Thanks for the nice messages everyone! You guy's are awesome!

Don't worry, I'm not too bad. Just taking it easy at the moment.
Most of my wounds are completely healed. But frustratingly the big one on my knee got a bit infected and takes a little bit longer. But nothing serious, nothing some antibiotics can't fix. It's just a matter of patiently waiting. And waiting. Changing the bandaging every morning hoping to see progress. And there is progress, but just a little. I guess when you are on a holiday time really feels longer...
In the meantime Ameen and his fantastic family take very good care of me. They feed me, give me heaps of tea to drink and take me along to everything they're doing on the chilli farm. Pity that my knee prevents me from part taking in any farm work, would be interesting.
However, I am never alone. There are always people sitting with me or taking me somewhere. So I meet a lot of them. Which I really like.
Although men and women live their lifes very separately. They eat separately, they drink tea separately, just everything. So I only sit together with other men and boys. A bit of a pity.
But it's a good life here. A very relaxed one. And as such exactly what I need.

I'm careful with prognosis for the future but if the beautiful Dr. Jasmine here in Ismailia is right my knee should be fixed by the weekend. And I can then re-unite myself with my little Suzuki! Cross fingers for me, okay?

__________________
no risk - no fun

Hi Marco, i began reading your blog just tonight and loved the ozzie trek. I skipped to last page to see where you were up to and omg read you had bark off you. I back tracked to read the accident and the amazing generosity of the egyptian family.
Glad to hear your on the mend and your little suzuki will be fine too. Does she have a name? or is it little suzuki?
I will go back and catch up on your trip. I am green with envy........one day i hope to get a start with an ozzie trip somewhere - - - anywhere.
Cheers Redbird aka Jill

Twenty days have gone by since the accident. The recovery takes a bit longer than expected. But it is all on track.
I am still in Ameen's small country estate near Ismailia. I always find it incredible how time flyes. It's been 20 days here in this place for me! 20 days!
The one thing which took so long to heal was my knee. It was the most serious of my injuries anyway with a 3cm by 10cm flap of skin and fat tissues getting ripped loose. 8 stitches later it was back on. But the whole knee was swollen heaps. And although it recovered pretty well initially just over one week ago it deteriorated again and I felt severe pain when moving it. So Ameen and me, we went to see the doctor again. Seeing the doctor is often not that easy here. To get to the doctor from Ameen's house you need to hitchhike a pickup car for around 10km and then walk another 500m. An eternity to stumble along with a stuffed knee. That's to the doctors's place. Or the 'hospital' as everyone calls it. But it's not a hospital really. Only a small building with one or two consultation rooms. We went there three times before. Three times no one was there. But today, when I needed it most, there was. Beautiful Dr Jasmine had a look at my knee. The wound was quite infected. She asked me if I took any antibiotics. I didn't. In retrospect I should have taken some preventatively. But too late now. The whole upper leg was infected enough that she decided against removing the stitches at that time too. And she wrote down a whole list of things I should by. Things to clean my wound. And some hard core antibiotics to take for what she said 'at least one week'. She also said I could come back any time, a doctor would be here every day now. And three days later we could take the stitches out.
The antibiotics had an immediate effect. I could almost watch the swelling retreat and the infection disappear. Just incredible. And very quickly I felt much stronger and happier. Who knows what else was in these pills. But who cares. Happy is good.
Three days later we went again to the doctors place to see Dr. Jasmine and get the stitches removed. By then the infected knee had improved considerably. This time I went there with Ameen's brother. Arriving at the 'hospital' we found it mostly deserted. No doctor. Sorry. But there was one lady treating another lady. So I thought if there is a nurse, she could remove my stitches too. By now two of the eight stitches were broken anyway.
The lady said of course she can remove the stitches but wanted to have a look first. We, that is me, Ameen's brother and her, agreed that the time to remove them is right. So she unwrapped her sterile equipment, cut them and and pulled them out. One by one. All eight of them. While Ameen's brother had to go to the Pharmacy to buy new bandages, the 'hospital' had run out of them. All good, all happy and back at Ameen's house we told him the story. And he said he knows the lady treating me. 'She usually cleans the hospital'. But no need to worry, 'she always watches what the doctor does'. Thank you! So to earn some extra money in Bakshish the cleaning lady runs the hospital when the doctor is not around!

However, she did a good job and the wound is healing quickly. The infection is gone. All other wounds are perfectly fine. Guess she is a good observer over the doctors shoulder.

Living here at the farm house is a very quite life. But incredibly social. There are always people coming here. Or we go to people next door. Always, like the stereotypical Bedouin, sitting on mats on the ground, having a tiny fire going and drinking tea cooked on that fire. It is also a very simple lifestyle. There seems to be no worry beyond today. Female family members spend their days cooking, washing, cleaning and caring for the children. Male family members take care of the harvesting, slaughtering animals, repairing stuff around the house.

