"You know what?" he started.
"Yes, I know, I look like an Egyptian," I quipped, whilst getting into the cramped car.
Oh dear, how to describe the East Delta bus journey down to St. Catherine? Well, let me say first that I was trying beforehand to dispose of the empty beer tins, many syphoned into more reliable litre, plastic bottles. I suspected that emptying them into the first provided bins which I had seen in Egypt might not look too good (especially with, in my estimation, too many people about who were also close to the wretched bins), so yet again they accompanied me.
More recently, ongoing unrest in the Sinai region has led to many checks. I wondered why the East Delta bus could give a departure time but not a reliable arrival time in St. Catherine. The trouble seems to be more in Northern Sinai but St. Catherine is in the south. Lots of military personnel are employed in the region, especially by the Suez Canal (which is not visible when going through the area).
So, the journey. The bus started on time but crawled through the traffic until we reached presumably the outskirts of Cairo where the first of possibly ten or eleven checkpoints was situated. The bus was checked, something within the luggage - which I was told failed to pass rigid tests for entry into the Suez tunnel - caused offence and the driver was marched off, presumably arrested. Certainly, he didn't return and we had a two-hour wait for a replacement. The Suez was equally slow and we were all told to disembark, identify our baggage and, whoops, open it. Yes, the policeman saw all the empties. Detailed to put them in the bin in front of a much larger audience, I made damn sure that my back was towards them. Another lesson learnt.
Passports and ID cards were checked at most places and the journey was endless. I don't like making mobile 'phone calls on coaches - I don't like mobile 'phones, to be honest - but was feeling desperate to do so, took a deep breath, pushed the go button and what happens? No service, we were going through the South Sinai mountainous region... My little insecurities were badly shown up on this epic, ten-and-a-half hour journey which eventually saw me at the Catherine Plaza Hotel in St. Catherine just before 10 p.m., having left Cairo at 11:30 a.m. The journey normally takes six to seven hours apparently.
Having written to the hotel a year beforehand to ask if they would match a similar, but less flexible, bed and breakfast rate, I was touched when they agreed but also added half board. By the time I had checked in, dinner was long gone but they kindly provided me with a decent meal which was much appreciated. The beer went down a treat also.
Many people have slogged up Mount Sinai in the early hours of the morning to see the sunrise, and I have friends who have done this. I have to say that I had little inclination to do it, especially after the somewhat draining journey but I did come to St. Catherine in the hope that I might meet an old school contemporary who is a priest within St. Catherine's Monastery. I had written a year ago asking if it might be possible to meet him, but the answer came back offering guest house accommodation next door suggested to me that the person replying might not understand English that greatly.
Google Translate came out again and, when I was finally satisfied with the copied-and-pasted efforts after endless checking and rechecking, I sent it off. An answer - in English - quickly came back from another Father saying that my school contemporary was away in England.
I admit to not realising that the monastery was around a half-hour walk from the hotel so I ended up taking a shared taxi from the St. Catherine Village, a ten-minute walk from the hotel. I was the sole passenger but, to be fair, I was not greatly fleeced. I did, though, lose my favourite red, Peruvian hat somewhere between taking the taxi and reaching the monastery which saddened me. My bag was checked at the checkpoint and some other travellers joined our taxi afterwards. Neither the checkpoint could later find the hat, and no-one in the group was certainly wearing it by mistake later, and it couldn't be found in the taxi later so it was disappointing.
Not as disappointing, though, to find that my school contemporary was still in England. I must say, though, that when I explained the story to a couple of staff in the monastery by means of a further Google Translate letter of introduction, if you like, they were extremely helpful. Being a Friday, little of the monastery was open as it is only open for around forty-five minutes. We were allowed inside the church and I later followed a couple up the stairs before being told off for going up there. I was told that I had been asked three times not to go and only heard the third request. The problems and inevitability of poor hearing.
