EGYPT – LUXOR

January 31 – February 6, 2023

The bus to Luxor was very comfortable. It was a night bus and I slept like a baby in the wide reclining seats. And they even served a boxed lunch!

The guesthouse host, Ali Mohamed, said he could arrange for a taxi to pick me up from the bus station. He originally started at $20 US dollars (610 dirham), but lowered it to $15 (450 dirham) when I said it was too much. I still thought it was too much and said I would find my own way. At the bus station, the taxi drivers were worse than a swarm of bees. Everyone was yelling and trying to get a fare. Two drivers approached me almost simultaneously. They started yelling at each other, obviously trying to say that they each saw me first. They nearly came to blows arguing about it. I decided I didn’t need the hassle or drama and kept walking. They kept fighting over me. Finally, I asked how much to my destination. They both said 600 dirham. I scoffed at them and said TWO while holding up 2 fingers. One of the fellows backed down, laughing, as if to say to his counterpart “She’s all yours”. The remaining taxi driver was giving me his sob story about how far it is, how many children he has, blah, blah, blah. I kept, emphatically, holding up 2 fingers. Suddenly, a fellow stepped up and said, I can take you there for 180 dirham. ($6.00 US dollars) Off we went.

Ali had said it was a bit difficult to find, and it proved to be so. The taxi driver finally called on his cell phone and Ali picked me up on a main street and delivered me to the guesthouse a short, but complicated, distance away. I paid the taxi driver 200 dirham.

The guesthouse was gorgeous! A two-bedroom apartment, with a full kitchen, washing machine, bathtub (very rare in guesthouses), a balcony off the living room and another off the bedroom. It had a rooftop terrace that I could access by cutting through my upstairs neighbour’s balcony. Annie and I became good friends during the course of my stay. We remain in contact to this day.

The neighborhood was different. My apartment was all marble.

I also had a nice view of the Nile.

The hotel across the alley had a swimming pool. The house on the corner was mud, with a donkey living in the courtyard. A mosque nearby sang out the 5 times daily call to prayer, but this guy had a re-verb on his microphone. Very funky. There was also a fellow who came around beating a drum, as a call to prayer. I liked him. He sounded very nice.

Ali took me to a corner shop where I stocked up on some basic groceries. Eggs, bread, butter, water and instant noodles – enough to get me through until the next day. Also, I didn’t think he was giving me the best price on the items I did buy.

Later that afternoon I wandered down to the main shopping street and found the same items for nearly a quarter of the price. I also found a produce shop where I could buy fresh fruits and veggies for cheap, cheap, cheap. A shopping bag full of strawberries, oranges, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and bananas came to 60 dirham ($2.70). When I did need more groceries, I bought them from the small shop across the street from the produce shop. The owner soon recognized me and his young son was more than happy to help me find things they did not sell themselves.

As the guesthouse was a 5-minute walk to the Nile. The first night I decided to have dinner along the shore. I ordered skewers. They were brought on a mini hibachi that kept them piping hot.

A side salad and some rice were all washed down with a 50 dirham beer. ($2.50 for a 500 ml) A decadent little luxury that I did not often allow myself.

The next day I decided I wanted to walk to Hatsheput’s Temple. It was only about 7 km away, and if I started in the morning I would miss the heat of the day. I could always take a taxi back if I was too tired or hot. Off I went with my trusty Google Maps App. The walk took me past some interesting sights that would never be seen or experienced from a tour bus. I came across some sugar cane workers loading cane onto the sugar cane train. The train runs on narrow tracks and has an almost toy-looking engine. The men whacked off a chunk of sugar cane for me to chew on. It was like chewing on a syrupy stick. It was delicious and sticky, but I didn’t throw it away until every bit had been sucked dry.