So day by day went by. Getting up at 6:30am. Having breakfast. Bread and fried eggplant and cheese and halawa. And tea. Then cleaning my injured knee and changing the bandages. Then go around the farmlands, saying hello to many people. People saying 'welcome' to me. Drinking tea with most of them. Going back to the house for lunch. Usually bread and egg and salad. And tea. Then staying around the house, doing this and that. Welcoming people. Drinking tea with them. Having dinner at 7pm. Usually bread and cheese and eggplant and chips. And tea.Then it's dark. We sit together in the dark for a little while longer. And go to sleep at around 9pm.

I am very happy and grateful for being allowed to stay with Ameen's family for so long. In my opinion it really helped my recovery a lot. To be kept busy, to be helped, to be not alone. I loved being together with these people, every minute of it. They are the friendliest lot you can imagine. And although Ameen insists I should stay for many months I now feel like I need to go. It's like the open road is calling again. I want to be back with my little Suzuki. Get her back in shape. And get us going again. Moving again. Closer towards Germany where my mum and dad are eagerly waiting for our arrival.
Also things are heating up in Egypt again politically. Just yesterday people died in protests in Cairo on Tahrir Sq, just outside the hotel I was staying in back then. In less then three weeks Egypt will have their first presidential election since the 'revolution'. I would rather not be here anytime close to that date. It's time to get going.
I know, once I am back with my bike, that of all things I will enjoy my freedom the most. Freedom of movement now that my knee lets me move freely again. And the freedom of riding my bike. After almost three weeks of not doing much. It will be awesome.
Mr. Said, the keeper of my little Suzuki near the accident scene is currently on a business trip. He will be back home on Tuesday. And Tuesday I will be there too, in MitGhamr. 120km from here. To see him. To repair my bike. To pack up my stuff. And to continue the journey.

__________________
no risk - no fun

Cheers mate, much appreciated!
No, my little Suzuki has no name. Just little Suzuki. She certainly deserves a good name. But the poor little bike has to cope with a driver with zero creativity to give her one.
And mate, if you see a slight chance to go on a trip in OZ, or anywhere, DO IT! It's worth every minute, worth every cent you spend on it. It's an awesome thing to do. Only while you're doing it, you get an idea about the real awesomness!

Maybe see you back in OZ in August. Central Coast is close enough to Sydney.

__________________
no risk - no fun

After three weeks of not moving the journey has finally made some progress. Not too much but at least some.
As planned I left Ameen and Ismailia last Tuesday. It's been a 120km trip to MitGhamr where my little Suzuki and most of my luggage was eagerly waiting for me. Public transport in this part of Egypt is very limited. But there is a good system of 'organised hitchhiking'. Ameen took me to one spot in Ismailia where, similar to a bus station, lots of small cars were waiting. These guys in their private cars had nothing better to do than earning some extra cash by providing 'public transport'. It felt a bit like a market place. Car drivers shouting their destination into the crowd of people. Cars going everywhere you could think of. And one even going to MitGhamr. It was a truly ancient Peugeot 504. Extra seats were put into the boot to be able to take more passengers. Soon enough we were on our way with 8 people in that car.
My knee was pretty much okay again. I could walk, run, jump, whatever. The only thing I could not do without pain was to bend my knee more than 90 degree. And you can imagine what I had to do being cramped into a little Peugeot with seven more people. It was a really painful two hour trip. But who cares. I should meet Said, my rescuer, again. And my little Suzuki. Even better, I should soon be riding my beautiful bike again, something I was craving for during the last three weeks. So there was indeed a reward waiting at the end of the two hours of pain. The outlook was rosy. A bright light at the end of the tunnel. No worries.
Ameen instructed the Peugeot driver as to where exactly he should let me off in order for me to find Said. However, if it wasn't for my GPS telling me to get out of the car he would have taken me miles further.
Man, was it a good feeling to be out of that Peugeot. Said welcomed me to his office with open arms. Him and his family. There was a lot of hugging, shaking hands and communication attempts in Arabic and English. It was so good to see him again, I owe Said so much.
Food was brought in, the obligatory sweet tea was shared round, everyone was smiling and happy. Like one big family whose lost son just returned. Hard to describe that feeling.

