Wow, a lot to cover...

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We spent a while in Cairo, visiting among other things Islamic Cairo, Coptic Cairo, Khan-Al-Khallili. Al-Azhar Mosque was very beautiful and we were given a lot of pamphlets and literature about Islam. It was very interesting and mostly it is a religion that makes a great deal of sense. If you're a little educated regarding the Bible (as in the books that are not generally included in the Old Testament) you will be aware that much of the Bible was distorted by Roman politics, papal editing and rejection of books of scripture and so on (and travelling through Africa I am now aware of the existence of Coptic Christianity and the Coptic Pope where I was once completely ignorant of this). It's not that I'm a convert or anything but I will say that I think every Christian or student of Christianity should read the Q'uran for it's explanatory and enlightening point of view (I bought an English translation in the American University in Cairo). When I had problems with the Bible it was mainly because it became clear to me that it was riddled with contradictions, and I think that if someone had approached me with true, educated Islam at that point I would probably have converted. That said, whilst some pamphlets were intelligent and enlightening, some of the pamphlets were a little fundamentalist...never trust someone who puts that much EMPHATIC! emphasis! and uses so many! sarcastic! exclamation points! in their literature. Seeing Coptic Cairo was truly enlightening (although not as much as visiting the Coptic cathedral in Tunis, which discussed exactly why the church broke on the issue of Jesus' divinity, and Arianism, and was very educational on the subject of the lives and works of the early popes and the influences of a war-torn post-Roman Empire world on doctrine) and really the area is pretty holy - it's where Moses was supposed to have been pulled from the Nile and there is a cave in which Jesus was supposed to have been hidden during the Infanticide.

"When he arose, he took the young Child and His mother by night and departed for Egypt, and was there until the death of Herod the Great, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt I called My Son" (Matthew 2:12-23).

We took the sleeper train to Aswan, and both of us generally agree that it's not worth the price. Sure, the beds are good, but the meal for veggies was appalling (boiled pasta, boiled courgette, boiled carrot, no sauce) and we and the nice British couple we met at the station were thrown out of the "club car" because we were playing cards at the table but didn't want to pay extortionate prices for alcoholic drinks. It was a bit mercenary and we've decided we'll probably take the ordinary train back. That said, Dan and Anna were really nice and it was good to be sociable 😊 Owen didn't lose a single game of Scum, clearly through years of advanced training on mountain-tops or something. Maybe 😊

Aswan was so different from Cairo, mostly it's much more laid back and less openly mercenary. Sure, wandering through the souk there is hassle but the prices people offer on starting are much more reasonable (though still rip-off tourist prices) and the whole place is more devout and much, much more friendly. We took a tour to Abu Simbel, which also stopped at High Dam, Aswan Dam, the Temple of Philae, and the Unfinished Obelisk (although we were entirely disinclined to go see it, especially since you can see it, although at a vast distance, from the back of the Nubian Museum). Spending time with other travellers was good, but getting up at 3:30 to fit in with the police convoy (all foreigners are required to travel in a convoy for their protection, hence the necessity for a tour) wasn't so good. Still, Abu Simbel was grand, amazing and fantastic, the Temple of Philae was fantastic, and the dams were fascinating, particularly as I remembered doing a geography project on them. Being actually there makes it much more real, especially when you see Lake Nasser and realise just what sort of area (the entire area that was once Nubia) has been submerged and what sort of culture has been lost, and that on the other side, though invisible, is Sudan. We saw a couple other rescued temples too but only from the minibus.

We also went to Elephantine Island - a lesson in depression, seeing as virtually everyone we met in the few hours we were there was unfriendly and wanted to rip us off - and to the Nubian Museum, which was really interesting and I thoroughly recommend. Nubia is the area below what was Ancient Egypt with Nubians, a black African people rather than Egyptian or Arabian, and was contested territory. It was conquered by the Egyptians early on as vital for trading from Southern Africa, but eventually they withdrew to manage other fronts, and Nubia was left alone to form its own Empire, styled loosely on the Empire of their former conquerors but with its own unique traits. Variously at different times it was it's own Empire or subjugated by the Egyptians. The museum has, for example, many pharonic style statues of clearly black African nobles and it shows just how highly developed they really were (they had fortresses of type and abilities we didn't come up with until the medieval era). They also showed what Nubian culture had been like just before Lake Nasser subsumed the land entirely.

