Aswan to Wadi Halfa: the boat ride

“Catch the 8.00 train”,said the guy who sold us the ferry ticket. “Get to the ferry terminal before 11.00.” When does the ferry leave? “In the afternoon.” he replies, waving goodbye. We duly follow his instructions. We joined a massive scrum of people at the port entrance at about 9.00 am. These people do not travel light either. Many of them are carrying goods either for family or for sale (one lady had cartons full of kitchen blenders).

The boarding process is a vaguely controlled stampede of people and portered boxes as, with queuing an alien process, hoards of people rush the only X-ray machine and proceed to dump everything they have onto it as quickly as possible. The poor fellow doing the X-ray checking often had to scan boxes stacked two high and three wide at a time rather than the traditional one bag at a time. A policeman occasionally felt compelled to jump on the front of the conveyor to block loading and give X-ray checker a breather.

Next, the metal detector. At most of the tourist sites in Egypt there are metal detectors but the police – as the detector pings away – just keep waving visitors through. As we entered the Unfinished Obelisk, in Aswan, the policeman waved us through (with the detector buzzing away in the background) and cracked a joke by asking Paul if he had a bomb. “It's in the bag,” says Paul (by this time we were well aware that the metal detectors were ignored). The policeman laughs, gives him a handshake and waves him on. Unusually, at the port, we actually had a body search. They take security seriously here.

After getting numerous stamps and paying a 2 Egyptian pound (US$0.30) departure tax we're on the boat by 11.00 am. We wait. At 7.00 pm the ferry departs. 17 hours later, and after a difficult and hot night sleeping on benches (and a bit of floor) we arrive at Wadi Halfa, Sudan. And it is baking hot.

Posting Paul's sargots: a tale of untamed bureaucracy.

Paul was asked by his mum to get some sargots – little cymbals which belly dancers put on their fingers and use during a belly dance. In Alexandria's market we find some for 10 Egyptian pounds. Later in Aswan we go to post them (it took a while to find some envelopes).

The man at the front desk studies the envelope and, seeing that it's not just paper needs to open it. The sargots are released. He consults a man behind him at a desk and comes back. “You need to see customs,” he says, “take the next road to the right.” After a few misfires we get to customs, a two minute walk away. Customs Guy explains that we need a small box so that Customs can examine the contents, check that there's no antiquities inside and seal it shut with packing wire for Paul to post. They do this for 8 Egyptian pounds. As an alternative, a prepaid bag from the post office would be fine. “Check the postal price before you come back,” he adds.

Back to the post office.

We ask for a bag and, after some chasing around, we get one. Post Office Man also digs up an old stapler box to put the sargots in. The cost to New Zealand? A lot of searching of price tables. 146 Egyptian pounds by airmail. Ouch. How about by surface mail? A different person searches a different price chart. 110 Egyptian pounds.

After speaking to no less than ten different people at the post office, Paul still has is sargots with him. He was able to carry them out of Egypt in his bag through the land border without any customs checks.