Hammam Heaven

One of my favorite experiences in the Middle East, and life generally, is the Turkish bath. The Turkish bath, or hammam, varies from country to country -- as Alexia Brue documented in her excellent travel memoir, "Cathedrals of the Flesh: My Search for the Perfect Bath."

Generally, one starts with a dry steam lying on a heated marble stone. Then there is a wet steam, scrub, massage, and wash. The Moroccan hammams didn't include any steam or massage -- just faucets and buckets for self-scrubbing. The New York Russian-style bath included treatments of hitting one's legs with leaves. Jordan's hammams include a jacuzzi soak between the wet and dry steam.

One of my favorite hammam experiences was the most basic -- in Marrakech, Morocco, where I had the opportunity to see local women without their veils and chadors (both literally and metaphorically) and interact in a relaxed, natural setting. They laughed, they spashed, and they joked with me through the international language of Charades.

My other favorite hammam experience is the most decadent. So far, the best has been Çemberlitas Hammam in Istanbul, Turkey. It's very touristy, but they still put a premium on quality service (massages). I always leave that place feeling giddy with relaxation and happiness.

Today, I tried the Khan Zaman hammam in Western Amman. It was surprisingly difficult to find a non-touristy hammam. Amman is a rather modern city, and the Turkish bath is more of a novelty than a tradition. The guidebook, hotel, and every web site I could find all pointed to one place on the Eastern side of the city, one that was rather expensive and had mixed reviews. It was a high-quality bath, with a thorough massage, but the modern building was a disappointment after seeing the magnificent buildings in Turkey.

Bath Quality: 8 (out of 10)
Facilities: 7
Decoration: 6
Atmosphere: 4
Hospitality: 9
Massage Quality: 8
Price: 2 (WAY too expensive for what they were offering)

Overall: 6.3/10

Not bad, but not good enough for a return trip.

At Home in Amman

I am so excited to be in Jordan! Jordan is so efficient and clean and not humid or broiling hot (high of 86, not 116)!

The JBCP sent a car to pick me up from the bus station, and helped me check into a hotel near their office. I'm staying in a primarily residential neighborhood right down the street from the JBCP offices. The room -- a suite! -- is beautiful and the hotel staff is very helpful and caring. I'm not used to staying in hotels with lots of creature comforts (cable, air conditioning, Internet, laundry) but I'm sure I'll adjust quickly. See pictures here.

Friday and Saturday are weekends in Amman, so the JBCP offices are closed until Sunday. I used the day to settle in. First on the agenda was stocking the apartment with things I'll need to live and look professional for the next few weeks.

I took a taxi to a big mall with a Carrefour, a gigantic French department store that sells everything from groceries to appliances. The mall was new, fancy, and very Western, with a huge theater showing recent American movies, a Virgin megastore, and even a TGI Fridays.

I love Carrefours, and was elated to have a good reason to spend hours wandering the store. I bought some toiletries and food for the week, then spent a happy afternoon nesting and working.

In Jordan!

I finally made it to Aqaba, Jordan yesterday evening. I'm heading to Amman this afternoon to start my work at the Jordan Breast Cancer Program tomorrow. I'm very excited for many reasons, not the least of which is that I will have Internet access and catch up on some posting.

Crossing the Red Sea

If anyone reading this is planning to travel from Egypt to Jordan, I offer this advice: TAKE A PLANE.

There are two boats that connect Nuweiba, Egypt to Aqaba, Jordan. The fast, passenger-only ferry leaves every afternoon at 3:30, and (reportedly) takes an hour. The slower car ferry leaves every afternoon at 3:00, and (reportedly) takes two and a half hours. The fast ferry costs about $10 more.

I arrived at the ticket office with the amount that my guidebook, the sign in the ticket office, and multiple individuals had told me I needed to buy a ticket for the fast ferry. Apparently, the price had recently increased, and I was stuck with a ticket for the slow ferry. I insisted that I would go get more money, but the clerk refused to exchange my ticket. "Is just as good as fast ferry, gets in same time." I met two cool women who would also be taking the slow ferry, and I resigned myself to the extra hour of travel. I wolfed down some lunch and began my own epic journey across the Red Sea:

12:00 pm: Entered departure complex terminal for customs

1:00: Exited terminal, boarded bus to dock

1:45: Left bus, boarded boat

5:00: Boat left port (ahead of the fast ferry)

10:00: Boat docked in Aqaba

11:00: Left Jordan customs

I don't know how long it took my ancestors to cross the Red Sea by foot, but I'm pretty sure I could have walked or swam faster than that ferry.