Which leads me on to...the felucca trip!

Before our arrival we had booked four nights in the Keylany hotel (which was by the way fantastic and again thoroughly recommended to anyone who visits there). On the first day we spent a while speaking to felucca captains - well, later we found out, felucca captains all from the same family - and the tourist office to try to establish a felucca trip as far up the Nile as possible. We were told that being September it wouldn't be possible to get to Luxor because the dam had been closed and the river was low. Eventually, after talking to "Captain Nemo" (who was actually a high-ranking member of the family that used the Aswan Moon restaurant as it's den) we established the tourist-office recommended-man prices and were contemplating signing up with him (or, as he admitted, one of his captains) for a shorter trip than we'd planned (he only offered set itineries) when Captain Ezzo, the first captain we'd spoken to, came over and persuaded us ("I'll take you for less, I'll take you where you want, his name isn't Nemo it's Shukri and he has a deal on commission with the tourist office, I'll do four days, he'll send you with another captain who doesn't speak English") to join him, and we could have the boat all to ourselves if we wanted or find other people and cut them in for a bit extra for food. The guy who came back to the hotel with us to get the photocopy of our passports for the permits was so quiet I thought he was just a crewmember or maybe a non-sailing friend, but actually he was the second captain of the Maruwa, and his name was Ahmed. Our trip was planned for Saturday morning, and we'd agreed to meet with them at the Aswan Moon to discuss plans on Friday, but in fact it was just Ahmed who met us, explaining Ezzo was at the village because he had a bad stomach, and he took us to a tiny local fuul place for shammy and fuul, and then to an ahwa for drinks (we had karkardi, which is a tea made with hibiscus flowers and sugar served hot or as we had it, cold - it's a bit like Ribena, but much nicer) and a chat. Ahmed was very nice, not a pushy bully like Ezzo, he was friendly and generally a lot more gentle. He explained that they were from the same Nubian village and the same family but that Ezzo was a cousin and much higher ranking. He explained that Ezzo was teaching him and that he wanted to save up and get his own felucca, but that Ezzo was the older and had more experience, and also better business contacts up and down river and he needed to work with him to make the same contacts and get a bit better known in the trade. He also explained Ezzo used to work in the felucca trade in Cairo, which explained a lot that I learned later, such as him being such a pushy sod - clearly he learned it being a captain-cum-tout-cum-hustler in Cairo. Apparently the trade is better in Cairo, the river is manky obviously but there are more interesting places you can transport someone to and being Cairo, you can charge more, and if you have family or friends in the city to give you somewhere cheap to stay to keep your costs low. We ended the evening watching the TV that had been turned on, tuned into satellite WWE. Ahmed clearly enjoyed it, and cheered and laughed, explaining that he could learn something from it, fighting moves, and also English (it had never occured to me before that one might learn English watching WWE Smackdown, or what sort of English). Then Ahmed had to go as he had stuff for the trip to arrange, and we got some food and went back to the hotel.

We'd arranged to leave at 11 (Ahmed asked us and said what time we left was no problem,we said 10, then spoke to Ezzo on the phone who told us, 11) but in fact after waiting for ice and water it was nearer 12. The sailing was fantastic, deeply, deeply relaxing and I really want a sailing boat (even though I know how much they cost in England). The scenery of the Nile rolled by, a great African river with banks lined with deep green bushes and palm trees, reminding me of the Just So stories...

"Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, 'Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out."

