Just the sheer mention of the Nile brings to mind enchanting and tranquil images. All I wanted was running water and electricity after my fretful five days of Apartment Wadi! I have never been more pleased to board a flight (a diminutive Egypt Air Express carrier) for the promise of my basic needs being fulfilled. We arrived early evening into Luxor and managed to avoid an exorbitant taxi fare although we were well aware we were paying far more than we would in Cairo for the same distance. But hey, the promise of water purring out of taps stopped us from shopping around.
The ride indeed took less than 15 minutes. Luxor traffic and roads were indeed provincial by comparison to the over bloated volumes and dubious quality of our ‘home’ city. Husband gasped as he noticed we were driving over the Avenue of Sphinxes. I was by this point too tired to take in the golden lit Luxor Temple. But, the frisson of excitement had been planted.
The alleged 5* Nile Palace Hotel was as expected. Not really 5 star but amply comfortable. We had a Patio View, which we knew were the cheaper rooms! We looked out onto balconies with bougainvillea plants and a courtyard with a fountain. It was great for people watching. A pleasure these days only topped by...the promise of a whole week of reliable water supply! As soon as bell boy had been tipped, I dashed into the bathroom and turned on the taps. The sound was music to my ears. I acknowledged by this point that I had developed a condition. I had become a ‘hydrophilic’! Dinner that evening was an Italian affair on the ground floor. The food astonishingly good for that calibre of resto in Egypt. We had a table overlooking the courtyard and were charged a small fee as we would be able to enjoy the evening show over dinner!? The thought did not fill me with great glee as I was in no mood for trashy tacky belly dancers. Sure enough it all began with a track from Aida as the bored looking ‘dancer’s entered in ancient Egyptian dress and pose and floated around a small performance area going through a rather dull choreographed routine. Predictable ‘mature’ tourists clicked their cameras and whipped out their camcorders. Husband and I looked at each other and thought, ‘well, hopes of quiet dinner gone!’ The tempo upped a bit and slightly faster twirls ensued followed by what looked like Egyptian Morris dancing! This I found amusing. BUT, all this was a warm up for Colonel Gay-daffi and his impressive hip motion! This man was a slender beautiful thing with a mop of raven hair and an Apostle’s beard. With a pair of Ray Bans, could have been a decoy for the ostentatious Libyan leader in his youth. I could barely take my eyes off how he made his hips pop with such ease. His female coterie looked cumbersome by comparison. His party piece was to use his feet to manoeuvre around the fountain on what looked like a small bongo drum! He did this to applause and gasps. I had to join in. Soon afterwards, he was followed by a singular Whirling Dervish in an outfit to make Joseph in his Technicolor coat envious. This man could have spun into outer space. He balanced discs, spun with a blind fold, and whirled his outfit around and above his head without missing a beat. I watched him in awe feeling slightly dizzy. His talent was remarkable and only whetted my appetite to see these mystical Sufi dancers back in Cairo. Shortly afterwards, we returned to our room. The ‘entertainment’ carried on till about 10pm by which point it seemed to have descended into the local dance school doing their week-end shows; all ending with what husband said looked like a gay Las Vegas wedding!
Following day involved a lie in and a late breakfast. From our table, I caught a glimpse of the date palms of the other side of the Nile on the West Bank. I suddenly felt, ‘we are here. After years of imaginings, now is the time....’ We did not rush to the sites as they would follow as part of the Cruise, but decided to walk to the local Souk. As so often happens, we were accosted by a tenacious Calash /Horse and Carriage driver and taken for a spin! He was a gnarled, dark older character in an ash blue Galabaya and won us with his charm and astonishingly good level of English. Ibrahim was someone who had learned the language by driving around Luxor for 35 years refining his command of English from various tourists. I remain full of admiration for these enterprising linguists who understand the value of speaking another’s language. He took us around the locals’ market which was buzzing with chat and trade; showed us where houses had been bulldozed away for further excavations of Luxor Temple and to a couple of stores where we could shop. We worked out he would get a commission if we bought anything, but we were too taken by him to protest. We eventually did make some purchases but my bargaining skills have become so honed, that all Ibrahim managed to get was a cigarette! It did make us smile. That afternoon, he dropped us off at the King’s Head pub opposite our hotel as we fancied fish and chips, which we enjoyed too much!!