In the far corner of the property was her resting place. Finally we were reunited again. My little Suzuki, covered under a big tarp of rice sacks. Her tank nicely repaired with fibreglass. Her handlebars bent as straight as Said could bend them. Same for the gear shift lever. All good to go. And her little engine started at the first push of the starter button. It really made my heart jump. This bike was ready to go. And keen to.
The accident took it's toll on my soft panniers though. They held up quite heroicly considering the whole weight of the bike was resting on them while sliding along the bitumen. However, one essential strap was ripped off and one essential plastic clip shattered. Essential for fixing the panniers onto the bike. Said and me, both being engineers, constructed a temporary fixture using cotton straps and ropes. Good enough to keep me going for today. She'll be right, no worries. Hopefully. So finally the bike was packed up again. As in the good old times of travelling. The whole family stood around me to say their farewell. When I offered Said money for his efforts to repair the bike and to keep my stuff in storage for three weeks he refused to take anything. He would accept nothing. At least his little son was happy when I gave him my basecap.
And then came the shock. Guess what is required to ride my little Suzuki. Yep, you have to bend your knee further than 90 degrees. Just a little bit further. But enough to be very very painful. Seeing the expression on my face Said wanted to keep me there, not riding anywhere like this. But I was keen to. I needed to go. For no other reason than finally being able to go. And so I went. Towards Alexandria. 160km looming ahead of me.
Man, it felt good to be riding again. Feeling the wind. Accelerating past the big container trucks on the highway. Listening to the sound of the little 650ccm single underneath me. Just awesome. Just the stuff my dreams were about during the past three weeks. I was free again, in full control of my own affairs. However, the pain in my knee became unbearable after 15min. I had to stop, stretch my leg, walk around the bike a few times and all was good again. Happily I mounted the bike again, the pain got going again and 15min later I had to stop again. So it went on for 160km. 15min intervalls of happiness decreasing to despair. Again and again and again. But I wanted to go, to keep going. There was this strong urge to make it to Alexandria. A huge determination. 160km - a small goal. But big for me in my state. I wanted to make it. With my bike. Me riding it. Just go go go. At all cost.

It took a long time but just before sunset we were cruising along the skyline of Alexandria. Big shiny high rise buildings turned orange by the sun setting over the ocean. Smelling the salty air, brought across by a light breeze from the Mediterranean. How awesome! Happy but completely buggered I fell in my bed in my old hotel, same as three weeks ago. My little Suzuki parked inside the foyer. Next to reception. All safe. All good! No need to worry - with a big smile I fell asleep at around 7pm.

I made it!

And did it feel good! For the first time in three weeks my life was back in a controlled state. My bike, my stuff and myself were at the same location. My bike and me, both limping badly but okay. And from here things could be organised. An exit strategy.

And more work was required too. First of all my knee needed some training to be bent to a more comfortable angle. Second the temporary solution for my luggage needed to be resolved. And third, riding to Alexandria, I noticed some issues on my poor bike. The speedo was showing completely random speeds. However, the odometer was working perfectly fine. My right shock absorber was covered in oil. Which is strange because all the damage on the bike occured on the left hand side. Having a closer look the speedo cable was covered in oil too, lots of oil where it connects to the front wheel. What I hope is now that Said tried to repair the speedo and spilled the oil on the shock. I don't want the shock to be loosing oil.
The handlebar, as much as Said tried to bend it straight, is not perfectly straight. That gives you a weird sensation whenever you look down onto it, it looks like you go around the corner. But there is none. That handlebar needs to be replaced. As to the speedo - I can't explain what's wrong. Why are the km shown correctly but the speed completely randomly? For the time being I just use the speed shown on my GPS. Thanks god for the GPS here in Egypt, really! And finally my left mirror got completely ripped off in the accident. There needs to be a new one.

So how do we go from here?

Option one to go via Jordan, Syria to Turkey is a valid option. Martin just crossed through Syria with no issues and is now in Turkey.
Option two to cross through Libya into Tunesia is a valid one too. One Czech traveller I'm in contact with got his Libya visa within one hour in Cairo. So the embassy's system must be working again.

However, both these options require a lot of riding, many hours, days, weeks sitting on the bike. Both, Syria and Libya only issue transit visas. So you have to cross within a few days which means lots and lots of riding. In my current state this means many many painful hours. Or an undetermined period of time waiting for my knee to slowly progress into a more bendable state. The doctor said it will eventually happen. But the impact trauma of the accident was big enough so that it could be a matter of another one or two weeks. Having in mind that the purpose of this journey is to have a good time I want to go for option three instead:
taking a ship from Alexandria. On my first day back in the city I employed the help of an English speaking fixer to get exactly that organised for me. People here don't speak English. So without a 'Translator' = 'Fixer' nothing will happen. Going from shipping company to shippimg company we always asked for the same thing: a ship going from Alexandria to anywhere in Europe or Turkey AND taking me and my bike on board.
Results so far: one ship leaving next week Thursday to Barcelona. And one possible other surprise option a guy in a shipping company wants to tell me about on Sunday. I'm sure I will be surprised... However, it is good to know there are options from here. And the journey will continue into it's last phase - the home run to Germany.

__________________
no risk - no fun

Drinking tea with Ameen's family and neighbours - a great social ritual repeated many times during the day.