The journey would have been completely unbearable if I hadn't met two amazing women on the dock who allowed me to hang out with them on the boat. Sarah, 30, is a former marine captain who has lived in Japan and Thailand and is the toughest negotiator I have ever seen. Friedl, 21, was born in South Africa and had traveled extensively throughout Asia and South America. We hit it off immediately and had a great chat between out intermittent wails of "Are we there yet?"

Mount Sinai

I woke up at 2:15 a.m. -- a minor miracle, considering that I regularly go to bed much later. I pulled on some clothes and nodded a curt hello to the camp owner as I set off for the mountain. A minibus kindly gave me a ride to the monastery ("No money, no honey, no problem").

Busloads of tour groups were arriving and starting the hike up the mountain. The others were armed with sneakers, flashlights, climbing poles, guides, and blankets. All I had were my trusty Teva flip-flops (my good hiking sandals died an hour before I had to catch my flight to Brussels). I fell in behind a group of Italians and let their flashlights light my path.

After about 500 feet we were offered the option of renting camels for $17 each way. Considering that I was half-asleep and wearing completely unsuitable shoes (the most suitable i had packed), I realized this was a terrific deal. For two hours, me, my camel, and the guide climbed steadily up the mountain. The trail was completely dark, lit only by the flashlights of people ahead and behind me.

Finally, the camel could go no further and I was on my own to climb the 700 final steps to the summit. I climbed as fast as I could, enjoying the delicious cool morning air. Finally, there was nowhere else to climb, and I -- with about 200 other people -- was standing on the sight where Moses received the Ten Commandments from God. Most of the people seemed to be pilgrims, clutching prayer books and praying fervently.

I found a seat and recited every prayer I could remember as I watched the sun rise over the mountains. Any questions I had ever had about the existence of God or the power of faith were put to rest forever as I took in the glorious view.

After about half an hour, I was ready to head back down the mountain. I carefully climbed/slid down the 700 steps to the camel rest point, hired a camel, and told the guide I wanted to be dropped off at the village, not the monastery. We set off for the long, steep climb down.

I don't know if you've ever tried to ride a camel down a hill or mountain, but I really don't recommend it. Climbing up was fine, great even. But climbing down was so incredibly painful that I quickly decided to scrap the camel idea altogether. Unfortunately, I still had to pay for the camel and the guide to find my way back safely.

The wonder of the experience quickly wore off as I half-walked, half-slid down the mountain at the end of a six-hour trip on two hours of sleep and an empty stomach. But I can't wait to go to synagogue and re-read the Torah with this experience in my mind and heart.

Cairo to Mount Sinai

I crawled off the sleeping train into a taxi that whisked me to the Cairo Gateway bus station. Like everywhere in Egypt, I could not walk more than a few feet without people offering to help and pointing me in the right direction.

My original plan was to buy an early-morning ticket to the port city of Nuweiba, where I would stay overnight and catch a Tuesday ferry to Aqaba, Jordan. But I missed the Nuweiba bus by a few minutes, which I took as a sign that I should head to my alternate destination: Mount Sinai. That bus was leaving in an hour. The journey was supposed to take 7 hours.

Nine agonizing hours later, I arrived in the tiny village of Al-Milga, about 3 km from St. Katherine's Monastery, at the base of Mount Sinai. The guidebook strongly recommends that tourists stick to one fancy and expensive tour company, but they didn't cover this route. There was no air conditioning. The entire bus reeked of gasoline, until the driver and half the people on board lit their cigarettes. And I hadn't taken the opportunity to hit an ATM before leaving the train station, and had no cash to buy food at the brief rest stop. Between the starvation, heat, nausea, and BLARING music, I was beyond miserable.

The highlight of the trip was the hour or so when a young Egyptian solider sat in the seat next to me. He opened his laptop and started a multiple choice quiz for an English language course. I watched him answer a few questions about past imperfect verbs, and I was very impressed.

