On logistics and friends (Sudan)

Sudan felt like another Libya, Syria or Iran--full of mysteries and anxieties for the uninitiated traveler to countries on the "Axis of Evil."

After two months in North Africa and the Middle East, you'd imagine you had gotten used to the region's cultures, languages, customs, food, transport and accommodation. Conceivably, previous journeys in less developed countries would prepare you for travel elsewhere. But while I knew sub-Saharan Africa was far from similar to its northern neighbours, having gathered first-hand accounts on Sudan from four travelers and researched countless times, nothing could fully prepare me for Sudan.

Sudanese visa formalities, for one thing, were an unusual experience. I was required to hand in a letter of introduction from my country's embassy in Cairo. Taiwan, of course, had no diplomatic representation in the largest capital of the Arab world; I had to ask for one from the semi-official Taiwan Trade Office, tucked away in the massive City Stars shopping complex in the al-Misr suburbs. It wasn't easy to locate the mall by bus, as everything was labeled in Arabic, but a friendly 25-year-old local man and three trendy women graciously showed me the way on separate occasions.

There was no guarantee that my letter would work, however, as Sudan could deny my entry simply because of the "China factor"--the anti-Taiwan regime is the largest investor and arms supplier to Sudan at a time when the oil-rich country is shunned by the international community for the humanitarian crisis in Darfur.

It was also discouraging to know that Americans and those who visit Israel are routinely refused visas. I held a US passport and had recently been to Jerusalem and the West Bank, so my US$ 100 payment would slip down the drain if it was found I had violated the Islamist state's stringent tourism codes.

The second inconvenience involved the actual process of reaching Sudan. Apart from the plane, the Aswan-Wadi Halfa ferry was the only way to cross from Egypt to Sudan. But the ferry ran only once a week and had to be booked days in advance. Although I had arrived three days before the scheduled departure, second-class tickets had already sold out.

The wait in Aswan lasted a week, during which I befriended a Spanish teacher Fernando and a French cyclist Clement who shared the same dodgy, 5-pound-a-night hostel room as I. Luckily, we were all headed for the same destination, and had successfully attained Sudanese visas. So we decided to give it a try on Monday, hoping to obtain seats in the event of no-shows.

Clement was an interesting fellow. When you're traveling, you'd often meet exceptional characters who take travel to the highest level: cyclists, wheelchair users, walkers, and hitchhikers (the full-out type, not just the occasional hitcher). Clement was a 27-year-old cyclist who rode down to scorching Egypt all the way from the Middle East, and he was about to take on the next challenge: crossing the vast desert terrains in the largest African country where summer temperatures range from 40 to 50 degrees centigrade. For him, it was an alternative , inexpensive and eco-friendly way to see and feel the world at its basics.

His project was impressive, not the least because he was cycling alone in an underdeveloped, almost primeval, world. There were lots of risks and determination he had to take in making his epic journey. At times, he nearly fell sick to dehydration and ran out of drinking water amid the uninhabited desert. He told of many touching encounters where amiable locals helped him along the way and probably had saved his life. For the courage he showed, I held a lot of respect for Clement. Despite our very brief encounter, it also felt awesome to get to know someone as friendly and cool, especially when you hadn't seen and talked to a traveler for weeks.

As for thirty-year-old Fernando, he was also unusual in his own way. Teachers, in general, tend to be stereotypically conservative, or at least less receptive to events outside their realms. But Fernando didn't fit this popular image; rather, he was an open-minded adventurer at heart. Having backpacked to Iran before, Fernando felt that as someone charged with molding the impressionable minds of future leaders, he needed to make an effort to understand other cultures beyond the negative news portrayed by Western media. What better way to achieve this objective than to travel and interact with the people for himself?

Fernando said his pupils had been impressed by his photographs and stories of kids and cultures in the developing world. His goal in the current East African journey (Sudan, Ethiopia, Tanzania) was simply to show, through photo stories, his students how their counterparts fared on the other side of the globe. This was crucial, he asserted, not only because Spaniards were among the worst traveled Europeans and could gain a lot by venturing outside their comfort zones, but also because his students were growing up in an increasingly global world where an understanding of other cultures would be of paramount importance.

The two days I spent with the two special people made me look forward to our group journey from Egypt to Sudan. We would be able to learn more about each other and share each other company. So early on Monday, we took the local train to the docklands near the Nile's First Cataract. Beneath the scorching sun and amid the large home-bound crowd, we waited anxiously for ferry seats to free up and head for the land of the Nubians.