The future generation of bike travellers - Ameen's nephew and a Chinese 'Haojiang' 150ccm.


The final Good Bye - Said (in the centre, wearing a blue shirt) and his family in MitGhamr. The help of this family to me has simply been beyond description. Yet I don't know if we ever meet again.


The reward after a long and painful ride - Alexandria.


'Bibliotheca Alexandrina' - the hyper-modern sister of the antique Alexandria library.

__________________
no risk - no fun

Hi Marco,

pls don't overlook this: http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hub...t-turkey-63954

there is also phone numbers in Egypt/Alex.

Think about your knee, get some useful physio asap in Germany,
the longer you wait, the slower the recovery.

We want you in good shape for future stories!
take care------------geert

Cheers mate, I'm onto it!

__________________
no risk - no fun

Awesome! Cheers for letting me know about that ship. I was able to reserve my spot on this Friday's service. So I shall be off to Port Said tomorrow. Cross fingers that everything is as easy as it sounds over the telephone to these guys.

Europe just got a lot closer! Stay tuned...

__________________
no risk - no fun

Almost one week in Alexandria did not bring any reliable option for me and my little Suzuki to travel on from Egypt. Just writing down the stories I got told from people would fill a book. Many offers appeared on the horizon. Many disappeared just as quickly. Others turned out to be three times as expensive as on the day before. Others again were just ridiculus. Like the option to take a ship from Alexandria to Milano (Milano is a few hundred km inland).
The RoRo ferry from Port Said to Mersin though seemed to exist. No funny story. People on the phone were friendly. They spoke English. Everything sounded good enough for me. So today I left Alexandria and went to Port Said. It would be the last time to ride any significant distance in Africa. 300 km which again proved the friendliness of the Egyptian people to me whenever I stopped. Stop number one at a junk yard for trucks to ask for directions. It took almost an hour to get away from there. First came the invite for tea. Then the invite for Falafel sandwiches. Then the invite for more tea. While the crowd of people around us grew bigger and bigger. Starting with the yard manager more and more people brought along chairs to share tea with us. Really good tea I can tell you! And best of all the majority of people confirmed the direction of my travel would indeed take me to Port Said.
Stop number two at the small road side stall to buy water and some fresh yoghourt. People in the little coffee shop next door started waiving for me to come. 'Whats your name?', 'Where are you from?'... I though a coffee would be a good thing to have right now, so why not. And it was indeed a good coffee. I grew to like the turkish style of coffee as you get it everywhere in Egypt. Served very hot in a small glass it needs some minutes for the coffee powder to settle. You only drink your glass to 3/4 empty, the rest is the coffee powder sticking to the ground. And while you drink you will joyfully chew the coffee flakes which are still floating in the top layers. It's sweet and really delicious.
This particular coffee I did not need to pay. Just like that. 'Welcome to Egypt'. Awesome.
As nice as people are whenever I stop, when moving on the road they can drive you mad. It's hard to understand how this system works without lots of major accidents.
There are the cars turning right straight from the left lane. Without indicating they suddenly shoot across two lanes of moving traffic.
There are the minibuses who stop in the middle lane to offload passengers. You drive past and all of a sudden a crowd of people and shopping bags occupy most of your lane.
There are the TukTuks, I don't know what they are doing. It's like they are controlled by a computer which randomly chooses between the options turn sharp left, turn sharp right, stop, reverse.
There is the donkey carts on the highway who go wherever the donkey wants them to go, often you see the frigtened impression in the face of the guy on the cart pointlessly attempting to excert some control over his donkey.
And my all time favourites are the cars going against traffic on the highway. Split carriageway, concrete barrier dividing the two directions. And somehow they manage to get it wrong. Or intentionally get it wrong. Flashing their high beams they drive normal speed on a head on collision course with you. Not just one or two cars. But one or two every ten minutes!
So yeah, riding here keeps you busy. Dodging whatever Egypt throws at you on it's roads. But somehow it's also fun, keeping you focussed on an otherwise boring highway.

The best fun of it all though is that my knee is now perfectly alright again. I can ride my little Suzuki without pain, without limits. And that is so much fun. I just noticed it again. Now, after such a long time not being able to enjoy that feeling. And so the 300km to Port Said today just flew past much too quickly.
First priority on arrival is to find a place to sleep. My GPS has no maps whatsoever on it. So it's quite a task to even find the city centre of Port Said. Finding a hotel is even more a random thing to do. First hotel I found was closed for 'renovation'. Second Hotel was quite expensive. After sitting down to a tea discussing the matter they gave me an acceptable price though. Got my own room. My own bathroom. My own TV. Three channels: channel one for Egyptian drama in Arabic language. Channel two shows Egyptian drama in Arabic language. And channel three features 24hr Quran recitation. In Arabic language. However, my little Suzuki happily lives in the staff dining room right next to the dining table. Safe parking for sure!