Then he opened up Microsoft Word, and typed the following for me to see:

Him: Can u help me please because I have a test in my work
sorry I cant talk w you because people here and I am in the army and this dangerous

I smiled, and continued a conversation so amusing, I whipped out my flash drive to record it:

Me: Ok
(reading poorly-written question)
No answer is good
Him: Ok but I am weak in English and I must be good so I am studying every day
Him: WAIT I ll make tele if u want to leave me I ll not be sad
Me: (gestured "No problem")
Him: Tkank you
But would u mind if we ll friends
Ya or no
Its your opinion
And I ll pleasured
I am very weak
Right
In English
So forgive me
About my words
Ok I am going now to my work
I know its over
But can I take your tele
Ya or no
Its your opinion
Me: No tele
Him: Ok I am now like a baby who is punished

I pointed to the ring on my left ring finger and said, "Husband, sorry!" He became indignant, saying, "Hey! I have wife!" and left the seat in a huff.

When I finally arrived in Al-Milga, I changed money, checked into the spartan Fox Desert Camp, wolfed down dinner, and got the details about climbing Mount Sinai. The locals recommended that I set out a 2 a.m., in order to catch the 6:30 a.m. sunrise at the summit. I grimaced, but reminded myself that it would be worth it to make the climb when it was nice and cool.

Luxor (Day Two)

It's been an amazing and exhausting two days. Amazing because of the gorgeous tombs and sights. Exhausting because of the blazing heat.

I slept in this morning, which was a mistake to the extent that sleeping in can ever be a mistake. My agenda for the day was to see the fabled Temples of Karnak, the largest religious building ever built. It's a huge complex that takes hours to tour. By sleeping in, I left myself no choice but to tour it in the blazing mid-afternoon heat. My late afternoon felucca ride and evening Temple of Luxor visit were much more pleasant.

I am less than an hour from a sleeping train back to Cairo, where I will take an early bus to Mt. Sinai for a sunset climb. May not have internet access for a few days.

The Marriage Question

All day, when I tell people I'm from America, they respond, "America, #1!," I've responded with, "No, Brazil #1!" They crack up.

I've had a second offer of camels! My taxi driver floated the figure of 500 camels. I've decided that unless the suitor wears glasses and likes (or preferably owns) cats, there is no amount of camels or sheep that could tempt me to accept him.

I turned him down, explaining that I am married. In response to his persistent questions, I filled in the rest of the story:

* I came to Luxor alone (had already told him that and it was rather obvious)
* My husband was flying this evening from Paris to Cairo, where I would meet him in the morning
* My husband is French, and we live in Paris
* My husband is very handsome, looks just like George Clooney
* We have been married for three years
* Our first child is due at Christmas

I was debating whether my husband should be a professional wrestler with an anger-management problem or a high-ranking government official when the line of questioning thankfully stopped.

I don't like lying, I really don't. But I'm a lot more uncomfortable with the prospect of being easy prey for someone to take me somewhere or do something to me because they know I'm alone and unprotected. I may not actually enhance my safety by telling people that a big, scary man is expecting to see me and will come looking for me, but I feel a little safer and that's just as important.

And, after telling the story a few times, I'm growing very attached to my pretend husband.

Plus, it's much less awkward than the various responses I get when I tell them that I'm single with no children: "Why are you not married?" "Why no children?" "You are too picky!" "What are you waiting for?" "You are too old!" And there is really no way to come back from that. An explanation ("You wouldn't be saying that if you had met my exes") sounds bitter, a deflection ("I was waiting for you!") is too risky, and a retort ("Well, if you could find someone, there's hope for us all") is just unnecessary.

My Luxor hotel is right in the middle of the souq, or market. There are lots of cafes and shops where men (no women that I saw) gathered in the evening to watch television. Tonight, there was a big crowd of men crowded around a cafe to watch the FIFA Confederations Cup match between Brazil and the United States.

I approached the crowd to see what was on television. The cafe owner saw me, smiled, and shouted something to the group of men in Arabic. All of a sudden, the crowd parted to reveal an empty chair in the back. I gestured that, no, I did not want to watch, I would go, but they insisted. "You, stay!" I sat.