Second morning in Luxor, we awoke feeling slightly apprehensive. We had no idea where our boat was moored and feared being taken ‘for a ride’ by the local taxis! Sure enough, our fears were proved right! The hotel Concierge was a Chancer who had no idea where we should go! He tried to charge us three times what we finally agreed to pay and put us in a random taxi as the hotel car would take too long!!! The taxi driver in turn took us ten mins out of the city to a mooring for a completely different company. After husband and I made our displeasure clear, we got a tourist police to phone and find out where our boat was! After this, he smiled sheepishly and reversed up the road we had come down! Eventually, we drove back into Luxor and were deposited opposite the Winter Palace Hotel where Chateau de Lafayette was moored. As we unloaded and paid him the agreed fare at the hotel, he tried to argue it was too little. He was expecting us to pay for his mistake. By this point, I was prepared to slap him. In classic Ms Cassimer school tones, I told him, ‘You made the mistake. Your problem. We are now late. Your fault. Enough. Goodbye.’ My stare stunned him it seems. We left him standing with his head shaking.
On board, we presented our papers and checked in. Ostensibly, the boat seemed very smart. The description was ‘deluxe’. But really, it wasn’t. Our room which was meant to be a suite was just a comfortable sized room. The fixtures were faded and the whole feel was shabby, not even chic! But, there was running water and electricity! I was not going to complain. It was clean and we had all we needed. I’d also taken to our Chamber Boy, whom I decided to call Shrek. He was big, lumbering, gap toothed and looked slightly oafish but had an endearing manner and delighted us each day with his towel animals!
That afternoon, we had our first excursion to Karnak and Luxor temples. I thought we would be in a group, but as we booked independently, there was only a young family with us. An American couple with three children. Six year old Charlotte, three year old Christophe and one year old Isaac. Our first impressions were ‘OMG!’ I have always been slightly allergic to children outside school time and we had planned this trip thinking it would be child free!! However, our fears were soon allayed. The parents were prodigiously calm, well organised, and very considerate and their children were adorable and biddable. We admired them in the end for doing the trip and introducing their children to how they should behave when seeing sights. It can be done, but too few do it well.
Karnak Temple. I had seen pictures of it through the years, seen films, documentaries, but nothing prepares you for the scale of it. It is awesomely magnificent and still majestic. No amount of words or images will ever do justice to what the eyes see and what the soul feels. Luxor we saw after dusk. The place was still busy with visitors, but the honied lit stones gave the place a haunting ambiance. It became possible to imagine the place being lit by torchlight as the high priests carried out their ritualistic tasks. It’s astonishing to believe the longevity of this civilisation over three millennia, but when one sees the legacy they have left, it becomes plausible to believe how and why.
Our first evening on the boat saw us being introduced to Maria. The Maitre D, a dark affable man had asked us after lunch whether we would mind having a single lady join us at our table. We felt like saying ‘yes, we do actually’ but our natural response was ‘no, of course not.’ He told us she spoke English, French and probably Spanish and she did not want to be alone for her meals. We dreaded who this singular misfit might be! However, we had no need to worry. She was a beautiful glamorous lady in her early 70’s but looking decidedly ten years younger. She was Portuguese and a widow. Her husband had died back in January. His name was Jimmy and he was a Brit. They had planned the trip together and she had decided to do it to celebrate her 74 birthday on the Cruise. We adored her immediately. She was a vibrant woman with an impish twinkle in her eye and a zest for life. We appreciated the trip would be difficult for her in moments, but there was nothing maudlin about her. In fact, she had a very youthful manner and a wicked sense of humour. Her description of the Maitre D as the ‘Last King of Scotland’ as portrayed by Forrest Whittaker of Iddy Amin endeared her to us hugely. She had had a fascinating young life being the daughter of a Portuguese plantation owner on Sao Tome, a Portuguese West African Island. She had gone to school at a boarding convent in Ireland and Jimmy was her second husband whom she met, it seems, in her late 40’s. I admired her immensely. She was a hoot! So much about her mannerisms reminded me of my own mother and her determination to do things on her own terms I could empathise with. It felt a privilege to celebrate her birthday with her on board. I hope she enjoyed the last set of ‘stones’ she wanted to see at Abu Simbel.