Priority number two in Port Said: organise the ship to Turkey. No one I asked on the street knew the address I had of the shipping company's office. People sent me in all sorts of directions but very obviously had no clue. It took me to call the agency to explain to a taxi driver in Arabic where they are and for the taxi to take me there. As it turned out it is only a 10min walk from my hotel straight down the road.
The office of the shipping company reminds me of a CEO office of a manor company as you know from TV. Dark carpet on the ground. Classic paintings with big frames on the walls. All furniture carved of heavy timber. A heavy wooden desk with artfully carved elements in the middle. A middleaged man with white hair and spotless office suit sitting behind it. His poker face looking down on you sitting on the leather sofa a few metres away. Any minute you expect to hear 'You're fired!!!'. But no, just talking straight facts about the ship. Half an hour and you're time slot is over.
But amazingly: yes, there is a ship. And yes, me and my bike can go on it. And yes, it goes straight to Turkey. And yes, we can book my spot today! After all the b...s...t stories I heard lately these words sounded like music to me. So Thursday it will happen. On Thursday I shall leave Africa. Only two more days left on this fascinating continent. The continent which changed so much in me. Made me grow up so much. It will be a sad farewell, I know.
Setting another record during the course of this trip it will also be the longest sea journey I've ever done in my life. Spending two nights on sea. Not sure if my stomach is really up for that.

And one last bit of positive news: in the office of the shipping agency I met another motorbike traveller. And HUBB regular. 'Doubledown' booked a spot on the same ship to Turkey. Small world, hey?

__________________
no risk - no fun

Hi Marco,
Awesome to hear your knee is on the mend and you have a spot on the boat. Is it common practice for a travellers motor bike to be stowed indoors like the foyer sometime ago and the staff dining room now?
Cheers Redbrid...Jill

Walking through the streets of Port Said with Mike (alas 'Doubledown' in the HUBB) yesterday we just talked and talked about Africa and our respective opinions and experiences with it. About Tanzania, Ethiopia, Sudan. Once more it brought it back to my mind how awesome a time I had in Africa.

I remember, one or two months back I was seriously considering extending the tour. Go and finish the Sydney to Germany trip. And then keep going from Germany to Westafrica to South Africa and back to Australia. I just loved travelling so much! And why not, my equipment was still in a good state, my bike would be in an awesome state after some maintenance work in Germany. And I was certainly keen and curious to see Westafrica. Everything ready to go without any major money spending.

I also remember one or two weeks back, sitting in Ismailia with Ameen and his family. Me being unable to move my knee. Being uncertain if and when the journey can continue. If there and then someone had offered me a teleport option right back to Australia - I would have taken it without much hesitation. For many days I felt pretty down and asked myself 'Why am I doing this stuff?'. I was looking forward to get home. No way I would extend this trip. Just go home.

I guess this is the nature of a journey of this kind. There are ups and downs. Good emotions and bad emotions. And once more I remembered, regardless which sort of emotions, emotions will be the things turning into memories. And memories will fill your life when, one day, you're looking back. Going to work in a daily 9-5 routine - there are no emotions involved. Looking back, your life might be empty. And it might feel short. That frightens me.

Yesterday I payed for my ferry ticket to Turkey. One more day and Africa is history. It makes me quite sad to realise that. I will have spent almost 9 months on this continent. Developing a daily routine of uncertainty, of trying myself, of succeeding and failing. But always enjoying. Every day had some excitement in it, some adrenaline. And even routine things we did a thousand times, if I think back, these things are actually cool. Like wandering through the market in Port Said today. Man, PORT SAID, would you have ever though to get here? On a MOTORCYCLE from Australia? Smelling the chicken here, the fish there from the small market stalls. People saying 'WELCOME!!!' to me. I say 'SHUKRAN' (Thank you) to them. All smile and I keep going. Like so many times. Thousands of times before. Or being able to see every sunset. See it every day. Seeing it setting over the desert. Over the ocean. Across the river. Or behind a city's grey skyline. I will miss all that.

