06 June 2009

the ferry step by step

After two days at Al Ula I set of in direction of Duba, one of the Northernmost towns at the shore of the Red Sea. There was a 200km shortcut from Al Ula, directly to Tabuk, a dirt track along one of the oldest railroads in the Middle East. It had been constructed between Medinah and Damascus. The railway had been in service until the second world war to facilitate the Haj journey for the thousands of pilgrims coming from Syria and Jordan and even Turkey. During the second world war, it was used for military purposes and thus attacked and sabotaged. Afterwards it never got rebuild. I was eager to try out that track, but of course I was forgetting my guard, it would not happen. This meant that I had to drive back a 100 km and make a detour of 400 km to Tabuk. Duba was another 150 km from Tabuk. I know it would be a long journey, but I had not imagined it to be that long.

I started riding at 6 am. It was cloudy and not to hot so I made really good progress. Around 1:00 I found myself in Tabuk and asked my escort if he knew a place where I could eat something, I was starving. He did not really seem to care and just continued driving until the checkpoint at the edge of town. There he handed me over to the people in charge of the checkpoint. I was invited by the officer, to share a cup of tea. They asked all kind of questions and before I knew it I was having a very pleasant and open minded conversation with these policemen. Eventually they had me prepared a traditional dish of chicken and rice. Simple but tasteful.

Around 3 pm I left them and headed for Duba. My last road in the Kingdom, my last stretch of Saudi mountains, the last endless desert. 50 km from Duba I left the plateau I had been driving on and plunged into the coastal valley of Duba. I could feel the temperature rise immediately and the humidity slappedin my face as a wet towel. After crossing several beautiful wadis I arrived at sunset at Duba. I was so happy. I made it in time for the ferry, which was leaving for Hurghada at 11:00pm. I covered 700 kilometers, I was exhausted and my right arm had developed its own local case of Parkinson shiver (the bike is still a nasty one cylinder). After sunset prayer I was able to find the ticket office of the ferry company and buy the necessary tickets. The ferry would leave at 11:00, Ins'Allah, of course. I sat outside admiring the beautiful 'firey' sunset and thought about all the amazing things I had seen in the Kingdom, excited about the crossing into Egypt.

At nine o'clock 'my' policeman took me to the harbour, 30 km to the North. The start of a 24 hour ordeal. Upon arrival there the customs officials told me that there was no boat. They had not heard of any news of the ferry. They refused to give me an indication on when it might arrive. I proposed to get a room in thenearby hotel, but that was not possible as the officer decided for me that the hotel was not 'good' for me. I could do nothing more than follow the escort back to Duba-town, where they installed me in this oversized expensive filthy hotel (if the rooms smell of wet dog, well that is filthy to me). But if you have the hotel monopoly in town, why bother. Before dropping dead in my bed I went across the street and shared a last Saudi sheesha with some locals.

At 2:30 am I was awaken by somebody trying to crash my door. It took me half a minute to realize to wake up and realize where I was, I had been sleeping so sound. "Boat coming. Going to harbour." I heard. Outside was an armed policeman that indicated me that I had to get ready and follow him. I set a new world record "get your gear on and pack the bike" and was once again on the way to the port area. This time the policeman did not even bother to wait and just turned around and buggered of. So there I was, trying to explain to the guards that I had to take this ferry that had arrived. "No ferry!" they told me. It was 3:am. I had slept for 4 hours and was still half asleep. I cursed, just able to swallow the two four letter words that can get you in a lot of trouble if you utter them in front of any officials. Luckily there was a young guardian who spoke very good English. He said that I could wait at the entrance with them until there would be news of the ferry. So the next hours I just sat there, talking to this man about life in Saudi, the military, his study to become an English teacher to escape the military, drank tea, talked some more, waited some more. I was invited to have a traditional breakfast of humus, tahena and Arabian flat bread. Coffee and dates which you can't refuse. And waited some more. Around nine he arranged a room in the hotel, that was not deemed good enough for me. before, I slept for a couple of hours, until at 11:00 the news came that the ferry had arrived. Yes, or almost Yes!

Then they had to wait for the diesel truck to come to fuel the ship. It would come at 1:00pm, Arabian time, Ins'Allah. Only at 3 pm it showed up and I could finally start the immigration process. By that time I met an Saudi official tour guide, who was really interested in how I had managed to travel all alone from Qatar to Duba. He explained me that all the immigration officials were quite embarassed with my situation, as it is impossible to be an independent traveller in the Kingdom. Normally you only get a tourist visum if you are a group of minimum 4 persons and if you booked your stay in the Kingdom through an official agency. Nevertheless they were all very friendly and helpful and determined not to leave my side until I was safely on the ferry on the way to Egypt. Immigration, first clear the bike. I handed over the papers, only to be informed that I should pay a fine of 400 euros for staying too long in the Kingdom. I explained to them the entire situation at the border crossing in Salwa, ditched up the story of the delay because of mechanical problems. Major agitation, I had to go the head officer and explain it all over again. I refused to pay the fine and explained the situation over and over again. In the end they just wanted to get rid of me and let me through. Passport. stamp stamp stamp. I was cleared.

Around 4:00 pm I finally could board the ferry. The car deck was parked with old mercedeses and peugeots, packed like mules. Toys, tools, refrigerators, televisions...it was a fricking supermarket down there. Many Egyptians cross to Saudi to buy practically everything because of the lack of taxes in the Kingdom. At 5:00 pm I stood at the aft of the boat, looking at Saudi disappearing in the distance. We were sailing.

The journey would take five hours as the sea was pretty rough. During the crossing I witnessed the level of Muslim determination in adhering to the five prayers a day. Groups would gather in the front alley, facing Makkah, to perform their prayer rituals. Arguments would start because some men did not agree with the way the prayers were lead or performed. And all that on a seriously rocking boat, where people would get sick and just throw up where they stood or sat. Islam, means submission, I could see that.

Upon arrival in Egypt, Hurghada, I started the tedious process of registering the bike, getting plates, a new Egyptian 'chassis' number and insurance. It took me four hours of going back and forth between innumerable small offices, buying papers here, stamps there, changing money over there, paying insurance somewhere else. No logic at all in a place where no one speaks English and they are accustomed to see cars, not motorbikes. At 2:00 am I met up with Joke (friend I was visiting) and Mortada outside the gate. I was finished. I was dead. We drove across town to the apartment Mortada rented for me, where I invaded the bed determined not to wake up for the coming 24 hours.

I made it to Pharaonic country.

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