It couldn't be spoiled even by Ezzo demanding (think half commanding/threatening) to know "Is good?!" or yelling every half hour or so, "Ahmed! Ey, Ahmed!" to summon the poor Ahmed to do some other task. Ahmed was the kind of male your mother calls a "nice boy", not only quiet, polite and undemanding but also devout. Ezzo kept Ramadan about two days out of the four we sailed, and never ever prayed, while Ahmed prayed at least three times a day, even when he had to do it on the front of the boat (sorry, nautical types, I'm not a sailor and I've no idea what that bit of the boat is called) and the boat was spinning, so he had to keep moving around to face Mecca properly. It was his family home we went to in their village and his family were all very kind, I showed them the pictures I have of my family and was asked lots of questions (Samantha, you have been offered to come to their village if you want to get married because they know lots of nice Arab men you can marry) and fed a nice meal - the only problem was, despite having told Ezzo we were vegetarian, we were served a meat dish, because Ezzo hadn't bothered to tell anyone. The village was certainly a fantastic experience. I think the main thing to try to put across (which I can't easily do without photos, which I don't have burnt to CD yet) is the African-ness of the village. We sat on mats on the floor to eat, and as guests we were offered a pair of couches dragged out especially for us, after having walked about twenty minutes to get there past farms with goats and cows and an irrigation canal. There were dirt floors and the toilet was a squat toilet (squat plate set into the floor, and the nearby tap and jug for washing with the, note, left hand and then filling up the jug to throw down the hole to "flush" the toilet) and yet dragged out to be in pride of place was a TV with satellite box, and we watched Knightrider (which they loved, Ahmed's brother telling us he would love a car like that) and, somewhat appallingly, "Flight of the Phoenix" (the 1965 version). Here's a section from Wikipedia describing the excruciating scene we were dragged through...

"At one point they spot a party of nomadic Arabs. Captain Harris decides to ask them for help, but Sergeant Watson refuses to accompany him. Instead, the doctor - a person familiar with the local Arab dialect - goes with him. The next day, Towns finds their looted bodies, throats cut, and the nomads gone."

I was personally highly embarrassed on behalf of my fellow Brits, but surprisingly the family didn't seem at all bothered. Perhaps they're used to such racist clap-trap having watched so much Western TV by now...or maybe being Nubian rather than Arab, they just felt it didn't apply to them.

Afterwards we were proudly shown around the village, including the local community centre. Ahmed explained that the village had been assisted by a group of Germans on a community project who'd helped build it, and sure enough around the building there were boys playing football, boys playing the ever-favoured dominoes, and boys inside playing on the single Playstation, although no one was using the table-tennis tables. You may have noticed a certain repetition here. I noticed quite quickly that I was the only girl around and asked Ahmed afterwards where the girls went to socialise. He replied, "Well, they're in the home, aren't they?" which I found a little depressing. Perhaps I should have joined in the Playstation footie tournament after all and tried to whoop their asses.

When we got to the beach we found waiting for us a felucca group sailed by Mohammed, a captain we'd spoken to briefly, with a large number of random travellers in it. We spent the evening listening to Arab and Nubian music on the stereo, chatting and getting to know one another, and dancing on the beach, by the bonfire, underneath the vividly bright full moon. I tried to take pictures of the incredible moonlight reflecting off the waters of the Nile, but somehow photos never capture the magic of such things.

The next day we set sail again and had a very calm, peaceful and relaxing time. We caught up with the group again, the mildy irritating more-traveller-than-thou American guy having gotten off because the sailing had been too slow and he'd wanted to catch his bus, but the two Brits from Reading (one also called Stephanie) and the two Spanish brothers who'd also been at the Keylany had been joined by a girl from Cuba and the girl from New Zealand (who'd been there the first night but had been asleep on the felucca during the dancing due to chronic jetlag). The island we settled on for the night was wonderful apart from the fact it was a farming island and so had a large pack of semi-feral guard dogs who made night-time wanders and going to the toilet (we brought toilet paper and lighters, but once again I bemoan the fact that being a girl in the wilderness is so much harder than being a man toilet-wise) a risky business. Owen got chased and we were generally advised by the felucca captains to "carry a big stick" and not be hesitant in using it. Speaking of which, animal rights are profoundly different here, we've seen more than one stray kitten with broken back legs and the general attitude to horses, camels and dogs seems to be that it's perfectly ok to hit them with sticks and throw stones at them. Which is immensely depressing. There are animal rights groups and hospitals here but they're reasonably rare, there is no organisation at all with anything like the power and all-pervasiveness of the RSPCA.

