Agaza Saĭdah 2010 (Christmas Letter)

That’s happy holidays in Arabic. Yes, I’ve continued my travels this year, though less extensively than the recent past. I started January slowly as I recovered from knee surgery, having had my ACL replaced in December. I figured I’d get to all those tasks I’ve been putting off for years, tasks that could be done when I had time at home with nothing to do. The surgery didn’t keep me homebound for long. Physical therapy started two days after the out-patient surgery.

It was odd to be home in Winter, not having been in Minnesota to experience this cold blistery whiteness since leaving the full-time work world. But putting off the surgery would jeopardize the plans for the summer. Now I had to get through Winter. Puzzling over what I was going to do during the first few bleak months of 2010, and wondering if it was time to start looking for a job, I decided to take a Photoshop class instead, and then enrolled in another writing class. So again I realized there’s never enough time to do everything I want to do, and those tasks I’ve been putting off for years were put off yet again as I hunkered down at my computer trying to be creative by writing and doing class assignments mainly with other people’s photos rather than my own. With my new skills, I also helped re-shape www.toddlerfoodpartners.com for a non-profit that benefits malnourished children in developing countries by providing equipment to make a ready-to-use toddler food.

My knee recovered very well, thanks in part, to years of exercising. My PT said I was progressing better than most 18-year olds. I learned the ACL would be at its weakest two months after surgery, when I was originally scheduled to teach a sailing class in the British Virgin Islands. I was able to allow it to strengthen for another month before heading to the BVIs in March, and was secretly happy to learn that one of my students was a nurse (just in case I did something foolish).
Sailing classes started in May on Lake Minnetonka in the Twin Cities. In June, I headed up north to teach on Lake Superior. I was on the road quite a bit between Grand Marais and Bayfield Wisconsin. In July, I participated in my first race from Chicago to Mackinac Island. My parents raved about this island, so I finally had my opportunity to see it myself. I helped deliver the sailing vessel Redhawk the first half of the trip from Bayfield to Chicago, and a week later drove to Chicago for the race itself. Strong wave action downed five of our eight crew members for the first day of our 66-hour voyage. For me, sleeping was difficult as the boat rolled from side to side, but my system was tolerant. The seas calmed. Our sailing maneuvers were smooth. Conversation flowed making it a great trip with good friends. I’ve been invited me back for the 2011 Chicago-Mac, maybe more for my endurance than sailing strength.

As the sailing season wound down, I finalized plans for my Fall schedule. In September I was busy with a non-profit fund-raiser for Schools for Shan Refugees, http://shanrefugeeschools.org/. Next, I participated in a Leadership training program for Global Citizens Network (GCN), a Twin Cities non-profit organization that fosters international cross-cultural exchanges. Immediately afterwards, I headed to Nepal to participate in one of their trips, a prerequisite to be a leader-in-training. Yes, I hope to be a team leader on some of these trips, so if you’re interested in joining me on one of my adventures, check out http://globalcitizens.org/.



 
If you’ve read The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen, you understand the reasons for my return to Nepal. Even having climbed to the base camp of Everest in 2003, I yearned to see the Annapurna region in the western half of Nepal. Now, after landing in Kathmandu and thinking I wasn’t up for this kind of travel any more, I met some wonderful young women at a hostel when I was taking the Language and Cultural program in preparation for my two weeks with Global Citizens Network group, and reconnected with my travel spirit. The people of Kathmandu are wonderful, but with a population that has expanded twofold in the past five years it’s much more chaotic than my first visit, especially when arriving during the biggest festival of the year. It was like being in the USA from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. I learned some Nepali to use during my stay only to realize I also needed to know Tibetan.

