Dec 29, 2010

Day 11, Abu Simbel

3 am wake up call to join a Tourist Police Convoy to Abu Simbel. We were greeted by our cheery egyptologist, a Coptic Christian named Emat, who was our best yet. You could tell that he had a sincere passion for the studing antiquities and sharing out the curiosities of his home.

We saw the sun rise over the Sahara. I watched a star fade away into the daylight while Anne slept on my shoulder.

Abu Simbel was Ramses II homage to himself, the first standing king deified. He’s kind of a big deal, having ruled as Pharaoh for 67 years and fathered 180-something children.

It was also nearly submerged by the High Dam and moved stone-by-stone by UNESCO in the 1960s. The man-made Lake Nasr was gorgeous and we saw a line of thousands of ducks migrating North to Europe that stretched on for over 5 minutes... think we’ll see any of them up here?

On the way back, a mirage in the desert... (where else?) that looked just like the huge lake we’d just come from.

These words don’t do enough to describe what a great day we had, despite the 7-hour bus ride and the early start, but we got the afternoon to explore and relax.

And then came the camels.

This was an optional and to think we could’ve missed it! It ended up vying as my favorite part of the trip. For an hour I was Lawrence of Arabia. We saw the most magnificent sunset as we rounded 4,000 year old Nubian tombs and came upon the ruined monastery of St. Simeon. The browns & reds & grays & tans of the desert hills against the white/blue/yellow/apricot fading into pink and red of the sky... It was out of this world.

Oh, and we raced. Think I was 3rd, but think Mikey baksheeshed his way to the front...

Afterwards another soothing boat ride to the Nubian village for a home cooked meal and a henna tattoo for Anne.

Tomorrow more relaxation with the felucca motto: whatever, whereever, whenever.

Dec 28, 2010

Day 10

Dirtiest window ever.

The overnight train to Aswan. 1000 km, 14 hours of full-blast AC necessitating sleeping bag deployment, bone-jarring starts-and-stops and the toilet from hell. 45° tilt only does so much in that case.

But the view from the train of the country-side was magnificent! It was nice to get out of the city and it was surreal to see desert on your left, and green fields on your right. Truly and viscerally impressing the vital importance of the Nile as a source of life.

We were all so exhausted and dirty and ready for our hotel (it’s truly a bonding experience) that we were so grateful for the van that picked us up... only to drop us off 500 meters later! What’s the point? But “rugged” backpackers that we were, we didn't argue when porters met us to take our bags. Egypt’s bewildering extremes.

Somewhat revived we set off for the Temple of Isis at Philae by boat. You can’t talk about Aswan without the phrase “laid back” and skimming out over the calm waters helped us to shift gears.

The Temple of Isis is gorgeous, and as survived over two-thousand years and submersion (baptism?) by the Aswan High Dam and defacing from the Christians who camped out there in 300 AD. It was surreal, mythic and the glittering sun on the waters and cool breezes made you want to stay and wander amongst the hieroglyphs for hours. Alas, our boat rental time and Nescafé were calling. So we retired to take it easy with the blokes at the hotel and some of the most amazing Egyptian food. Anne got to eat her requisite pigeon (surprisingly little meat...just spiced rice and skin!)

Another city, another market. Aswan’s known for it’s spices and it was an eye-popping, Kodak commercial of colors, a potpourri of scents, and even more imaginative banter “Buy one, get me free!” “100% off!” designed to turn heads and bring us into a conversation, some cups of tea, and a seal a deal. Anne was on another plane than I was when trying to buy a shirt and quilted Koran wall-hanging. Faktiskt, I bartered for the guy. After nearly an hour I wanted it, and to be done and on with getting a beer... I think Anne wanted blood.

Dec 27, 2010

Day 9

Up, and breakfast. Oh Nescafé, your watery, instant-packet nature makes you an unsuccessful replacement for our Swedish Löfbergs Lila.