Africa is chaotic. Even minor things like crossing the road in the messy traffic are a challenge. Major things like getting on a ship out of Egypt are even more of a challenge.
My day today: we were asked to be at the port today 8:30am to 'finalise matters'. When I say 'we' I mean our little group of Mike and his bike from the US, two Polish travellers in a Land Rover, one Turkish guy in a huge Mercedes and myself. So I packed everything on my little Suzuki in the early morning ready to go and went off to the port. There our Carnets were collected and then we waited. And waited. And waited. Waited till around 10:30. When our shipping agent said we are free to leave but have to be back at 12:30 to 'finalise matters'. At 12:30 we were back. But not the shipping agent. Not till after 1pm. He just told us to wait for a moment and disappeared. Not to be seen again till 3pm. Just to say 'we're almost finished, just five more minutes'. And off he went again. Next time we saw him was just after 4pm. And then things started moving. We were asked to park our vehicles outside the gate. Then, 20min later, to park them inside the gate again. Papers were filled in while we watched things develope. Our passports were collected. We were asked to drive our vehicles to a storage area where they would stay over night because Customs had cleared them already. So wow, that was our action for today. Waiting for hours, pretty much all day to drive our vehicles 300m through the port area into the storage place. Once done our agent gestured us to jump in his car and off we went. All finished for today? No more waiting around? Nope.
At a seemingly random place in town the car stopped and we got off to wait for someone. 'Just wait here for 5 minutes'. By now I no longer liked that statement. Our agent walked off to talk to people we met earlier in the port. Just some 100m away from where we were waiting. Waiting for what again? No one knew. Things got more bizarre when our agent came back, jumped in the car and drove off. We seemed to hear the word 'wait' out of his driver window. And there we stood, the five of us. Somewhere. Waiting. But for what? And for how long?
After a while another guy from the shipping agency came walking towards us. It was now around 5:30pm. He asked us to be in his office at 10pm tonight to clear immigration. At 10pm? Shouldn't we have better things to do at that time? Why not clearing immigration now? Well, our shipping agency helper needed to 'rest' now. Awesome. So we will be back tonight at 10pm. For more waiting? Who knows.
Things can easily frustrate you in Africa. Efficiency is next to non existant. And so is certainty. We still don't know when our ship leaves Port Said. Which day. Maybe tomorrow. You get used to these things. And trust that things work out. And more often then not they do.
But really, most things here in Africa are good. By far most things.
Taking my little Suzuki along dirt roads, sand roads, through mega cities and National Parks produced a lot of sweat. Organising the paperwork for all these countries required a lot of patience. Doing it in languages you don't understand often raised my eyebrows. Putting a smile on people's face after learning bits and pieces of their languages and just saying one or two words to them made me happy. And most of all saying 'yes' to things destiny has on offer, making time to dive into random opportunities and go with the flow. Awesome adventures begin just like that. I loved every little bit of it, really loved it.

Thinking back I also remember the people we met along the way. How great it was to have time to get involved with them. My experiences with people will surely form the longest lasting memories of this trip. And it will most likely be these people who will make me come back to East Africa one day. If I do come back one day, the most likely countries to return to are Ethiopia and Tanzania.

One more day and Africa will be over. Suddenly I don't feel ready to leave just yet...

__________________
no risk - no fun

Walking through the streets of Port Said with Mike (alas 'Doubledown' in the HUBB) yesterday we just talked and talked about Africa and our respective opinions and experiences with it. About Tanzania, Ethiopia, Sudan. Once more it brought it back to my mind how awesome a time I had in Africa.

I remember, one or two months back I was seriously considering extending the tour. Go and finish the Sydney to Germany trip. And then keep going from Germany to Westafrica to South Africa and back to Australia. I just loved travelling so much! And why not, my equipment was still in a good state, my bike would be in an awesome state after some maintenance work in Germany. And I was certainly keen and curious to see Westafrica. Everything ready to go without any major money spending.

I also remember one or two weeks back, sitting in Ismailia with Ameen and his family. Me being unable to move my knee. Being uncertain if and when the journey can continue. If there and then someone had offered me a teleport option right back to Australia - I would have taken it without much hesitation. For many days I felt pretty down and asked myself 'Why am I doing this stuff?'. I was looking forward to get home. No way I would extend this trip. Just go home.

I guess this is the nature of a journey of this kind. There are ups and downs. Good emotions and bad emotions. And once more I remembered, regardless which sort of emotions, emotions will be the things turning into memories. And memories will fill your life when, one day, you're looking back. Going to work in a daily 9-5 routine - there are no emotions involved. Looking back, your life might be empty. And it might feel short. That frightens me.

Yesterday I payed for my ferry ticket to Turkey. One more day and Africa is history. It makes me quite sad to realise that. I will have spent almost 9 months on this continent. Developing a daily routine of uncertainty, of trying myself, of succeeding and failing. But always enjoying. Every day had some excitement in it, some adrenaline. And even routine things we did a thousand times, if I think back, these things are actually cool. Like wandering through the market in Port Said today. Man, PORT SAID, would you have ever though to get here? On a MOTORCYCLE from Australia? Smelling the chicken here, the fish there from the small market stalls. People saying 'WELCOME!!!' to me. I say 'SHUKRAN' (Thank you) to them. All smile and I keep going. Like so many times. Thousands of times before. Or being able to see every sunset. See it every day. Seeing it setting over the desert. Over the ocean. Across the river. Or behind a city's grey skyline. I will miss all that.