Having said that, we had a wonderful night playing poker and not-poker and Cheat, using seeds (a couple of kinds which are sold in Egypt as salty snacks) as chips. It was very much not serious as we had infinite seeds (so no one was ever out) and also you could eat your winnings 😊 Ahmed and Mohammed joined in, and then taught us all an Egyptian game which works best with two or three players (which made us quite happy, because for a while now me and Owen have been stuck for a game for two players for us to play when bored). It involves rounds with hands of four cards each and the game starts with four on the table, the aim is to collect cards and have most cards at the end. So, if there is a 5 and a 3 on the table and you put down an 8, you can collect them both to go in your pile along with the pick-up card, if there's a 6 and you put down a 6 they both go in the pile, and if you have say a 10 and there's a 10, a 3 and a 7 on the table you can pick up all of them. If you can't collect you just put a card in your hand down on the table. Jacks are special cards and pick up everything on the table - however, if you're forced to put a Jack down and someone else picks it up (which you can only do with another Jack, because you can only pick up the picture cards with themselves) they score an extra 20 points.

We had a really fun and sociable time, and I'm only sad I didn't pick up people's emails or Facebook IDs. Also, I won everybody's seeds at the end of the poker because we all went all in and I had a full house of ace's and 10's 😊

Also that day I gave in and swam in the Nile. I'd already exposed myself to bilharzia by falling in the Nile earlier at the ferry to the Temple of Philae (although only one leg as I got off the boat) and seeing as the water was clear here and reasonably swift-flowing I decided enough was enough, I was sick of being sweaty and manky and almost everyone on the river bathes constantly in the Nile. If I develop bilharzia I will let you all know :S The water was surprisingly cold, in an 'I-have-to-force-myself' sort of way, but once I'd acclimatised I was fine, and getting out and being the right temperature was wonderful. Here, I'm only not too-hot at about 11 at night or straight after swimming, and of course, with the desert and ultra-clear skies here it gets very cold at about 2 in the morning, you actually need a sleeping bag!

The next day we were horribly becalmed. We got to Daraw, the town with the famed camel market (hundreds of camels brought up from Sudan) but because we were so slow getting there the market had mostly packed up. We got to see lots of camels but not the bustling market itself and had it explained, though we already knew, that most of these camels would end up being meat for kebabs and the like. We went into a paddock to examine the livelier ones OK'd by the camel doctor and Owen was much intimidated by them, he has his own explanation on his blog but seeing as he doesn't like horses or cows either I personally think he's intimidated by hooved quadrupeds that are taller than he is.

We also stopped briefly at the first Nubian village build by Nasser to relocate the Nubians after the Aswan Dam was built. We didn't go very far because we were sizzling in the midday heat (being much further soth than Cairo, it's hotter down here!) but we did see the mud-houses with satellite dishes and phone and electricity cables, which was once again a bizarre contrast between the ancient ways of life that have barely changed over centuries and the ultra-modern. We also investigated the plantation, including sugar cane and bananas. We'd already been told in Tunisia that a banana tree only fruits once and after that has to be cut down, but I personally love banana trees, they have huge shady dark green leaves and a slightly sweet smell, and out of the bunches of bananas the huge purple flower sticks out. Plus, I like bananas, although none were ripe!

