Just think of all the hour glasses

25 March 2008

Luxor, Egypt

Yesterday I had my boots coated in a fine white dust and it clung like I had sprinkled icing sugar on them. It wasn’t dust though, it was a powdery coating of Egyptian sand and as soon as I saw it I knew I was back.

I have been to Egypt before, spending a month travelling around almost 5 years ago to the day. I loved it then and I always wanted and planned to return. I only wish that I’d had more than one day to do it.

We were docked in Safaga, on the coast of the red sea and a long way from the Nile. Safaga is a port city and in itself didn’t hold too many things of interest. The interesting thing was a four hour bus ride away in Luxor.

I’d paid extra to do a crew tour to Luxor rather than escort the passenger one like normal and I’m glad I spent the money because it meant that I didn’t have the worry and stress associated with making sure a bus load of people are where they should be, back from where they should be and then returned to the ship like they should be. On the crew tour I was just one of the people on the bus and all I had to worry about was getting myself on and off the bus at the right times and the rest of the time I could relax and be a tourist.

With that in mind and a pack loaded with a few bottles of water and a couple of snickers bars I climbed on the bus with about twenty other people from the casino and the shops, we convoyed up with buses containing about six hundred passengers, and then we headed out of the port area.

The idea of all the buses travelling in a convoy is one of security. We are escorted by Egyptian police and all the buses string out in a long line behind. It does mean that we zip through check points and even at major intersections the other traffic is stopped so that we can just continue on. It makes the trip that little bit faster but it did make me a little self conscious to see all the cars, trucks and donkey carts stopped and waiting patiently for us to go past.

Unsurprisingly as soon as we passed through the town of Safaga we were in the desert. At first it wasn’t the large rolling sand dunes that immediately come to mind but sandy coloured stone canyons that the road wound through. Eventually we broke out of the canyons but even then the desert was more of an untidy collection of dirty coloured sand and sprinklings of darker rock than clean, golden dunes. I’ve been out in the western desert of Egypt and it was the stuff of cliché there but this gave much more of the impression of being a wasteland. Even the railway line that ran beside the road had sand and small rocks blown up against it in drifts.

Eventually the desert gave way to town and instead of the railway track we had an irrigation canal running alongside us. This made for a dramatic change in scenery. There was still the distant brown and dusty looking mountains but the ground on either side of the road was now taken over with agriculture and every available piece of land seemed to be growing something. Neat square plots were brimming with green and every so often a pump would be chugging away as it sucked water from the canal and fed it into a series of channels spread among the crops. Many houses seemed to be made from mud brick but the larger concrete block ones all had reinforcing steel poking from their rooves like rusty weeds, testament to a plan or hope for another story.

It was a long drive and the guide tried to keep us entertained with various commentaries about Egypt, past and present, but I think that after 3 hours most were more interested in getting to our first stop. I sat with my iPod on and just stared out the window reminiscing on my past experiences with the country and looking forward to the new ones.

Our first stop was at the Valley of the Kings but to get there, having driven in from the east, we had to cross the Nile to the West Bank. The guide didn’t make a comment as we crossed the bridge but I certainly felt that undeniable tingle of excitement as we first saw that most famous of ribbons of water.

Admittedly it may not look like the most impressive of rivers at this point, there are others that are wider, faster or more scenic but there is something for this being the Nile. In terms of history, romance and sheer importance in the fabric of human history it ranks right up there with few others. Seeing the Nile again also had a special significance for me because I have a secret project connected directly to the river that has been percolating in the back of my mind for a while. But for the moment it was enough to see the water with the midday sun glinting off it and feluccas tacking their way from bank to bank.

We made our way through farmland and villages, donkey drawn carts even more prevalent than vehicles. It seemed like a way of life that, from the bus window at least, is picturesque, charming, rustic and unchanged in living memory. From outside the bus it is undoubtedly a way of life that still has all the challenges that it has always had but despite any hardships or challenges a wave at anyone we passed always brought a smile and a return wave.

When we reached the Valley of the Kings the bus squeezed itself into a space among the dozens of others already there, the doors hissed open and we stepped outside. For many it was their first experience of full Egyptian heat. I knew what to expect but it still hit me with a blast that dried my first breath while it was still in my lungs and I could feel a layer of salt developing on my arms as the sweat dried as fast as it could form. This is definitely a place where you drink water even if you don’t feel thirsty because by the time you do feel it you’re already dehydrated. I also know from experience that you don’t carry a bottle around with you intending to drink it later because in this sort of heat you’ll find yourself able to make a cup of tea with it in a very short time. Drink it while it’s cold, buy more and keep drinking. And don’t forget the sunscreen.

In terms of the world’s great scenic spots I don’t rate the Valley of the Kings too highly. It is simply a smallish valley winding its way through the desert. There is a sort of rugged beauty and starkness to it but in itself it’s not remarkable. What is remarkable is under the sand and rock.

We funnelled our way through the visitor centre and then grabbed seats on the little tram that moves people from there, up the valley to the actual tombs. It was only a short way to another barrier where our ticket was torn and we could enter the surprisingly small area where the tomb entrances are clustered.

