She really wanted to go, she wanted it for over 30 years. Standing besides a pyramid and looking up to that immense neatly piled bunch of stones. Walk in the temples built so long ago, with many rulers, legendary names. And finally we went, because there was not so much a fascination, but a curious interest in ancient Egyptian history, their gods, rulers and monuments from my side as well. For some unspoken reasons now felt like the right moment.

One year ago our conversation with Riksja began, and after some fine-tuning they created the itinerary we saw as our ideal trip. Giza, the Grand Egyptian Museum, night train to Aswan, Abu Simbel, a Nile cruise with only six passengers to Luxor and then fly home.

We got our shots, bought the O.R.S. and Loperamide recommended by the doctor. Setup an ESim for data on my phone, renewed our passports one time, because ours were valid, but too old to enter Egypt, we were technically well prepared. It proved to be sufficient.

On a grey Friday, after saying goodbye to Plumeau our cat we stepped out. We didn’t speak much as we walked to the station to take the train to Schiphol. We would have bought some coffee but the train was already waiting so we hopped in and found a spot. Check-in was old fashionably slow, A large group of Dutch visiting Mekka would fly over Cairo. It was also an omen of what was to come, we were going to visit this beauty in a country that has islam as state religion. Egypt air did not disappoint on that point. We could see on the screens the direction to Mekka, there was a prayer before take off and alcohol was absent, in economy at least.

Relax, earbuds are at 100% enough songs to stay in flight mode, sit back and survive. We did, after customs we saw our guy holding the red sign stating ‘Riksja’. He said ‘Goedemorgen’ and more words in Dutch which we appreciated. He collected with us another Dutch family then left with our passports. He did his round while we collected our bags and a big pile of cash from the ATM. The bulge of notes forbid my wallet to close. Meanwhile the travel guy returned with our passports, marched us out of the airport, past the security whom, again liked to see our passports. Both parties were introduced to their driver and the travel guy was back inside to await another flight. We followed our driver, or at least that’s what I assumed he was. But i was wrong, this was a guy from the company that really arranged our holiday. The local company that has the means and people to full fill all our dreams.

The real driver was waiting in the car, spoke almost no English but navigated us through the honking madhouse that is Cairo traffic. On the parking lot the minivans and cars shot in all directions, on the left, the right, any side of the road, forward, backward, depending on coming or going. A constant ‘beep beep’ as a symphony of traffic, telling them I’m here. Fifty meter of relative ease but that’s because we just passed a check point 8 boots wide, but once passed that we funnelled back to the crescendo of the claxons.

The car snaked his way through tuk-tuks and Chinese motorcycles. While we romanticise Cuba as the heaven of old American cars, I think Egypt is the Pinnacle of mostly French cars from the 70’s and early 80’s. For me the amount of Peugeot 504 was stunning. Meanwhile our chaperone began explaining some things on our way to the hotel, it was nine in the evening local time. It was around ten after our briefing for the next day, Mohammed took our picture to send to the guide that would accompany us the next two days. We ended in the basement of the hotel which held the hotel bar. People were smoking, drinking alcohol, no head covering. We were as we were told on Zamalek, an island in the Nile, in the middle of Cairo. It’s a diplomatic quarter with over 50 embassies or consulates. This makes it attractive to house tourists, and we enjoyed the evening drinking wine and beer together with the regulars.

We smiled, we toasted. My preferred mode of transportation is by foot or bicycle, second come car and train depending on destination and ease of access, metro and tram of course, but flying over 2 hours? To cramped, too much people too much drills, the repetition, I find it always a saddening experience. I had half a pack of cigarettes and I puffed out a long sigh of smoke. Yes, I smiled, we survived the flight. Breakfast at seven, guide at eight, we indulged in another round of beer wine and snacks. Then took a shower and of to bed.

We had our breakfast on the eleventh floor of the hotel. We went through the buffet no salads, careful with fruit. Cairo was a bit less noisy then the night before from this height. Sun was rising, the building became apparent. Rough concrete skeletons would dominate the view elsewhere, here stood older buildings next to schools and plastered buildings. The traffic, was chaotic as everywhere, but slow moving, in front of the hotel was a school, children were dropped of one by one. There was a strange kind of discipline that was hardly noticeable, cause everybody just took their time to say their goodbye’s and hellos to whichever friend they saw passing buy. The urge from the back of the queue radiated the cars forward. And in rolled the next, another car without a kid snaked through in the second lane, the next car follows in that new lane, just wide enough for cars to pass through between the parked taxis and waiting chauffeurs for their tourists and the kids dropping-of queue. An older policeman leisurely walked between the cars. Talked through open windows, ordered some to move while others were allowed to wait.

I pushed the bud in the ashtray and walked back inside where we waited for our guide. He walked straight up to us, recognizing us from the picture M had sent him. He started in Dutch, we found funny and nice to hear. He was talking so much Dutch that it might be that he could understand Dutch. I tested it him answering in Dutch to his question. Without hesitation he reacted in Dutch. I glanced N. She spoke to me and we continued in Dutch. I was flabbergasted. He explained he had learned Dutch mostly in Egypt after studying architecture. His Dutch was amazing, we could joke with him in our own language. We shared a long smile, that was above expectation. We expected English guides, then to be welcomed in you own language on a level beyond most guide-english. I was also jealous because I try to become understandable in French, here stood someone whom mastered Dutch from self study and conversations with tourists.

After his introduction he led us to the car. It was a shiny new MG parked where I just before had observed the slow flow of traffic. It hadn’t changed a bit. Kids still flowing in, more urgently maybe, it was eight already. Inside the car we were handed a bottle of ice cold water, the driver honked and flowed into the traffic. We were headed for the Grand Egyptian Museum. The newly opened museum holding a vast collection of ancient treasures, statues, jewels, the complete contents of the tomb of Tutankhamun.

Walid, our guide, explained during our drive some points of interests, some facts what we were passing. All the while I eyed the road, after leaving Zamelek, a small Island with small, slow flowing roads we ramped up to the bridge. The symphony was at it’s normal pace. Traffic flowed from 20 to 90 kilometer per hour, the constant beeps of cars and vans going faster or slower. You pass and get passed on all sides while maintaining your current speed. On the side of these 10 lane expanses of asphalt were people standing, small minivans pulling over or merging into to traffic; private-public-transport. Lot’s and lots of people move around Cairo hopping in mini busses heading in their direction. After a third sighting I realise that carts pulled by donkeys aren’t lost. They keep mostly to the right and eyed the in and outflow of the minivans.

Over eighty percent of the buildings we pass has the same basic outline. Rough concrete pillars, square. Each three meter the building is wide and deep add another pillar. At three meter height. Throw a layer of concrete, as thick as a pilar is wide. Optional create a stair out of concrete to reach the next floor. Fill the space between the pillars with fired bricks. Leave some room for light and entrance. Feeling giddy you could fit some windows in those open spaces. But that was obviously optional. Kilometer after Kilometer, concrete and bricks. A mosque. Sometimes a church. We were getting used to the fast moving monotonous repetition, like a Phillip Glass symphony.

Giza is getting nearer. Some houses showed some decoration. The asphalt seemed newer, the distant pyramids confirmed the words of our guide. And huge and proud lay the Grand Egyptian Museum at a short distance. We were dropped of at the and of the small queue, just before the gates would open. Walid briefed us through. And while we were familiar with security checks at museums in Pairs and London we are always surprised when confronted with these measures. Pockets empty, bags through the scanners. The tourniquet is next and we are united again with Walid whom entered another gate. Firm paced we near the Museum, we halt to take in it’s size. It’s massive. Triangular forms rise in front of us. Translucent Albast shines ivory green in the sun. We take pictures.