The wakeup call came at 5am for our trip to the Valley of the Kings. It was EARLY! I somehow made it out and once ‘out’ we were greeted by a hazy sunrise and balloons over the West Bank. It was magical. No photos are allowed in the Valley of the Kings, not even outside the tombs. And the tombs...I would never have imagined. The vibrant colours, the details of the carvings, the scale of these things, all astonishing. Once the sun rose, the temperature picked up with too much alacrity. I can understand why trips start early as by 10am, the sun feels burning, even in November. This was one place I could not imagine coming in the summer months. How Howard Carter lived on his desolate domed home on a hill top overlooking the valley is baffling. He must have been consumed by his quest. ‘Obsession is the passion that makes you prisoner....’ I enjoyed learning about the Ancient Egyptian cosmos, religion and mythology through these tomb paintings. What an outstanding testament for immortality.
Returning to the boat, we found out we were not sailing that day. No real explanation was given. We were miffed, but hey, we had running water! The General Manager, whom we named Saddam Hussein due to his remarkable resemblance to the late notorious despot, took pains to tell us that it would take no time to sail down to Aswan, so we could not leave too early! We must have looked incredulous as he tried to tell us this a few times. He was a curious character bordering on the smarmy. He also had this peculiar white patch of hair in a perfect circle shape at the back of his head...almost like a target. We did not see him often, but whenever we did, he seemed always to be hurrying away from somewhere.
That evening, we nearly missed dinner having over napped for nearly six hours! It must have been stress exhaustion from the week before and the heat exhaustion of the morning. We noticed the dining room was quite busy...and full of seriously ugly people. Husband observed they all looked like the missing link! They were thick set; tall and all looked like various villages over somewhere in Northern Europe were missing their idiots. I know all this sounds desperately unkind, but it’s true! There is no other way to put it. They made our towel sculptor Shrek look like an intelligent Nobel Laureate! We were with them for three nights on the boat and apart from being eyesores; they were not offensive in any other way. On the knees-up Galabaya night (which we did not join in!) they were the cheeriest we had seen them! Clearly dressing up dispelled their customary geriatric glumness. We discovered quickly that they were a Danish group! As husband said, they all had this medieval peasant look like they had never evolved! I’m sure they had a good time and will be back in the cold now, dreaming about set meals and sunshine!
As we suddenly had a free unanticipated morning in Luxor, we decided a felucca trip to the West Bank would be a picturesque treat. As we walked off the boat, we were spotted as Felucca hunters in a nano second by an over observant local! He directed us to a young man who looked like he was in training to be the next Mr Universe. We bargained a price for an hour boat ride and headed out. He told us there was no wind for the felucca sails but he would get us on a motor boat, just us. We just wanted to be moving on water, so, we agreed. My Mr Universe observations were not amiss as his name was Ahmed, but he was known as Captain Muscles!! He certainly was the picture of muscular health! We chatted to him about what he did and the West Bank and he shared his anecdotes. Talking to him, we decided to make a trip to Banana Island where there was a plantation. He had family there it seems. Arriving, we noticed there were no tourists groups. The ole boys were smoking their shishas and all seemed right with the world. As we were walking around, a boy appeared ...about 12 years old. He soon took over the guided tour and we found ourselves impressed. His British English was excellent for someone who had taught himself with minimal help from his school. His accent, his grammar, far superior to some comprehensive scums I have had the displeasure of trying to teach! With Captain Muscles clearly as his mentor, he would soon overtake his master linguistically! The whole island had a languid contented feel. It was easy to understand why farmers on the Nile would wish for nothing more. No wonder mortal kings and sultans could not generate the workforce the demi god Pharaohs could and did....Allah had granted them all they wanted...On our way back, we climbed back precariously onto the boat. Suddenly, we heard Captain Muscles shriek! He had dropped his watch into the water! We could see it as it was quite shallow. With great agility, he removed his shoes, socks, rolled up his jeans and jumped in! The watch came back in two pieces! I’m guessing he prized his D&G fake specimen greatly! As distressed as he initially seemed, he cheered up quickly. He was a true entrepreneur with his toned limbs in many pies it seems. I wish him well with all his enterprises. He will impress...!