Africa is chaotic. Even minor things like crossing the road in the messy traffic are a challenge. Major things like getting on a ship out of Egypt are even more of a challenge.
My day today: we were asked to be at the port today 8:30am to 'finalise matters'. When I say 'we' I mean our little group of Mike and his bike from the US, two Polish travellers in a Land Rover, one Turkish guy in a huge Mercedes and myself. So I packed everything on my little Suzuki in the early morning ready to go and went off to the port. There our Carnets were collected and then we waited. And waited. And waited. Waited till around 10:30. When our shipping agent said we are free to leave but have to be back at 12:30 to 'finalise matters'. At 12:30 we were back. But not the shipping agent. Not till after 1pm. He just told us to wait for a moment and disappeared. Not to be seen again till 3pm. Just to say 'we're almost finished, just five more minutes'. And off he went again. Next time we saw him was just after 4pm. And then things started moving. We were asked to park our vehicles outside the gate. Then, 20min later, to park them inside the gate again. Papers were filled in while we watched things develope. Our passports were collected. We were asked to drive our vehicles to a storage area where they would stay over night because Customs had cleared them already. So wow, that was our action for today. Waiting for hours, pretty much all day to drive our vehicles 300m through the port area into the storage place. Once done our agent gestured us to jump in his car and off we went. All finished for today? No more waiting around? Nope.
At a seemingly random place in town the car stopped and we got off to wait for someone. 'Just wait here for 5 minutes'. By now I no longer liked that statement. Our agent walked off to talk to people we met earlier in the port. Just some 100m away from where we were waiting. Waiting for what again? No one knew. Things got more bizarre when our agent came back, jumped in the car and drove off. We seemed to hear the word 'wait' out of his driver window. And there we stood, the five of us. Somewhere. Waiting. But for what? And for how long?
After a while another guy from the shipping agency came walking towards us. It was now around 5:30pm. He asked us to be in his office at 10pm tonight to clear immigration. At 10pm? Shouldn't we have better things to do at that time? Why not clearing immigration now? Well, our shipping agency helper needed to 'rest' now. Awesome. So we will be back tonight at 10pm. For more waiting? Who knows.
Things can easily frustrate you in Africa. Efficiency is next to non existant. And so is certainty. We still don't know when our ship leaves Port Said. Which day. Maybe tomorrow. You get used to these things. And trust that things work out. And more often then not they do.
But really, most things here in Africa are good. By far most things.
Taking my little Suzuki along dirt roads, sand roads, through mega cities and National Parks produced a lot of sweat. Organising the paperwork for all these countries required a lot of patience. Doing it in languages you don't understand often raised my eyebrows. Putting a smile on people's face after learning bits and pieces of their languages and just saying one or two words to them made me happy. And most of all saying 'yes' to things destiny has on offer, making time to dive into random opportunities and go with the flow. Awesome adventures begin just like that. I loved every little bit of it, really loved it.

Thinking back I also remember the people we met along the way. How great it was to have time to get involved with them. My experiences with people will surely form the longest lasting memories of this trip. And it will most likely be these people who will make me come back to East Africa one day. If I do come back one day, the most likely countries to return to are Ethiopia and Tanzania.

One more day and Africa will be over. Suddenly I don't feel ready to leave just yet...

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no risk - no fun

On the way to Port Said. Asking for directions along the way made me meet these friendly people working for a truck junk yard. We had breakfast together. And lots of tea.


Port Said beach


Port Said city


Mike's bike and my little Suzuki together at my hotel.

__________________
no risk - no fun

Africa is now officially history. Today I set foot on Turkish soil. And my little Suzuki is with me. We made it all the way from Port Said by ferry, two long days and three nights on sea.
As most of the last week the ferry ride was another lesson in patience. It took one full day to get onto the ferry last Friday in Port Said. One day sitting next to the ferry and watch it. Just waiting. First it took hours to unload all the Turkish trucks from it. Then there was a problem with the paperwork for the ship. So it could not be loaded. Once that was out of the way we were informed that we should not receive our Carnet de Passage documents today. The documents we gave to the shippimg company the morning before as instructed to finalise Customs (=putting a stamp into it). Well obviously two days was not enough time to get that done. And we were told Customs only stamps it once the ship leaves the port. That would be 'normal procedure'. Leave the country first, get your stamp later. The plan was to get the stamped document sent to Turkey by DHL. Well, would you trust a shipping company with that? A company that usually calls you to come there latest by ... just to have you sitting there waiting for hours for nothing to happen? For three days in a row? Now promising the document would be in Turkey before the ferry arrives? A document worth many thousand Dollars deposit? How likely was it we would wait for our Carnets for weeks once we were out of sight? Nope! So we (the only five tourists on this ferry trip) put the pressure on. And when we refused boarding for an hour or so we got at least our unstamped Carnets back. I tell you, what a mess.