Our seven-member GCN team headed to a Tibetan village an hour outside of Pokhara to assist three hard-working Tibetans on re-roofing a row house sheltering three families. The hardest part was following their lead when we could have interjected some western ways, but the point of this exercise was for us to learn about their culture. We shopped for food at the food stalls and for building supplies at the hardware “store” and lumber mill, had tea with the homeowners, mingled with our two cooks, swung on the bamboo swings erected specifically for the Dasain festival and danced and sang with the field workers. We visited people at the Old People’s home to hear their stories of migrating from Tibet to Nepal over fifty years ago, and participated in a community-wide closing butter tea ceremony (though I don’t recommend butter tea—imagine a thick slab of butter in your tea). My favorite memory was playing “telephone”. Four of our GCN group went hiking in the Annapurna Region to Poon Hill, up to about 10,000’, or supposedly 3800 steps. Though it sometimes felt more like 38,000 steps, my knee felt so strong the walking sticks stayed in my backpack. As if this wasn’t enough, I returned to Kathmandu to work with a photojournalist for two weeks along with six others. Since there were too many to shadow him every day, he either assigned us a task, and/or we could work on a project of our own choosing. One of my pieces about water was published. The demand for water exceeds the supply in Kathmandu because the infrastructure is lagging the population explosion--people being driven from their homes in the Maoist-dominated areas in Western Nepal.

My travel plans included a 48-hour stopover in the Twin Cities to unpack and repack for Egypt. Dive guides had recommended diving the Red Sea, as far south as possible, so I reserved space on a liveaboard that went into Sudan. Minneapolis to Cairo to Hurghada then down to Port Galib for twelve days of diving as far south as Port Sudan. Twenty-three divers from the UK, Poland, Germany, Belgium, Russia and a lone American. Diving was nice and warm, too warm for many sharks, though I can now say I’ve seen a Scalloped Hammerhead. I spend four days diving in Marsa Alam, and then headed to Sharm el Sheikh with much anticipation of touring Egypt by land.
How wonderful to reunite with people I’ve traveled with in Nepal, Peru, Africa and Malta and to meet new friends while lazing in the sun. It didn’t take long to experience my new roommate’s charisma and energy. Nadja was my special blessing for this trip. Our group of 31 visited St. Catherine’s Monastery, climbed Mount Sinai and to Hathor’s Temple, fishtailed our way through blowing sand to a Bedouin camp, slept under the stars. The size of our group increased to 66 representing twelve countries when we got to Cairo where we visited the dusty Egyptian Museum. We then headed south to Upper Egypt to experience the ancient ruins along Nile—the temples at Abu Simbel, Aswan, Luxor, Thebes and Karnak, taking in the energy of the high Gods and Goddesses—Isis, Osiris, Horus, Hathor, Nut, Ra and Sekhmet. In Giza, we honored the ancient deities inside the Great Pyramid and at the paws of the majestic Sphinx as we celebrated the Winter Solstice in a truly spiritual way.
With a 24-hour turnaround, it’s off to Boston for a Christmas reunion with family after a two year lapse.

May this holiday season find you well. My best to you and your family and friends.
Naya Barsa Ko Suvakamana—that’s Happy New Year in Arabic,
Vicki www.nauticalnomad.blogspot.com

The Pyramids of Giza

Off the river and on to Cairo, with one area left to see—the 5,000 year of Pyramids of Giza, and the Great Sphinx. The pyramids are grand. Only the top of the second pyramid shows what they once looked like—the step-like boulders covered to have a completely smooth appearance, rather than the step-like vision one sees today. The Great Sphinx was as magnificent as you might think. It’s head and paws are oversized for its body, and it’s rather obvious that the head is not original. No matter. It’s still impressive. We spent time meditating between the forepaws of the Sphinx and later that afternoon in the center of the Great Pyramid. That proved to be a non-descript, stuffy, windowless room that was reached by climbing a rather steep slope. However, there is much history there, and much spiritualness.

After a brief tour of the area in the morning, I separated from the massive group to roam the Giza dessert of antiquities by myself. I walked in the sand from the Great Pyramid, to the second and third pyramids, and then escaped farther on back of a white horse with speckles of black, led by Ahmed, who talked about his life in Egypt raising a family and herds of horses and camels with his brothers. I’d finally found my way into Egypt, one-on-one, with this kind gentle soul.

