SIXTEEN INTREPID friends, all of whom met in Benidorm and comprised the whole saga of tales from the Marina, by Bobfrombenidorm, arranged a holiday in Egypt in November 2010. The following chapters attempt to catalogue the experiences of this diverse group of mates.The holiday was originally organised by Laurence and Tony and would require the following travel arrangement. Ten passengers from the South of England booked return trips from Gatwick to Luxor, Six passengers to travel on a return basis from Manchester to Luxor. This is where the trouble started.
The Travel agent booked flights on Monarch via 'Kiss' who went 'bust' the very day we paid the balance of the costs. For whatever reasons, and we prefer the term incompetence, the travel company did not immediately book alternative flights, they delayed until the flight costs prevented the Manchester return flight option. This left the six passengers, Bob, Ange, Gary, Marian, Dave and Pete needing to travel under their own steam to Gatwick for the revised flight to Aswan and not Luxor. The tour company had arranged for our transfer from Aswan to Luxor which they said would take 2 and a half hours with an armed guard, Laurence had victoriously negotiated an overnight stay at the Copthorne Village Hotel, Effingham. This is a little bit outside Gatwick but easily transferable by taxi. Gary and Marian, arranged to pick me (Bob) and Ange up, and we would drive to Dave and Pete's in Birmingham so they could follow in convoy.
On 31st October Gary and Marian arrived at our house in their Vauxhall Corsa and the task of packing in 4 large suitcases, 4 items of hand luggage and four adults albeit no mean feat, was completed and off to Birmingham we went.
Dave and Pete were on the ball packed and ready so that after a swift coffee break we were on the final drive to Gatwick. Gary's SatNav was brilliantly guiding us in the right direction when we approached a bit of a hold up on the M25 motorway. As we queued waiting to merge from the slip road, Dave sped past on the slip road waving his arm like John McCririck, ITV's racing pundit which we took to mean carry on as you are ignore me. However, to Dave the signal meant follow me. You can see how a bit of confusion is beginning to creep in here.
When we were at Dave and Pete's the suggestion was made that one of us gets in with Dave and Pete to make it less than crushed in Gary's car, so Ange volunteered. Dave was adamant when we set off that he followed because he was unfamiliar with the hotel location.
So there were two sets of perceptions in the two cars. In our car we had decided they had an emergency and needed to leave the motorway, or they were trying to beat the traffic jam by coming off the slip road and re-joining further up, so we were looking for them as we progressed so they could continue to follow. In Dave's car there was a different perception. Dave told his passengers "Oh I know where I am they don't need to go down there we can come off here and cut the bend out and re-join the M25 further down, we will beat them to the hotel" (if he knew where that was his claim may have been true). So it was several minutes if not half an hour before we decided to ring Dave's mobile, which responded "The mobile phone you are trying to call is not available". So we decided that we would continue to the hotel and book in, and surely they would remember the hotel name and find directions when closer.
There are two Copthorne hotels. One is the Copthorne Gatwick and ours was the Copthorne Effingham.
We checked in getting the keys for all the rooms. Some 30 minutes later we were still minus Dave, Pete and Ange. Gary said "Bob, we will ride over to the airport in case they can't remember the name of the hotel, that's where I would go.". At this point, some of the 10 from the south arrived at the hotel to meet us, Gary, Mike, Kevin and Carol. As we were talking Dave's Nissan Micra arrived at the hotel.
"Oh what a pullava we've had" said Dave. "We've been all over the place trying to find here". Firstly, Dave had driven towards the airport, Ange remembered it wasn't close and she also remembered the name. So Dave decided to go ask someone at another hotel. He asked for the Copthorne and he was promptly directed to the Copthorne Gatwick. At the Copthorne, the receptionist made it clear that none of our group were booked in. After a while he did ask if Dave was aware there are two Copthornes, and when they said Effingham, he remembered and said. "Yes that is the one". So having received directions they set off again, but missed a turn and ended up heading for the coast somewhere, eventually noting the error and ultimately finding a sign directing them to their final destination for the day.
"Dave why didn't you bring your mobile" I asked. "I have" he replied. "But I have rung it three times and it says not available." "It won't be, its switched off in the boot".......... The lobby was hushed by stunned silence....
The rest of the day was filled with relaxation in the shape of a pub meal and a few drinks before retiring having booked transport to the airport next day. One problem did make us concerned about making check-in on time, the taxi picking us up also went to the wrong Copthorne.
We had a 1040 am flight and we met in departure when all 18 had finally come together. Jeremy (who was doing the best Hercule Poirot in Death on the Nile impersonation in his white trousers white jacket and white hat), Colin, Etty and Swales, had booked passenger assistance the rest of us had a 20 minute walk to the departure gate. Most of us were sat together on the five and a half hour flight. We knew that when we got there we would need a visa which is £13 per person. The tour guide had these visas ready for us when we arrived, and it seems we were on the very first flight by Thomson into Aswan and by the looks of how many planes there were we could have been at the opening of the airport. As we exited the airport entrance there was local dancers and a real carnival atmosphere. We were told not to let our bags out of our sight, but in a moment of confusion, an Egyptian had grabbed Ange's suitcase and she was remonstrating with him however, he was intent on putting it into another coach going to who-knows-where, I had just put my case in the right coach when Ange had that "say the wrong word to me and that hand luggage will end up as a implant" look. I sussed the problem saw her case and went and grabbed it from the coach and put it on to ours. Phew we were on the last leg, 2 and a half hours and Luxor.........wrong!!!! "Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, we will soon be on our way, my name is Mahmoud and I will start the 4 and a half hour transfer......." "What"! was the universal outcry... Laurence swiftly enquired if he had heard correctly and it appeared he had. "We have been specifically advised it is a 2 and a half hour journey" he argued, but Mahmoud was unrepentant and to kick us just that bit harder told us he would be getting off in Aswan town centre where a non-English speaking guide would replace him.
Having had a few whisky's on the plane and having a litre of Bells from Gatwick duty free, I decided my journey would be tempered by the falling over water.
Our guide got off and the new one got on along with a policeman in a white uniform and a machine gun. He sat at the front with the guide. And off we went in the dark.
In Egypt, every Village, Town and City has a police check point at every intersection, and what we interpreted as a Police escort was not the chap with the rifle at the front, but should be a police car with a flashing blue light leading the bus. So we were escort-less.
The consequence of this was that were stopped at every check-point. We couldn't see in the dark, but we were following the Nile all the way to Luxor. Laurence was constantly asking for an estimated travel time which seemed to be growing every time we stopped. Our general agitation must have been evident, because eventually the bus stopped at a check-point, and after a lengthy wait a Police car arrived in front of us with a blue flashing light and the bus was off at a much faster pace. We now sped through check-points for the final hour of our transfer.
Angela (notice her Sunday name) was less than impressed by the fact I was half a litre lighter of whisky, but the sleep helped to negate drunkenness and hangover. So I was able to negotiate my way on to the boat and the mandatory group meeting with the rep. Ahmed, who seemed a very nice guy, was our guide for the week, probably in his late 20s, and spoke English perfectly. He apologised for the length of journey, and assured us that it should have been no more than 3 hours. He recognised we had not eaten for ages and arranged for food to be delivered to our cabins. Finally he explained that as we should have been getting up for the valley of the kings at 6 am and we were late arriving he would do that on our return to Luxor, tomorrow we would do the Temple at Luxor and the Karnack temple so a lie in until 7.00 am........................what joy......
Dear Reader
The next chapter will take us from Luxor to Aswan via Temples of varying kinds.......
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