Our guide had recommended that we visit the tombs of Ramses IV and IX and we took her advice, queuing with all the other people for our chance to file through a metal gate and down into the final resting place of an Egyptian Pharaoh. And that is the thing that you have to keep reminding yourself as you shuffle down the narrow corridor staring at the walls and ceiling while sweat drips relentlessly from your nose in the hot and humid conditions. This is the real deal, not a reconstruction, a documentary on your TV or some Hollywood idealisation. This is so old that it defies belief and the thing that makes it so surreal is the colours. The hieroglyphs are carved into the walls but then the wall has been painted white and each of the symbols has been painted in bright, vivid, realistic colours. They are still there and still as bright as they may have been the day they were painted. You can visit so many other places in Egypt and touch temples that are as old or older and with them you get a sense of age, of weathering and wear and the passing of the ages but here there is an amazing feeling of freshness. The inside of these tombs in the Valley of the Kings is the closest to a time machine you will ever find because of that sense of intimacy that comes from being able to discern even the finest detail placed there by a long dead artist.

From the Valley of the Kings we drove a short way to the Colossi of Memnon, a couple of massive statues of a seated Pharaoh that stand alone amid a field of green crops. Rather than being carved from a mountain or standing on a solid base of rock these were built on dirt and have suffered as a consequence. They have fallen in the past and been reassembled and they look more than a little worse for wear. What makes them remarkable and worthy of a photo stop amid so many sites is the way that they seem to sprout out of a field in someone’s farm and the solitary way that they stand guard over their surrounds.

Our next stop was back in Luxor at the Temple of Luxor. This is the picture that you get in your mind when you say “Egyptian temple”. It is large, both in breadth and height, the entrance is flanked by two enormous seated figures. In fact enormous is a word that will have to accompany everything I write. The columns are enormous, the statues are enormous, the courtyards are enormous and the sense of age is enormous. Hieroglyphs are carved into every available surface in varying degrees of wear and they are there for you to touch and wonder. Some of the columns are broken off at the base and others are complete, towering over your head with thousands of years of solidity. Statues stand in alcoves still staring at the Nile. It’s impossible to do the place justice without being a much better writer than I am, and in the limited time I have to write this and get it online, I’m not sure I can do an adequate job, let alone do it justice. Just wait for the photos.

From there we were driven to Pizza Hut. Hardly ancient or particularly Egyptian it was meant as an opportunity to order food that would be delivered to our next stop, the obligatory jewellery store. The idea was that we would sit in the air conditioning of the jewellery store, eat our pizza and buy things. I didn’t order any pizza and spent my time outside taking photos of the passing parade of people, donkeys, horses and camels. When we got to the jewellery store I had a cursory look inside and then wandered down the street looking for food a little more local.

I ended up being called into one restaurant by a trio of traffic police who were sitting outside drinking tea. Only one of them spoke rudimentary English but the age old smiling and pointing tactic gained me a seat with them and a cup of tea of my own. I managed to get across to the owner that I was after local food and I ended up sitting with him and the three cops trying to explain exactly where I was from. We sat there for a while in good humoured harmony while I ate until a police vehicle arrived and my three new friends made a hurried exit back to their assigned positions at an intersection.

From the food and jewellery we moved on to our last stop at Karnak temple. This is a structure that dwarfs all others in both size and time taken to construct. It wasn’t built by just one pharaoh to show how important he was but was added to and improved by many subsequent ones, giving it a mixture of styles and an oddly irregular shape as each sort to outdo the last. We were there for the light and sound show which started shortly after sunset but we arrived a little early and had an opportunity to run across the road and take photos of the sun setting over the Nile. A few ventured down to stand in the water while other less brave souls stood on the bank. The sun has a truly golden glow through the sandy haze of the western sky, sinking slowly into the land of the dead. Magical.

Pulling into the car park at Karnak we joined masses of other people in a large staging area, waiting for full darkness so the show could begin. There was little light so the bulk of the temple wall loomed up above us and the short sphinx lined avenue leading to the entrance was lit from below casting the details on each statue into relief.

The first part of the show was impressive. Booming voices would come from hidden speakers and spotlights would illuminate parts of the temple complex, leading us on a walking tour through gateways, between rows of columns and into courtyards. It had an eerie feel to it that would have been much more impressive with a smaller crowd or even on your own. But this was the best part of the show and after being guided through the temple complex we came to a large grandstand built in front of the sacred lake and then we had to sit through a continuation of the light and sound that just seemed to be trying too hard to create an atmosphere that simply wasn’t there when you were so far removed from the buildings. Unfortunately this part dragged on for too long and even I found myself looking at my watch and thinking about the long drive back to the ship.

Eventually it ended and everyone streamed out of the temple and back to the waiting buses. Not having to carry a numbered sign or having to rope in stray passengers made it so much easier to find my bus and sink happily into my seat. We loaded up and then drove to a checkpoint, waited for the other buses to form up into our convoy and then headed off. The trip back seemed even longer than the mornings journey and my legs were starting to feel the effects of a small and cramped space by the time we made it back but we had the company of an almost full moon shining over the desert.

We weren’t home until a little after midnight and I had to be up for the early start at work a little later but it was a good day. Maybe not the ideal way to soak up all that there is to offer in a place so full of historical wonder and current charm but at least I’ve managed to return to Egypt.

This is a bit of a rushed entry as we hit Alexandria tomorrow and I have another tour, as an escort this time. Looking at our schedule we will be having almost more port days than sea days for the next week or two so I may only have time to make quick entries with impressions rather than details.