We would take pictures and pictures and pictures. Endless amounts of pictures throughout our holiday. As all the others visiting Egypt we had to memorize and somehow record our unique experience. I write this with a smile, cause we almost all do it. The smartphone making it so portable and instantly I consider it the least intrusive way of storing what I’ve seen. Instead of heading straight into the main gallery we stopped in the main hall and took some time to admire Ramses II, a figure we would find almost anywhere. Somebody called him a big narcissist and I could not agree more. Nevertheless, the statue is immense and the hall was deserted. Later that that day only the part above 1 meter 80 would be visible, ankles and feet hidden by a large crowd of groups gathering or dispersing. We admired in silence, after the crash course looking-at-egyptian-statues part one: pharaohs.

Walid agreed that we would be heading to the galley of the tomb of Tutankhamun first, this time to beat the slowly growing number of visitors that, if following the usual route by the stairs and admiring the statues on the way up would catch up with us in half an hour. We took some short cuts and ended up in an almost empty gallery. Walid showed and explained at each expose. Rooms full of gold, stone, chariots, food vessels, chairs, statues, clothes, jewels, pottery, rings, lamps, arrows and bows, swords, scale model boats, it went on and on. And finally the golden tomb, in front of it, the matryoshka-like smaller coffin, so many in a row, each 1 meter smaller in heigh, width and length.

More statues, we reached the end of our advantage, the museum was now a buzzing ant colony. Up and down groups walked, listened, looked in awe, checked their phones, snapped a shot. We had just finished the gallery and were almost back at the beginning. We opted for a coffee and a snack and then return for the ‘regular’ route.

A flight along the many dynasties that ruled Egypt and created all the glamour we were seeing, The temples and monuments we would visit in the coming days. He walked us through time, upper Egypt, Lower Egypt, the symbols of the crown, the gods, the myths. After lunch we wandered alone the different galleries we rocketed through, or passed completely on our guided round. From different points in the museum we could see the pyramids and we were seeing forward to the next day. The visit to the boat museum, also situated inside the Grand Egyptian Museum was more than we expected. The boat is huge, and all this just to burry a king. Our modern minds can’t cope with the scale of things. Could be our economic minds that go from item to currency. It never adds up.

We left at 4 in the afternoon. In the car we spoke a little about the next day, pyramids and transfer to Aswan. When that was settled he got out of the car, on his way to his home. The driver had an radio station with American deejays and western music. My eyes kept moving from situation to building, donkey, group of people standing beside the road, minivans, tuk-tuks, the honks. Buildings, occupied, but without windows. After half an hour we left the wide road and descended on street level. A couple of kilometers later we crossed the Nile to be back on Zamalek. Time to find a place to eat.

At a kiosk on the corner I buy cigarettes. The price is laughable, the brands are still allowed to use their colours, the gruesome pictures mandatory. We had agreed on a restaurant and headed to the the venue. The place google maps led us too was an art gallery of some sort, not the restaurant we expected. We spoke with the guy behind the counter in the back of the gallery. We told him where we were looking for, He smiled greeted us and, after some conversation by phone the guy directed us to the back where we were ushered into an elevator. We were at the right spot after all. The place was packed and it took the waiter 5 minutes to find a barstool to have us seated to wait for a table. We studied the menu, ordered our drinks, some food and watched the guys fill glass after glass.

On the Nile boats were sailing in all directions, some had no light at all. Other boats looked like christmas trees. In the back colossal office buildings and hotels. Restaurants were buzzing. Meanwhile we ordered and another guy found us a table. We sat beside a guy my age having oysters. The woman was next to me, I could not see her face initially, only her hair. The expression on N’s face told me enough. A group of students at the balcony was taking selfies. Two girls posing in front of the view. Again, again, again. A quick look at the result, some discussion and another round of selfies. Our food arrived. It did not disappoint, for a moment we did not eye the love couple next to us or de group of girls taking selfies. When we were finished and we got up to take a selfie on the balcony the students were still there. I saw that the woman next to me was at most half my age. Outside we walked along the quay, so far, we concluded it’s not too bad to be in Egypt.

Hotel, shower, preparing our bags because we would check out first thing in the morning and take a train in the evening. The guide and car were on time and at eight we took the same route to Giza, this time for the pyramids. I took some more interest in the buildings, a lot of windows were indeed lacking. Just holes in the fired brick walls. As if you took your windows with you as you moved. And the new inhabitants haven’t got the money or the desire to fill the void. Each column of the building has its steel still stretching out at the top. Ready for the next level to be put on top. The scenery changed like the day before, we saw the pyramids, the museum. We passed a security gate, one of many. We parked close to the entrance, got out and to the ticket boot. Tapped our debit card and got to the next line of security, bags through the machine, phone on top and go. QR on the tourniquet and heading for a bus. We followed our guide almost mindlessly. At panorama deck one Walid explained the site at our feet.

He also taught us our first words of Arabic; No thanks. La-a Shukran. Zo ongeveer. Not hello, but no thank you. He knew where we were going, and we had a good idea of what was coming. The site was crawling with both tourists and entertainment. Camels to ride, or horses, donkeys. Delta wings flew around the pyramids, for that extra special sight. At each panorama deck there were stalls with souvenirs, an explosion of colours in a wide variety of things. What’s on sale here in Giza is on sale everywhere you go as a tourist. We take a second bus and descend on pyramid level, we walk around, take our pictures, look up, ask questions, take more pictures.

When we are near the end of the east side the crowd gets thicker. A vendor walks in opposite direction. No thank you I say, already lost what I just learned. In the middle of this side you can climb a part of the pyramid. There you can enter the pyramid, of course if you have the extra ticket. Most climbers have not, they just want the photo of them on the pyramid and descend by passing the entrance. We went in. We had been warned that it can get hot and the climb is through a narrow tunnel. That was no lie. After the first 30 meter which feel like walking in a cave, you get to the ladder, one person up, one person down. The narrow path begins, which is also both ways. It’s a steep thirty degrees, which can only be done by crouching. The queue will go much slower than you desire, sometimes grinding to a halt, crouched in an demanding position. Halfway there is some relief, when there is a two lane path. and a change to stretch your legs.

A final twenty meters and you’re there, the burial chamber. Empty as promised. Only knowing what’s outside, makes you realize the effort it must have taken. We caught our breath, shook our legs and started the descent. Same route, the faces changed during our descend. Near the chamber, there was sweat, and relief to see that they were nearly there. A couple of meters down, there were tired faces, eager to get it over with. Still further down there was still the joy and excitement. After we could walk horizontal again, I felt my legs. Glowing and throbbing, a bit reluctant to do as i wanted. Walid was a huge guy and I understood that he refused to climb inside with us, done it once, never again. Outside it was time to practise my Arab, like vultures the salesmen attack us while we recuperate from the climb.

N. decided it was time to buy a green keffiyeh and practise her negotiating skills. We left 30 euros lighter but with a bag full of things and the desired keffiyeh. We continued our walk around Cheops, returning from taking some pictures I saw a lost woman talking to our guide. She was from Belgium and lost her group. Quickly calls were made. An Egyptian was meanwhile eying me, he had 10 euro coins in his hands. If I could change. Before we left Schiphol we both took some money because I read it could be useful, euro coins could be used as tip. So here was a guy with a lot of tips in Euro’s and bank only accept notes. I gave him a 10 euro note, leaving me with some coins to pass to the next guy.

We continued our stroll slowly downward leaving the pyramids behind us, passing the Sphinx. We sat down for a coffee and a view. Some selfie-girl put down her tripod and started posing. The rest of het family drank coffee at a distance. Although we visited at a leisurely pace, there was no time to sit long. The sphinx demanded our attention, and with that came a kilometer long stretch of souvenir stalls. We passed them quickly, visited the temple in front of the sphinx and walked out to the nose-less head. It was phone-frenzy and we joined in. Of course you want your own picture, on your own phone. Behind me a group of way too hip and over-equipped Chinese were shooting pictures as well. The camera woman legs wide, knees bent, low, lightning, and flashy clothes. Some aides held reflective umbrellas. Girls were climbing the no climbing signs to take a selfie with a slightly better angle. Reluctant to listen to the yelling guard who summons them down. Snap. Then she climbs down. We were at the epicentre of tourism I thought.

