Postcard from Egypt: Aswan, November 8th

Today is our busiest day yet.  Our cruise is docked at Aswan, in what is considered Upper Egypt or Nubia in ancient times.

We visit the Aswan High Dam in the morning, followed by the Philae Temple– a lovely temple that was moved to higher ground on an island, when the dam was constructed and the waters flooded the valley behind it.  Later we have a ride on a felucca, the traditional sailing boat of the Nile.

Felucca Sailing on the Nile

One of the most interesting visits this morning is to a quarry used during the Pharaohs’ time for much of the granite stone we’ve seen in the temples around Luxor, far down the river.  An obelisk, originally intended to be one of Queen Hatshepsut’s in Karnak, developed a crack and couldn’t be used.  It remains today just as it was left, half-hewn out of the surrounding stone.  It’s a happy accident, since it demonstrates so much about how the ancient Egyptians made some of their monuments.

The Unfinished Obelisk

The highlight of the day is a late afternoon boat trip to a typical Nubian village, made even more pleasant by a nice, cold beer.  Along the way, we stop at a beach filled with locals enjoying the river as the four-day Muslim festival continues.  We take off our shoes and roll up our trousers, so we can at least say we stood calf-deep in theNile.

Holiday Revelers Frolicking in the Nile

At the village, we visit a family’s home.  We’re treated to the sweetened hibiscus drink that’s popular here as well as tea and some home-made sweets.  Everyone gets a chance to hold a baby crocodile (I passed on this opportunity) as well as to get a henna tattoo.  Then we visit the local school, where we get a lesson in the Arabic numbers and alphabet from the village schoolmaster.  I’m afraid we’re rather poor students, as five minutes later none of us are able to repeat anything.

Remedial Students at a Nubian Village School

Some of us visit the Aswan market that night, which is teeming with festival revelers.  Our guide Ahmed and I shop for small gifts for the group for our upcoming farewell dinner.  We end up doing a back-alley deal at a wholesaler’s for a mixture of seventeen Nefertiti, King Tut and Akhenaten busts, as well as a rhinestone-studded metal crocodile as a birthday gift for one of the guys, who was the first to hold the real crocodile in the Nubian village.

There’s a lot of haggling between the guide and the wholesaler, and I’m shown numbers in Egyptian pounds and U.S. dollars on a calculator for my agreement.  The guide has established a code with me:  when he says “very good price,” it means it’s a good price and I should accept it; if he says, “it’s a good price,” it means we can do better and I should refuse.  We eventually arrive at a very good price, and I’m given a Nefertiti refrigerator magnet as a thank you for my purchase in bulk.

Postcard from Egypt: Cruising the Nile, November 6th

Cruising the Nile, November 6^th

We leave our cruise ship early in the morning and board a ferry boat that takes us across the river.  Our “Captain” introduces himself as Aly Baba.  As at every tourist spot in Egypt, nobody’s shy in asking for bashish and rubbing the tips of their thumb and index finger together.  But occasionally the request is a bit more subtle and even entertaining.

A reminder from Captain Aly Baba

We visit the Valley of the Kings, where the tombs of some of the Pharaohs are cut right into the hills surrounding the valley high above the Nile’s flood plain.  Protected from sunlight and weather, much of the color is still visible in the decorations that cover the walls and ceilings: yellow, red, turquoise and royal blue on a white field. 

While his tomb is not the most spectacular by any means, King Tut’s mummy and one of the coffins and sarcophagi that it was nestled in are maintained in the tomb.  His reign was undistinguished, but by virtue of never having been reached by robbers, his tomb and all its contents were intact when discovered in the 1920s, and that has made him famous.

Our next stop, the funerary temple of Queen Hatshepsut, is in an incredible setting, carved out of the hills that surround it.   It has a special resonance for another reason: it’s here that in the late ‘90s, Al Qaeda terrorists surrounded 58 Japanese honeymooners and gunned them down.  Not surprisingly, there’s no acknowledgement of the event at the site.  And today, a military installation perches atop the hills.

Queen Hatshepsut's Funerary Monument

The Habu Temple is another place we find the original color intact…

Color on a Ceiling Panel, Habu Temple

…and also a reminder that we’re not the first tourists or adventurers to have visited these ancient stones.

19th-century Graffiti

Postcard from Egypt: Cairo, October 31st

I’ve arrived in Egypt two days in advance of the official start of the Toto Tours “River of the Pharaohs” Tour, which I’m hosting.  Over the next two days, 16 others will arrive and we’ll start our Egyptian adventure together.

I have an 11-1/2 hour, overnight flight from New York to Amman, Jordan on Royal Jordanian Airlines, and then 4 hours layover in Queen Alia International Airport.  My only other experience of the Arab world is Dubai, which is flooded with Western ex-pats.  Here, I’m definitely one of the few.  I see a greater variety of robed men and veiled women than I ever saw in Dubai.  Including six or eight men with a sort of white sarong wrapped and belted around their waist, wearing sandals.  They’re shirtless, with just a matching white shawl draped around their arms and shoulders.  They’re constantly adjusting these shawls, momentarily baring their torsos.  And they all have wristwatches and cellphones.  I assume they’re some particular local tribe; but they seem utterly incongruous in the business-class lounge.  It’s almost comical, as though they’re on their way to a convention of John the Baptist impersonators.

It’s just over an hour from Amman to Cairo.  As I step off the shuttlebus from the airplane to the terminal, I’m met by Rafik from the tour company, who whisks me through the visa process, immigration and customs.  We gather my luggage and meet Ahmed, our tour guide.  He’s insanely charming and tells me he will be the group’s shadow everywhere we go, except one place.  “Where’s that?” I ask.  “The toilet,” he says, “you’re on your own there.”

They check me into my hotel, the Ramses Hilton on Tahrir Square.  In my room, I step out on the balcony, which overlooks the Nile.  There’s a cacophony of car horns and people shouting and laughing – but I don’t think it’s anything to do with protests: just another night in the heart of this city of almost 20 million residents and commuters with the second- highest population density in the world.

The Nile at night from my balcony