Further along, I came to a place with palm leaves stacked up. Two men seemed to belong there and I asked (via sign language) what they were for. The younger man directed me to a stack of wicker-like furniture. He showed me how he takes strips of the palm branches and weaves them into this beautiful furniture. He showed me tiny palm trees – which look nothing like the full-grown ones. They wanted me to stay for tea (a common sign of hospitality, and it saddened me to decline the offer)

I walked through a village that was teeming with alabaster shops. There was a tour group inside one of the shops so I popped in to listen to the “tour”. The guy was hilarious. As he was explaining how the alabaster rocks come to the shop in rough form, the men working behind him chimed along with comical little sing-songs to emphasize his points. Each man had separate duties in the execution toward the final project. One chipped out the rough shape, another smoothed it, another drilled a hole into the soft stone with an ancient hand drill (for a vase), and another (Picasso) drew the design. The entire process was done with ancient-looking tools and was, no doubt, difficult.

All that being said, a few days later I had the pleasure of having a taxi driver (Ahmed) who gave me more information in a 10-minute taxi ride than a week’s worth of high-priced tour guides. He had very political and common sense views. When I told him he was more Western than Arabic, he had to agree. What he told me was the government is still digging for artifacts in this area. The government wants the people of this village to get the hell out so they can excavate for archaeological things. The government knows there are still many, many valuable tombs to be found. However, the village countered that they had been there for thousands of years. They were just as much a cultural heritage site as the tombs. So the government came up with a compromise. Alabaster shops could stay. Suddenly, every house became an alabaster shop. BUT, the people of the village have a more lucrative reason for not moving. Nearly every home / alabaster shop has a network of tunnels leading to hidden tombs and treasures. Ahmed told me that someone he knows found a huge treasure and sold it, on the black market, for a small fortune. As is so common when someone happens upon a mother-load of ill-gotten gains, he flashed the cash. The government finally figured out what was going on, but is having a difficult time proving any of it. No one knows anything. No one sees anything. It may not be right to sell ancient archaeological relics on the black market, but these people are poor. One would be hard-pressed to find a family man who would not be willing to break the law to feed his family.

Now, here is the flip side of the “support the family” argument. Although mostly strict Muslims – pray 5 times a day, wear the hijab, have 5 or 6 kids, and everything else that goes with being a pious Muslim – the men are allowed to have 4 wives. Granted, if he buys one a new necklace they all get a new necklace. I heard the sob story of how many kids they have to support so many times, I was going to go out and buy a box of condoms and say “Here, this is what you need more than money.” The same goes with the women sitting on the side of the road, baby in arms, begging for money. USE A CONDOM!

SIDE NOTE: Ahmed had only two children and one wife. He said he wanted to provide a good education for his children. He started working on a faluka when he was 12 years old. He learned English from the tourists. He saved enough money to buy his own boat. He does not want his children to be as poor as he was.

Walking through this ancient, mud-walled village I was a bit surprised to see an air conditioning unit mounted to the roof of many shacks. Air ventilation for the tunnels?

Google Maps suddenly had me turn off the road onto a dirt trail through the desert.

It was in the right direction so I turned onto the trail. I walked and walked, and walked. I was going past half-dug excavation sites.

It was pretty desolate and I began to wonder if Google was wrong. Suddenly, I came upon a rise and there before me stood Hatshepsut’s Temple. WooHoo! I made it!

I went down a long winding slope toward the Temple and a guard shack. A guard popped out, brandishing an AK47, and demanding something but was speaking Arabic. I still had my phone in my hand and switched to Google Translate.

Guard: “Where did you come from?”

Me: “Across the desert.”

Guard: “From where?”

Me: “From Luxor.”

Guard: “Too far. Where did you come from?”

Me: “Luxor!”

At this point, he is on his radio and motioning for me to stay put.

A tour guide nearby was telling me that I was past the ticket office; I had slipped in for free and to keep walking.

The machine gun-armed guard was still motioning for me to stay put. “I think I’ll stay put, thank you.” The radio call must have been to his supervisor, because before long another, more official-looking guard also carrying an AK47, approached and asked me the same questions. He then escorted me to the main entrance, where I was taken to an office and again asked more questions by someone who spoke English. I explained that I wanted to walk from Luxor and not take a taxi. I even showed him my timeline on Google Maps. He shook his head like I was a crazy person. He then took me to the ticket booth and watched while I bought my entry ticket. When I returned to the spot with the first armed guard I showed him my ticket. He smiled and gave me the thumbs up.