Afterwards, we wandered into a fabulous book and print shop in front of the Winter Palace Hotel. It was clearly an institution and still fabulously maintained. Purchases were made. We then headed to the Winter Palace gardens for coffee and a nosey. What an elegant and beautiful place it was. I felt quite at home. Husband and I have promised ourselves a garden view room before we leave here and dip in the pristine pool. I may invest in a 50’s style swimsuit for the occasion! Red with white polka dots? That would suit Madame!
Eventually, we were sailing down the famed river. How wondrous that was. The pace was gentle, the scenery exquisitely sublime. The lush green vegetation contrasted beautifully with the baked sands of the hills beyond and the delicate blue of the Nile in moments turned sapphire with the changing light. We saw life happening as men and boys went about their business in boats; women by the waterside with children washing large silver pots; young men taking livestock to the water be it oxen or sheep. Occasionally, people waved and always I waved back. I was a guest in their world, and it was the least I could do. I took numerous photos in an attempt to capture the myriad moments of utter serene scenes. The images will never ever do justice to the actuality of witnessing it all with my own eyes.
Kom Ombo was our next Temple stop. A Greco –Roman beauty on the banks of the Nile. A picturesque location seen at happy hour when the light is warm and shadows deep. The whole place is more on a human scale but no less intricate in artistry and symbolism. Alexander the Great and his descendants remained respectful and faithful to the people they conquered and assimilated much of what had made the pharaohs great; including their building projects.
Finally, we arrived in Aswan, an affluent looking city with good roads and the strategic High Dam with Lake Nasser on the other side. There is a great deal of military presence, no doubt due to the dam’s strategic position. There is also some great Egyptlish as in ‘no photoes’ and ‘Cimetry’. There were others, but I could not take photoes! We moored with our room facing the West Bank, so I woke up to feluccas sailing past the windows. Again, another early rise to go an admire the engineering of the High Dam (which involved a great deal of Soviet help); the unfinished Obelisk which must have sent the quarry men to distraction when it cracked then to Philae Temple, one of the wonders of the UNESCO project which managed to salvage important sites which would have been permanently lost to the flooding for the Dam. I loved this place, on an island, looking like something out of a Greek myth. The Temple was for the worship of Isis. It was incredible to see what an outstanding achievement it was to have moved it. The carved pylons as you approached on the boat will stay in my mind’s eye for always. The dodgy guards who took us around Trajan’s Temple in an attempt to get baksheesh were rather pathetic, however!
Our last foray was to the Botanical Gardens or Kitchener’s Island on a Felucca. It was just the wee family and us. The wind was in our favour and we landed easily. There was some time to saunter around and admire the great variety of plants and trees from all over the world. It was a holiday week, so it was busy with Egyptian families and not too many western tourists. Nevertheless, it was not a cheap place to eat and drink, so many families had brought picnics. This sounds rather idyllic, but it was not as pipes with trickling water made the lawn areas soggy and rather unpleasant. We did not stay too long and soon made our way back to the boat. The journey would normally take about 20mins with fair winds, but since the wind was against us, it was nearly an hour and a half. To add to the jolly of this meandering felucca, as we neared the boat, the winds died, completely. We were stationary for nearly twenty minutes. The ole boy let out his sail and fiddled about greatly. The children were remarkably good keeping themselves occupied. Christophe spent the time tying rope around a bench with great methodology. However, this proved to be our undoing! Once the wind suddenly picked up, the boat raced towards two smaller motor boats and WHOP! We crashed in spectacular style! The ole boy raced from one side of the felucca to the other trying to untie Christophe’s rope! It got him nowhere as our vessel ploughed on out of control! Various instructions were shouted to his grandson and to the man in the motor boat before we eventually came to a stop! It was a memorable ending to a stunning trip. The children were fairly oblivious to what had happened and the parents mortified their son had maybe caused it! We said our farewells to them once we were on terra firma and got our last lunch on the boat. We had arranged for a late departure, so managed to rest before bags had to be packed. Just before we left, I went onto the deck one last time to savour the view. As my eyes adjusted to the sun, I now noticed a fratilla of feluccas coming down the river. It was an amazing sight and a perfect view to end this Cruise as the sun gently started to set...