We found Walid at the Sphinx exit, made our way back along the souvenirs, my two word Arab is fluent by now. The bus has airco and we slowly head back to the entrance, picking up more travellers as we halt at different stops. At the exit I use the loo. When finished washing my hands, there was this guy, holding three paper towels, handing them to me. On the way out he would ask me for money.

Back in the car Walid was going to let us down. An unplanned stop at a papyrus shop. It’s the same concept everywhere, you get to see how the ‘real’ whatever-makes-a-region-famous thing is handcrafted. This 3 minute crash course and a free beverage is enough to drag you through the store to show you some marvellous pieces, until your head gives in and you decide that buying some shitty product is the easiest way out of that place. We now own a papyrus poster with our names on it.

The rest of the program was as booked, we went to Sakkara, some 30 kilometer south from Giza. Here we find some of the oldest pyramids of Egypt. Predating those in Giza. Here we also find peace and quiet, relatively, compared with the morning. It’s almost easy to take a picture without a tourist. To stand still and admire a pilar, some writing or a view without the urge of someone waiting behind.

We strolled through the sand in the shadow of the pyramid. The sky was blue, as it was the days before, and as it would be the days to come. From a high viewpoint it was possible to see the pyramid of Cheops. In the south more pyramids were standing closer by. We visited some temples, strolled back to the car and drove the short distance to Memphis. A last museum with artifacts found in the city. At 16:00 hours the souvenir stalles closed, the call for prayers could be heard from all directions. We went for diner, a buffet restaurant with plenty of choice. The place was packed with visitors of Giza. We went twice for food then a dessert.

Back in the car it took a long time to get going. Both Walid and the driver were searching Google Maps. After a five minute discussion, looking, confirming, rerouting we finally drove off. We did some parts of the highway, but soon we got down on street level. Cows and goats greeted us, Dust was everywhere. Several times the driver stopped near a taxi and asked directions. Walid joined in. We turned around, drove back wrong side of the road, took a corner, turned again, asked again. Tuk-tuks passed front and back, a lorry blocked our way. Claxons were used.

Finally we got up the highway again. Then we pulled over. Walid prepared to get of. His job done. We thanked him for the past two days. The car sped away when the door closed. On the screen google was constantly rerouting the road to the station. 18:30 said our itinerary, train to Aswan. We missed an exit and had to go back once more. Google thought it would take an extra 20 minutes, it would take only five extra. The only person being nervous seemed to be me. N. Had no time of departure remembered the driver was as calm as always.

When we got out a guy approached us, broad smile on his face. We took out the bags from the car and he asked us if we remembered him. It took a while to see he was the one who picked us up at the airport and brought us to our hotel. He would escort us to the train this time, make sure we got out of Cairo. The scheduled departure would be 19:40, so we had more than an hour to have some coffee and chit-chat about Cairo. Entering the station meant taking your bags on the rollerband, bags through the machine, person through the gate, a nod to the policeman and you stepped into a giant hall, almost empty. In the middle the ceiling consisted of a giant glass pyramid. The lack of passengers became more obvious. We could easily find a spot at a coffee booth. It was allowed to smoke, which I reluctantly did, it felt strange to smoke inside, but the knowledge not to smoke for the next twelve hours made me fold. We drank our coffee. At seven one of the two other customers started praying on his carpet.

Some guy entered the coffee shop and our contact said it’s time to go to the train. From the opposite direction some tourists tugged their bags and suitecases, mostly in silence. Our contact had made us remember the coach and bunk number, coach three, cabin one. But of course he brought us and our suitcases to the right cabin, said hi to the night porter, we thanked him with a handshake and a note.. We were of to the bar as soon as we were settled. The contents was a pure disappointment, coffee, that is Nescafe, and some soft drinks.

We drank a coffee and went back to our cabin. We were given a meal what surely must have been the non consumed trays of some airline. The juice was okay, the rest either dry or non descript tasteless meat with rice that had underwent maybe four heat cycles. After diner the beds were made. The cabin felt Japanese in it’s crammyness. We had our own faucet to freshen up and brush our teeth. Toilets however, were shared. I climbed up, lay down and waited. We were on the night train to Aswan, at least twelve hours in the train, I could use some sleep. I slept, some of the time, but never a deep sleep. Everything could wake me in an instant and then to wait thirty minutes half awake. Doze again and the train comes to a halt. Somewhere.

Before entering Aswan the train was buzzing. Suitcases closed, zippers flew, open, close, suitcases rolled to the door. At some moment ours were collected too and brought to the door. The sun was shining brutally. I think the whole holiday my sunglasses and phone were only off at night. Most of the time, my eyes were covered. When we left the train, a guy with the sign Riksja was on the platform. ‘Correct?’ Asked the rail guy when we stepped out of the train. He pointed at our guy holding the sign. Of course, our local travel agent was Correct, and they did whole Egypt. Our contact in Aswan was Ahmed. His English? Worse than Walid’s Dutch.

We were both tired, oblivious of what to expect. He explained, where we were going, but also what we were seeing, where we could be going today. Fast broken English and a head full of sleep. We halted at a quay. Elephantine was written on the high granite entrance. We descended 6 meters by stairs to where boats were moored. We knew we would be staying in Nile View hotel. We didn’t know it was located on an island in the Nile. We were helped into an open boat with a roof. The man on the boat introduced himself, our Correct contact stayed on land, he waved. Via Whatsapp he would direct our four day stay in Aswan.

Apart from the sound of the outboard motor, it was quiet. The claxons of Cairo were not so much gone, but less often, less loud. On the water there was only the sound and smell of outboard motors. That oily stinky smell you recognize immediately and that stays in your memory for ever. In Aswan it was everywhere. All the boats that darted the Nile were powered by outboard engines. We sailed around the south of the island. There were no cars on the island. Everything was done on foot and by boat. Large herons and kingfishers stood on rocks and sat on trees. Ibises flew low.

The west side of the island was full of guest houses or hotels, restaurants. The concept to Cairo was remarkably similar. You put down some concrete columns at even space. You slap a roof on top of that, leave some column and steel pointing out, fill the voids between the columns with fired bricks and voila: house. If you feel fancy you plaster the outside and give it some colour. Our hotel had been built before the concrete days. They made great effort to make the new extensions look as old. At least it felt authentic .

The twenty minutes on the boat made me at ease, gone was the broken night in the train. The breakfast i barely touched. We were welcomed with hibiscus juice. Although it was only 10 in the morning, our room was ready, time for a shower! It felt Danish, the toilet was in the shower, no curtain, and no way to keep anything dry. It didn’t matter, it felt good to wash up. On the balcony we made our plans for the day. We decided that the unfinished obelisk and Isis temple would be our walk through Aswan.

We stepped out of our guest house, it felt a bit Escheresque, stairs going up and down in all directions. The guest house was built against a hill, we would end up on the wrong stair where we should have gone down first more than once. After reaching the back of the guest house we stepped on to the dirt road. I took notice of our surroundings while we crossed the island. Here houses of unfired brick dominated the view. Some plastered and painted, others just a pile of uneven bricks. The streets were narrow, only donkeys and humans on foot wandered here. On the other side of the island we walked onto the jetty and got on the ferry. Back to the city. It was a 2 km walk from the ferry to the entrance of the granite quarry. We had to decline at least 10 tuk-tuks and horse and carriages. It was hot, we had bottled water and we reached the entrance. We noticed the town was filthy, hot and dusty. A guy and a police officer sat at the entrance, our bags through the scanner, tickets bought. He ushered us to an airconditioned hall, sat us down and started a DVD.