A Trip Along the Nile

Our group, now 66 people, spent a day in Cairo visiting the country's most famous and dusty Egyptian Museum, seeing dozens of mummies and the mask of King Tut among its many treasures, and the Citadel and Mohamed Mosque with its great views of Cairo. From there, some of us flew south to Abu Simbel, maybe my favorite area, to see the Great Temple of Ramses II and the smaller temple of Hathor, devoted to Ramses II wife, Nefetari, two temples that had been reclaimed from drowning when a dam was constructed to help with annual flooding. But of course there are consequences. Instead of being able to plant three crops each year due to the richness of the flooded soil, only two crops can prosper with the use of fertilizers, and the mammoth task of deconstructing the two temples block by block to relocate them on higher ground.

We flew to Aswan to start our cruise up the Nile, yes up. The Nile flows north. But before taking off, we got to go sailing—on a one-sail felucca, the traditional Egyptian wooden sailboat. Of course, this is touristy, as were the craft items that were brought out halfway through the cruise. There are hundreds of feluccas on the Nile, just as there are hundreds of small sized cruise ships, hosting around 100 passengers each. We made our way up the Nile, touring land by day, river by night. We visited the Horus Temple in Edfu, a foreboding looking yet best preserved Egyptian antiquity with great hawks guarding the entrance. In Thebes, we first saw the façade of the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, 1515 B.C. and entered to see the ruins of her mausoleum. Onward to Thebes, Luxor and Karnak to see the Valley of Kings, where entrances led down wide etched and painted shafts to where former kings were memorialized in stone vaults; the avenue of the ram-headed sphinxes at the Temple of Karnak; Abydos Temple of Seti, 1318 B.C., seat of the principal sanctuary of Osiris; and Dendera, where I took extra time at the temple dedicated to the Goddess Hathour (300 B.C.). We saw so much in a few days, the significance of the laborious carvings all blurred together in my mind into a meaningless mass.

One night during the cruise we had what seemed like a masquerade party. We all dressed up like Cleopatra and Anthony. Did you know there were numerous Cleapatras, about thirteen of them, maybe that was the unlucky number that led to the death of the Cleopatra played by the late Elizabeth Taylor. The women had dark eyeliner, tinkling jewels and heads wrapped in scarves. The men were in long galabias of various colors and completed their look with sunglasses. One woman chose something even more traditional. She came as a mummy.

To Cairo by Sand

Seeing Egypt by sea is nothing like seeing it from land. Two colors dominate in Egypt—azure blue and myriad hues of camel, the color that is, though the tall knock-kneed camels can be seen on city streets and in the desert. Our group celebrates our first night together in Sharm El Sheikh—31 travelers from 11 countries. Some of us have traveled together before, others are new friends. We board a bus that takes us north to St. Catherine’s Monastery. In little time, there’s no question we’re in the desert. We pass through several checkpoints and feel the temperature cooling.

Upon reaching the area of St. Catherine’s Monastery, we don our fleece for our afternoon camel ride up Mt. Sinai. We climb the final steps to the top as dusk envelopes us. On my last few steps to the peak, I stop to pet a loudly meowing black cat. This must be a good omen as pure black cats are sacred here. It means I miss the sunset, reaching the crest as the light wanes. We descend in darkness, with me slipping and sliding on the sand and gravel trail as I realize I’ve worn out my Keens.

Early the next morning, we visit St. Catherine’s Monastery. This sacred place is one of the oldest continuously-run monastic communities in the world. It was originally built and named for the Roman empress Helena in 330 AD, and believed to be the burning bush by which God spoke to Moses. It was renamed for St. Catherine, a martyr who was beheaded for her faith. Her body was missing for 300 years before a priest was sent a message from above as to its location. A mosque was built within the walls of the monastery to prevent it from being demolished by persons of other faiths, but has never been used because it is doesn’t face Mecca.

To experience the real Egypt, we’re jostled about the vast expanse of sand in Land Cruisers to a Bedouin camp in the desert. We wonder how the drivers know where we’re going as there are no street signs in the desert and given the terrain, joke about how high we might be thrust from our seats. . It’s like driving in a snow storm. The temperature is much warmer, there are mirages from the sand, and it’s incredibly dusty. The winds begin to blow, continuing to increase over the next few days into a major sandstorm, so much so that airports have to close because of the lack of visibility. Luckily, there’s no sand to plow.

