Wanderlust

Egypt-map

Temple gorging on the Nile

Despite Ismael’s best efforts to keep us around and lavish us with the mystical merits of his beloved home town, we had to press on. I attempted to convey to him the inherent urgency of our breakneck itinerary. As born & bred Americans, I explained, our perpetual lack of time precludes us from lingering in any one place for too long.

Ismael simply curled his brow, and a look of confusion came over his face. Clearly, he was not privy to the concept of speed. We parted ways after Andrea gifted him a copy of her Colorado Byways book, and I promised to mail printed copies of the portraits I took of him (see previous post).

We did our best to ignore the cloud of belching diesel fumes and uncomfortably dense clusters of Euro-tourists as we boarded the S.S. Behemoth. The term “river boat” would be a complete understatement. The vessel looked more like the Love Boat of Egypt. Not really our style, but the only alternate was a felucca boat. A tempting option, if not for its max speed of a scarab beetle. We would just have to suffer through the next 2 nights of all you can eat buffet meals and rooftop lounging. Not all bad I suppose.

Captain Stubing had us bellied up to the tour’s first stop at precisely 7:45 AM the next morning. Right on schedule for tourist consumption of the ancient Kom Ombo temple.

Andrea scouted the perimeter and was decidedly unimpressed, not to mention slightly peeved about the unnecessary sacrifice of shut-eye. So I dished out the admission price and went in solo with my Canon a blazing!

The Romanesque columns and monumental presence was impressive, but I was more taken by the precision and artistry of the petroglyphs.

Then I had my first security guard encounter. As a relative newcomer to the baksheesh schemes on the Egyptian tourist trail, I politely accepted the the guard’s escort over to a glaringly obvious section of underwhelming petroglyphs. As I pretended to be appreciative and carry-on my mary way, he jutted out his hand in the universal sign of “show me the money.”

Ah right, the stupid tourist tax I thought to myself. Should have known. I parted with a few Egyptian pounds (I’m sure he was hoping for British pounds) and chalked it up to the tout learning curve. Next time, I would not be such an easy mark. Nonetheless, Kom Ombo was an enjoyable warm up to the Nile’s ancient temple viewing.

That afternoon, with impeccable timing, our stewards herded us off the boat once again. This time, we had no choice but to walk the plank into a frenzy of taxi drivers who were frothing at the mouth.

The Edfu temple was 3 or 4 miles away from port. In order to explore the temple grounds and be back at port in time for departure, our ground transportation options were limited to horse carriage or… horse carriage. To these drivers, carriage navigation was merely a formality. Their true profession was separating tourists from their cash.

Andrea and I had haggled with our share of rickshaw drivers in India and Southeast Asia, but these guys were among the best. Thankfully, before disembarking, we had asked the boat staff what a fair price for transport was. A teenage driver begrudgingly agreed to said price and whisked us away with the snap of his horsewhip.

Edfu did not disappoint. After breaching the front line of aggressive touts and merchants, we spent the next hour gaping at the ancient virtues of Edfu. The hypostyle hall of towering columns was fantastic, as were the inner chambers and ornate hieroglyph carvings.

On the return trip, our driver pulled out all the stops in an attempt to ratchet up the agreed price. When it was clear that we were no push overs, he put on an Oscar-worthy sulking and moaning performance. Then, as a cherry on top he added ” I change my mind, America is no good! I no like America!” We paid the original agreed price and wished him well.

The gem of our trip to Aswan is a sixty-year-old. His name is Ismael.

“That’s I-Smile,” he explained. “My mother said I was born with a smile on my face.” He laughs. “I haven’t stopped!”

Earlier today, we flew from Cairo to Aswan to catch a Nile cruise. The cruise basically involves lounging aboard a floating hotel for two days. Cruising the section of Nile between Aswan to Luxor was traditionally done aboard a graceful felucca with swallow wing sails, but, as Egyptian proverb puts it, the one who voyages the Nile feluccas must have sails made of patience. Lacking the time to test said sails, we chose a typical cruise ship, which provides food, entertainment, and a wide Astroturf roof deck on top.

The cruise-ships’ 10,000-horsepower engines can propel khaki-legged tourists to Luxor in a matter of hours. In order to extend the cruises—and get a feel for the Nile’s famous languor—tour companies have the boats dock at destination cities for many hours, including overnights. It is common to see battalions of floating hotels belch diesel fumes onto lovely Nilefront corniches (waterfront walkways), speedo’d and pale tourists lounging on top, lacking interest and access to the more chaotic world outside the ship.

But chaos implies chance, which, done right, leads to fortune. Which is where Ismael comes in. We are killing time watching the sunset from Geziret el-Nabatat Gardens in Aswan, a tranquil, green retreat minutes from the polluted corniche, when he walks up behind us, a grinning Nubian man in a white tunic and turban.