All the men wanted to know where I was from. I said "America!" and they all said "ooooooh" in a look that suggested, "ouch, that must be painful for you!" Then they smiled and said "Brazil!" This was a big group of Brazil fans.

By this point, I had gathered that Brazil was winning the game. I also remembered that the United States had defeated Egypt a few days earlier. I concluded that it was in my best interest to join the crowd in cheering for Brazil.

Using a combination of exaggerated facial expressions and hand gestures, I indicated that I like America, but think Brazil is better at futbol. The men howled with delight.

For about an hour, I was one of the guys. I cheered along. I drank a Sprite. (No one was drinking alcohol.) I politely declined an offer to smoke a hookah. I made polite, superficial chitchat with the young gentlemen around me. I successfully resisted the urge to ask why no women were watching with them. I had a blast.

Dad! Camels!

Dad, today I was offered 5,000 camels for my hand in marriage! Technically, the offer was made to the gentleman I was sitting next to on a tourist trolley, whom the offeror wrongly assumed to be my boyfriend or fiance. Technically, I have excellent reason to believe that he made a similar offer to many other women within a few minutes. And technically, I am positive that he was joking. And he's not Jewish. But it's good to get the ball rolling, yes?

I know we haven't discussed this in a few years, but do you still want the payment in golf eqippment, rather than livestock? Do you have any idea what the camel to golf ball conversion rate is these days? Or would you prefer airline miles?

Questions, questions

I absolutely adore the Egyptians. They have been very friendly and helpful in every possible way. That said, at the risk of sounding really cranky and ungrateful, there are moments when I wish the people around me were just a little less friendly and helpful.

As a tourist, I get a lot of attention when I walk down a street. Every minute or so, someone says "hello," asks "where are you from?" or "where are you going?" or tries to steer me toward a taxi, shop, restaurant, or site. Sometimes it's flirting: "wow!" "beautiful!" "my heart!" "You have husband?"

In the vast majority of cases, it's done with the very best of intentions -- genuine concern and desire to be helpful. I recognize this, and I appreciate it very much. And because I appreciate it, it breaks my heart to have to walk down the street trying valiantly to avoid eye contact or responding to anyone.

I generally like talking to people, especially when I travel. But if I respond to the questions with a cheery, "Hello!" or "America!" I'm starting a conversation. That question will lead to another question, and another. And slowly but surely, I become more engaged with the person and it becomes more difficult (emotionally and verbally) to leave. If I answer every person who talks to me, I won't be able to get anywhere or do anything.

About half of the time, people understand that I want to be left alone. The other half of the time, people persist in trying to talk or help, following me as I walk or continuing to ask questions as I study my guidebok. It's still sweet, but can be a little scary if they follow me for a while and/or don't respond the first 8 times I say "No, thank you!" in Arabic. Which is generally only once a day or so.

After similar experiences in Morocco and Turkey, I expected this and was prepared for it. It's nice and part of what makes travel in Egypt such a joy. ]

Decisions, decisions

I need to wind up the backpacking and make my way to Amman, Jordan to start work later this week. I have a few more sights to see in Luxor, and I'll be heading out tomorrow on either an overnight train (comfy) or an overight bus (agony).

I'm torn about the route. Would you help me decide by taking the poll at the top of the page or leaving comments? Thanks!

Luxor (Day One) in Pictures

I'm short on Internet time, so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

I took the night train from Cairo to Luxor.

I took a tour to the Valley of the Kings to see the tombs of the Egyptian pharoahs. They were amazing in every way, including their humidity. I have newfound respect for the workers who built them that will give rich new meaning to next year's Seder.

I saw the entrance to King Tutankhamen's tomb, but since there is nothing inside (it's in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo) and it cost extra, I didn't go in.

I saw a temple built by Queen Hatshepsut, Egypt's most powerful female ruler.

I roasted in the sun. It was really, really hot.

Flying Solo

While this trip is "officially" inspired by and dedicated to my maternal grandmother, Sylvia Fagen, the influence of my paternal grandmother, May Nagourney, is perhaps even greater.

