EGYPT – ISMAILIA (SUEZ CANAL)

January 27, 2023

I wanted to go to the Suez Canal. I had watched a documentary on the Egypt-Israeli war and had seen some displays in the military museum about “The Crossing”. It was a 2-hour drive. Another Canadian guest from the same guesthouse and I asked the old man, who had been my taxi driver, what he wanted to take us there and back. He said 1500 Egyptian pounds. We offered him 2000 ($45 each). We agreed on the date and time to pick me up.

That morning he greeted us and said he had even arranged for a newer car. Perfect! It was a 2020 but it looked like it had been rolled a few times. Then he said his son would be taking me and his son’s friend would be the driver, as it was his car. I assumed the son spoke English and would be our guide. I was a bit disappointed not to have the old gent, but off we went. Turns out the son hardly spoke English at all and the driver wanted to smoke in the car. My car-mate (sorry, I can’t remember the name) said no way, and the driver reluctantly put the smokes away. But that did not stop him from suggesting rest stops for us. A good cover for sneaking a smoke.

We got to Ismailia and were taken to the canal. There really is not much to see. It looks like a wide river with a huge sand dune in the middle. It was rather exciting to see a huge ship gliding past, though.

The two men insisted on taking us to the Golden Jewel Hotel. We passed through the lobby

and past the swimming pool to the beach.

It was from there we could see the actual 1973 “Crossing” into the Sinai. Israel was a mere stone’s throw away. The guys were bragging about how they had won the war. I still needed a ride back to Giza and didn’t want to point out that Israel had actually pushed Egypt back some 30 kilometres west, and had only given this particular chunk of land back as part of a peace deal. Sorry boys, but you got your asses kicked. (Remember the education level of the majority of soldiers.)

As we were walking back to the car the men were looking wistfully at the mosque and the chanting within. My tour-mate and I motioned for them to go pray. “Thank you. Thank you. We will text you when we are done.” Ok, fine. We went back to the beach and discussed what we knew about the 1973 war. We had both watched the same documentary earlier that week in anticipation for this trip. We watched the ships pass, what seemed to be, every 8 minutes.

Often we had to turn our backs to the sand blowing in from the middle of the canal.

We got the text to return to the car. The driver was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly he comes around the corner, carrying a couple of thin electrical wires. The battery was dead and he was going to use these flimsy electrical wires to boost it. A cop came by to see what was going on. He spotted someone leaving the parking lot and convinced them to give us a boost. OK. The car started. Off we headed for a seafood restaurant. Oops, not so fast. Within 50 metres the car stopped again. After mucking about for nearly an hour, someone with some car know-how got the car started. By now we all wanted a bite to eat. It was 2:00 pm.

The Alfanar restaurant was lovely. There were tables on the balcony overlooking the canal.

The manager served us himself because he spoke good English. We were brought plates of babaganough, tahini, and tomato salad with pita to scoop it all up with. It was the best babaganough I had ever eaten; it had a delicate smokey flavour. I also had a half kilo of fresh jumbo shrimp dipped in garlic butter. Yummy!

I looked over to the driver and the son. They had quite the banquet on their table. It occurred to me that they might expect us to pay for their meal. Sure enough, when the manager brought our bills he also handed us their bill. It was as much as ours. Sorry, we are not paying for it. They were PISSED! We had been using Google Translate to communicate and the son texted something about our honor and how they had counted on the meal being paid. We text back that we honoured his father by offering more than he had asked for this trip. We were promised a trip to the museum but since their car broke down we had no time. If he wanted us to pay for their meal, then that amount would be taken off what we promised his father. He did some serious back peddling. He knew he crossed the line regarding the deal with his dad.

We explained everything to the Dad when we got back to Giza. The Dad was apologetic but we you also tell that the son was in DEEP trouble with his father. I had made arrangements with the Dad to take me to the bus station for my upcoming Luxor trip. I told him I no longer needed him. I took an Uber instead. I kind of felt bad for the old man, but maybe it would be a lesson to them both to not try to take advantage of a generous tourist.