PICS

top and bottom in petra, jordan, overlooking Jordan and Palestine. The citadel in CAiro and Uncle Hisham, my namesake, with a belly dancer,

ae to au

will be back in aus but on the other western side by friday. any work going in melbourne? and im not interested in Coles David.

Hisham

Mother of the World, part 6

As we descended Mt Sinai I couldnt help but notice the strange site of snow and camel piss lining the walking track. I wonder how many of us have experienced this amazing and thought provoking site (and smell). This is what experiencing the world is all about. right...?

So Bob and i basically gave up trying to stop our exhausted legs from inevitably gaining pace down the mountain and instead concentrated on not running into people or spraining the old ankles. we made it down in about 1/4 of the time it took to clamber up with only minimal, potentially athritic, damage to our ankles and knees. by that time it was almost 9am and we were wet, hot, and tired. nevertheless, we were quickly invigorated by the Christian pilgrims gleefully singing to the walls of the monastery and found enuogh energy to dash inside away from all the infectious and annoying joyfulness and take a glimpse of the holy Burning Bush.

after that, we spent another couple of days in Dahab, catching up on sleep and snorkling in the 120 metre deep Blue Hole. we relaxed at some of the bars and cafes. a snippet of the bbc world news in our hotel alluded to a big lunar eclipse. but i didnt catch the date, nor did i pay much attention. however, when i did happen to look up that night, there it was. and oh how excited i got.

then to nuweiba, where bob and i were planning a trip across the gulf to Aqaba, Jordan. But it was not to be for Bob. Foolishly branding his Egyptian passport to the Jordanian authorities without one of a number of documents permitting his release from Egypt, he was escorted off the boat for a lack of bureaucratic prescience. Alas, i had enjoyed his company but really, in Jordan he probably wouldnt come in all that handy. so i left him crying at the port in the arms of a hefty Yemeni sailor, and looked out towards the immenent and exciting adventures i would have in Asia.

and they were few. so few, in fact that i will say that it is always a great experience to travel by yourself and stay in youth hostels, stake out one city after another, looking for things to do, people to see and cheap places to stay. but im not writing a novel so ill tell you i met an amazing muslim/rastafarian women and her partner in aqaba who had travelled through just about every country in Africa for seven years, eating and writing a book. in petra i met about 18 people in 2 days, who i averaged about 24 minutes speaking to each and recieved many email addresses. other than that petra was an amazing ancient city and i recommend people spend a good 2 or more days there drifting around, exploring, meeting the local bedu, etc.

but it was expensive, i didnt have much time, and i missed the fun times with bob, so i returned to bob in egypt who should have been waiting for me at the port waiving his little white tissue in the air but wasn't. *before that though, i did want to go to Palestine. I did want to see first hand some of what is really going on there. i regret not making it in there but i won't forget why i wanted to go there. i have something to say so that might be the next chapter.* anyways, bob had stayed in Taba, literally 10 kilometres from Aqaba but with Israel's Eilat in between. So from Aqaba i had ferried to Nuweiba (about 70+ kms away) and then got a taxi back up to Taba, all in about 5 or 6 hours. i shuolda just swam across. he had stayed there for a certain russian lady and her gfs. He had 'spoiled himself' and stayed at the Hilton Hotel and so there i was too. ofcourse, why not put the rooms on his mum's credit card. so we did that too.

but thats ok i came to understand. cos egyptian culture really is family oriented and i have been overwhelmed by my family in egypt and here in dubai. i couldnt pay for anything anywhere, not even when i went shopping for maybe one shirt and some shoes at the most yesterday with my aunt. She bought me those, then proceeded to throw me into every shop in the mall and buy me whatever i wanted. At the beginning i felt hessitant and unsure. but as humans we adjust, and i thought honouring arab culture by recieving their hospitality would be the greatest gift i could give back to them ;) i just hope they dont come to australia anytime soon (unless you give me a good job, yes you)... but ofcourse i am just joking.

test

well, im still trying to find some inspiration for part 6. so here's a pic instead... but it was taken in austria on our way back from Hallstadt to Salzburg one evening several months ago. as you cn see beautiful views and snow capped mountains. more poignant is the fact that i have succeeded in uploading an image. so ill take requests for any more pics as it is still quite slow to do so. so what do you want? tunis, libya, egypt, dubai? what city? sand, mountains, water, etc...? first in.