The heat from our bodies vaporized in the cool air. We saw the familiar face of Mr. Ancient Egypt on National Geographic, Dr. Zahi Hawass. He introduced us to the unfinished obelisk. When the film was done the guy insisted on taking some money. We wandered into the quarry. The obelisk was indeed immense. Cracked in the middle and left for thousands of years. The rest of the site was mostly more granite follow by the exit through the bazaars. Shirts, hats, scarfs, statues, stone, earrings, necklaces, shawls. We were the only ones leaving at that moment and all salesman started to speak to us. We walked fast, determined to reach the exit as soon as possible. At the other side we were welcomed by two smiling tuk-tuk drivers.

We had one more stop to make, we put the temple on our maps and started walking. The stench was sometimes unbearable. Every empty plot in the city was turned into a waste dump. Plastic bags, food, rocks, stones, clothes. Everything got thrown on the road side. On one pile of rubbish lay a dead donkey. Rotting between the houses. Nobody cared. We found our way to the temple of Isis. The final meters were along another landfill of waste. We wanted to turn around to be able to breath normally again. The temple, nowhere to be seen. I checked the map, overpowered by the smell. A man in turban waved at us, showing us the entrance. We paid our dues, waved our bags and the man with turban led us to the steep stairs to the temple. We were some twelve meters below straat level, no wonder we did not see it sooner.

He made it as if it was a secret he let us inside the temple using the key he brought with him. We knew his asking hand would be right in front of us when we were ready to leave. He shone some here and there with his light, showed some hight lights of this old small temple. It needed love and attention, and a great clean up of the city was what I thought. Once outside we accepted a drive from a tuk-tuk. Of course he did not disappoint and demanded double the fare we agreed upon, stating it was per person. We took the ferry to the Island and visited Bob Marley, one of the two bars on the island serving alcohol. The view of the Nile with the feluccas sailing up and down the river was stunning. After two beers we left for the guest house. Some food, some coffee and some rest. Early rise for some local explorations with a guide.

After breakfast we met ms. Heba, our local guide of the day. She met us at the guesthouse, bringing her own boat and teenager who’d handle the outboard motor. We sailed to Kitchener Island. A large garden with a wide variety of plants, herbs, shrubs and trees. And souvenir sellers, of course. The garden is great and full of shadow, the facilities, old and decaying. Groups of tourists, some with guide, most alone, wandering through the garden. A quick coffee, a cuddle of a local cat and of we went.

Until the engine failed. The boy pulled the started cord, again, again. Sailed one meter only to hear it die on us again. This continued, a second boat attached itself to ours. Two man were looking at the engine now. Pulling, starting, dying, some ticking with metal on delicate spots, more pulling, lots of smoke. After ten minutes of pulling and looking, more gas, less gas, a third, grown up joined our flotilla. Meanwhile we hopped over on the second boat and continued our tour while the other two kept working on the outboard motor. We visited a sandy beach. Watched some birds, and returned to Elephantine island. We visited the island museum where we were told about the Nubians versus the Arabs. That the island was all inhabited by Nubians, how their villages further south were destroyed because of the dams in the Nile. The house also sported a small exhibition which we admired. We walked to a restaurant that is easier to find from the water than from the land. Eventually our guide managed to phone the owner to have us pick up from the main dirt path.

The food was abundant and good, it was the end of our day program. Or that was our booking, but we wanted more, we wanted temples so we arranged that out guide would take us to Philae temple which was close by. We were not the only ones heading in that direction. Busses, mini-vans cars and tuk-tuks sped in the direction of the temple. At arrival the bazaar was huge with salesman flocking the buses that emptied their air-conditioned load. A guy called Mustafa had it for for me. Remembering my first Arab i told him no thank you. He smiled and continued following me. N. made the mistake of buying a little booklet. Immediately sellers were gathering around her, wanting to trade euro coins for banknotes. In the end we managed to exchange 10 for 10 without being robbed at the spot. But boy they come many and they are quick. The guide clearly was on our side, which helped a lot in the commotion.

We found a boat to take us to the island. It wasn’t hard. On the lake lay a thousand boats waiting for the high season. All white boats with a roof and some colour. I guessed at most a hundred boats were operating at that time we sailed our way to the entrance. Our guide talked us through the temple, showing the spots, the inscriptions, that the temple has been moved because of the dams. That the layout had been altered. We heard all that and made our round after she was finished explaining. At least one hundred pictures later we found our guide at the cafetaria.

Of all the guides we came across, she was the worst, still okay, but the worst of the lot. At our guest house another Dutch couple visited Aswan, with the same organization, We both had our own guides. The two guides knew each other well, said they were friends during the holiday season. Our broken vessel that morning was saved by the other guide and the Dutch couple. We would follow the same route that day, nodding each time we caught up with them, after which the guides strolled of to the cafeteria to have a chat and catch up from the summer. Either that, or she was on the phone. Arranging something, answering someone. We stopped counting the times she excused herself and answered the phone or make a call.

She was on the phone when we stepped outside the guarded area of Philea temple. Broad smiling he stood there, made us high five and lead us to the shop. Unfortunatly he did not forget my face. Our guide was sitting on a chair using her phone. It took them a long time, but N. snapped and bought a small little item, then they let us go, back to the airconditioned car. We drove back to Aswan. She tried to talk us into visiting one of the workshops and shops with herbs and spices or oil with fragrance. We declined a couple of times till the message was clear. The queues at the gas stations were as if it was free. Truth was, the tanks were empty. And when supplies arrived news spread fast and cars and tuk-tuks queued at that station. In Luxor I learned that this was because a couple of things. First, us, the tourists. From Aswan to Abu Simbel it is 250 kilometer by car. One way, We go by buses and private cars, like we would do. That takes fuel. Then there is this war in Sudan. And where there is war, money is to be made. What happens is that everybody takes too much gas. And then goes south. To Abu Simbel and beyond to the border with Sudan. Tanks full of fuel tenfold in price during that 300 kilometer drive. Further north in Egypt there were no queues at the gas stations, but we did hear this bizar story later in Luxor of a driver whom days before had a 1300 kilometer drive with guests from Hurghada.

We had them drop us of at the Carrefour, airconditioned and no hassling at the counter. We bought some items and walked to a bar that promised alcohol. Emy, just behind the KFC. It was a 1 kilometer walk along the Nile where cruise ships where moored and were utilised as hotels and restaurant. The diesel generators where fuming black on the back of the boats. Every ten meter a guy in white kaftan and a turban would offer you a felucca. It was almost sunset and we found our bar. We sat at the balcony, free view on the Nile, sun was setting in bright orange. The old dirty sails moved slowly in the calm breeze. The sound of outboard motors everywhere. We ordered drinks, took pictures, more drinks, some food, and a pleasant calm over us. So glad we visited Philae temple.

We stopped to rob an ATM, Credit Agricole this time, because it’s French. Took the ferry. Some passenger told N. to sit in the front as was not advertised but mandatory anyway. We got on the island and were glad that some light was installed. We found our guest house easily. The next day we would be sailed to the city again to take the long road to Abu Simbel. We sat once more on our balcony watching the Nile stream by, the dessert on the west bank, the green of Kitchener island. Some people had rented a kayak and peddled on the Nile. We brushed our teeth, organized our bags and went to sleep.

I should have mentioned them sooner, but there’s a lot I haven’t mentioned. But there were cats. In Cairo we saw them, at the pyramids they were there. At our guesthouse we identified four regulars, one with two little kittens, an other not so far away of giving birth. One time when we went up, down, up to our room when we saw at least six dart in different directions to get away from us as fast as they could. That behaviour changes at the outside restaurant. It never rains in Aswan, never, so everything can be left outside. When breakfast is served a little gang of cats wanders from table to table. See if some weak hearted tourist could spare some fried egg? They turn their little rounds at the leg of some kid. Often it works, hearts melt and food is shared.

