From Aqaba to Dahab

In many ways this day showed me the best and the worst that the Middle East has to offer. It began and ended with divine splendour and sublime bliss. What transpired in between was a blend of comedy, tragedy and farce that a tiredness created by early mornings, extensive walking and desert heat, threatened to render me ill equipped to handle.

At Aqaba the tranquility of a desert dawn had faded, usurped the reality of travelling in the Middle East. I'm not sure why, but it seems more complicated to leave a country than it is to get into one. The bus and taxi dropped me at the Ferry Terminal at about 9, in plenty of time for the 12 o'clock departure. After paying the departure tax, getting my passport stamped and securing some Egyptian currency, I went in search of a ticket. This proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Although open, the first person I saw told me to come back in one hour. I visited a second who dismissed me with a wave of the hand saying 2 hours. After what turned out to be a futile effort at composing myself, and feeling more than a little bewildered, I spied a tourist agency professing to sell ferry tickets. I approached the man at the counter and was told 'one minute mister.' Forty-five minutes later and several glances in my direction he was still saying one minute. By this time it was an hour since I had first tried my luck with the ferry company, so I ventured back there to try my luck once more. I saw a different person to those I had seen before who sold me a ticket without further hassle. The look on his face seemed to ask 'why have you been waiting so long?'

I joined the throng in the waiting area, where time passed interminably slowly. They eventually boarded us about 1.30, with the ferry not pushing away from the dock until after 3. My attempts at a much needed nap were thwarted by a gaggle of effervescent Egyptian kids that ran amok, seemingly throughout the entire ferry. Already nrevous at leaving my pack in the hands of Jordanian dock workers, my anxiety levels took another hit when I was required to relinquish my passport on the ferry; told that it would be there for me at immigration in Nuwieba.

When we docked at Nuwieba, the section of the ferry in which I was seated was not allowed to disembark for a full 45 minutes. With the benefit of hindsight, I could've used this time to prepare myself for the carnage that awaited. Much to my relief, my pack was waiting beside the trolley onto which it had been loaded. A quick check revealed that everything was exactlu how I had left it. After a couple of false starts, I found a bank that sold me a visa and located immigration. Somewhat relieved, but increasingly exhausted, I headed toward the departure area. I think I have mentioned before that there appears to be no such thing as an orderly line over here. Combine this with people pushing oversized trolleys carting anything and everything that they lugged onto the ferry, and this is no place for the faint hearted. After being shoved out of the way once, I decided I couldn't let that happen again. I stood on someones luggage, climbed over a half unloaded trolley and deposited my bags on the conveyor for the x-ray. Nobody seemed to care, as though this was normal in this part of the world.

An array of tables with open bags waited on the other side. I set my pack down on a table, anticipating that it would be searched. When nobody showed any interest in me, I picked it up and continued outside. By this time, my mind was focussed on making the hour long trip to Dahab and getting some sleep. At 200 Egyptian pounds (about A$40) I probably paid twice as much as it was worth, but I had no energy to haggle and I just didn't care.

I was told that Penguin Village was the place to stay, but when they were full I ventured across the road to Bish Bishi Garden Village (www.bishbishi.com), where I secured a single room with private bedroom for A$10 a night.

I decided that a splurge was in order and I ventured out to the seafront promenade and wandered until I found Jasmine restaurant. All the troubles of the day were washed away by a seafood platter to die for and a relaxing seesha as I gazed across the water to the shimmering lights of Saudi Arabia.