Aswan is not a pleasant place for tourists. I don't say that to be mean to the city. It's an honest observation. The very first thing that happens to people is that they get harassed by felucca captains and store owners and other unsavory characters who lurk on the Corniche (yes, it appears there is one in every city) and try to get you to pay an exorbitant amount of money for something that you probably do not even want. And they do not go away. Aswan is without a doubt the most harassment-filled place I have been, and I pity those poor tourists who neither dressed appropriately nor spoke Arabic, and therefore made themselves both obvious targets and could not tell said irritating people to get lost.
Our first day in Aswan was more of a half day, considering we arrived sometime around one in the afternoon and checked into a hotel that was surprisingly... hotel-ish. The beds were clean and the rooms had air-con AND a fridge, as well as a REAL LIVE BATHTUB and a toilet that flushed (but we supplied our own TP). A group of us ate at a delicious restaurant and then took a boat over to Elephantine Island, got lost in the Nubian village, found the museum, got let in for free because the three vaguely Egyptian-looking girls made a huge stink about wanting to get in "bibalash" (without paying), and spent more time than was necessary or appropriate wandering around the property and its adjacent ruins. Ruins were cool. I was too tired to really appreciate it. Forget where I ate dinner. I possibly did not.
Day two we woke up at three in the morning to hitch a convoy headed south into Abu Simbel. While Abe had fantasies about running away to Darfur to do... something assumedly humanitarian, I had recurring thoughts about getting attacked by insurgents and having to seek refuge in the desert, living off our wits for weeks until our rescue. Differing viewpoints, I suppose. Maybe that's a commentary on myself. ANYWAY. Abu Simbel was less interesting than I anticipated. In fact, I did not expect much thrilling about it. See, years ago, when the Egyptian government commissioned the High Dam, they realized that it would flood dozens of ancient relics and temples in the area, including Abu Simbel and Philae. So international teams got together, pulled money out of thin air, and managed to painstakingly dismantle and relocate the most important monuments to higher ground. While this as an engineering feat is astonishing and something I would study, the fact that Abu Simbel itself is no longer the real Abu Simbel makes it less... great. I could see the seams where inevitably the stone was lost to sand in the process of moving, and it saddened me. But, it was neat.
A two hour bus ride later, I was awakened rather rudely as a flimsy ticket was thrust in my face and I was herded out of air conditioning into the bright, blistering noontime sun, only to be greeted by the World's Worst Tourist Site Ever, the Aswan High Dam. Now, I have no problem with dams. They have a function and sometimes they can be cool, like the Hoover Dam in the US. The High Dam is just... a dam. I'm not interested in it. I was especially annoyed by the military men walking up and down the sidewalks, telling people in broken English to not take video or use zoom lenses. Private Mahmoud, no offense, but I think the technology used to construct your precious dam is in no danger of being stolen by a bunch of overweight white folks from America or England. We've got a few of our own. Plus, to top it all off, the fucking ticket was twenty guinea, so that's four bucks I won't ever see again, wasted thanks to a tourist site I did not want to see nor had any say in.
But following the High Dam Debacle, we went to the temple island of Philae, which I have wanted to see ever since The Mummy Returns came out. Aside from the harrowing experience of renting a boat to take us to the actual island (you pay for your ticket, then enter the gates only to find out now you've gotta haggle your way across the water, too), the temple did not disappoint. I guess because it's not that big of a deal, tourists don't often go there, so while there were a few groups of Spaniards wandering around, it was relatively simple to get photos sans the compulsory tank-top-wearing, fifty year-old woman standing awkwardly in the foreground. I liked Philae. Neat idea for a temple. Unfortunately, its charm was also diminished by the painfully obvious concrete used to reassemble the building. At least here they sculpted the island to resemble the original one, not like at Abu Simbel where you walk around the back and you can tell it is a man-made hill.
Afterwards, we went shopping and I bought lots of scarves and a bag to put them in. On day three, we set out on our Grand Felucca Journey, which turned into something of a joke. I'll admit, I very much like feluccas. There is nothing much to do, obviously, and the biggest drawback is that there is no bathroom aside from the wilderness. But it isn't hard to amuse yourself if you have a good group of folks, and we did. Many games of cards and Animal Concentration and Mafia later, we still hadn't reached our expected point of disembarkment (that's a word, I hope) and therefore had to take a bus instead. In fact, the group left without our felucca on the third morning, without any warning or word of advice, which appears to have started the string of ill-advised decisions on Khalid's part.
We spent an agonizing hour in Edfu waiting for folks to visit the temple of Horus, while I waited with horrible bowel cramps in the bus until I finally ventured out to find a working toilet. Note to self: do not constipate yourself using Imodium for three days on a felucca. I was paid 25 piastres by a Chinese woman in the bathroom 'cause she thought I was the attendant, which made me laugh and made her very confused. I suppose I was wearing a keffiyeh (the black and white checked scarces), but now that's just silly. First off, I'm painfully not-Arab, and second, 25 piastres is kind of rude. One guinea is acceptable.