If, for some reason, food is not shared, the cats wait patiently. At one moment, the guests will rise, visit the toilet, thank the lady and leave. I saw a flock of cats run of with a chicken leg which was left on a table. The thing must have been 500 grams, the cat no more than three kilos. The speed was incredible. The other two tables that we and some other couple left behind were scraped the same instant we stepped of the terrace.

We would leave for one night to Abu Simbel, then to return to the same guest house. We decided to take all our bags which were promptly taken to the boat. We had breakfast, said goodbye to the cats and our hosts and stepped on board. We gazed at the Old Cataract hotel high on a rock. We decided that we should visit when we got back. For now it was time to reach the city and get into a car for four hours to visit Abu Simbel. At the quay a familiar face was waiting for us. He took our luggage with a guy who proved to be our driver. We got in, the four of us. We were handed cooled drinks, water and fruit juice. We were explained what was the plan. We were given two options for the visit to the temple, we choose option one, first visit then hotel. But the quizmaster was not impressed with our answer and over the next few hours and some whatsapp messages later we were suddenly into option two. As we had absolutely no idea what the consequences of either choice would be, we did not object. We passed an empty gas station, no queues, no gas. After a couple of kilometers our agent got out of the car. He waived us a good trip and we were alone in the back of a car. Intermittent internet, which was way more than I had hoped for and far less than I wished.

The ringtone of the driver was a mixture of some local instrument and Still D.R.E. from Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog. It took me half an our to download the song, but I just had to hear it that moment.

A couple kilometers south of Aswan we had our first checkpoint, A group of six or eight policeman stopping every car, both ways. Two Hollanda the driver said, his drivers license and some paper is exchanged and we can continue. The dessert is mostly deserted. The highway is full of Busses, trucks and cars. The tuk-tuks are gone. Lake Nasser is never far away, so on some places you see green and houses. But sand and stone is mostly our view.

Halfway a coffee stop. Some souvenirs, maybe cheaper, maybe more expensive. As a tourist you almost never see prices, of a cup of coffee, yes, of the chinese souvenirs? Never. After a cigarette, the driver smokes as well, we were off again. At a large construction site we slow down. Another checkpoint eight armed police sitting in the shade. Eyeing into the car, tow hollanda, drivers license, a written note and of we go. An hour and a half later we arrive at our hotel in Abu Simbel. The driver is not sure and we turn around into town. After asking two taxi drivers we return to the same point where we stopped earlier. Our hotel for the night.

We were welcomed, showed our room, and ready for lunch. There were three options, small, medium, or large. The main difference zero, hundred or two hundred gram of protein; chicken, beef or fish. Life can be simple. We choose medium chicken. Some visitors were leaving for the temple, while others already returned. The terrace was large and sunny, the sun hot. We lay down on the bed for an hour and walked to the car. The driver had the car cool already as we stepped in, ready for our visit. At a roundabout we picked up Mohamed, our guide for the day. He had a wide smile and warm eyes. His English was good and he was funny. He told us they called him Tiger. At the entrance, after the ticket and security he arranged a golf cart and we drove to the temples.

It was at that moment that I accepted that we were in a huge theme park called Ancient Egypt, and that every temple, every pyramid is something on your map you can strike through. The difference is how to cross the distances between them and how many you are willing to travel with you. Because in a theme park all things are relatively close by. At walking distance. Ancient Egypt is dotted along the Nile, Abu Simbel on the south all the way up to Alexandria. Abu Simbel and Aswan had their airport, so it should be relatively easy and more expensive to go by plane. We could have walked from the entrance to the temple. But our guide arranged the golfcart and it felt grand.

He explained the temple to us. The guides are not allowed inside the temples, which is a good thing. So all storytelling must be done with pictures, somewhere in the shade. The temple ground was almost deserted. Tiger smiled, yes I told you this is a good time to come. All the tourists from Aswan are already gone. I remembered the other dutch couple, they were supposed to be on a bus at four a.m. to return around two in the afternoon. These temples too, like Philae were moved because of the high dam in the Nile, creating lake Nasser. After the introduction to the temple we went inside.

Inside it was calm, a lot of imagery was intact. Again we felt tiny. Narcissist Ramses II strikes again. We saw him in Cairo in the Grand Museum, We saw him here, we will see him in Luxor, this guy was so fond of himself he left his statues everywhere. Also here it was majestic. Huge statues, high chambers. It was the 23 of October when we visited. We were unaware of our timing. The morning after there would be a special sunrise, the sun would shine into the temple for eighteen minutes and shed her light on Ramses II for twelve. Some visitors were exited, they would go queuing at 3 in the morning to witness this phenomenon. We visited both temples at our leisure, Tiger halted a golf cart, took us to the entrance straight to the car. The town was buzzing. the one day late-solstice was celebrated through the city. We would go back to the temple to see the light show. For now we went back to the hotel for some food and a beer.

I overheard conversations between guides and guests telling them to be ready at two thirty. They went straight to their rooms. We went back after diner, picked up Tiger at the same spot and of to the temple. Security, as always, tickets and back to the temple ground. This time we walked. We found a seat and waited. One minute after eight a golf cart rushed into view. Four high ranked policemen got out and took their vip spots. The show could begin. It was a combination of spoken word, the story of the temple combined with images projected on the temple. It was entertaining in a way, I wasn’t overwhelmed however.

Half an hour later we met Tiger again, he took our picture, because he insisted. We didn’t give him any money for that. Back to the village, and back to the hotel. At eight breakfast, at nine climb into the car and drive back to Aswan, back to the Nile View guest house. The ride was non eventful, a couple of check points, a coffee stop. Another place this time with worse coffee. The dams of Aswan and the quay with our boat to the guest house. It all felt familiar. We settled into our room, another one, with another wifi-code. We set out for the Old Cataract Hotel. It is famous for some mighty guests that stayed there, something with Agatha Christie and a great atmosphere. You buy your entrance as a voucher, which you should spend on some drinks or food inside.

When we arrived outside seating was unavailable, but inside was just as good and cool. Most on the menu wouldn’t be covered by our vouchers, which weren’t cheap anyway. The good Dutchman in me choose quantity for money. I starved for a hamburger and a beer. N. Went for tea with cake. We gathered our thoughts about our trip so far, the days to come and the place we were. Aswan was filthy to the bone we concluded, and that was a big shame. It also showed us that the city was not part of Ancient Egypt theme park (yet). Later we ended up in Emy again, the waiter is now a friend. They never pushed things on us and never tried to rip us of or kept our change. Another beautifull sunset on the Nile. We went back to the hotel, one more meal, some drinks and a good nights rest.

The next morning we said goodbye, for good this time. Our next trip would be on a boat. For four days we would sail the Nile going north to Luxor. Along the route we would stop at different temples and a stone quarry. This was what I considered my part of the trip because I insisted we get on a dahabiya, not a big cruise ship for so many reasons, and not on a felucca. The later lacking some essential comfort. So a large luxurious wooden sail ship with cabins, toilets, showers and a crew with a cook and a guide.

The passengers leaving the boat were smiles all over. We got our welcome drink, some explanations and some rules and off we went. In front of us was a small blue white tug boat. They explained, the wind almost always blows from north to south. And a dahabiya is not very good at sailing high on the wind. So every dahabiya is tugged, because none have an engine.

A German family boarded with us, they would accompany us the next days. The deck was huge and every one found their spot, we had Wifi and electricity, free non alcoholic drinks, three meals a day, one or two visits a day. We started of with a lunch and some get to know your guide. Youssef explained our visits, our sleep overs, our meals and the enveloppes for the tips. The lunch was lovely, the tomatoes and green salad stayed untouched, the Germans also had their instructions. After lunch, which was done while sailing so the engine drone of the tugboat was off, we were tugged back north to the Kom Ombo temple. The boat slowly neared the quay, the tossed lines were quickly picked up by some running kids. The tugboat tight to the vessel. We didn’t feel a thing and we were moored. We walked of to the temple, a dozen kids followed us and tried to sell us some bookmarks. A police guy in civilian clothes chased them away, his pistol hanging in his holster on his pants. Fear and repression never seem far away in Egypt. At the temple site things went as frictionless as possible, not to disturb the constant flow of foreign money into the country, but the regime is afraid of it’s citizens. The army or police never far away, looking, judging, hassling.

