Upper Egypt Trip - Part Four - The Journey to Luxor

We were all up early due to city noises and insect bites. Richard went to the lobby to see if we could get our car to the airport earlier than we’d booked it, eager to put the Boutique Paradise Hotel behind us. He returned saying they’d looked a bit hurt saying, “But we have the coffee on.” Shortly afterwards they arrived with trays of eggs, fruit and freshly brewed coffee and tea, at no charge. I guess breakfast was included. We wolfed down our food, a bit chagrined about the amount of time we’d spent searching for breakfast the day before.

The car arrived and we were off to the airport. I was excited about this part of the journey. We were headed to Nile Compound in Luxor. It’s a little piece of heaven on the west bank that we’d visited in November. This trip was about to get much better.

We arrived at the airport, nice and early, and breezed through security. It was all going to get better from here. A short flight and we’d be picked up the airport and taken to a real paradise, sipping cocktails by the pool, surrounded by fragrant colourful flowers.

The check-in lady looked at our tickets for an inordinate amount of time. A thread of worry started to creep into my poolside reverie.

“Go there,” she said brusquely, gesturing towards a closed counter manned by a dude who was doing a lacklustre job of trying to look busy.

The thread of worry started knitting into a light sweater. We fumed and fretted quietly while moving the next counter. The check-in dude looked up at us. No Arabic was needed to understand his look said “Why are you here?”

“She sent us,” I said, indicating the lady who’d just passed the buck. She studiously ignored him. Maybe he owed her one.

Heavy sigh.

Another inordinate amount of time was spent staring at tickets and I was getting a little peeved at the lack of service.

“You need to go to the sales counter,” he said.

You’re kidding.

My parents, Oscar and I sat and waited while Richard went back out though security in search of the sales counter. After a long time spent fidgeting and trying to unravel the caftan of worry knitting in my brain, I called Richard.

“We have to get on the the next flight,” he said. The flight wasn’t for another six hours.

I launched into a tirade about how they should upgrade us to first class and this was ridiculous. Richard was suspiciously silent.

“Actually, they are doing us a favour.”

Turns out Rich had booked the flights for May instead of April.

All I could do was laugh and feel grateful that it wasn’t me who royally screwed up. Fortunately my parents were cool about it. We had a 6-hour wait at the domestic area of terminal three with has a total of one exorbitantly expensive cafe and one ridiculously pricey duty-free shop.

Thank goodness for devices. I collected a good amount of Candy Crush boosters.

A good seven hours later we were picked up at the airport. The driver regaled us with fables about his 25 kids and five wives. Mom was having none of it.

“Don’t you believe me?” he asked.

“Honestly, no,” she replied bluntly.

No flies on her. I was so proud. Turns out he has one wife and two kids. We ain’t no gullible tourists dude.

We finally arrived at our little paradise and I was pleased to see it had only changed for the better. We had an apartment this time, with a balcony overlooking the Nile. Heaven.

Rich probably thought he was redeemed now that we’d arrived. My parents thought the place was fantastic.

“Would have been better five hours ago,” they agreed.

Karnak

Last week we went to Karnak in Luxor (formerly known as Thebes). We’d been there before, along with throngs of cruise ship passengers. This time there were relatively few tourists.

Karnak is a complex of temples that were built over 2000 years and cover more than 100 hectares. It is the largest ancient religious preservation in the world. Enormous statues tower over the Great Hypostyle Hall, which looks like it was built for giants. Every inch of eerie dark tomb walls are covered in hieroglyphics. It's hard to imagine how it could have been built thousands of years ago. Some parts are as much as 4000 years old. It’s impressive, to say the least.

Braving the bazaar

A restaurant and souvenir stand near the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut.

We were sitting on our patio at Nile Compound chatting with our American neighbours. (These were the only real-life Trump supporters I’ve ever met and seemed completely normal, no horns or anything.) They were telling us about their technique for getting through the souvenir pedlars at tourist sites in Luxor, involving a head-down-no-eye-contact approach. I’m familiar with this technique having been the recipient of it as a photographer on cruise ships but I get it. The “bazaar” as it’s called is the area of the entrance to a tourist site that is lined on both sides by people who will try all manner of tricks to sell their wares. I took to calling it the “gauntlet”.

The first time I entered a Luxor bazaar was at Valley of Kings. Being the only tourists in the bazaar we didn’t have our usual option of darting through the crowd unmolested. After a few steps I was handed a stone figurine which the seller wouldn’t take back. I put the figurine down at a random stall and found it back in my hands seconds later. Meanwhile other vendor were crowding around, shouting. One put a gawd awful hat on my head. Richard bought a guide book the Valley of Kings and one for a place we didn’t even visit. I ended up buying the figurine having unintentionally bargained down to 1/5th of the original price while trying to return it.

We put our heads down and scooted through the rest of the bazaar. We spent the next few hours in the quiet of the desert or exploring tombs. On the way out we needed to pass through the same marketplace. It was empty of tourists, full of vendors. I squared my shoulders and reluctantly headed towards the vendors shouting greetings.

“Once more unto the breach,” I muttered to myself.

