Egypt Email - 12.06.06why couldn't brian ride a bike? (20/05/06 - 04/06/06) it is the year of our lord 2006 folks... freaky times... and some important truths need to be revealed. does hiv really cause aids?... what drugs is sven smoking?... why couldn't brian ride a bike?... how much wood could a wood-chuck chuck if a wood-chuck could chuck wood?... why the big poker player in the sky continues to deal me bum cards in the three most crucial hands of all... money, women, and football?...
all of these are valid and pressing questions... but it was the last one that i had in mind when i booked my trip to egypt. i don't need to remind you friends, that all current-life circumstances are dictated by past-life actions. it's called karma. or fate. a good understanding of this karma can lead to the discovery of the meaning of life. i needed to rediscover my past-life actions in order to remedy my current bad karma... and kick-start the chain of events that would eventually lead to me winning the lottery, finding a super-hot girlfriend (actually any "friend" who happens to be a girl would be great), and most importantly of all... seeing the mighty spurs being crowned the champions of europe. you understand now, the importance of my search. and what better place to start the search than in egypt... the place where civilisation itself was born.
note - when embarking on a trip to find the meaning of life, things may get a little hairy... the unknown doesn't take kindly to being found out... and only a fool would suspect otherwise. it is therefore advisable to choose your travel companions carefully. the selection process was exhaustive and i eventually settled on the following three warriors: spanky grainger (super solid), fredi bastable (super clever), and captain kirk (super horny).after a few complications (we were charged with the theft of a bag by some crazed, glassy-eyed, female dope fiend), i stepped onto the plane and into my destiny...
i soon realised that the murky world of middle eastern culture is a weird, volatile beast... one you wouldn't want to mess with. take for instance, the one occasion i stepped out in public without shoes on... the entire 16million population of cairo came to a standstill... a hushed silence fell over the thick dusty streets... eyeballs darted to the heavens, awaiting the bolt of lightening that would surely strike me down at any moment. i might as well have had a huge, flashing, 100-foot-high, pink and blue neon sign proclaiming ALLAH IS A JEW strapped to my back... although the ALLAH IS A JEW would have to be in arabic... because most egyptians are arabs... apparently... and therefore they probably wouldn't be able to read english... which would defeat the object of the big, flashing sign... although it would still look quite odd... anyone with a huge, flashing pink and blue sign strapped to their back is strange in my book... anyway i digress... but you get my drift... not wearing shoes is frowned upon.
anyway, enough of that... first port of call was the mediterranean town of alexandria. founded by alexander the great, and former home to legends such as julius ceaser, mark anthony, and cleopatra, this was once the most powerful city of the ancient world... and good place to start my search therefore. not knowing where to begin, we hopped in a random cab, told the driver of our quest, and let the winds of fortune blow. fortune however can have a warped sense of humour and we stumbled into a seedy joint, sporting an 80's style disco mirror-ball, and serving salt encrusted peanuts and oily chips. but the beers were cold, and the women looked cheap (all four of them), so we stayed. but the beers gradually got warmer, and the women sure as hell weren't cheap. we got fleeced. slimey egyptian swines. so we abandoned this run-down hell-hole and headed south. we would have to take this as a learning and plan more carefully for our next destination. fate will crush you if you are not prepared.
after a short train ride, we arrived in the heaving metropolis of cairo, resting place of the pyramids of giza - one of the seven wonders of the world (along with the lovely camilla of course). we rode to the pyramids on camels. it sure is amazing to think that aliens built those things... if i had the technology to fly brazilians of light years across the galaxy i sure as hell would put a little more imagination into leaving my mark on the world... three 3-D triangles in the middle of the desert somewhere... what were these extraterrestrial freaks thinking?... are there no quality mind-bending drugs in outer space?
we then cruised to the step pyramid. and then to the cairo museum where we saw the contents of tutenkamen's tomb. the museum is a jumbled mess. cairo was not providing the answers we were seeking... i didn't feel a connection and it was time to leave.