I returned to the closed monastery in the afternoon to take better photos in a less harsh light. By the time of my return, I was becoming an instantly recognisable sight and began to make some friends amongst the armed and unarmed guards.
St. Catherine of Alexandria, after whom the monastery is named, had a short but notable life converting many people to Christianity before being martyred at the age of around 18. Her torturous death led to the later naming of the Catherine wheel.
Being alone and independent (much the preferable way to me), the afternoons could, though, be quite long but I enjoyed walking around the area and into the village admiring the stunning scenery. The locals were friendly and helpful and it was nice talking and waving to those who had helped me. Even the children were welcoming, and the whole experience was a fascinating and pleasant one.
I went up to the monastery again on foot on Saturday and saw a little bit more. I chatted to a couple of the monks who were extremely friendly and generous, and I also enjoyed some of the treasures in the monastery's museum. The monk in the souvenir shop was very happy to be photographed and I was impressed by the languages which the staff could break into. Someone thought that I was German so I was happy to reply in German. The loss of my hat the day before did not deter another Egyptian asking for a photo with me: it mystifies me but it cannot just be the hat which intrigues them.
Guides are now required for anyone wanting to walk up Mount Sinai. It may be good old health and safety, it might be a way of people making a living but I am led to believe that there is a set fee of LE250 ( approximately £12.50p). Inevitably, I was stopped by someone purporting to be a guide who naturally started off at LE300 on the grounds that he had three children. Without much difficulty, I got him down to LE150 (before he ran out of change...) and I was on my way. As my head was slightly burned from the day before, I resorted to my Nepalese tiger hat used for cold weather but no-one gave me an especially strange look.
I was happy to settle for an hour's walk which gave decent views of Mount Sinai and a different perspective of the monastery. The path was easy and, even though I carelessly lost my footing occasionally probably whilst taking photos, I was more concerned about the guide who seemed quickly out of breath. Having given his guidebooks to someone to look after, I rather fancy that he was not a mountain guide. Anyhow, his presence allowed me up the trail towards the mountain and for that I was grateful. It was a good compromise.
The three nights in Sinai were pretty cold. Admittedly, I must accept some responsibility for this as I had not realised that the bedroom door leading on to the balcony was a little temperamental. Having closed one end, it took two nights before realising that one end might have been shut but the other had opened in the process...
The return journey to Cairo was very much more straightforward than the one down. The scenery, especially along the Gulf of Suez was wonderful, as was the mountainous terrain after leaving St. Catherine. I was very grateful to the bus driver and his colleague who went out of their way to drop me at a place where I could see the Hotel Beirut where I stayed the night before my flight home. This saved not only negotiation with a taxi driver for the seven or eight mile journey from the Cairo bus station, but more importantly it allowed me to spend the afternoon in Cairo admiring the Nile which probably would not have been possible had I spent extra time reaching the hotel.
It was a busy area which I visited and I travelled by the metro. I made a bit of a meal of reaching Nasser Station and would have had an easier time had I left at Attaba. Never mind, the people were very friendly and helpful and I was impressed when two people offered their seats to me. Maybe it is the white, Egyptian-looking beard which is making me look old?
The Hotel Beirut was very comfortable. What's more, I enjoyed a Shish Tawouk (essentially chicken kebab) with my first glass of wine in Egypt in their restaurant. The room was spacious and very comfortable but I had to suffer another early morning the next day. The hotel very kindly offered a free drop-off at the airport but insisted that I was there three hours before the flight. In the end, it was three-and-a-half and it was all supremely unnecessary but the time went comparatively quickly.
As Egyptair is a dry airline, I had been led to believe that they do allow travellers to tuck into their duty free and still provide mixers etc. Whatever, the bag was firmly sealed with instructions not to open until the final destination so, having been through all anticipated checks, I bought a very expensive can of beer only to have it confiscated at further checks at the gate... Oh well. The flight was very comfortable and the meal excellent, but a wonderful trip ended with a glass of mango and guava juice.