This time there was a new trick. Free stuff. Trinkets mostly. I would try to give them back. “No money, no money, it’s a gift” they would say. I was given a necklace and Oscar a scarab, a pendant and a stone pyramid. By George it worked. I felt obligated to enter the stall and at least look. My perception changed. I discovered if I answered “Alexandria” when they asked where I was from, the tone changed. The bazaar felt less like battle and more like fun.

By Hatshepsut’s temple I was a bargaining pro-star. Meaning I was actually buying things I wanted instead of whatever was thrust into my hands. All manner of souvenirs lined the stalls including basalt figurines, alabaster carvings, gemstone pyramids, scarves, hats, clothes and Egyptian cotton.

There was a pattern of sorts. Vendors would cheerfully start the negotiations at an absurdly high price, I would go absurdly low and after a jovial bartering session we would both be happy. Me, because I’d got them down to a fraction of the original price, and them because they’d still made a tidy profit. A few times I was given a gift of a scarf or some carved stone after the bargain was struck and the price paid.

Knowing that tourism in Egypt was in a bad way I was happy to spread some of our meagre wealth around.

The common refrain we heard was “we love tourists.” One gentlemen pleaded with me to tell my friends that Egypt is safe. “There is no problem here,” he stated emphatically. I agreed, saying I live in Egypt and have never felt unsafe. The most negative experience I had was probably the post office, but post office suck all over the world. In Canada I’ve been frustrated with the 47 types of ID you need if you don’t happen to have your driver’s license on you, and paying extortionate rates for parking while not managing to actually pick up the bloody package. See! I’m get riled up just thinking about it.

So, my friends, here is my attempt to keep my promise and tell you about Egypt.

1. In my opinion, Egypt is probably as safe as anywhere in Europe. Nowhere is really “safe,” but I for one refuse to let terrorists make me live in fear. I will be smart and use common sense, but I will not cower. As for the revolutions, I’m far from an expert but things seem to have stabilized. There were protests scheduled for November 11 but it looks like no one turned up. I can think of a few western nations more likely to have a revolution than Egypt.

2. This is great time to visit Egypt. The last time I went to Karnak, it was full of tourists shuffling along at a glacial pace like a horde of zombies wearing pleated shorts, knee high socks and fanny packs. This time we strolled around at will, enjoyed the relative silence and were able to soak in the beauty and majesty of the place in our own time.

3. For the most part, Egyptians are friendly towards westerners. Many Egyptian know some English and love to practise, and if you can muster a few words of Arabic it is much appreciated. If Egyptians have ever been are slagging me off, I was unaware. Personally I’m ashamed when I read news reports that Muslim women are afraid to wear a hijab in my home continent, and I walk around Egypt unveiled with no issues. You can expect more tolerance here.

3. Cell coverage and data is great. Send emails. Avoid the post office.

Vacation on the Nile - West Bank, Luxor

Last week we left the city behind for a vacation on the west bank of the Nile in Luxor.

We took the overnight train from Alexandria and I remember waking up, the morning sun slanting in the window and painting the country scenes out the window in an orange light. In the patchwork of fields, men and women harvested crops by hand or plowed fields with a donkey. Every piece of fertile land was being used to grow, even the narrow strip of land between the train and the river.

Where we stayed on the west bank we were surrounded by fields and small villages. Aside from the odd car or scooter, the donkey was the main mode of transportation, both carrying people and pulling carts. In fact, aside from the occasional motor vehicle, the west bank looked like it could have been frozen in time for hundreds of years. Unlike the city, all women were veiled and all men wore a robe (I believe it’s called a Galabeya) and a head scarf.

As I strolled the streets, some women would dash away with their children in tow when they caught sight of me. Others were friendly and agreed to have photos taken. Once, a group of children crowded around chattering in Arabic and a smattering of English. Sometimes the men would look at me with vague suspicion, but a cheery “sabah el khreer” (good morning) from me would engender a friendly response, often with a face transformed, wreathed in smiles.

We got the most smiles during a slightly embarrassing donkey ride that Oscar loved and seemed to provide a lot of entertainment for the locals. We must have been a sight, a couple of slightly portly white folks on skinny donkeys, Rich with his feet almost touching the ground. Many villagers waved at us and we felt obliged to wave back from our modest steeds, like part of a funny tourist parade or a parody of the royal family.

We stayed for four nights at Nile Compound with our hosts were Elsa and Mahmoud. Elsa is German and taught Oscar how to say “guten Tag” and play Uno. Mahmoud is Egyptian and helped us sort out transportation to all of the sites and sorted trips to the bank machine and train station. Both made us feel very welcome and comfortable.

During our stay we would wake up to coffee on the patio and breakfasts of eggs, pancakes, fresh juice, fruit and yogurt. Between our excursions we would enjoy the serenity of the compound. I can recall with perfect clarity, floating on the pool in the sunshine, listening to Oscar’s giggles while Richard did etchings in his journal.

On the last day they took us on a felucca ride to Banana Island. A felucca is a wooden sail boat and Banana Island is an island with lots of bananas (more about that later). By the end of our stay, as they saw us off to the train station with a packed lunch, it felt like they were family.

For more information about Nile Compound visit their Facebook Page. I'm not being paid to promote them, honest. It is so easy to complain when something is wrong, but when you get great service it is important to be just as enthusiastic in your praise. These guys deserve it!