Later that evening I met a couple from Victoria, BC. We were both happy to meet a fellow Canadian and we all went for a beer by the river. I told them about my morning adventure. Warren, a retired military lawyer, said I was wise to wait as the officer said. On 17 November 1997, 6 armed gunmen, disguised as members of the security forces, opened fire on tourists at the Temple. They killed 58 foreigners and 4 Egyptians, including 2 armed guards. The organization thought to be responsible denied involvement. Considering I came across the desert and wearing a backpack, I guess I did look suspicious. They never looked in the backpack, though.

The Mortuary Temple built of limestone, sandstone and granite, consists of three terraces that rise from the desert floor and blend into the base of the towering cliffs of Deir el-Bahari, said to be 100 meters (328 feet) high. Built in the 15 century BC, it is a masterpiece of ancient architecture and art.

Most spectacularly, are the huge statues that stand guard at the entrance.

Inside are various shrines, hieroglyphics, murals, courts and massive columns.

The climactic point of the temple is the Sanctuary of Amun, the most powerful deity of the time. As a woman in a man’s role, her mother, who knew the finer details of the cult of Amun, appointed her as God’s Wife of Amun. Later, to further secure her authority, her inscriptions declared that Thutmose I was not really her father – the god Amun was. Who would dare go against the daughter of god? Hatshepsut’s power was secured. Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s actual tomb, KV20, is in the Valley of the Kings.

My ticket said I had access to two other tombs. I had to ask someone where they were. They were underground, close to the area where I had walked across the desert. Pabasa Tomb was at the bottom of about 100 steps.

It had lots of square columns with tatters of hieroglyphics.

Assasif Tomb was also underground, but closer to the surface. It had a more cave-like feel to it.

The darkness protected the murals and as such, they were nicer.

Walking back to Luxor I took a different road home. I saw trucks loaded with sugar cane and trucks piled with fresh tomatoes. I diverted back from the main road and walked through the “real” Luxor. I saw a strange-looking tower that I found out was a “pigeon hotel” – a chicken coop for pigeons. (Pigeon is on the menu in restaurants.)

I walked along a dirty canal that was used for irrigating fields of sugar cane,

where I saw men hacking the long stalks with machetes.

Nearby, a pair of donkeys were harnessed up and hooked to a cart, ready to transport the stalks.

Houses were not as fancy as on the main road.

The next day I took the ferry across to the east side of the Nile. I walked along the lovely riverside walkway, lined with river cruise boats. My destination: Karnak Temple.

There were hoards of tour bus people funneling past the goat-like statues guarding the entrance.

Karnak Temple construction began in the 20th century BC and continued to the 4 century BC. It has an open-air museum that contains reconstructions of structures that have been dismantled or were buried inside the massive pylons in the actual complex. Many of the detailed carvings were in granite or marble. I still find it hard to believe that this delicate work was done with a hammer and chisel.

To me, the most impressive part of the Temple is the Hypostyle Hall. It covers 5000 sq meters (50,000 sq ft) and has 134 massive columns arranged in 16 rows. 122 of the columns are 10 metres (33 ft) tall and the other 12 columns are 21 metres (69 ft) tall. They are 3 metres (9.8 ft) in diameter. Each column is covered, from bottom to top, with colourful carvings. The carvings were done after the columns were in place, to prevent any damage that may have occurred during the placing.

The obelisk of Thutmose I (Hatshepsut’s dad) is one giant slab of red granite, standing 21.7 meters (71 ft) high. Its base is 1.8 meters (6 ft) square and weighs 143 tons. It has inscriptions etched on all sides and its entire height. The carvings are precise and perfect.

There are many other statues throughout the complex.

I could go on and on about the wonder and beauty of these ancient artifacts. But until you actually see these monuments and structures, there are no words. You can see 1000 pictures, watch 100 documentaries, and read countless books. Until you stand beside them, look up at them seemingly touching the sky, touch them, run your hand along the glass-like smoothness of them, you will never really know. Even as I write this, I can feel the cool shiny granite and feel the weird energy that seems to come off them. When I was in Cairo, Hosny and Sylvie told me that if I paid attention, I would feel an energy that radiated from the pyramids. I felt it more in Luxor.