We hear that the romans erected this temple, to please the Egyptians and to explain to them now the roman emperor was divine. On one column there was Julius Caesar, if I may believe our guide. The temple itself was devoted to the crocodile god. Of which we saw very little statues because they almost all were destroyed by later visitors, being Christian, Muslim, or whichever pharaoh god was ruling the world by then and had some old debt to settle with the crocodile. Plenty of sun, some pretty colours where the water didn’t rise. When we left through the museum the larger boats were landing, larger groups roamed the temple complex. Half an hour later we walked the plank and the boat pushed of for the Nile and a place to sleep. Once in a while the minarets shouted their prayers, The sound travelled far on the open river and from all sides we heard where we were, theme park Ancient Egypt, but you sailed through a Muslim country.

We docked at a stone quarry, our first visit of the next day. For now it was diner and relaxing, sifting through some photographs. The Wifi we took for granted. Which showed how much we expect when we visit a far away destination. It’s true, when you are on the Nile civilisation is never far away, water is life, so almost everybody lives nearby the river. 4 or 5G was almost always available on our phones. Which was a nice surprise now we had time to relax between our visits. I forgot to tell you that our Nile cruise was handled by another local company. Djed a local competitor of our Correct. But Djed had the boats we wanted and Correct did not, so they catered this one for us. The hand over was smooth, and so was later the drop off at our hotel where Correct took control of our holiday again. The boat was Djed, the crew and the guide, all Djed, and so were our German companions. Customers of Djed. We were ‘special’ guests.

Diner was wonderful and abundant. We didn’t touch the salad, until Yousef told us that everything was washed with bottled water. Reluctantly one of us folded and took the tomatoes and some fruit. Axl the German guy had already taken some tomatoes the day before. e claimed he took medicine beforehand so he said he should be fine. I frowned and took some tomatoes and fruit. After us the crew would eat, left overs went of shore to the people somewhere living in the neighbourhood. Night was calm with beer and wine, some music from my home server. Life was good. We took a shower and read some chapters in our books.

The next morning started joyful with breakfast the six of us had friendly conversations during our meals together, during the tours we had a good time, but on the boat we all seem to have our spots. We jumped on shore and started our first tour of the day, a stone quarry. Mostly soft sandstone. Large blocks were cut with quartz shizzles, then with the aid of wood and water broken from the floor. When the water would rise, the blocks were pulled onto ships and sailed north to where ever they were building temples. Around the quarry there were graves and tombes. Decorated, of course. Some bullet holes are silent witnesses of the French invasion. The first tourist inscribed their names all over te place. The further north we got, the more often we would see this graffiti of te nineteenth century. We turned around at the end of the quarry that was accessible to the public.

It was for the hundredth time or so that we noticed a French guide. We have never encountered so many groups of French outside their country. I mean we would encounter them in Japan, Thailand, Australia, but never in such large troves as in Egypt. They were everywhere we went. N. and I exchanged some words in French and laughed. We embarked, drank our cold guave juice and found our spots on deck. We would go north to Edfu to visit Edfu temple. Halfway we turned stopped the tug boat and sailed by our sails south again. Lunch! The mood was joyful, the food again good and abundant. We arrived around three in the afternoon in Edfu. We would catch a horse with carriage to go to the temple. We were remembered we were not with our travel agent but the competition, our travel agent knew we did not like to travel by means of an animal. Whether camel, donkey, horse we’d rather not. Now we had no choice than to come along.

Edfu was hectic, and just as I imagined a small Egyptian town. Woman dressed up in black, mosques on every corner, markets, tuk-tuks, lot’s of traffic, and dust. Dust everywhere. The horse strolled up the hill, we were in no hurry. Eventually we arrived at the temple. We came late and the site was nearly empty. The temple was lower than its surroundings. On all sides there were guard towers with armed police inside. Just as Yousef started to explain this particular temple Allah shouted for his prayers. It was deafening in that pit surrounded by minarets. One after the other said something in the microphone and spat it in the air. The temple was also huge, reasonably intact and full of carvings and writings. Yousef took us to the noteworthy spots and then let us wander around to take the pictures we thought we had missed.

We were the last to leave the temple ground, back into our carriage, back to the crazy traffic with a horse. When we got out I noticed a place to get cigarettes. I asked for a pack of Marlboro, they came with a carton. Then they asked seven hundred pounds for two packs. I knew it should be two hundred something, so I laughed said I paid 110 in Aswan turned to walk away and got them for 120 each. Yousef smiled when he saw he didn’t have to intervene. I was the last to get on board, time to leave this Allah fearing city and find us an island to have a barbeque and some sleep. There are a couple of islands just south of Edfu. Along the shores were other dahabiyas enjoying the same itinerary as we did. We found a nice piece of flat gras and gently the ship touched the grass. The barbeque was lit, the table made. We enjoyed our leisure time aboard, watching the sun go down.

Yousef approached me just before diner. Inside the Edfu temple he had pointed to some 5 finger leaf on one of the inscriptions. Claiming it was the symbol of weed and referenced us Dutch. Behind his sunglasses he must have winked while telling it and he must have read my reaction at that time. He asked me if I would be interested in some hash. I smiled yes, and 10 minutes later he reappeared with large paper and a bit of hash. I went down to prepare my joint. A couple of minutes later I stuck my head above deck, just in time for diner.

We sat on low stools at a low table eight or ten candles stuck in water bottles refurbished as candle holder. We had large pieces of chicken, ocra, beans, rice, bread, some baked vegetables. We finished with melon and some mango desert. It made me look up the dessert on wikipedia, the first hit I got that day was the Dutch version. I mumbled in Dutch what I read and N. of course understood, Axl was paying attention, laughed loud at the word ‘sliertjesdeeg’ and asked me for my phone when i was finished and quickly filled in the black spots in English. He read aloud the words he saw and started to understand what i just said. His English was excellent, and so was that of the rest of the family.

After diner we went back on board. The Germans did not want to get eaten by mosquitos and choose to hide in the cabins. We had the whole deck and a fresh dash of Deet. I lit the joint, lay down on a deck chair and inhaled. In the Netherlands I Frequently light a joint, it was a pleasant surprise to enjoy this in Egypt while floating on the Nile, parked on a deserted island. My thoughts went fast and slow at the same time. I continued in my book. We got another mango juice, The tsjilping of the crickets and the low hum of some well lit cruise ship were the only sounds. Around midnight we went down to our cabin. Some crew member killed the deck light the moment we were below deck.

That night we woke up on someone turning his stomach with great effort. Maybe even painful. It was the first victim of food poisoning. Axl turned his stomach a couple of times. The whole ship must have heard it. A couple of hours later we were reminded it was time for our prayers. The sun was still hidden, but that was no reason to withhold the sirens but to amplify that reminder from at least six different directions, saying eleven different things and all bragging along for a mere fifteen minutes. By now the phenomenon came as no surprise, but this was the loudest and most intimidating reminder we’ve heard so far. We left before the second prayers. Breakfast was great, but lacking one person. As we deducted it was Axl who kept below with some O.R.S. and water. The rest of us were prepared for the tombes we were about to visit. It was a fifteen minute drive from where the dahabiya could land and the ancient site. The drive in the minibus was interesting to say at least. We first drove some dirt road, just wide enough to hold one mini-van along the Nile. Other dahabiyas were moored there as well. What followed was more dirt road with sugar cane and, for what we would witness later, expensive houses. Water flowed through irrigation canals and pipes. After two, maybe three kilometer along these dirt roads we came at the through road. Most of it was asphalt. The train track was nearby. Houses were mainly build from unfired bricks. It never rains in Egypt. It gives the village a grey and dirty look. Sand is everywhere, We drive around lorries and tuk-tuks, they are the only other vehicles beside a lot of mini vans. People hail them, talk and get in. There is only one road, so destination is easy.