Interlude

you may have looked in vain for the Mother of the World parts 1,2 ad 3. but as i skipped 3 weeks of my time in Egypt (the Mother of the World as it is known by some) i will reserve 3 preludes not unlike george lucas that i will get to at a later date, insha'allah. part 6 is up next, but i sometimes i get distracted and am compelled to do something else. this is why...

today is my last seven hours in Egypt. I divided up my time in this country to about 11 days in Alex, 11 in CAiro and 11 travelling around. But i shuold have known, time would never be enough. I have only just begun to know my family again; my Uncle Sherief, my little Uncle Amr (my half uncle who is only 4 years older then me) and his new family, my cousins, and all those characters from the trips of my youth who had impressed upon me a sense of the world i could not have known from australia and new zealand alone.

on top of that this trip was important to me not only to catch up with my family but to get to know my Dad, finally. My Father's life had revolved around his immediate family (me, mum, sis and brosx2) for as long as i had known him. he had left his world behind when he married Mum. i, on the other hand, never knew his world, and had thus concerned myself with my own. when i fought with, argued, forgave or thought of my dad, it was always on my terms. my dads life was always seen from the perspective of my own. i never really knew him and, despite an occasional question directed towards the arab world, i realised i had never really wanted to. that changed when he died.

Questions come to me now, and the desire to share experiences with him. but he is not there. instead i have found myself in his life, here in egypt, finally. I have met his best friends, eaten the best rice pudding in alex from the place where he came when he was younger than me, in a voltswagon not manufactured anymore, and bought from the son of the man he had bought his sweets from. i talk abuot Allah, the Prophets, and the Quran with his brother and his friends. One of his friends from his earliest life, Ismail Adly, brought me a gift of some Ayat (verses) from the Quran, called 'The Kursy' (The Chair or Throne). Ismail told me that Dad had told him of these verses when they were just 10 or 11 years old. Dad had told him that whenever he felt down or sad, to recall these verses. Ismail remembered this act of compassion to this day. I too remembered my Father, surrounded by Hisham El Mohandes, my name-sake and dad's best friend, his son, and Ismail. As i sat there listening, eating my dinner next to the nile, i tried to hide my tears behind the beautiful music of his world, and the darkness of the night that he had once shared with these very same friends in another age.

I also saw his Mother, my grandmother who had died long before i was born. Her picture painted in my mind with the words of my Uncle Sherief, amongst others. She was the most beautiful woman they had known, they said. and as i sat there in my uncle's car i wanted to ask where my Dad had been, what he did, who he was. more than anything i wanted to him to be there, to laugh at and with him as we heard the stories of his youth, of his world, with his friends, to pray with him to God, to be held by him just like he had before he died. and my eyes and heart felt overwhelmed once more. this is why time is never enough.

now, i dont want to leave, despite finding it so hard to stay. times change, and as i say this i know they are changing again. so i will be sad to leave and i will be happy to arrive somewhere else at some other time. i wish that i was my Father for his world, and to know my Father in mine, but i wish to be myself and so will endeavour to move along. and i know i have family and friends here and there and that is important.

Mother of the World: part 5

Well, Dave Heywood... if that is your real name. this site is a family blogsite so ofcourse nothing of what your seedy little brain might imagine is at all possible.

So feeling a little under the weather we boarded the cruiser and set off at the blistering pace of about 2 knots/hour. The water looked beautiful but how could we breathe underwater if i couldnt even breathe properly up here!? then our guide started explaining the precautions and all the little contraptions, and we got a little more aprehensive. 'dont touch this', 'if you panic do this' (yea right, if i panic i wont be doing that), 'your lungs might explode if you do this', etc... but in the end there was no way any Moustafa was ever gonna back down. imagine the furor back on the mainland.

but when i finally got underwater everything was perfect. breathing was fine, the peacefulness of this new world made me feel so calm. i was isolated but surrounded by beauty. the little fishes went about their business with only the occasional weary glance. the only catch in this amazing underwater world was the fact that being our first ever experience we had to be led around like little babies. if by some chance my little feet got my flippers in a twist and i drifted off, i would get a reasurring tug back as the guide placed my fingies around his forearm and placed his other hand firmly over it so it wouldnt slip away again. a silent thumbs up and what i thought may have been a mothers smile beneath that face mask of his and i regressed even further. but maybe it was meant to be. The innocence of the environment, the helplessness of the human swimming within its fold, with only a miniature lifeline between material comfort and the next life. perhaps feeling so vulnerable was more natural than any other feeling. anyway, bob enjoyed it too.

