Well, despite having a bus ticket in my pocket to go to the Holy Land and climb Mt. Sinai, and all on the advice of an Alexandria based Jungian analyst who had translated my very odd dream of the night before. At his prompting I had grabbed my back pack and somewhat excitedly and nervously jumped the train back to Cairo with a view to heading in the path of the footsteps of Moses. (Its a long story.) I had plenty of time before departure so I wandered Giza and found a cool coffee shop to hang out in. Maybe I might offer to do some Mah Jongg readings but it was quiet so I enjoyed just being there. People watching. The chaotic colours and sounds of an amazing city. Chatter and laughter. The endless traffic and beeping horns. Cell phones and Egyptian Radio music, cigarette and hookah smoke curled upwards. Men nodded, smiled. A small group of travelers appeared, took their seats and were engaged in earnest conversation and much laughter, ooohing and aahing as a woman moved among them, lifting and gazing at their coffee cups as she sat and quietly shared I knew now what. I read my newspaper and smoked, content and relaxed here. No rush or hurry, I had 2 hours before my bus journey and I had managed to buy a 3 day old Guardian newspaper and was halfway through the crossword, pen poised when I heard a Canadian accent and a big smile appeared in front of me. Dressed in Vermillion sweeping robes. Hey I.m Misty...Can I read your coffee cup? Sure. She turned down my cup and then righted it with a swishing movement, gazed at my coffee cup grounds in this Cairo cafe and looked thoughtful. Where you travelling to? Well, I thought you might be able to tell me that. I smiled. She suggested I was on my way to an unusual place. Maybe an oasis? Was that in my plans? I shook my head: I dont think so. I could feel the Sinai bus ticket already in my pocket. She worked her way around the inner perimeter of the cup and pointed out what she and I could see. A strange and beautiful landscape, filled with odd and unusual jagged shaped buildings and a large structure seemingly on a hill alongside many trees. Sitting in the middle...a lake. An oasis? Maybe later in my visit, who knows? : I suggested. But its not in my plans. I was impressed and entertained, if not entirely convinced and I took a picture for fun and posterity. But little did I know that day, my bus to Sinai had departed early, had already left, being oversold. 24 hours until the next. I ran into a man wearing an Alexander The Great T shirt and underneath the word SIWA. Please. Show me where this store is? No store..It is a place. A place? Long way away. In the Desert. Near Libya. He laughed. A very nice place. You should go. I turned and minutes later knocked on the glass window of the ticket booth, wrote out the place name.. Its me again. Please, do you go here? I pointed. S.I.W.A. Is that how you say it? Siwa? Yes. Over there. The green bus. Go quickly. He wrote a note across my Sinai ticket and waved me away. I ran and jumped on the step, waved my ticket at the driver and was on board. So that was it. Easy really. A 12 hour Desert night bus ride through the thick fog and along shifting sand roads. It looked like the moon out there through the window and we on old green bus that rocked and shuddered, coughed and juddered. Spat its way along through churning gears. A small group of desert travelers. All on our own unique little or large trip. A moving speck on an empty map and slowly drifting through the dark. A million stars overhead and we were miles from everything and everywhere but where we were at that moment in time. And lit up within, we took to some chatting and sharing, food was passed around. Stories exchanged. People like to know about you here. Curious and friendly to visitors. Do you have a family, children etc? What kind of work do you do? Where do you live? Do you have a wife? If not...why not? Longer silences as the hours wore on and we were a little worn down. Some fitful sleeps. Then everything stopped. 5 a.m. Stretch, yawn, grab your stuff. On stepping stiffly from the bus as the sun rose, a donkey called nearby to greet us and I stood, staring, sleepy and sore yet wide eyed, at the very same structures sitting in the bottom of my Cairo coffee cup : The jagged houses of the ruins of Shali, high on a hill ; the beautiful Mosque made of sand and the stunning Temple Of Amun/ Ra overlooking all : the crystal clear lake. A timeless jeweled vision. I was in my coffee cup. I was in Siwa Oasis.. Misty Fehus, I still gaze occasionally at my coffee cup of Fate and think of you!
Posted on: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 20:25:28 +0000
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