Caliban – Opinion and Righteous Anger

Our six o’clock awakenings were a long lie in compared to today’s 02:40 alarm call. Now that’s what I call an early start.

With sleeping babes in arms, we boarded the bus at about 03:25 and promptly found ourselves, not for the first time, in a heated exchange with someone trying to squeeze more juice out of the lemon. Well, this lemon doesn’t like to be squeezed.

This time, it was the bus driver, who was miffed that we hadn’t bought Eloïse a ticket, but the person at the reception desk from whom we purchased our tickets, had known we were travelling with children and had said nothing about requiring a ticket for either of them.

After I suggested we strap our daughter to the roof, he became so enraged that he drove the bus back to the hotel to continue the argument there. The night receptionist came out and called his colleague who had sold us the tickets on his mobile.

The ticket salesmen informed me that Eloïse would need to have her own ticket if she was to occupy a seat on the bus. My protest that he had not informed me of this fact at the time of the sale fell on (wilfully) deaf ears.

I could have demanded my money back at this point and, whilst that might have put him on the defensive to avoid losing all commission on the sale, it could just as easily have landed the whole family on the kerb outside the hotel, as the bus sped away without us. We were all awake now, in the middle of the night, and both practically and emotionally invested in going to أبو سمب (Abu Simbel).

Instead, I offered him half of the full price that he was demanding for the third ticket and he immediately agreed.

The bus finally got on its way and we got chatting to a couple of Australians as our children went back to sleep without much effort. Apparently, they, too, had had a run in with the bus driver when they got aboard. The minibus wasn’t even full, so it wasn’t about too many bums for too few seats; it was purely an effort to manoeuvre another tourist into a corner and extract some more money from him.

After a long wait at the police escort departure point, we were finally under way to Abu Simbel, arriving there at around 07:40. It was a rather dull drive with not much to see, although we did, of course, witness sunrise, a shining white metallic disc with a clearly defined edge rising over the desert.

The hotel had packed a couple of breakfasts for us to eat on the way, which contained some items that just about met the dictionary definition of food and some that fell some way short.

We had just two hours to see the temples before needing to be back at the minibus for the return journey to Aswan. From these 120 minutes, some were lost to immediate toilet stops, nappy changes and getting the children out of their pyjamas and into their day clothes.

Yet more time was lost queuing to get inside, as virtually everyone arrives at the same time, of course. Once through the gates, however, it was only a short walk along a circular path, with Lake Nasser on our right, to get to the temples.

There were thousands of tourists already milling around, but not one family with children, never mind a small child of Lukie’s age. That’s been pretty much our experience this entire trip, actually. You see a few people with children aged 5 (or thereabouts) and up, but no-one with a toddler of Lukie’s youthful years. Fellow tourists will occasionally tell us that they made a conscious decision to leave their children at home, rather than bring them to Egypt.

That all just goes to make me feel quite proud that we’ve done this trip with our two children. They’ve survived the suffocating heat, being permanently drenched in their own sweat and in possession of an unquenchable thirst. They’ve survived roughing it in dusty blankets in the cold desert, being manhandled by all and sundry, food that is at times quite unusual to them, visits to endless boring temples and tombs, and many other not insignificant hardships, such as not being able to go to the toilet when you want to and then finding yourself in a toilet so squalid that using it is only slightly more preferable to shitting yourself. They’ve weathered it all very well, especially Eloïse, who travels better than many an adult and hasn’t yet turned five. You’ll have to pardon me if I sound smug: I’m a proud parent.

Anyway, all of the hassle aside, the temples at Abu Simbel were breathtaking, and well worth getting up at 02:40 to go and see. For me, this site was far more impressive than the Valley of the Kings in Luxor and the pyramids at Giza. I’d unreservedly declare it a highlight of the entire trip.

As it turned out, the time allotted for our visit was just enough to be comfortable. We made it back to the bus in time and without feeling rushed.

While Sarah had been in the toilet, I’d purchased some snacks for consumption on the return journey. Beware of buying in the cafeteria here, because the prices can compete with those in the West in the silliness stakes. Make sure you haggle. I forgot to, because the context of a cafeteria setting aroused my social conditioning to an expectation of fixed prices. I paid the price of being lulled, quite literally.