We cross the rail over a brand new viaduct. The asphalt still dark, the lines white. One kilometer further we can see the walls of an ancient city. We will not visit that, but from the looks of it, more unfired bricks. A huge pile of them, twenty meters high, so it must be thick too. This wall also got wet, each year when the Nile overflowed, The mini van turned left. There were trees, the first I saw this far from the Nile. The police waves us through, there is only one other van. The driver gets out and joins the police officer and the other driver. We leave the shade of the trees and walk straight into the dessert. Two hundred meters further huge stairs guide us up to the mountain. Over hundreds of meters the mountains are darted with tombes like the ones we were about to visit. The ones on display were the ones the most intact on that particular spot. They were interesting in their own way, some mini valley of the kings, but for nobles, priests, governors, not kings.

The walls told their story, some details carefully chiselled away by some rival taking revenge by stealing the soul, or something like that. It’s what I remember of the stories Yousef told and read on the walls. On our way back we changed some two hundred notes for one hundreds so we could tip the driver. It was noon on our way back, children just left school and were on their way home. They walked, or hopped on a minivan, the back of a motor cycle. Beside the roads some houses had small shops on the ground floor. cars were being fixed. It all looked poor, but the people were mostly all smiles. Like many times before, the children waved and said things like “Welcome to Egyppt”, “Where you from?”, just like the grown ups. When we turned left, away from the road, back to the river, the green was overwhelming. Dade palms, Mango trees, Bananas, Sugar canes. Fields full of them.

And now people were building in this fertile land. Everywhere in Egypte people and tourists demand Nile view. And good land is now taken by buildings. Thinking back to the village just one kilometer from where the irrigation reaches and the green pasture on the bank of the Nile, it made me wonder if bringing water 1 kilometer further would be enough to turn the village green as well. We got to the boat, lunch was already served. Axl was sitting on his usual spot. Eating white rice and envying my beer. We talked about our visits and adventures. Glad to see he was out of bed. We sailed, there was no wind, and during our half an hour lunch we did two hundred meters, we could still see where we left shore.

Back behind the tugboat we made haste. There was one last temple to visit Yousef told us. It was quite new on the tours. We either would visit it this afternoon or the next morning really early. His plan was to make it today. When we hit land, the Wifi went down. I told Yousef who phoned the company. We had consumed all our Gigabytes, a new card would be activated in a couple of minutes he said. We were all packed to go at 16:30. Before we knew Yousef sat on the back of a motorcycle to get tickets for the temple. Our deck mate accompanied us in the meantime. One kilometer from the boat we saw Yousef again, he led us to the last temple of the cruise. The temple of Isnu. The most special of this one are the colours. Only the main hall is found intact, but the paintings and carvings are extraordinary. As a bonus, we were the last visitors of that day, we had the temple all for ourselves for over half an hour. It was a great finale.

We were made to follow Yousef who led us through the Sjoek, The local market. None of us were really interested, but we obliged. Also because he was the easiest way back to the boat. It was busy, noisy, everybody was ordered to pray, people bought vegetables, fruit, people were working iron on the streets. The streets were sand, sometimes paved with stone. Desolate ruins crumble besides buildings still inhabited. Some grandeur from The English time. After making sure he pointed us to the ATM, the envelopes would come today, remember? We walked finally back to the boat. I confined to Beate how much we thought we would tip and we went into our cabins.

When we had freshened ourselves and appeared on deck we handed over the crew and guide envelopes. I noticed that there was something wrong between Yousef and our German companions who were already on deck. Yousef wanted to leave the boat as soon as possible. He had his week off and just wanted to be home as quickly as possible. He already warned us that he, and some crew members were leaving that night. But he was hesitant to leave, because in his opinion there was not enough money offerred. He was clearly insulted. What he didn’t know that we felt insulted too. Maybe more. This is the moment where our agreement with Riksja and Correct clearly differ with how Djed arranges things. The trip we booked is an ‘all-tips-included’-trip. So what we gave was an extra, because we enjoyed the company, like we Europeans are accustomed to tip. . Yousef meanwhile was blurting things like we should have gotten an email from Djed with a PDF, which he showed me for 5 seconds on his phone. He quoted from that pdf 15 dollar per person per day for the crew and 10 dollar per person per day for the guide. We showed us our itinerary ’tips included’ and we were done. I almost dared to asked our tips back, but kept my mouth shut. Until 10 minutes ago we had a perfect trip.

Service was over as you can imagine, the smiles not so broad. We discussed it for a bit more during diner and went to the cabins early. Then I was next. I did not have to throw up, but I had the runs. It flowed and would continue to do so a couple of times that night. The next morning all felt normal. I hoped that this would be it. We packed our bags, emptied our cabins and waited for the bus to take us to Luxor, our final stop. We said goodbye and thanks to the captain and deck mate who stayed on the boat. The WiFi never returned.

It would a drive of one hour from Isnu to Luxor. I hoped there would be no accidents along the route. Axl, who had breakfast that morning confessed that he had found an email containing the instructions for the dahabiya from Djed. It was sent weeks before, and the passage was not exactly as Yousef had quoted to me. The word minimum was never used, instead it said suggestion. Of course i thought. A couple of hours later we got an email from Riksja, whom we had informed about our inconvenience. They apologized immediately and offered to compensate if needed. We were dropped of at our hotel first, said goodbye to the family and got the key to our room. It was noon, again we could use our room that early, which we did. My stomach was not ready with me, and N. was the next in line who had it bad. So now there were three grown ups out of four that caught something on the boat.

Both a bit weak we stayed at the hotel. A very polite and helpful young man from Correct came to visit us in our hotel. We had a full program, Luxor Temple and Karnak on Tuesday, Valley of the Kings and Heptseshut tempel on Wednesday, and flying home on Thursday. We would be picked up at eight, again at eight, and then at three thirty. I repeated it some times. He exchanged numbers with N. and wished us a fine day at the pool. N.’s situation was getting worse, so around seven in the evening I decided to cancel our Tuesday Luxor temple slash Karnak tour. I offered to pay for any late cancelation fee, instead he was all concern and full of understanding. Again I was taken aback in positive way.

The next day we decided to visit Luxor temple by ourselves. It was only a short stroll, a ferry and another short stroll. We filled our bottles from to watercooler in the lobby and stepped out, both feeling not too bad, but glad we skipped the tour. Once on the ferry we discovered we went a long way north before reaching the other side. The short stroll became a fair distance. We arrived, paid our entry, let them security check us and stepped in. I took some water. Spat it out. The water cooler had been refilled with tap water. In our condition not a good idea. N. had noticed as well, but also had drank some of it. The walk, the burning sun, she had to sit down in the shade while I walked around and took the pictures she couldn’t. The place was packed and more busses were arriving. We walked some yards on Sphinx Avenue, which was a road from the temple to Karnak, stretching two and a half kilometer. We headed for a coffee shop that was recommended to us.

While we sat N. got a little better. We conversed with a British lady who had been visiting Luxor for twenty years, each winter. Of all the places I’d seen in Egypt, and that is not many, I agreed on her choice for Luxor, the most clean city of all we’ve seen, not so crowded as Cairo and friendly. But then, Luxor is all that because of all the foreign visitors. The Valley of the Kings is an attraction with a long tradition. The town has grown into it’s visitors. We decided it was enough for that day and headed back to the ferry and hotel. Along the way I bought us some bottles of water at a local shop. The price was shockingly low. To our surprise our Luxor contact was waiting for us at the hotel. He was curious and concerned how N. was feeling. She was exhausted and went straight to our room. We agreed that our visit to the Valley would go on as planned. We could always decide to terminate prematurely. So we reconfirmed eight o clock the next morning.