But Luxor. Oh, Luxor. Worlds better than Aswan, in terms of harassment. Yes, it is bad. But taxi drivers are assholes anyway and it was not nearly as stalker-ish as in Aswan. And I can forgive the official sign reading "WELCOME IN LUXOR" because we stayed in a hotel this time, a real hotel, named the Mercure Inn. There were comfortable mattresses and down comforters and shower curtains and soap and shampoo and toilet paper and a beautiful pool and a continental breakfast that included an omelette man and crepes with chocolate syrup.
The first day we ate lunch and then tried to get into Karnak, which was impossible because we arrived too late. But on the upside, we met four coaches from the University of Baghdad soccer team, and did, in fact, take photos with them. Then we ate at the world's best restaurant, Sofra, which is in a gorgeous building with a wonderful terrace, delicious food, and incredibly friendly staff. Walked to get ice cream, went to bed.
Our first full day in Luxor we took a bus to the West Bank sights. Some of the group rode bicycles, which I commend them for but still think they are insane, since there is no way in hell I'd ride a bike dozens of kilometers in the hot sun AND be able to appreciate the sights. First off was the Valley of the Kings, where we saw the tombs of Ramses the II, IV, and IX, as well as a bothersome English tourist who wouldn't stop touching the hieroglyphics and who was eventually caught taking photos with his iPhone. I do hope it was confiscated, but hey, it's Egypt and the rules are meant to be broken, here. I was very proud of the temple "attendant" who caught him, though, since he did take it seriously.
After the Valley of the Kings we went to Deir al-Bahri, or Hatshepsut's Memorial Temple, which was fascinating in location and construction, as well as the fact that Hatshepsut was one of the few female pharaohs. Unfortunately after her death, her stepson Tuthmosis III tried to erase all signs of her existence, so most of her faces in the temple are destroyed, as well as all but one of her cartouches, which Chelsea got a picture of. We stopped by Medinat Habu, which is the memorial temple of Ramses III, and the remaining Colossi of Memnon. We learned some new swears from Kholy, who later begged us to go to a concert in Cairo instead of heading straight back to Alexandria, an offer we refused on account of valuing sleep more than anything else at the moment. And then shit got weird.
Liz, the residential coordinator, got a call from a "friend" that "we" had in Luxor, who wanted to take us to lunch. Fine. Lunch sounded great. But we were all tired when we got back to the hotel and it was terribly unclear where this lunch would take place. But we trudged out to this random man's shop, where he proceeded to ignore Liz because he was mad at her, protest against all of our suggestions of places to eat, and finally drag us to his apartment where he had no food ready and made the Egyptian girls cook for him and us. Now, being in Egypt means you have to put up with a certain amount of being strung along -- this was over the top. It became apparent that Khalid was the one who set up a lunch date, only to not show. No one knew this man except him, and he was painfully absent.
But then we went to Karnak, which was the great moment I'd been waiting for. I have wanted to see Karnak for years and years and to be honest, I almost cried when we finally got in. I wrote a while ago that the Pyramids took a bit to sink in. Forget that shit, man. Forget the Pyramids. Bunch of rocks. Karnak is absolutely stunning, and it hit me from the very first step I took between the short avenue of sphinxes. What really bowled me over was the Great Hypostyle Hall -- it is absolutely breathtaking. The columns are so enormous it's crazy, and every inch of the temple is covered in hieroglyphics. We ran around like a bunch of idiots until closing time, and even got a special off-limits tour of the Temple of Ptah by a bored guard who probably never saw visitors that far out against the northern enclosure wall.
Nighttime meant food time. We ate at a place called Snobs, which was good. Khalid came along with us, which was odd considering there was an option of going to a Coptic moulid, or religious festival, that night and his friend was going to be taking those who wanted to go. Sounds like Khalid should go too, right? Apparently not. The next morning, over a (delicious) continental breakfast, we heard that the moulid was absolutely the sketchiest thing ever, complete with fistfights, no lights, in the middle of nowhere, with the same asshole who held us up at lunch the previous day, and who would not let them leave when it was clear they wanted to go. Sounds like a ball. Good thing I was busy hunting feverishly for ice cream through back alleys with Kholy.
Train ride back to Alexandria. Got yelled at by my roommate for talking to our police escort. Apparently in Egypt girls are not supposed to talk to men they don't know. Big whoop. In all actuality, he was the least cop-looking cop I've seen in Egypt so far -- tight pink shirt, gel in his hair -- but the gun on his hip and the fact that he was definitely our police escort put him on the somewhat less sketchy side of sketchy. He was also flirting up a storm with the girl next to him on the train, which was amusing and somewhat cute to watch. To be honest though, I liked our first travel buddy better. I appreciate professionalism and suits look better than pseudo-retro.
And then we were back at the medina. There is still no hot water.
another truckstop on the way another game that I can play another word I learn to say
another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast
WE ARE THE ROAD CREW
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