The minibus left Abu Simbel shortly after ten o’clock, getting back to our hotel at around 13:30. During the journey back, another argument between one of the Australians and our bus driver flared up, resulting in the Australian’s calling the bus driver a “catfish eater”. Apparently, that’s some kind of insult around these parts.

Sarah went to the room with the children, while I demanded to see the hotel manager and geared myself up for another session of heated remonstration. I’m really getting quite good at this now, as the daily assault of multiple attempts to fuck me over is providing plenty of opportunity to hone my arguing skills.

Luckily, the manager was a far more reasonable man than either his minion or the bus driver. The extra fee for Eloïse’s seat on the bus was instantly waived and a complementary lemon juice was served up. OK, it was a transparent attempt to mollify me, but I was gasping for a drink by this point.

Egypt certainly is a lot of hassle. You can probably insulate yourself from a lot of it by travelling in a tour group. Everything is laid on for you then. As you leave the cruise ship and board the bus, someone sticks a bottle of mineral water in your left hand and an entrance ticket for the sight in question in your right. When you travel independently, you have to queue for tickets and there’s at least a 50% chance that the bloke who sells you your mineral water will try to short-change you. I’ve been short-changed today at least three times that I noticed and can recall. Who knows how many people have pulled a fast one on me when I was distracted or having a dimwitted moment?

Still, as much as I occasionally envy the ease of group travel, I’d never actually opt for the pre-packaged experience. The advantage of independent travel that offsets all of the hassle is the fact that you enjoy a unique experience. You will experience things that are unique to your trip, not shared with anyone else, except your own family. And, of course, there’s infinitely more flexibility in deciding where to go, what to do and where to stay.

After lunching on kushari, we took it easy for the rest of the day. It was supposedly 43°C when we arrived back in Aswan. We went for a dip in the hotel’s swimming pool and then wandered along the corniche to buy a well-deserved ice-cream.

Dinner was followed by a caleche ride back to the hotel, leaving us thoroughly spent for the day.

Tomorrow, we check out of our hotel and enjoy one last day in Aswan. At 19:00, we’ll catch the sleeper train back to Cairo, a journey that will take somewhere between twelve and fourteen hours, depending on who you believe.

In spite of dark curtains, we all awoke around 06:30 again today. This is actually a good thing, as it gives you a chance of seeing something before the sun lays claim to all of your bodily fluids and energy.

We had breakfast and were out on the street before 08:00. By eight o’clock, the sweat was already dripping off us.

We took a taxi to the ferry landing and made the crossing to the island of جزيرة الفنتي (Elephantine), home to three Nubian villages that, despite their proximity to mass tourism, seem to have made relatively few concessions to the badly-dressed, purple-skinned, sweaty-browed white people who, like us, must find their way along these alleyways in drips and drabs throughout the winter.

After a visit to the Aswan Museum and the ruins of a temple built in honour of Khnum, we walked north, stopped off for much needed drinks at one of the few cafés on the island, and eventually made our way back to the mainland.

Next was a simple lunch of fiteer, served diagonally opposite the train station, on a corner that was somehow managing to catch just a vague hint of a breeze.

With that out of the way, a retreat to the hotel was the only viable option. Eloïse wanted to go to the swimming pool and there was nothing more that could be done in the 40°C heat.

Much later in the day, we ventured out once more, hailed a taxi and made our way 13 km out of Aswan to the south, to the site of the High Dam of Aswan. It wasn’t nearly as good as I’d hoped, with no visitor centre, no tour available and not even a view that I could describe as spectacular. If you’ve seen the Hoover Dam in Nevada, this doesn’t come close, in spite of its greater fame.

On the way back, we stopped at a café high above Aswan to watch the sun go down to a glass or five of karkady, a drink made from the dried calyces of the hibiscus flower. It’s mild, but very refreshing.

A very good tilapia dinner at Chef Khalil provided an ideal end to another blisteringly hot day.

