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Published: February 22nd 2012
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Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order to smite. The sounding furrow; for my purpose holds. To sail beyond the sunset and the batts of all the western stars, until I die. (Alfred Lord Tennyson.) Ulysses.
If Cairo is frenetic Aswan is tranquil. Nestled below the gigantic Lake Nasser it is charming and scenic. Aswan the main town on one side of the river and a Nubian village, where we are staying, on the other.
The two are a contrast, one coloured brown the other painted shades of blue. The cultures are also different, with the aggressive Arabs versus the relaxed Nubians. Our house is a small eight roomed establishment with a view to die for (Beit Al-Kerem): to the front of us is the Nile and Aswan on the far bank, the Nubian village running down the Nile beside us and the ruins of The Tombs of The Nobles towering over us from behind.
The Nile flows through a series of islands in Aswan. Next to us is Elephantine Island, in about 3000BC a fort was built on this island as the last frontier of Egypt.
Can you believe that 5000 years ago! Next to Elephantine is Kitchener Island. The island was given to Lord Kitchener as a gift when he was in charge of the Egyptian Army in 1890. He turned it into Botanical Gardens, importing plants from all over the world. A pleasure to stroll through, even Kathy gave it the tick of approval.
After settling in we take the ferry across to the East Bank. A simple enough venture you would think. We are first to board this small vessel and duly sit up the front. Some local Nubian ladies follow us and sit beside us glaring viscously; we are a little stunned, until finally they gesture towards me to move. The seating is segregated men and women, boys and girls. The ladies up the front, the men up the back, no fraternizing allowed. One pound to cross the Nile. The ladies are all dressed in their black burqas, are dark skinned, dumpy, with broad features. The men are solid, bordering on fat, there is no famine here that is for sure. They are reasonably tall. Most dressed in Kaftans made of cotton or camel hair. All the men smoke. Apparently 90%
of Egyptians smoke including the ladies only they are more discreet than the men.
The ship boy knocks on our door and tells us to follow him. Kathy is about to tick one of those boxes of life. Something on that bucket list. A Felucca ride on the Nile. The boat is majestic, it has a single, canvas sail on a 10 metre single curved mast. A Bob Marley flag flutters off the rigging, God (Allah) knows why. A keel in the middle and a rudder at the rear. The captain, dressed in his traditional white robe of Camel hair and his cigarette dangling between his tar stained teeth, utters few words but is the master of his ship. It obeys his every command. Sailing up the Nile we stop at the Botanical Gardens, than on between the famous dark boulders, turning and passing at Elephantine Island and back down to Aswan. Passing the huge luxury liners moored together on the bank; the flash and not so flash hotels down the east bank; and then swinging into the wind and racing across the Blue Nile to the west bank with the sun disappearing behind the Libyan desert and the light reflecting off the water. A childish smile on Kathy’s face that only comes with one of those first pure discoveries of life.
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