Getting to meet our tour who are mostly Australians, a pair of Kiwis and a Canuck, we feel like we can afford to be “less Swedish” than we had been on our own while in Hurghada. Maybe we’ll be honorary Aussies.

Giza’s a regular Cairo neighborhood... but for this one bit of real estate you might have heard of. Besides a glimpse form the plane coming in yesterday (totally cool), our first shot of Cairo’s main claim to fame was between views of apartments and convenience stores. While our egyptologist ramblingly debunked alien intervention in the construction of Egypt’s monuments we were left gawking at how there the Pyramids were. Indeed, even walking up to them from the parking lot one is struck by the thereness of the Pyramids. My heart quickened. I was in awe, and we joined the dumbfounded throngs and tried to shove off the touts. “You look Egyptian!”

Uh huh, we did that. For Mandy.

  

Yup, I clambered on the bit they let you on.

Nope, Pyramid 1 & 2 were closed, no King’s & Queen’s Chamber. But we did slide down into the belly of Pyramid #3, the claustrophobia-inducing burial chambers in little guy to the right. The shorter Pyramid of Menkaure would be huge in its own right if it weren’t for comparison. They’re incredible. 2500 BC.

Our group’s spirit was cemented by a “Toyota Jump” in front of Khafre, and we were off to the Sphinx. Mysterious, masterful, and grand, the biggest riddle to me is how it survived. Wondering and marveling at it, we had to pinch ourselves to believe we were really before such unmistakable landmarks.

Next, we completed our education at the Egypt Museum which was over-whelming and a bit out-dated in presentation. It wants for a dump of curating money. But we saw Tut’s mask and sarcophagous. We saw statues, and statues, and statues. I particularly liked the scribes with folded yoga legs. We saw mummified crocodiles and cats and cattle. There’s really so much stuff! A highlight was Akhenaten and then Hathor (Golden Calf?). We breezed through the much newer gift shop (funding?) and searched for our group. Rally point? “The Garden”. It’s huge. The trip home was a treat of rush hour Cairo. What a day!

Dec 26, 2010

Day 8: ma’a el salama, good-bye

Off to Cairo! Hurghada’s been an interesting unwinding/stressful start to our experience, but it’s time to go from dipping our feet in the pool to jumping full in.

We accidentally haggled a great price (don’t lose heart!) from the airport then I wondered, not for the first time, just who it was we were riding with. Turns out, a very nice man in a very nice car. He considerately tuned the radio to the English language station (for future reference: 104.2 The Nile.) So we listened to Michael Jackson and Shakira while whirring by minarets, tenements and monuments. Had a slight miscommunication where I couldn’t understand if we were seeing the site of Sadat’s assassination memorial, or Mubarak’s current residence. (“the President, the President!” “Yes, but what about the President?”), and so settled in, to take the panorama with the paranoia. 

I don’t know if it was the traffic or the Western bias that floored me more, but what they say about Cairo traffic is true. It’s utter bedlam. But by the time that we got to our hotel I could see that it had a kind of order. I think that congestion limiting speed is their only saving grace, but that proved a curse as we were serenaded by honking horns all night. You’re not in Vasastan anymore now, Toto!

Dec 25, 2010

Day 7

Merry Christmas. The climate here doesn’t feel too Christmas-y but the funny thing is it’s closer to the real thing, eh? Watched the TV coverage from Bethlehem, and went to the Swedish-owned restaurant that had a Julbord. Oddly, for dinner we ate at KFC (we can't get the Colonel in Stockholm. Merry Xmas, indeed!)

We’ve been answering the question “Where are you from?” with “Sweden” becuase it’s true, and because it just seems easier than dealing with however they may feel about America. Not that most people here can tell, as many of the shop barkers (touts, in our guidebook) are yelling “Finland!” hopefully at us.

Arabic Santa (stuffed with pillows) and a very happy Russian sunbather