The Bedouins are excellent hosts. We have barbequed goat for dinner and try not the think of the cute little ones we petted earlier in the day. Afterwards, a well-known local folk artist enchants us by singing traditional Bedouin songs which he strums on his lute, an instrument with a huge belly. Afterwards we sleep under the stars and clouds, and experience what it’s like to sleep with sand whirling all around.

Few tourists visit Hathor Temple. The desert temple can only be reached by foot. Atop a hill, we see the stone wall, and inside we see what remains—carvings still quite clear despite hundreds of years of exfoliation by wind and sand. Hathor, daughter of Isis, is the Goddess of love and pleasure. The energy is this place is stimulating.

We fishtail our way out of the desert, and really understand the effects of a sandstorm as we make our way into Cairo via a four kilometer tunnel under the Suez Canal. The Suez Canal is Egypt’s main source of income, followed by tourism. It’s with some conflict that I have from sleeping under the stars one night to being in a five-star hotel the next. Which is the real Egypt? I’m still searching for it as I dine on sushi, battle traffic and visit the expansive and dusty Egyptian Museum where we are introduced to some of the deities—Isis, Horus, Osiris, Sekhmet, Sobek and Nute—we’ll hear more about in the days to come and the treasures of King Tut.

Transition to Land Touring in Sharm el Sheikh

I’m not meant to be rich, so it’s a good thing I’m not. Some might question that since I unofficially “retired” when I was 50. I don’t really live extravagantly. Yes, I travel, but not luxuriously for the most part. My upcoming tour may be an exception. I arrive a few days early for the start of a land tour of Egypt, sitting in the lobby of a Hilton in Sharm el Sheikh looking at all the posh décor and Christmas decorations, thinking about the tent I stayed last night in Marsa Alam, the sand still wedged between my toes. I think in a former life I really was nomadic. If I lived in Egypt, I may have been what’s referred to here as a Bedouin. While it’s easy to sink into the cushioned wicker chairs, dine at the never-ending buffets, it’s really not my style. I’d much rather eat at the local food stalls.

I enjoyed my stay at what is touted as an eco-friendly lodge in Marsa Alam, though didn’t see any evidence of it. There, the resorts were powered by generators. Signs noted that some lights had to stay on 24/7 so the generators would continue to work. The power of the sun, the sea and the wind are too expensive to tap compared to the availability of cheap oil in this part of the world. Garbage is another issue. I learn from Collin, a fellow American who is working as a dive guide at Shagra Village, that there is no garbage collection. It’s as apparent blowing across the land as it is swaying underwater. I could fill the pockets of my BCD with man-made refuse on every dive. He says liveaboard boats have the reputation of dumping food waste over the sides of the boat. Given the silky shark and other fish under a liveaboard boat moored at Elphinstone, I would concur. I hope the Royal Evolution wasn’t guilty of this . . .

In reading about diving on the Sinai Peninsula, I realize I should be in Dehab. It’s more the backpackers’ area, where the tourists are closer to the locals than in Sharm. Sharm is like being a tourist in Cozumel or Cancun. You don’t really know you’re in Mexico except for arriving and departing. From what I’ve seen so far, Sharm el Sheikh is a long street of (American) hotels—on one side you have the hotels facing the beach, on the other, they face the mountains. The mountains here are all a beautiful tan color of sand. From the plane’s window, the mountain tops peak through what looks like a flat cloud of sand. Of course, the elevations here are short compared to the Himalayas, but the effect is mesmerizing. Upon first seeing the desert, I have an immediate respect and possibly fear of it. It takes no imagination to understand how people can perish here. One may fear being on water out of site of land, but at least the wind and waves can carry you to safety. That’s not true of the desert. There, you best have a camel which has a good sense of direction. Apparently, camels can go 38 days without water.

I realize how little I know about Egypt. Yes, there are pyramids, which I learn are actually in the suburbs of Cairo, an area that houses 20 million people. Greater Cairo sports the highest density of people per kilometer. The infrastructure is stressed there, but it doesn’t seem to compare to the stresses of the infrastructure in Kathmandu. At least in Egypt, the population growth is diminishing, though it is still increasing by one million people every nine months.