we bumbled out of cairo and headed further south on an overnight train to luxor. formerly know as thebes, luxor reeked of ancient history and the presence of karma was thick in the air. filled with optimism we visited, amongst other sites, the valley of the kings (no booby traps, or curses, or crazed decaying mummy's... very disappointing), the luxor temples (what's the deal with that pokey old mosque bang in the middle of the ruins?), the temple of boy-pharoah-wannabe hotchickensoup (what a wicked name... her parents sure had something a bit funky in their sheesha the night they named her), and the local market containing several severed, fly-infested cow asses with tails attached (and we wondered why we got a bad case of the jippo's).
by far the most impressive sight however was the karnak temple... now this is what i was talking about... massive columns, statues, sphinx's, and obelisk's carved with weird hieroglyphics and other spacey sh*t. this place was thick with mysterious riddles, and freaky myths, and rumours of complex mathetical formulas that predicted anything from the end of the world, to the day when hobson may finally get his cv out. i could definitely feel the energy here... was this where ancient ancestors sowed my legacy?... where my bad karma was born?... did this place hold the key to all my ponderings on life?... this was no time for trivial questions however... it was hot... and i needed a beer... so we hopped on a felucca for a sunset cruise down the nile. awesome.
a trip to the local irish pub (a short learning... every town, in every city, in every country, in every continent, on every planet, in every galaxy in the universe has an irish pub) soon dampened our spirits... it was time to move on. there was nothing left for us here.
we arrived in the red sea coastal town of hurgarda buoyed by the prospect of numerous young russian ladies ferociously competing for our attention... we gleaned this information from the lonely planet... the lonely planet is the travel bible... and the bible doesn't lie (well unless you're islamic, or jewish, or buddhist, or any other non-christian religion of course).
the signs were good on the first day when 137 scandos invaded the boat on our snorkelling trip to gifton island (i have discovered that i have an awesome ability to randomly bump into heaps of beautiful scandos). the eye candy on offer was worldclass... four ripped, tanned, super good-looking saffer boys on board... those scando birds could barely contain their excitement. but we brushed them off... we had bigger fish to fry... and it wasn't russian fish. the question of the meaning of life was still at large... and we were no closer to finding the answer.
the situation was getting dire... we needed a plan and we needed one fast. so we had a planning session. the catalyst for inspiration is very often a few cold beers. so we had about two dozen cold beers. a vote was taken and a unanimous decision made that the most likely place to find the meaning of life was at a night club called calypso... it was just coincidence that this was where the russian ladies were said to hang out... honest!!! we soon found out though, that if you are russian, the meaning of life is measured in camels. and as we had no spare camels hanging around, they weren't about to show us the meaning of life. goddamn stinky russians. we left disappointed and desperate... the void growing deeper and darker with every passing minute.
after barely an hour sleep, we licked our wounds and sheepishly crept onto the morning ferry to sharm el sheik. we skipped sharm (fake plastic egyptian town) and ambled up to the sleepy diving village of dahab. we had entered the deeply revered religious land known as the sinai peninsular. no story has done more to put the sinai peninsular on the map than the 40-year wanderings of moses and the israelites through this vast and barren desert landscape. for many, a visit to the land where god spoke through the burning bush and where moses received the ten commandments is nothing short of a pilgrimage.
you might think then, that a visit to mount sinai and the burning bush would be the obvious answer to all my questions - go straight to the soul of the world itself. but we were smarter. in order to discover the root of my current misfortune, we needed to find out about the bad i had done in my past lives - the lies told, the murders committed, the arsenals supported. moses and his followers were pure... they were after all, god's chosen race. we would have found no answers. it would have been a waste of time.
we decided instead to seek the answer in the wonders of the natural world. one is all, and all is one... and each and every animal and plant and stone and every particle of water and air and fire in the universe came from the hand of god and is therefore part of the soul of the world and has the potential to unlock the meaning of life.
so i needed to learn to dive... and i needed to learn to dive quickly. so i learned to dive... and i learned to dive quickly. and after i had learned, i dived with the others. and we saw rocks, and canyons, and coral, and big fish, and small fish, and blue spotted rays, and eels, and one shark (why do they call it shark island?). and we dived a world war two wreck - apparently one of the top five dive sites in the world (along with the lovely camilla of course).