Grandma May was an incredibly sweet woman with the best intentions, but she had an incredibly narrow world view. To her way of thinking, men should work as many jobs as they had to in order to keep their wives at home, raising their families and living in the style in which they deserved. She was terrified of the world beyond her immediate view and trusted no one. Whenever I ventured from New Jersey to New York City, she was horrified and frightened for my safety, convinced that I would be robbed, kidnapped, maimed, or permanently scarred. My announcement that I had been accepted early to my first-choice school in New York City was greated with a look of pure terror and the wail, "But you're not going to go, are you?"

When I was 21, I spent a few months backpacking through Europe. When I broke the news about the trip to Grandma, she kept asking, "You're going alone? Why alone?"

Very often when I travel, I am asked some version of that question -- "Are you travelling alone? Why? How do you feel about it?" Many people, especially women, tell me that they would never consider travelling alone. Some say they would get lonely, others say that they would be too intimidated or afraid.

I'm writing from country #30, and I've travelled through all but five of them alone. I didn't set out to do that, it just worked out that way. I've been blessed to have a lot of opportunities to travel, and almost all of those opportunities arose at times when none of my close friends or family members were available to travel with me. I had to go alone or stay home. And I always, always, choose to go.

Despite my grandmother's wailing, it never really occurred to me that it would be unsafe or a bad idea. And as I developed more and more experience in travelling alone, I grew to like it more and more. Now, I'm comfortable enough in my own skin to spend many days in solitude, self-reliant enough to get myself out of trying situations, and confident enough to walk into the gigantic and bustling Cairo train station without feeling intimidated. Travelling alone in the Middle East would not have been a good idea for me a few years ago, but at this point, it doesn't feel like an issue. I don't feel like "a woman travelling alone," or "a person travelling alone," I just feel like "Jen travelling."

I realize more and more that I probably enjoy travelling alone a little too much. I love my solitude, but find that companionship and human interaction ultimately give the greatest joys in life. I'm very hesitant to trade the absolute freedom of solo travel for companionship -- it has to be incredibly high-quality companionship that also works in the context of the way I like to travel. I have many dear friends whom I love immensely, but would never, ever want to travel with in a million years. (I am sure that many would say the same about me.) I generally refuse to take tours because I can't imagine an entire group of people that I would enjoy travelling with. Hopefully, I will develop many fruitful travel relationships in the years to come. Until then, I'm very happy to be on my own.

Cairo (Day Two)

I travel on a tight budget for many of the same reasons that I travel alone: my only other option is to stay home and I've been doing it for so long that I've grown to like it. Travelling without money forces one to be creative and crafty: to walk through unsavory neighborhoods instead of taking taxis, to stay in unglamorous hotels, to brave youth hostels and long-distance bus rides. It builds character and gives you lots of good stories to tell.

There was a time in my life, not too long ago, when I would have wondered why anyone would WANT to travel in any other way. Those snobs in fancy hotels and gleaming tour buses were missing out on all the fun, I told myself. Who needs a guide when you have a Lonely Planet map? Better to hunt one's own hotel and meals and amenities like a desperate animal, day after day, than to have it all prepackaged and handed to you in luxury.

Today, I realized that that time in my life is definitely over. I am ready for the luxury, the convenience, and for my travel to be more like a vacation. But until I make enough money to pay for it, I will probably be doomed to more days like today.

My original plan for today:

1) Pack bag
2) Check out of Hotel Luna
3) Taxi to the train station
4) Store bag at train station
5) Quick cafe lunch
6) Tour Egyptian Museum
7) Cafe dinner
8) Internet/E-mail check
9) Taxi to the train station
10) Retrieve bag
11) Overnight train to Luxor

The plan needed to be modified in light of the loss of my ATM card. The expensive Egyptian Museum had to be postponed until Tuesday, when I will swing back through Cairo on my way to either Jordan or Israel. I decided to switch out the museum with either a movie or some time at an Internet cafe/coffee shop.