Tomorrow promises to be a very long and tiring day. We have a 02:45 wake-up call mere hours away from now, to get us up for a 03:15 pick-up for the long drive south to the Abu Simbel temples.

The bus leaves in the middle of the night for two reasons. Firstly, to get you to the site at around 07:00, before the sun has had a chance to fully wake up. It’s just 40 km from the Sudanese border down there, although how it could possibly be any hotter than here is beyond me. Secondly, all vehicles making the trip must travel in a convoy with police escort to minimise the chance of a terrorist attack.

Egypt has had too many such incidents against tourists in the last few years, incidents that badly hurt the national economy, and the authorities are keen to avoid any repetition. I suppose this route must be considered particularly susceptible, because visiting other sites hasn’t required an escort (although one of our nights in the desert did, ostensibly to protect us from wolves).

It’s just turned nine o’clock. so it’s time for me to hit the sack.

Q: What do you call the searing, blisteringly hot days in Egypt?

A: Winter.

We arrived in Aswan today at the end of our Nile cruise, a pleasantly bustling city that seems to be free of the hassle and harassment of Luxor.

Unfortunately, it was 40°C when we set out this afternoon to visit the souk. With our lily-white skin, we could scarcely be further removed from the Nubians who call this city their home. After a lunch of kofta, soup and vegetables, we walked the length of the souq and then had to recognise a superior opponent in the scorching sun. We beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of the hotel, where, in the dead of tonight, the temperature is predicted to drop to an altogether more human 25°C.

And so it is that we have Internet access again for the first time since leaving Cairo, some two weeks ago. That hiatus represents the single longest period that I’ve been without any kind of Internet access since, well, since I first acquired Internet access some fifteen years ago. Said suspension was apparently even long enough that Sarah’s folks had e-mailed our guesthouse in Luxor to ensure that we had arrived safely. No doubt they feared we had had our throats cut and been left as desert carrion or perhaps kidnapped and sold into white slavery on the African subcontinent.

Actually, it was nice not to blog for a while. We were doing so much in such oppressive heat that I scarcely had any energy left in the evenings. I didn’t even keep off-line notes for the purpose of tracking what we have done this trip. Many evenings, particularly in the desert, we have been going to sleep at 21:00. What else are you going to do when there’s no electricity or natural light and you’re completely knackered?

Similarly, we’ve had many a 06:00 or 06:30 start to the day, particularly on the Nile cruise, so by the time the sun goes down, it’s all we can do to eat, shower and fall into bed.

We’re here for the next three nights, after which we’ll return to Cairo by sleeper train.

I’m rather pathetically hoping for cooler temperatures in the days ahead, but the forecast is for a debilitating 42°C. On the bright side, at least it’s not summer. This is what the Nubians call winter!

Picture the scene: sitting on the banks of the Nile, puffing on the sheesha pipe after another delicious meal on board our dahabeah, and slowly winding down after a hard day of eating delicious food, lounging on cushions, napping in hammocks, sipping lime juice and swimming in the Nile.

This description, free of embellishment, accurately describes just one evening of our five day sail boat cruise along the Nile. Even Sarah was relaxed enough by the end of the day to give the sheesha pipe a try.

Typically, we’d visit a temple in the morning and go for a walk in the afternoon. One day, we did a particularly fun desert walk, working up a rare sweat on an otherwise totally undemanding cruise.

The dahabiyah isn’t the only (or the cheapest) way to cruise the Nile from Luxor to Aswan, but it is the best. The pace recreates the lifestyle of a bygone era and I’ve rarely been as relaxed as I was on that boat. Other options are the felucca and the large cruise ship, but the former has no amenities and the latter goes much faster, missing much of what is of interest along the Nile, because the ship is too large to moor along the riverbank.

We were lucky to be travelling on the same boat as a very nice Australian family. After five days and nights of eating and chatting with Alex and Amy, we had become pretty good friends. Their boisterous son, Lachlan, was a godsend for Eloïse. The two of them kept each other entertained for the entirety of the trip, which made things much easier for us, as we only had to keep an eye on Lucas.

The only other passengers on the boat were four Italians, also very nice people. We got to know them less well, because of the language barrier, but it was still good to get to know them. The entire party ate their meals together, which says a lot about how well we all got on.