and the serenity, and beauty, and calmness, and vastness of the big blue was astounding. everything was working in perfect harmony. and it fired my thoughts. and i thought of fate. and i thought of the story of death in teheran:
a rich and mighty persian once walked in his garden with one of his servants. the servant cried that he had just encountered death, who had threatened him. he begged his master to give him his fastest horse so that he could make haste and flee to teheran, which he could reach that same evening. the master consented and the servant galloped off on the horse. on returning to his house, the master himself encountered death, and questioned him, why did you terrify and threaten my servant?. i did not threaten him, i only showed surprise in still finding him here when i planned to meet him tonight in teheran, said death.
and i thought further. and i thought about the old man and the sea. and the following realisation flowed through me (like rain):
the meaning of life can only be answered within oneself. material items are transitory... driven by fate (which, as per the above story, you cannot escape from). physical possessions and external circumstances can be given and taken away at the whim of the gods. this does not matter... what really matters is how a man handles himself in these situations... in success and suffering. this is how to emerge a hero... retaining your humility and dignity no matter what life throws at you. this is the real triumph.
all these people rushing by
looking for meaning in this life
so used up and blinded by lies
here underneath the blue blue sky
the way they seldom seem to smile
i don't know why
and therefore my bad karma with money, women, and football is not relevant. it does not matter. this is not to say that i have totally given up on life... i still have a burning desire to grow a big, bushy, ginger beard for instance. some of you may laugh... but the smart ones among you will know that this is just as good as any other ambition when the most powerful man of our time is that blubbering, honky-tonk, fool named george w bush.
and so ended my quest. sorry it was so long. congratulations if you got to the end. but you were rewarded. you got the key to the meaning of life. which is great. unless of course it is wrong. and the key to the meaning of life is quick cash, easy women and fast cars. which is probable. and much more fun.
anyway... if any of you are bored and have a few more decades to kill... you can visit my website. it is not quite up-to-date, but contains accounts of my south american wanderings, the 2005 summer of love european van tour, etc. and there are loads pictures of good looking people on there (pete, steve, spanky... and of course the lovely camilla)... there are also pictures of some not-so-good-looking people. i should have cuba up soon and also pictures of egypt within the next few weeks. there is also a section where you can buy small souvenirs and mother's day cards. the address is:
http://weak-kneed-winch.blogspot.comso what of the future? hmmm... well i am out of a job at the end of june. and i'm on the streets from end of july. would be grateful to anyone who has a job and / or a place for me to crash. please baas. allah will bless you. back home in september to see mom and dad and my recently engaged sister - thank god for small mercies... she didn't land up with any of my dodgy mates. and after that the possibilities are endless...
later
d
one night to be confused
one night to speed up truth
we had a promise made
four hands and then away
both under influence
we had divine sense
to know what to say
mind is a razorblade
a 29 step guide to the evening (one step for each year that porto has graced this planet):
special mention must go to the following:
porto - sort of a portuguese hasselhoff. he found his niche in cheesy 80's songs.
dopey - a south african version of gareth gates... he has the hair, just not the gappy teeth. he likes to sing songs that contain words such as "love", and "butterfly", and "sunshine".
wiggy - a younger, shorter version of leo sayer. he has the voice of an angel.
ryan - the human version of a wounded cat. what the hell was that?
i'm not sure when the karaoke activities ended (according to wozafriday, they ended when kirk stuck the mic down his pants)... but soon enough we ended up in some club in soho. the brandy and cokes started to flow... and the spanish girls started to communicate in english... apparently... although i'm not quite sure... but there was communication... apparently... although i'm not quite sure. there was some bumping, and there was some grinding. and then the other dudes decided to head out to fisher's regular late-night dive in hoxton... with the spanish ladies and a few other aussie birds in tow. i was not about to get fleeced at that dodgy hole again... so i headed home. i was safely home and tucked into bed at 1.30ish... dreaming. 
ps. actually... i'm really bad at karaoke. people who were unfortunate enough to be there, still cringe at the version of "i think we're alone now" that frank and myself performed at firkin all those years ago. it effectively got us banned from ever singing there again.
