My bus company for the leg to Khartoum has the threatening name of Kabosh, but their service levels give a good first impression when a car is sent to transport me the 300m from the lokonda to their departure point. This is the first bus of the day but it doesn't leave on time, and I am able to watch Karima gradually wake up. A donkey cart bearing a surreal load of severed donkey heads passes by in the dawn light.
The journey to Khartoum is unremarkable, with desert once more dominating the scenery. The capital is truly enormous by the standards of the towns I have seen so far in Sudan, and in fact consists of three cities rolled into one. It takes us fully three quarters of an hour to progress from the first stop in Omdurman, the oldest part of Khartoum, to the second stop south of Khartoum proper. Here I disembark and have little choice but to accept the SP10 taxi fare for the 10 minute ride to my intended lodgings.
Abdul the vet from Dongola had recommended this hotel to me, though I had seen slightly less glowing reviews of it on the web. My room is grotty but it's a single and has a fan and a sink. I only see one cockroach my entire stay, which is dispatched with a flip-flop - soon after, a column of ants emerges and starts carting off bits of the carcass until only a stain remains. The shared bathroom next door looks awful but the cold shower has good pressure and the toilet does not smell at all - not even a faint whiff. Thus the SP25 ($12.50) I pay per night seems eminently reasonable by Khartoum standards.
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From the UK, lived and worked in Japan and the US. Currently on a multi-year trip having a look at the rest of the world. Fir…
I convince myself that the fly infestation is Abri-specific, and head south again the next day, together with Tintin and Helen.
I reach Karima from Dongola on an entirely paved road but then spend half an hour tramping around trying to find a lokonda.
While conducting my morning ablutions, I am surprised to see another clearly foreign face. This is a Canadian guy, Wally, recently arrived in Wadi Halfa and hoping to catch the ferry north.
The ferry from Aswan to Wadi Halfa in Sudan leaves from the terminal at the High Dam, and I see a sign saying "Wlecome" (sic) as we drive along the dam's wall. My final shafting from Egypt turns out to be the hotel suggesting that I should take a taxi her
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