFK.

I am not sure what you should expect from this blog. At the least I hope to provide periodic updates on my dillies and my dallies as I hop around Africa and Asia. Unfortunately, I am afraid it will probably devolve into trite observations sprinkled with a little self-deprecation. For that I apologize in advance. But there is little that can be done to stop me from writing. As my friend Audrey once said, “you have not traveled if you have not blogged about it.”

It struck me, as I sit here “satiated” from the in flight meal, that I have not traveled much but I sure have flown a lot. The airport and plane reeks of familiarity. The confused passengers at the security check point, the chatty neighbors, the overpriced food, the broken seat back, etc. are all challenges I have overcome at some point. From the track lighting to bureaucratized work force; airports, when removed from the context of traveling, are dreary places. There is a chance that at the end of this trip, I may come to reassess my views of air travel. For now, the thrill of exploration is hours away and I am exasperated with the eerily familiar.