The actual day went something like this:
1) Pack bag
2) Check out of hotel
3) Taxi to location within sight of, but still far from, train station
4 Loooong walk with heavy bag to train station
5) Wander train station for 10 minutes looking for luggage check/Trying to walk as fast as I can with a "stay away" expression on my face to shake the 8 taxi touts who followed me through the train station trying to help me go everywhere but where I was trying to go
6) Argument with bag check official about why I shouldn't have to present a copy of my passport (which I didn't have) in order to check my bag. He rationed calmly in Arabic, I gesticulated wildly in an angry combination of shrieking and interpretive dance.
7) Discussion with bag check official indicating my displeasure in having to take my bag on the 5-block trek to the nearest copy place.
8) Impassioned discussion with in-station tourist police officers/information office officials about the necessity of obtaining a passport photocopy
9) Wait while trying to avoid the gaze of the 15 taxi touts who offered various forms of assistance while the kind tourist police officers used their fax machine to make a copy of my passport
10) Stored bag, collected bag ticket
11) Wandered neighborhood around train station looking for bank to change money, giving up
12) Subway to neighborhood where I remembered seeing banks yesterday
13) Wandering neighborhood looking for open bank, giving up
14) Taxi to Hilton hotel
15) Changed money, danced with joy
16) 20-minute argument with good-natured, non-English speaking taxi driver and 5 of his colleagues to convince him to take me to a coffee shop near the American University in Cairo (he was not sure that the place I wanted to go exactly matched the address in the guidebook and, therefore, did not want to risk taking me there).
17) 15 minute taxi ride around Cairo, to the place taxi driver thought I should want to go, rather than the place where I actually wanted to go
18) 5-minute "conversation" with taxi driver in universally-understood language, vocal pitch, and hand gestures that convinced him to get the cab moving IMMEDIATELY directly to the address I had given him.
19) 15-minute taxi ride to the place where I actually wanted to go
20) Shwarma lunch at local lunch counter
21) One hour of blissful relaxation and Internet use at Starbucks-style coffee shop
22) Walk to cinema
23) One hour of blissful relaxation and Internet use at McDonald's next to cinema
24) Great movie (Pelham 1-2-3)
25) Taxi ride to train station
26) Wandering train station looking for train
27) Panicked discussion with ticket counter official about the fact that while my ticket said my train was leaving from that station, it was actually leaving from a completely different station about 15 miles away
28) Run through station to subway entrance while 10 taxi touts ran next to me screaming "Taxi?"
29) 20-minute subway ride
30) Run through subway station to train station entrance
31) 5-minute discussion with tourist police officer who refused to let me through the gate until he had had a chance to ask me "Where are you from?" and all about my family (or lack thereof)
32) 30-minute wait for overnight train to Luxor
33) Locking the door of my cabin, hiding under the covers, and hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

Cairo (Part One)

I arrived in Cairo yesterday afternoon. It's noisy and crowded, but fun. I only know a few words in Arabic, so it's a little difficult to get around, but a lot of people speak English and I'm able to get by. All the Egyptian people I've met have been extraordinarily friendly and helpful.

I really enjoy chatting with people. No fewer than six taxi drivers and waiters have declared "Oh, Barack Obama! Yay Obama!" when I told them I was from the United States. "He is very good man," one said. "Also, Clinton good!" I give a big smile and say, "Yes, I am very happy!" I told him the story about when I saw President Clinton and threw my arms around him. He laughed. I asked, "You like George Bush?" He made a sour face and interesting hand gesture.

Today, I visited the Pyramids! It's a total cliche, but they were even more amazing in person than I ever could have imagined. Pictures here. When I saw them peeking over the Giza suburbs in the taxi ride, my mouth dropped and I was utterly speechless. That continued until we arrived and I had to gather my wits about me to deal with the dozens of touts who work near the entrance.

The site is huge, and it was scorching hot. I realized that a donkey or horse ride around the site would be a good investment, but a carriage ride in a covered car would be a better one. I bargained a good price for a donkey tour ($8/per hour) and went to saddle up. As I got on, I "suddenly realized" that I would have to either hitch up or tear my calf-length skirt, refused the ride, and started to walk away. The guide followed me, insisting that it would be okay and offering lower prices. I asked, "Carriage ride at original price?" He laughed and refused, so I kept walking. By the time I had made it to the entrance, we had a deal.

I spent nearly two hours riding around the site with Omar, my guide, and "Ali Baba," his horse. Unfortunately, I was too late to climb inside any of the pyramids, but it's a good excuse to come back with my kids.