Back in the room it was my turn to occupy the toilet. We sat the afternoon in the garden, had some food, some drinks. And were reasonably okay, especially N. had had a tough morning so we were both positive about the next day, the Goliath of theme Park Ancient Egypt. Valley of the Kings. A red cat joined us for the evening in the garden, demanding food and cuddles. In return she lay on a vacant chair the rest of the evening. We read our books, I tried a beer. The call for prayer was less obnoxious where we were then in say Isnu. Workmen were replacing pavement with grass, on square meter per drop of a slab of turf. . At seven we had a sparse breakfast, the cook who had been high fiving me each time we met felt sorry for us. I drank some fruit juice, had coffee and was ready to go. N. felt okay as well, five minutes before eight we stepped into the lobby, our guide jumped up and put on a big smile. He led us to the car, introduced the driver and of we went. We drove at walking speed on the dirt roads. On the asphalt it became 50 to 80. The guide had been informed of our earlier illness and made sure we were comfortable. Behind security we took a golf cart for the first kilometer. Some final words from the guide, cause they are not allowed to speak inside the tombs we entered the tomb of Ramses III. A slow queue of people entered the tomb on the right. On the left people were coming out. It didn’t take long before we passed the gate. Here you get a hole in your ticket. With your entrance you get to choose three tombs you may enter. There are a lot on show, so not everybody sees the same tombs.

The tomb of Tutankhamun, the most famous, costs extra. We didn’t go. It must be huge, because we’ve spent hours just looking at all that was found inside that tomb. We decided that seeing all that was inside that tomb was enough for us. We admired the colours, the inscriptions on the wall and ceiling. We slowly moved forward to the chambers. The colours changed. More gold and blue instead of red and white. Chambers even deeper in, which you may not enter promise more beauty in abundance. No picture can grab the whole feeling that leaves you in awe for everything you see, and have seen so far on our journey. After the U-turn at the end we slowly and reluctantly walked out. One guide was standing right next to the exit. She was talking in her little microphone. A group with the same earplugs and red lanyards had just entered the tomb and she could see the front of her group and told them what they saw. Clever and probably quickly becoming irritating when more come up with this solution to the no-guides-inside-rule.

We met up with ours at the cafetaria. Some cold water, some coffee and off to Ramses VI and Ramses I. Both tombs stunning in different ways. The last hardly decorated, just the main chamber. But what was decorated was vivid and brilliant. A Chinese couple was being obnoxious. Posing in front of the walls, taking ages to monster the result, switch positions, switch camera. After a while i made sure me and my yellow rucksack would be in any frame they would consider. Finally they left. We couldn’t believe we had had a tomb all by ourselves for a whole minute. The other one more like the first just inching forward with the queue. Appreciating the beauty as you go.

We had collected our three holes in our ticket, time to catch up and leave the heat and the increasing crowd. This guide also had an unpleasant surprise for us, this time we visited a stone workshop. Statues, pyramids, slabs with hieroglyphs, All the stone souvenirs, according to our guide, came from workshops like these, if not from China. And again after a 1 minute how-things-are-made we were welcomed inside with airconditioning and a ton of stone on display. The shop guide pointed at things, walked us through the shop, showed how the light shone through the albast. N. Was done sat with the guide and left me alone with all the stone. Eventually I choose a small item depicting a cat. Negotiated a lower price and we could go. One more tempel and it was enough. N. Sat down in the shadow halfway the visit. We had seen enough. All the attractions on our list and more we had visited, except one Karnak. We could live with that. Back in the car, our trip was almost over. We decided against lunch and wanted straight back to the hotel.

We took our key and went into the room. Alarm at 02:30, pickup at 03:30 we packed our bags as the phone from N. received a message. We were offered, for free, a visit to the light show at Karnak. I could not believe it, but it was true, we only had to say yes and a driver would pick us up at 19:00, take us to Karnak, get us inside and wait for us to bring us either to our hotel or somewhere for diner. We felt so special, they knew we had skipped Karnak because of the runs. And for some reason they made that we could visit anyway. And it was amazing, we have seen only half of it, because that’s where the light show takes you, but I wouldn’t have want to have miss this. Even after all that we’ve seen before, Karnak is special.

After the light show the same driver took us back to the hotel. He spoke German and English, preferred English although he had lived in Vienna for several years. He explained us about the shortage of gas in Aswan, the smugglers. He also told us that a lot of foreigners were buying or building houses in Egypt. To spend some time there, and mostly rent it out the rest of the year. I thought this was a bad thing, but he explained that it was good. It meant work for cleaners, builders, security, taxi drivers. Lots of work. The fleeing of most of the capital was of no concern to him. He showed us how we would pass some security and they would hardly look at us, but a car from the other side with for Egyptians was scrutinized the moment we passed. He explained that like many guides earlier, cities like Aswan and Luxor depend for eighty percent on tourism. Everybody makes money out of tourists or gets work from someone who makes money from tourists. He brought us safely to the hotel. We thanked him a last time. Sent a message to the travel agent to thank them and of to bed.

At 03:25 we were ready to leave, the car was already there. We drove some 50 minutes to the airport. When entering we had to pass security. Bags through the scanner, persons through the detector. Some patting down and you can dress up again. We queued for bagage drop off, one desk was operating, ours not so much. After a long wait we were finally allowed at the counter. We handed our passports. Waited. Watched as they labelled our bags, and got our passports back. We walk to the gate when one of the two sitting policeman warned the one in front of him. He nodded and called us. Random security check he said, or, that is what I think he said. Again empty your pockets, take of your shoes, leave your bag and belongings, spread your arms. So patting of the legs, finished.

We went for a coffee. Waited at the gate, got loaded on a bus and climbed the stairs on board. We found our chairs and waited. About fifteen minutes after our scheduled departure the captain used the intercom. “Technical issue, fifteen minutes” was what I could make of it. Eventually we were an hour stranded on the tarmac. When we were airborne it was business as usual as if no technical issue never occurred. ever. So with that mindset it is obvious you don’t apologize for something that didn’t happen in the first place. We landed at Cairo airport and looked for our connecting flight to Amsterdam. I was in a bad mood and the airport did no attempt to please me. I was already angry because of the delay and the toilet block performed by the cleaners at Luxor airport who only let you through if you’d give them some cash.

At Cairo airport we ordered coffee, she asked strong, N. said yes and the price was doubled. The prices on the cash came nowhere near what was advertised. In the end we just let it. We had the money in Egypt paper, it would be worthless at home anyway. It just felt so wrong that at any moment someone could scam you for some money. I was tired, it made me tired. When we were allowed to the gate we had to undergo one last security check. Shoes, take off you jacket, drop your belongings, spread your arm and legs. This time the security was serious business, not the patting you might get at a museum. Half an our later we were able to board our escape to home.

Back home with Egypt Air isn’t any better than going there. We were still told the direction of Mekka, there was a prayer, there was no alcohol, and there was a shouting and arguing thief on board. I just tried to ignore everything around me. The woman stuffing het Lidl bag with airline blankets, I didn’t care. The other woman collecting the snacks from those who didn’t eat them. I turned up the volume.

The unexpected advantage of such a journey is that you come to appreciate our Dutch infra structure and way of living just a little bit more. Would I do it again? No, I’ve seen all of Ancient Egypt I wanted to see, I hope and think the same goes for N. Egypt has a lot more to offer than this theme park dotted along the Nile. But I’ve seen enough to not be curious to visit Egypt again. Would I recommend this trip or something comparable to anyone wanting to see Ancient Egypt? Definitely so, it was really unforgettable in more than one way.