Egypt (5): Getting Fixed in Port Said

(The Colossus of Luxor)

Twisting and turning around the motorway gyratory system, I eventually struggle out of Cairo and beat north east towards Port Said.  It's only a few hours away, and soon I spot the 'landmark' I've been waiting for.

'Watermark' might be a more apt term:  giant container vessels, cargo stacked hundreds of feet high, appear in the middle of the landscape - they are, of course, ploughing slowly along the Suez Canal.  The canal runs only 150m from the highway, hidden below the levy, and makes for a strange spectacle.  I close on, and then overtake the mighty freighters, much as you would a large truck on the motorway.  (As you'll appreciate, it wasn't the moment to stop and grab a photos - but the movie will come in due course.)

Following the direction of the canal takes me into Port Said, on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea.  It's a busy, crowded city where every block houses a shipping agent or associated business.  The streets are narrow, lined on both sides with parked cars; taxis fill in the gap and beeping fills the air.  Local custom seems to be to sound your horn at every intersection, although the resulting din nullifies the intended benefit of such a warning.  I can't tell who's hooting at who, so ignore them all and get on fine.

A friendly hotel general manager helps me negotiate a low price with his boss, the equally friendly owner of Nora's Beach Bungalows.  There's a big pool and the beach is adjacent - not that I get time to use either.  And, although it's too slow to load my blog or Skype, the internet allows me to catch up with a bit of planning.

When my fixer turns up (two hours late), I secure a discount for his services too.  I'm getting better at this negotiation thing.  Or am I just losing my integrity?

Overlanders are always interested to find out if they can do border paperwork themselves, and the well-known Horizons Unlimited website forum gives tips to do just that.  But for Egypt, it's a truth - universally acknowledged - that anyone in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a fixer.

My fixer, Eslam, reminds me of Alice's Cheshire Cat.  The wide smile and twinkle in his eye seems so friendly... but I'm sure he's fleecing me just the same.  I may win the odd skirmish over the next 36 hours, but he's certainly going to come out well ahead at the end.   He's young, charges top dollar, but speaks passable English and gets things done.  He runs rings around the fixers from the ferry company.

Conservative with a small 'c'

The bureaucracy getting into Egypt is bad.  Getting out proves to even worse.  I count myself lucky that it takes me only two days, most of which is waiting around.  The network of fixers pass from office to office, pollinating with sly little bribes each of the uniformed officials wedged behind their desks, or blocking a gate.  

I've agreed a 'set price' with Eslam so feel a little more detached when I see all this going on.  Still, when you've crossed so many countries where paperwork costs typically between US$20 - US$50, it grates to pay in excess of US$300 just to pass through Egypt.   60% of that is paid when you try to leave.  More, if you get in a position where only a bribe will get you out.

(Looking on the bright side, with Egyptian gasoline so inexpensive, my time here is probably no dearer than many other countries.)

This final demonstration of bureaucracy / corruption is a bookend to my time in Egypt.  The entry at Aswan was similarly messy (remember the new road to Sudan that won't open yet?  The need for a fixer?  The oversold ferry?).  Somehow, despite such goings on, Egypt still seems mostly law abiding - it's certainly not a violent or dangerous country (ignoring the Arab-Spring uprising, of course).

Here is a precis of a note in the Lonely Planet Guide book, commissioned from Hassan Ansah, a freelance writer and journalist who has taught at the Western International University in Phoenix, Arizona, and at the American University of Cairo (AUC):

'... the question of why Egypt has a relative lack of violent crime, particularly rape and murder.. is especially puzzling in Cairo, where millions of people contend daily with dense living conditions, a high unemployment rate and urban malaise. To answer this lingering question, it is important to realise that crime, like any other social dynamic, is the reflection of a country’s cultural norms.

In Egypt, the majority of the people seem united in their enduring focus on the afterlife... , a conservative tradition that permeates virtually every aspect of life. This conservatism has established and maintained a system of moral values and principles that has in part tapered the violent crime rate in Egypt.

Two sides of Cairo (1 of 2).  The litter is everywhere, often left in stinking piles buzzing with flies

Unlike the West where conflicts often take place behind closed doors in the shadows of official court rooms, in Egypt these renegotiations and fights often occur in public with a theatrical hint to them in order to injure, shore up, or improve one’s public reputation. For example, a man will pick a quiet evening to shout from the street to a friend reprimanding him for not repaying a personal loan, thus sharing with the entire community that the man is dishonourable and irresponsible. Or, in the instance of spousal abuse, a woman will go to the roof of her building, shouting to the entire neighbourhood that her husband has beaten her.

As a result, this community-enforced moral code creates an extremely discouraging environment for a would-be criminal assailant. In fact, it is arguably these deeply interconnected and informal social networks that temper the towering poverty experienced by most Egyptians.

Two sides of Cairo (2 of 2).  Parts of the city are surprisingly close to the Nile-fed agriculture.

Once again I am aware that Egyptian society is more nuanced than I was tempted to give it credit for.  A community-enforced moral code sounds like the kind of thing some Western governments are striving for (Dave C's Big Society, no?).  I have a lot to learn, if I could resist the tendency to view Islamic societies with a wary eye.

What do you feel?  What do you know?

In the final reckoning (or at least the reckoning that must finish now I leave Egypt), my own cultural upbringing doesn't seem quite so foreign now.  But, in it's attitudes to the individuals who comprise a community, the West seems both more enlightened and more troubled.  I hope a defining characteristic of my own culture is a willingness to try and understand and accommodate that of others.

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By the end of Day Two, at 10pm, I'm in a weary group of travellers heading off to board our ferry.  Eslam has delivered.  We are comfortable enough to share a joke or two - yes, he says, the guy to whom he delegated yesterday was indeed doing it for the first time.  But I'm relaxed about that - in turn, I held enough of his fee back until I had all the documents, stamps and tickets I needed, and kept aloof from the cute 'price inflation' I've heard about...   We part with a genuine(?) smile and handshake, and I promise to recommend him.

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The vessel leaves shortly afterwards, although this is still nine hours late.  It's a modern vehicle ferry serving the truckers re-routed as a result of the conflict in Syria. 

Apart from a few dozen foot passengers, the rest of the travellers are burly truck drivers (mostly Turkish).  You might have guessed this from the well stocked canteen, or from the badly kept toilets.

I'm going to be on board for 24 hours, but it's a quiet crossing and there are plenty of soft benches to stretch out on to sleep.

When I drop off will I dream of the Africa I've just left, or the Turkey and Europe I'm about to return to?

[After reading all the Egypt blog posts, you can view a full photo gallery here: Photo Gallery - Egypt Slideshow ]