My first instinct, brought on by relentless touts, is to ignore him. One blink later, I feel a rare and innate goodness emanate around him. His genuine enthusiasm eddies around him in gentle whorls, drawing us in, overriding chatter, noise, and tourist headaches.

“I just retired from 35 years as a diving instructor,” he explains after introducing himself. His eyes twinkle. “I spent so much time underwater. Now that I am retired, I want to make up for all the time I didn’t talk.”

He invites us to his ancestral home, a traditional Nubian affair with cooling mud walls and stairways that look up to the stars. This 300-year-old compound has lived Ismael’s family’s history, witnessed births and deaths, absorbed generations of tea circles, children at play, big, fresh meals crafted in a simple kitchen. Its walls radiate a sense of calm familiarity. Time slows.

It is here, over homebrewed cinammon-ginger tea, that Ismael shares the kaleidoscopic stories of his life. His tales weave a rich inner life offset by the simplicity of his surroundings: A night spent alone inside the tomb of Giza’s second pyramid, quaking in his sandals at the alien howling of the wind. Riding a motorbike through the open desert to Sudan with a bunch of Germans and losing several turbans in the process. Falling asleep on one bank of the Nile, dreaming that he turned into a beam of light, and waking up on the opposite bank. It’s the stuff of fairytales, or biographies.

Night after night, Ismael invites foreigners like us into his home. He is motivated only by the urge to share his life and culture and make new friends. His experiences are religious; ever-expanding whirling dervishes that deepen his connection with life itself. As a listener, I felt like his stories had, instead of merely being told, been lovingly etched into the fiber of my Egypt memories.

Ismael’s memories became our own. They are shared pieces of his human experience, which mirrors the human experience.  Our chance encounter opened us up to Ismael’s stunning world, reminding us that the best stories are not heard, they are received. They bear not only words, but new memories. And, most powerfully, stories are not experienced by one person alone. We share them, keeping them alive by connecting, relating, and retelling them.

Thank you, Ismael.

A woman surprised me on my plane ride to Cairo. After the bird (the Dubai shopping express, apparently) landed, she turned to me, smiled, and said “Welcome to Egypt.” It was a genuine, friendly gesture, one that we would see time and again during our travels through this incredible country.

Besides the pervasive human warmth, several things set Cairo apart:

-Safety. You can walk anywhere in the entire city, at any hour of the day, and be safe. This city of 20 million people has no dangerous neighborhoods (although petty theft is common). Can you name a single city in the United States with that kind of record?

-Trash. Many buildings here are old and dirty. It’s a national habit to chuck trash down any chute that will take it. The trash generally lands on the roofs of other old buildings. It’s not unusual to see old chairs, wire fencing, cardboard boxes, and any number of other non-recyclable items heaped up in piles that must have started when the buildings were first put up. (A group of Coptic Christians picks up all the recyclables and sort them in their town in another part of the city.)

-Cats. Cat-haters might call it an infestation. I like cats, which is a good thing, because there may be as many cats as people here. They beg for food, stare at your from elevator shafts, slink around corners looking for scraps. Calicos, tuxedos, tabbys, tortoiseshells–every variety of housecat you’ve ever met lives ferally in Cairo. Cat rescue aficionados would be eaten alive here.

-Stunning ancient neighborhoods. To list a couple:

The City of the Dead, where people inhabit ancient tombs
Mosque-lined Islamic Cairo, which hasn’t changed much since medieval times
Coptic Cairo, where you can visit the church where Mary and the child Jesus hid from King Herod’s lackeys

The other treasure here is the Egyptian Museum, which contains a mind-boggling number of mummies, stone pharoahs, tombs, obelisks, tomb accessories, papyrus paintings, trinkets, and other precious finds. The precision, care, and artistry with which ancient Egyptians constructed their edifices in unreal. It’s as though they had slide rules and laser etchers…but they didn’t.

The Pyramids
These are the real deal, the actual Pyramids of Giza. It is breathtaking to see them in real life. Although they are located on the outskirts of the city, they retain a sense of distant mystique. We explored the three pyramids and the nearby Sphinx (whose nose is in France, and beard in England) on the backs of camels.

According to our guide, in the old days, each pyramid was covered in smooth stone, so there was one red pyramid, one green pyramid, and one white pyramid. Imagine the splendor!

The combination of ancient and modern in Cairo, as well as its tolerant confluence of monotheistic religions (Muslim, Christian, and Jewish) make the city tintillating. It would be easy to spend two weeks here and never get bored. Strong lungs and willingness to play Frogger in traffic–a necessity here–help.