the next day we left sharm and arrived in Dahab. Juxtaposed to the glistening, discoteque sharm dahab exhibited a warmer bob marleyesque atmosphere, and muuch cheaper too. with cute, cushioned cafes lining the caost, you could sit there, enjoy a shisha and a meal and wave at the Saudi's 14kms away over the gulf of Aqaba.

OUr first night there we headed out to St Katherines Monastery at 11pm. 1.5 hours drive then a steep ascent up the 2km high side of Mt Sinai. 7kms in all, but Bob will tell you it was a lot more. For him, all his hard hours at the gym proved little help for our floundering friend. half way up and both his t-shiirts under his jacket were dripping with sweat. 3/4 of the way up and 70 year old women on parambulators (those metal things they use to keep upright and plod along - but really, i dont know if it is even a word) were stepping over his almost lifeless body and up to the summit. finally at the top and he duped blankets off even older women because he was feeling 'hyperthermic' from his now cooled, saturated t-shirts. Ihab of Arabia my bum.

The Mother of the World - Part 4

So i've arrived back in Cairo, i was here maybe 6-7 years ago, but more recently just 12 days ago. However, most of you wouldnt know that cos im bit behind the eight ball on my posting - in fact i dont think i have ever been up-to-date. anyways, ill try and get back to the 3 weeks in Egypt in Alexandria and Cairo later.

12 days ago i embarked with Bob (my cousin, his real name Ihab) on a trip to the Sinai Peninsula, that little bit of land that keeps Africa from snapping off from Asia and floating off towards South America. i initially planned to do this trip anyway and make it across to Jordan and over to Palestine, but with Bob's inclusion and his more upmarket travel expectations, a visit to Palestine might have to be compromised, to Mum's relief no doubt.

Our first stop was Sharm esh-Sheikh, Egypt's commercial tourist option, not unlike the surfer's paradises of the world. beautiful, clean, not so cheap, full to the brim of ruskis and other european's and alot of fun. situated right at the bottom of the sinai where the gulfs of Aqaba and Suez diverge off the red sea to the north east and northwest respectively, and also regarded as one the prime diving and snorkling locations in the world. During the day, Bob andI sought the sun & sea while at night, our interests lay more towards the long graceful ruski legs and other feminine figures strolling the walk ways and lining the bars and cafes.

we dared converse with some and in the process we met Steph and Wosie from Eng-ger-land (hi you). We all went sailing together, which sounded lovely but my lack of experience in the last 10 or so years, the occasional strong gusts of wind while standing on teh beach, the thorough check of my water sports record by the operator, and the increasingly nervous girls made me rethink my own capacity to sail. But i need to remind myself, and i constantly tell Bob, that i shouldnt ever doubt my aqua (or indeed any other) skills which I so demonstrably have. yup, it was easy and i remembered why i had always wanted to sail again. even Bob was surprised that a contraption not propelled by combustion of some kind of liquid or gas could provide such entertainment. and apart from being our water shield (cheers) at the front of the boat, i think Steph and Rosie enjoyed it too.

Although, not of the feminine persuasion (unless...) we also met Eddy. Another splendid Eng-ger-lish gentleman who was working in the resort town and got us in to the Hard Rock Cafe. There we partied til the early hours, Bob demostrating his arab skills to the international dancing community and myself showcasing the kung-fu dancing techniques i had been developing and priming in Australia over the past few years (With a vast following in Melbourne and large pockets of support in Queensland, Perth and even Broome i thought i was ready to take it to the world). This was fun, but waking up 3 or so hours later wasnt. Yet, we had committed to visiting the Red sea reefs and no moments hesitation could dissuade us, although we wished it would.

So we jumped on a cruiser and set out for some snorkling and our first ever scuba diving experience in the beautiful blues and greens of the surrounding red sea.

**Stay tuned for Bob's ascent up Mt Sinai, Dahab, Taba, Jordan and more (ruskis that is, eh Bob)**