The ferry itself is awesome. The 'Anna Marine', a former Stena Line ship was still up to British standards. Clean, modern, extremely comfortable. We had two bed cabins with the most comfy beds I've had so far on this trip. There were three good meals per day and unlimited cooled drinking water, tea, coffee and crackers.
However, with only 6 passengers (the five of us plus one Turkish truck driver) on board such a huge ship there was a lot of empty space. As there was around the ship. The deep blue water of the Mediterranean all around us, all the way 360 degrees as far as we could see. The ship's bar was closed. There was no entertainment, no seats outside, no pool, no shops, nothing. Basically nothing to do but sitting around and drinking tea and waiting for the next meal. 'Waiting' continued to be the big word of the day.
Sunday evening 5:30pm we arrived in Mersin. Well, arrived in the port. The ship tried to dock. Unsuccessfully. Spun around by the wind or some ocean current. Tried again. Again failure to dock properly. It was pushed around by tug boats. No success. Going backwards and forwards. Closing in on the concrete pier. Giving up and go the other way. Eventually sailing far out of the harbour again to try another docking location. It was around 10pm when the vessel was finally secured and the ramp opened. By the time we were still able to clear immigration. But had to sleep another night on the ship for everything else was closed. Another night of waiting, being within reach of Turkish soil!
Next morning the game continued. First waiting for our agent who was supposed to support us through Customs. Well, he arrived. But they don't talk too much to you these people. Apart from 'Wait here!' while they disappear. Waiting for what? For how long? No answer. So we waited. Approximately two hours later the agent took us to the Customs office on the other side of the port. And what did we do there? Of course what we learned to do best in recent days. We waited. And waited. And waited. For hours. Until we decided to skip the agent and do it ourselves. Which worked nicely until one of the Customs guys mentioned we needed insurance for the bikes to be released. Where did we get insurance from? Somewhere in town. Can we go there with the bikes? Nope. Aaaaaaarrrrrghhhh! So Mike and me, we called a taxi. And waited. And waited. For it to arrive half an hour and one phone call later. To take us to an ATM to have money for insurance. And finally to the insurance office. Where it took another hour to issue the insurance for us. Back with the taxi to Customs. And Customs was closed for lunch. We would have to wait. Fortunately one Customs officer took mercy on us and gave us two of the three stamps we needed. The third one we would get once an inspector inspected our bikes. We knew the inspector, knew his office, he knew us, so no problem.
Except for the fact that it was lunch break. And after lunch all inspectors attended a meeting in some Customs headquarters. All of them. Not one was available to clear the expanding queue of vehicles waiting. How long would the meeting go for? 'Maybe an hour'. And so we waited. By now I was so over the waiting game, so over it. Nothing we could do. Two hours later the inspectors returned. By then we 'camped' right outside their door to make sure we would get our stuff done first. However, they opened the door and a whole bunch of agents poured in and drowned the inspectors in paperwork for waiting trucks. They ignored us completely. Us, standing there in the hot office squeezed between the agents waiving their papers. No one even looked at us and our papers. That was it, I was ready to kill people. I had a list in my mind who to kill first and who should die the most painfully. The thought of this pleasure seemed to calm me down somewhat.
But don't worry, it didn't come to that. Half an hour after opening his office an inspector took our papers, asked if we have anything to declare and just stamped them. No inspection. Just like that. Three out of three stamps. Means we are free to leave. It shouldn't be that easy.
We asked how to exit the port and people gave us directions. We juggled ourselves through all the trucks and got there. To be told we could not exit there. Wrong exit. Go to the other one. It also must be said that the exits are not signposted. So it takes a while to find them in the huge port area. However. We found it. To be told it was the wrong exit for us. Go to another one. 1km down that way. Going there it was of course the wrong exit. Aaaaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhh! One exit kept sending us to the other one, none would let us through. They wouldn't even look at our documents. No explanation why one exit is different from the other. None. Just 'not here, go there'. Playing this game for half an hour - it just became ridiculous. Stuff that. We went back to the Police where a couple of people had sent us to. And there, behind parked cars and some rubbish bins, the officer opened a gate which obviously has not been opened in months. For us to exit! So we did, not wasting a second. What made this exit behing the rubbish bins the only one right for us? We shall never know. It was now 4pm.
But the important fact remains: we are now in Turkey. With our bikes. Free. Awesome!

My plan from here is to stay in Mersin for a day or two to get my little Suzuki back up to scratch. Replace the bent handlebars. Do some maintenance. Get the oil seals for the fork replaced. They too got damaged in the accident which makes both front shocks leaking oil.
Once done I shall take on the final 3000km of this journey. No more waiting...

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no risk - no fun