Finally, we stopped at Kom Ombo,which has a fantastic double temple dedicated to the falcon-headed Horus and the crocodile god Sobek. Particularly interesting was the crocodile compound and the croc mummies housed in a little shrine. We sat down for a while while Owen sketched it, and the only two things that detracted from it's splendour were the crowds of tourists that arrived in the evening off the cruise ships and the ever-present baksheesh men (and tourist shops selling tat one must brave to get to the temple, and the guards, and the young girl-children we gave a couple sweets to). It's a bizarre thing to state but, since having been in Arabic countries for a while, my conception of sensible clothing has changed dramatically. Every time I saw someone in shorts and t-shirt I thought, "Ha! They're going to get bitten by mozzies and sandflies and then sunburned, why are they wandering around in their underwear?" and seeing people in bikinis made me think they were just plain silly. I was burned after my five minute swim in the Nile, in the late afternoon, after having been in this climate for months. Admittedly I tend to do like the locals and wear long sleeved, light and loose tops rather than expose myself. Ahmed's family actually commented, "You both look like Muslims, you dress a lot like a Muslim" which I took as a great big compliment.

The only downside we suffered sleeping that evening is the crowded mooring space around Kom Ombo harbours several nasty fume-emitting diesel-engined cruisers and cargo ships, and Owen was more affected than I, which is quite unusual.

That night, Ezzo explained to us (although having a map of the Nile in our guidebook, and noting the folks in the other boat had also been behind schedule, we'd kinda guessed) that due to the lack of wind there was no way we were going to get to Edfu by the end of the four days, and that we could either pay for a fifth day or continue up the Nile for the fourth day and then sail back to Kom Ombo, and either way get our bus on. After a few days of sleeping (and pooing) rough and without anywhere to wash clothes except the Nile, we decided that wonderful though it had been, we'd had enough, and certainly didn't want to pay Ezzo for another day when we still might not reach Edfu.

So the next day, we went on down the Nile and eventually stopped at another Nubian village, although this one was a rather different experience. As was confirmed by the captains later, it's rarely visited by tourists, and we were literally mobbed by Nubian kids yelling "Pens! Money!" and generally being dreadfully excited to see a couple of whites. We gave them some sweets we'd had the foresight to buy (which were snatched out of our hands) and then were given a tour of the village. Some of the kids were sweet and lovely, especially the girls, and wanted nothing more than to practise their English (they were all immensely proud we understood their 'Hello!'s'). However, like in any group of kids there's always the cynical big boys, who spent the time alternately demanding money and making comments like (mime) "Big boobs!" and (actually spoken by one would-be Lothario-in-training) "I love you!" Mostly though it was fantastic, the adults were all smiling and friendly (although bemused that their village had been turned upside down) and some of the kids were absolutely adorable. One girl in particular seemed to have her day made every time I waved to her and specifically noticed her, she was so excited!

The only problem was the boys following us as we tried to head back downriver, shouting, "Hello give me money!" over and over and occasionally throwing stones at us for fun and getting yelled at by the captains. Eventually they got bored and left off, and we sat still for a while until a passing cargo ship heading upriver allowed us to tie on and hitch a ride back to the Island of Dogs. This time it was my turn to get rushed, I didn't have a stick but I shouted and struck one on the nose with my elbow, at which point it sat down suddenly and started whining and rubbing it's nose with it's paws. So, more bark than savage killer dogs I think.

The next morning we got up early, sailed back to Kom Ombo and got on the tour bus, which was mostly filled with people from a different felucca altogether. We also wrote a review for the trip, which was honest but politer than I would have bothered with if I hadn't felt sorry for Ahmed. It was a fantastic trip, but this was mostly despite Ezzo rather than because of him. We hadn't reached Edfu or even Gebel Silsila. The tour bus stopped at Edfu Temple (which was wonderful) and then we finally reached Luxor, and the hotel our captain had pre-booked for us, formerly the Sherief but now the "Bob Marley" (owned by another cousin from his huge family, of course). It's not bad though and at the equivalent of 3 quid per night for ensuite bathroom and aircon we decided to stay.

The next day we headed to the internet cafe to start this phenomenally long post and then, when they politely ushered us out at 5, we went to the Temple of Luxor. There's a lot of touts here too (offering felucca rides to Banana Island, to which we gave a flat-out no, and caleches, ie horse-and-carriage rides as well as the usual tourist tat) but the actual temple was wonderful. According to Egyptian mythology it's the birthplace of the gods, and you could certainly believe it. The Nile is wonderful, powerful and life-giving, I might even say mothering, at least that's the impression it gave to me. (It also has it's own deities, and to me Anuket makes much more sense than the hermaphrodite Hapy.)

