Finally, after successfully navigating first the Israelis portion of buildings, lines, and counters pertaining to border crossing followed by the Egyptian portion of the same, we connected with our tour van, driver and guide—all Egyptian now. In our tour van there were six tourists—the four of us and a Japanese couple. At all the checkpoints in the Sinai, our driver would report that he was carrying a “muli-national” group; it saved time, money, and hassle because, apparently, American, British, and Israelis tour groups require an armed guard on the van as well. (Interesting, huh!)
Our tour began. Raphael, our Egyptian guide, would talk anything with us—history, culture, religion, politics, whatever; he was knowledgeable and respectful and not afraid to discuss controversial topics. I loved his candor and admired his grace—an enviable consummation of honesty, kindness, and humor. The four of us became his “four wives” for the day, and he took excellent care of us.
As Raphael talked, Sinai unfurled before us.
A sector of the planet stripped of feathers, fur, and pancake makeup, Sinai bares Earth’s casing: Sand dunes in wrinkled folds give way to glimpses of skeletal structure beneath an expanse of a skin now tautly stretched. Sinai is a landscape of nakedness.
2 comments:
Funny how quick "a trip to Egypt" can change. You barely missed fleeing.
I've thought a lot about that these last days also, and I've also wondered about the people we met. I am hoping that the peril-ridden path they are traveling now leads to better governance for them in the end.
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