I happily connect with some Dutch women and a Swedish man I’ve become friends with on other trips. We spend a couple of leisurely days together before the rest of the tour group. It’s wonderful to have this time together to reconnect, reminisce about Nepal, Peru, and Africa. We laze at the beach, walk the promenade, visit the Old Market, of what half has been rebuilt after being destroyed by bombs, and avoid sharks. In the past week, a cargo ship dumped some dead sheep into some nearby waters. Once that food was gone, it’s thought this provoked some attacks on snorkelers in the area so snorkeling is not permitted. It’s did affect the diving for a few days, but luckily that resumed so I could go to the Ras Mohammad National Park for my last three dives in Egypt-a few crocodile fish, porcupine fish, another yellow Slingjaw Wrasse and a minding-my-own business Oceanic Shark. Forty-eight dives in the Red Sea in all. Now I’m off in the other direction—to climb St. Catherine Mountain a couple hours’ drive north of Sharm el Sheikh.

Diving from Marsa Alam

Liveaboards are great for single divers because you’re automatically paired with a buddy. When diving from land, one has to find a buddy. Sometimes this is easy, sometimes not. Maybe that’s one of the reasons many dive shops have you do a check dive, a dive that proves to the dive shop you can dive. Oscar and I meet waiting for our check dive. He tells me his back went out at the registration desk. It just simply failed while he was filling out the registration form. His wife has already been diving for a few days, and now that he’s had some sort of shot, and some pain pills, he’s going to give it a try. He’s looks fine underwater, due to his dives numbering upwards of 1500, him having worked in dive shops, as a commercial diver, and as a navy seal in Holland. Unfortunately when he gets out of the water, his back pain returns. Not a good way to spend a dive holiday.

Oscar introduces me to his wife, Raquel. We dive the north house reef in the afternoon. She’s into sharks, and we find a small, four-foot long white tip shark. The house reef is long and beautiful, the coral is vast and in good shape despite it being dived so much. House reef dives are unlimited, depending upon your dive profiles each day. I do a “truck dive” the following morning, and Raquel and I go to Elphinstone. She wanted to go in the early morning to have the best opportunity to see sharks, but decides to go with me at one o’clock. I’ve heard it’s much less crowded and pretty with the sun shining on the western coast. We have five divers, including the guide, and only one other boat is there on other side of the reef. We’re excited to have it almost exclusively to ourselves, and high five each other when upon descending, we see a silky shark. Yeah for Raquel, who’s heard no one saw sharks on the morning. The wall is beautiful. The coral is colorful, pristine and even has some gorgonian fans, an uncommon coral it seems for this part of the world. To top off the dive, we watch a silky shark hovering around the liveaboard boat during our safety stop. Our guide has us go up one at a time in case the shark decided he wants to eat us for dinner.

Raquel and Oscar depart for the south so I go on an organized truck dive in the morning, and am happy to realize the organized dive in the afternoon is by Zodiac. So much simpler to go by boat than load all the gear up in our boxes, put it on the truck, get to the dive site, unload the truck on huge sandy tarps, get kitted up and finally into the water. This morning dive has us jumping into a pool, descend and go through some swim-throughs to get to the reef. Nice to see a spotted ray as we descend. Again the coral life here is amazingly beautiful. That makes seeing the fish that much better, kind of like touring an area that has interesting architecture versus dilapidated houses. The short Zodiac ride in the afternoon takes us past the south house reef where I spot a Bighorn Newbrothe nudibranch, vibrantly decorated in purples, reds, yellows with accents in black. Yes! These tiny crawly creatures are hard to spot. I lose the dive guide but there’s another buddy group behind me to show off my find. The dive guide later apologizes for abandoning me, but I had seen her go to the surface knowing she was cold.

Another day of truck dives shows me an octopus, a guitar ray, the teeth of a huge barracuda, a porcupine fish and all the millions of fish that make up the sea. I chat with Collin, a fellow American before realizing I have an early departure. It’s off to pack up the not-so-dry dive gear and to bed.