It was also entertaining to see just how much of a, dare I say it, in the nicest possible way, what an attention-whore Rameses the Second was. Take a holy temple and then slap loads of statues of yourself in front, oh and a big gatehouse covered in your exploited, then have it re-dedicated to the original deity Amun and yourself. I can't help but kinda like his attitude though - cheeky though it was, I mean, way to go to ensure your immortality. I again quote good old Wikipedia:

"Ramesses built extensively throughout Egypt and Nubia, and his cartouches are prominently displayed even in buildings that he did not actually construct...Ramesses constructed many large monuments, including the archeological complex of Abu Simbel, and the mortuary temple known as the Ramesseum. He built on a monumental scale to ensure that his legacy would survive the ravages of time. Ramesses used art as a means of propaganda for his victories over foreigners and are depicted on numerous temple reliefs. Ramesses II also erected more colossal statues of himself than any other pharaoh. He also usurped many existing statues by inscribing his own cartouche on them."

That evening was a new education in itself. We headed to the telephone centre where the lovely old man (not that old really, but lovely nonetheless) helped me, slightly unnecessarily, to call my family. Owen headed off to get food and we agreed to meet at the hotel. I asked if I could take the guidebook, because I knew I had a poor sense of direction to start off with and I would surely get lost in the dark without a map. Owen said, "Sure, I think I know my way around now," and headed off.

...I got lost.

I took the 'middle' turning at the roundabout, forgetting that there were four and not three exits. I ended up heading out of town altogether, down the five star hotel road. I got a hell of a lot of hassle, an invite to a coffee shop (which I think may have been hitting on me, but see below), and then eventually realised after chatting to a nice taxi man trying to sell me rental of his car (for a reasonable price, with good English and seeming genuine and trustworthy) that there was no way I could be on the right street, and that I would surely have overshot my hotel, had it been there, by now. At this point I was approached by a man who explained, in a fairly non-threatening and even friendly way, that I was clearly on my own and he would like to have sex with me. I laughed, turned him down and started to walk back down the road, trying to work out where I was. He followed me...actually, now I've started reviewing this, it's really rather obscene and probably not suitable for a public post, I'll put it in private and anyone who really wants to know can email me. Suffice it to say he insisted that Egyptian men were better in bed than Englishmen, and when I insisted I had a boyfriend he first insisted I didn't or I wouldn't be walking on my own, and then said that I should try an Egyptian man and I'd never look back, and what was wrong with having an Egyptian boyfriend as well as an English one? I told him if he didn't believe I had a boyfriend he'd surely change his mind when he met Owen back at my hotel, and that I loved him and only wanted one boyfriend thank you. Despite everything he was never pushy or intimidating, more hilarious and entertaining, so I didn't really mind, and he ended up helping me find my way home, explaining that he knew the guy who ran the hotel, "He is a cousin," (another in this immense tribe!) and sure enough they started chatting away when we arrived, the hotel owner pausing only to lt me know that Owen had been so worried he'd headed back out to look for me. I guessed he'd be back soon and so I waited in the lounge-type area downstairs. The two Nubians went off to the back room and started chatting, I soon realised that the guy (who'd said his name was Andy, but I think that probably was an English sounding name picked so he'd be more successful with English women) was telling of my misadventures when I heard him say "luvvly jubbly" and a lot of laughter. When the owner came out again he said, "I heard you were lost," and I said yes, 'Andy' left and eventually Owen got back, having been worried sick about me. I told him what had happened and he was mostly confused and a little offended, and generally concluded he wasn't going to let me out of his sight again in the evenings at least.

The next day we'd planned to go to Karnak but Owen got mighty sick with nasty diarrhoea, so we ended up doing very little, especially as being Friday most everything was closed. That brings us up to today, with Owen still feeling a little seedy and having taken a few hours more to get up to date. There!

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