When I left the site, I hit the nearest ATM machine -- and it refused to give me my card back! Unfortunately, the bank was closed until Sunday. The local tourist police tried to help, but couldn't reach anyone at the bank and couldn't really do much of anything. Upset and frustrated, I decided that it would be best to get back to Cairo ASAP, so I could contact my bank and make arrangements for a new card. I was beseiged by offers from taxi drivers, none of whom knew quite how to handle a crying American woman who kept asking to be taken to "Cairo, address later." (I needed time to look up an Internet cafe address in my guidebook.)

Eventually, I was "rescued" by a group of American medical students who were also headed to Cairo, and offered to share their taxi. (We'd met briefly near the Sphinx). They were very kind and let me sit in front. They literally piled into the backseat, with the ease and efficiency of a well-rehearsed routine. "This is not the first time we've done this," they said. "And this is not the first picture we've taken of us like this."

They explained that one member of their group had been detained by the Israel government on suspicion of having swine flu. "They took my temperature while I was outside, after a 2 km walk, wearing my backpack and jacket!" He said he was locked in a hospital room for two days, and only fed once.

The taxi dropped us at the Giza Metro station. I followed them into Cairo on an incredibly fast and cheap subway ride, and we said good-bye at a central tranfer station.

I made a beeline for an Internet cafe. Thankfully, my bank agreed to send a new card to my next hotel, in Luxor, and I have the resources to survive without it for the next few days.

Day One: Brussels & Brugges

I arrived in Brussels early this morning. After a quick train ride into the city center, I stowed my bag and headed to Brugges, home of Dr. Evil and what is reported to be the world's best chocolate. Lovely town with lovely chocolate. Then I went back to Brussels, checked into my hostel, napped, and spent a long, lazy evening enjoying Lambic beer and more chocolate in the Place Royal.

Tomorrow: Cairo.

First Stop: Brussels

I'm flying from Newark to Brussels on Tuesday evening. I'll be spending one night in Brussels. Can anyone recommend a good hostel near the central train station?

Lebanon and Syria: To Go or Not to Go?

When I finish work in Jordan, I will make my way to Turkey. I can fly directly or go overland -- through Lebnnon and Syria. I spent the week considering those options and their implications.

I don't know as much about Syria or Lebanon as I would like. I have met lovely people from both places, and hope to meet many more. My trusty Lonely Planet guidebook includes gorgeous photos and rapturous comments from people who have been there. The book assures me that if I went to either country, I would feel safe and welcome.

I was all ready to go until I learned that visitors who have previously traveled to Israel are forbidden to enter Syria and Lebanon, and several other countries in the Middle East. Anyone with an Israel stamp in their passport will be turned away. Those without Israel stamps are asked if they have ever been to Israel -- or, as Syria's visa application calls it, "Occupied Palestine." According to the guidebook, Israeli officials will stamp extra pieces of paper instead of a passport if the traveler so requests. Some Americans carry duplicate U.S. passports for this very purpose.

So, if I wanted to go to Syria or Lebanon, I would have to 1) produce a passport with no Israel stamps and 2) state that I have not been to Israel. Apparently (according to my guidebooks), lots of people who have been to Israel do it all the time.

I had the privilege of traveling to Israel in January 2002 on a Birthright Israel trip. I have since replaced that passport, so that wouldn't be a problem. But lying about the fact that I haven't been to Israel -- in response to direct questions -- is a BIG problem for me. I don't feel comfortable lying or breaking laws under any circumstances. And even if I did, the Syrian and Lebanese borders probably wouldn't be good places to start.

Conclusion: I'll fly to Turkey.

Country Count

In addition to working with amazing people to support an important cause, I am excited to have the opportunity to add a few more countries to the list of places I have been:

1. United States
2. Canada
3. England
4. Germany
5. Austria
6. Ireland
7. Italy
8. Vatican City
9. France
10. Israel
11. Turkey
12. Monaco
13. Spain
14. Portugal
15. Czech Republic
16. Morocco
17. The Netherlands
18. Scotland
19. Greece
20. Mexico
21. Poland
22. Hungary
23. Thailand
24. Burma (Myanmar)
25. Costa Rica
26. Panama
27. Slovakia
28. Slovenia

My goal is to keep the number of countries greater or equal to my age. I was (slightly) disappointed to turn 29 this year with only 28 countries under my belt. Here are the countries I expect to add to the list on this trip:

29. Belgium
30. Egypt
31. Jordan
32. Bulgaria
33. Cyprus?