The crew were fantastic, paying close attention to the children to make sure they weren’t in any danger. The deck had low railings, so Lucas in particular was in danger of falling over the side. Thankfully, he never really came close to doing so.

On the final evening of the cruise, the chef baked a birthday cake for Lucas (eighteen days early, but who’s counting?) and this was presented to him by the entire crew, singing, dancing and playing musical instruments. I was dumbstruck. It was truly an unforgettable moment and one I’ll cherish for many years to come. Our little boy didn’t really know what to make of all the fuss, but he did seem to like the cake.

All good things come to an end and so, too, did the cruise. It was a bittersweet moment. We said goodbye to the crew, tipped them generously for their hard work and fantastic service, and then bade a fond farewell to our new found friends, the Australians.

This was truly an unforgettable trip and I must give a plug for Nour El Nil, the company that organised it. If you want to cruise the Nile in style, I can wholeheartedly recommend this company.

Luxor is an interesting place, according to our guide book one of the few places in the world truly deserving of the predicate ‘unforgettable’.

I wouldn’t go that far. Yes, its place in antiquity is beyond reproach, but the hordes of geriatric cruise liner tourists at the Valley of the Kings, the pedlars, the nagging caleche drivers (“You know how much?”) and felucca touts, and the searing heat cumulatively amount to a pile of hassle that towers as high as the Colossi of Memnon, themselves.

The tombs in the وادي الملو (Valley of the Kings) open at 06:00. If you’re planning to get up early to beat the crowds, plan on getting there very, very early. We arrived at 09:00 and the area was already a mob scene, with literally dozens of coaches already having emptied thousands of passengers onto the site.

There’s a relatively new system in operation at the site, which means that a ticket now buys you entrance to only three tombs out of all those currently open. Which tombs are open varies constantly, so you have to check at the ticket office. Once you know which ones are open, you can choose which three to visit.

Except, that is, for the tombs of Tutankhamun (KV62) and Ramesses V/VI (KV9), for each of which a separate ticket is required. Trading on the fame of Tutankhamun’s tomb, the ticket for that tomb alone costs more than the standard three tomb ticket.

No photos are allowed anywhere, either inside or outside the tombs, and you’ll be required to leave your equipment with an attendant, who will, of course, demand baksheesh upon returning it to you, even though you neither wanted nor requested his services in the first place.

The most popular tombs take quite a while to visit, not because they’re huge, but because there is limited viewing space inside. The line of queuing tourists thus descends all the way through the entrance tunnel to the inner chambers, where one can ultimately enjoy a few brief moments taking in the innermost chamber, before the queue U-turns and snakes back outside. The experience is akin to standing on a very slow conveyor belt.

A test of one’s mettle it may be, but the tombs themselves are more than worthy of the effort involved in seeing them. Nevertheless, and perhaps I’m a philistine, but I wasn’t awed as I had expected to be. Perhaps the Valley of the Kings, much like the pyramids at Giza, is simply too famous, such that seeing it with one’s own eyes feels merely an enhancement, a reinforcement of an image already so familiar from decades of media exposure. One feels that one has been before, such is the familiarity.

Other sites we visited while in Luxor include Luxor Temple, الدير البحر (Deir el-Bahri) (site of the notorious Luxor Massacre of tourists in 1997, the Karnak Temple Complex and the Tombs of the Nobles. All in all, we crammed in quite a lot during our time there.

We also took the opportunity to go out on a felucca, but I ended up losing my rag with its captain at one point when I felt he was trying to scam us to pay a non-existent entrance fee for a brief visit to Banana Island.

Lukie absolutely loves the caleches. We took several during our stay, mostly just to please him. He loves to sit at the front and shake the reins and is clearly beside himself with joy. The downside is that he goes mental when it’s time to get down and continue on our way.

I mustn’t forget to mention the slightly pricey, but wonderfully air-conditioned Oasis Café. The prices are somewhere between the Egyptian norm and Western expectations, but service is attentive and the juices and milkshakes are out of this world. This place impressed us so much the first time that we went back for lunch a second time the next day.