Red Sea Diving in the Blue Sudan

I hear exclamations from dive guides wherever I go about diving in the Red Sea. I learn from research that eight of the top 100 dives in the world are in the Red Sea. And Egypt of course has pyramids. When a friend said she was planning a trip to Egypt, I signed up. The plan was to be at the pyramids for the Winter Solstice, maybe not timing of my choice, but I’d make it work. And yes, I orchestrated leaving on this trip just a few days after finishing up a photo journalism experience in Nepal. The anticipation of twelve days of diving on a liveaboard dive boat in the Red Sea, going south into Sudan, overcomes any jet lag of traveling from Nepal to the US, and on to Egypt.

Dive guides had stressed going as far south as possible to reach more pristine dive sites, so upon seeing a trip that extended even further south into Sudan, I sign up to cruise on the Royal Evolution. I’m fortunate to have a cabin to myself, as no other female signed up to the confirmed twin share. I meet the other 22 guests slowly, a half dozen from the UK, more from Germany, couples from Russia and Poland, one from Holland and my dive buddy from Belgium,

We check out of Egypt at Port Galib the first night we arrive at the boat. It’s a small matter of getting the passports and paperwork organized and us walking through minimal security. We sail overnight; do four dives in Egypt, then check into Sudan, each of us paying a mere 350 Euros (yes Euros, not Egyptian or Sudanese currency) for the visa, and four hours of dive time. Luckily, we’re checked in and out at the same time, so no need to return here and spend another four hours when we leave.

We quickly develop a routine. Wake up calls come over the intercom system one-half hour prior to our first dive briefing of the day. Breakfast is served after dive one. An hour or so later, we dive again. Now it’s almost time for lunch. A couple of hours later, we dive for a third time. Then we have snacks. After a short surface interval, we do a night dive. Given the warm air temperatures in Sudan, night dives are very pleasant here. I go on all but one, that one having a rocky Zodiac ride to and from the dive site making me more wary than excited, especially given the limited visibility of the third dive that day. I force myself, or shall I say, give myself permission, to miss at least one dive on a liveaboard.

We dive in three groups via Zodiacs, or from Royal Evolution’s dive platform. Walter is a conscientious dive buddy; he’s a very polite retired financial man who speaks slowly in English. He’s easy to spot underwater—attached as he is to his SLR camera with strobe. I envy his pictures to which mine, on my new Sea Life camera, don’t compare. Yes, I know, it’s the photographer not the camera at fault, but I happily prefer to see these active underwater fish cities and their ever growing architecture with my own eyes, not through my camera’s lens.

Many divers are here to see hammerhead sharks. A few do. Luckily I’m one of those. (My traveling angel works as hard for me under the water as she does for clearing mountain tops for my observation!) I get caught up with wanting to document this citing so futz with my camera rather than focus on the hammerhead’s first swim by. Thankfully, he wanders by two more times. I get a misty shot of the average six to seven foot long scalloped hammerhead. It’s not as large as one might expect, yet rather more attractive in an out-of-this-atmosphere sort of way than I would have thought from photographs.

Given all the English and Europeans aboard, I realize most of the divemasters who recommended diving the Red Sea are from Europe or the UK. Now having been on around 400 dives, it’s harder to find unique marine life. Yes, I’ve seen some marine species I haven’t seen before—juvenile Slingjaw Wrasse, Royal Angelfish, Blackspotted Sweetlips (which the dive guides refer to as Angelina Jolie fish), and juvenile Axel Hogfish; and miss some of my favorites, Rock Beauties and Indigo Hamlets. The nocturnal crustaceans hide well, yet with patience, offer big rewards—four Pronghorn Spiny lobsters on one dive, a Shrimp lobster, a Convex Reef crab and a Hermit crab, plus millions of tiny shrimp. And yes, we saw turtles, my favorite one seeking his reflection in our camera lenses. He mingled with us for quite a while. Unfortunately I don’t have any footage of him trying to bite my new underwater camera. I was too busy fending him off.

Just as we are settled into our routine, we find that our twelve days of diving draw to an end. We hear about snow across Europe and the UK, so much that Gatwick closes down. I’m glad I have three more weeks of warmth to look forward to. Almost another week of diving around Marsa Alam, and then the land-based part of the trip—Mount Sinai, St. Catherine’s Monastery, Luxor, a cruise on the Nile, the pyramids in the suburbs of Cairo and more. That should keep my mind off of snow for a while.