I’m on the roof of a four-storey cruise ship on the Nile River. I’m passing by date-bearing palm trees, corn fields, sugarcane, and other crops. Water buffalo rest along the shore for a break from the heat, reaching nearly 110 degrees today (during this time of the year the temperature can go up to 120 here, so we’re actually lucky). Occasionally we pass a village of adobe homes and a mosque minaret reaching above the rooftops. Behind some of the fields,I see dry sand-colored mountains. We pass traditional faluca boats on the river. Their sails look like two bat winds extended into the air extending over what appears to be calm blue waters. The ship has just changed the music from 60s soul to more traditional Arabic music with woodwinds and drums. I welcome the change; it seems to complement the scenery better.
The ship is extremely comfortable, luxurious even. Our rooms feel like the inside of swanky Manhattan hotels with lush shiny fabric curtains, very soft mattresses, shades of burdundy, gray and black plush carpeting with simple geometric designs. Those colors run through the ship in the restaurant and the large bar area where we wathed a belly dancer last night. The belly dancer wasn’t the best, but it was entertaining for the sake of the novelty for those of us not used to seeing belly dancers. On the roof, the couches are incredibly comfortable with plush white linen pillows on wicker. There are linen tents above us and a small pool at the end of the boat made of thousands of neatly laid tiles.
I feel a bit uncomfortable about the luxuriousness of this trip. I wonder what the local people think of our ship when we dock. Is it the way I imagine the impossible lifestyle of someone like Donald Trump? Do I deserve these accommodations, particularly at the expense of US taxpayers?
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I just left Edfu Temple, the most well-preserved ancient Egyptian temple with its 59 foot ceilings and columns and the preserved slabs of granite and marble above. The temple is a monument to the falcon-headed god of Horace On our way out, we passed by the stalls of several handicrafts merchants. I tried on some shirts, wanting to bring one back as a souvenir. I’ve noticed that the salespeople here are both very eager to be familiar and also extremely hungry to make their sales. I wanted to buy a simple cotton shirt and scarf, and the salesman at one place, who had already had his arm around me, touched my shoulder several times as well as shook my hand six different ways quoted me the price of 380 Egyptian pounds, about $70US. I offered a significantly lower price, and he refused to go lower. Our bus was about to leave, and I left the goods on the floor of his stand. He followed me and tried to bargain, all the way to the foot of the bus stairs. The bus driver couldn’t open the door fast enough, and I felt desperate (as I suppose the salesman did to make his sale). He and a friend tried to gesture prices to me from outside the bus, but I refused to look at them. I felt bad about this, but I was tired of the touching (which they wouldn’t do to Egyptian women) and the dickering over the price. Enough. And then I remember the dollars and dollars I have brought here and the boat I don’t really belong on and wonder what I’m doing here at all.
I had lunch where I was able to choose among a vegetarian entrée, veal steak or perch. I chose the veal. The waiter brought out several pieces of silverware, made sure my water glass was never empty, said, “Yes, madame, is there anything else I can bring for you?” among several other polite overtures.
Ancient Egypt is overwhelming. I was inside the tombs of the Valley of the Kings as well as the Valley of the Queens yesterday. I trekked down 300 feet to see the tombs, the paint that has survived 4000 years on the walls depicting the journey into death and the hope for a good reincarnation. Rich indigo, yellow, and reds brought to life the king and queen in a gentle and modest embrace, a scene I have viewed now in the Egyptian Museum and other places—demonstrative of the importance of the loving relationship between men and women throughout the ages in Egypt. I also visited Luxor Temple and saw how a Muslim mosque was built atop some of the ruins and how the mosque is still used today. I marveled at the columns in Kunkam Temple, 134 of them reaching up 69 feet.
We travel to another ruins site soon. I think I’ll go downstairs and cool off a bit.
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