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Adoptive Family
A commemorative photo of our new friends (Ibrahim's mom, the grand chef, is the lady on the left) This is going to be a hasty entry as I'm rewriting what I wrote previously. My original entry talked about how hot and commercialized Upper Egypt (ironically in the south) is, how lousy the hotels and food are here and how annoying the touts who troll the streets chasing the tourists that are delivered here by the bus and cruise ship load. It seemed like the most important thing here was the temples - spectacular but hardly blog-worthy and, aside from a few complaints about the scanty clothing worn by tourists here (halter tops and short shorts with bums, bellies and boobs hanging out everywhere), it wouldn't have been a very interesting read. But none of that is important anymore because there is one family in Luxor that makes the city feel like home.
We just spent the day in New Karnak village, a 15-minute microbus ride from downtown, feasting, drinking tea and riding farm animals (or, in Caitie's case, a motorcycle) with our adoptive Egyptian family.
By some twinkle of our lucky star, after a terribly failed attempt at eating fancy international food, we found only one restaurant in the whole town that served Egyptian food to our
liking. During our four days in here, we ate there faithfully for at least one meal each day and gradually befriended our waiter, Ibrahim, as we'd dally in the air-conditioned comfort of the restaurant watching Egyptian soaps on their TV. Each day we'd report about what we'd seen or were going to see (Luxor Temple, Karnak Temple, the Valley of the Kings and felucca boat rides), until yesterday when we seemed to have exhausted our sight-seeing possibilities.
We supposed we could spend the day by the hotel pool or pay a visit to the Luxor museum, but Ibrahim surprised us with an invitation to visit his village and his family. At first we were a bit weary, as all tourists are when someone invites you into their home (this is a sad byproduct of touts who, when the visit is over, ask for baksheesh), but we acquiesced since he seemed genuinely eager to have us. It is important, though difficult, not to become so hardened that you overlook opportunities to enjoy a real slice of local culture, and we were still feeling sorry about a similar offer we had turned down from a Nubian woman in Aswan. He double-
Village Scene
Goats, motorcycles and shady tree...what more could you want? and triple-checked that we would come and we arranged to meet at the restaurant again today.
We made it to his farm as planned, navigating the chaotic microbus circuit together, and were welcomed by his family...and his extended family. They had invited us to a feast where we were the guests of honour! Starting with a tour of the stable, Dad rode a donkey (like a pro, he says), I rode a horse and Caitie hitched a ride by motorcycle (being afraid of mounting any of the animals at our disposal) to their orchard filled with every kind of fruit tree I can name.
Once back at the house we sat down to a seven-dish meal, which we ate, under great scrutiny, with our host. All of my close friends know about my obsession with food, inherited from my Grandmother Zaloum - for all the food we've enjoyed here, this was the best meal of our trip; one about which I will probably rave for decades.
As if lunch were not exciting enough, the house served also as a health clinic for Caitie, who suffered a bout of heat exhaustion after our meal. Suddenly she was being
treated and doted upon by Dr. Ibrahim, who sat mopping her forehead with a cool cloth as she lay on the sofa.
After six hours of tea-drinking, sheesha-smoking and lively banter (about all topics from politics to marriage proposals, during which Dad's Arabic came in very handy again), we took our leave to prepare for our overnight train ride to Cairo. Once again, Ibrahim escorted us on the buses back to downtown.
Serving a third role as a broker for our souvenir purchases, he got us a good deal on some kohl and spices from a local (seriously non-tourisitc) shop. Then he handed us a five-kilo bag of bread to eat on the train, shook our hands, kissed our cheeks and disappeared back into the mess of traffic leaving us to marvel over this dream-like experience.
Whereas my last entry was about to decree that the north was better than the south, the warm climate seems to be reflected in the hearts of many southerners (touts aside). The life may not be as luxurious as it is in Canada, but today Luxor became our second home.
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Kelly
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Nice to hear from you!
Your travels are always amazing and I love what you share - thanks for being in touch Emilie - take care and I hope to hear from you again soon! Kelly H xoxox