I walked past and around the Luxor Temple

on my way to El Souk – a touristy bazaar selling lots of trinkets and souvenirs. I didn’t find anything that jumped out at me and quickly left.

I had my newfound taxi driver friend, Ahmed, take me to the Valley of the Kings. Once again, he acted as a very knowledgeable tour guide. We drove past a field of red. He pulled over to let me take a picture of acres and acres of drying tomatoes. All the fields that I could see were owned by the schools. They grow and maintain the crops, then sell the products to fund the schools. Europe’s demand for sun-dried products has increased the export earnings by 30%. Many other such projects employ only women and have provided 200 seasonal jobs, ensuring family incomes are more stable. Maybe they will be able to afford condoms.

The entrance of the Valley of the Kings has a diorama of a cross-section of the tombs. It really gives a great view of just how deep and complex the tombs are and a better understanding of how difficult it is to find them. The barren landscape also has one wondering how in the hell even one tomb was found.

The entry ticket gave me access to 3 tombs to visit and the option to buy access to a few more. Ahmed told me the best ones were Ramesses V & VI, Tausert & Setnakht, Ramesses III, and Ramesses IV. The tomb of Seti I is supposed to be the most beautiful, but it came at an extra cost of $55 so I opted not to see it.

What I did see was spectacular enough. The dark cool tunnels preserved the colours and details of the murals that adorned every surface, even up onto the ceilings.

Every sarcophagus and mural was massive, either in its actual size or in its scope. As with the pyramids and Karnak Temple, you can see a hundred pictures and documentaries, but until you actually see these ancient works of art, it is impossible to comprehend and appreciate.

Ahmed was waiting to take me back to Luxor. On the way, we passed some ancient grain silos.

Back in Luxor, I decided to take an evening boat ride to Banana Island.

It was supposed to be a 25-minute sailboat ride there and a 15-minute ride back while watching the sunset. It sounded lovely. I got on board with the captain and his boy helper. There was not a whiff of a wind. I could not hear any motor. I asked how we were going to sail upstream. Not a problem, he answered. A half-hour later we were a mile down river, drifting with the current. Finally, the captain called another boat that had a motor to tow us back to the dock. I jumped in with the motorized boat and was at Banana Island in 15 minutes.

I had to jump off the bow onto the shore. There was no dock. The new captain hurried me along, through a banana grove,

to the crocodiles

and monkeys, that were shown on the advertising brochure. I was expecting a platform with crocodiles milling about below me and maybe throw them a dead chicken and monkeys in the trees. How disappointed to see 3 small crocodiles in a tiny cement enclosure.

There were about a half dozen monkeys in the most pathetically small cage. They looked absolutely miserable.

There were some turtles in another tiny enclosure. It was horrible. Obviously, there are no animal rights activists in Luxor.

The captain then hurried me back to the restaurant on site. I wasn’t interested in eating. I was handed a bag of bananas and hurried back to the boat. A plank had been leaned onto the bow of the boat for me to get back on board. I was back a good hour before the sunset. So much for the romantic sunset Nile cruise. In the end, I went up to the rooftop terrace and watched the sunset (and burning sugar cane) from there.

It turned into a nice evening after all.

The next morning I got up really early for a sunrise hot air balloon ride. In Canada, such a ride would cost around $400. This one was costing me under $50. Ahmed picked me up in front of the tour agency. At the balloon site, there were dozens and dozens of hot air balloons firing up. The noise of hissing gas and blasting flames was deafening.

It was almost scary to witness these huge, delicate balloons being blasted with large flames. I could see the flames through the fabric.

Our group was told to stand clear until it was safe to board. The captain then gave everyone some brief instructions on how to hang on, with careful instructions on how to brace for landing. We had to demonstrate that we knew exactly what to do when he gave the instructions.

A ground crew allowed the balloon to lift a few feet into the air, then released the weights and let us glide upward.

Once in the air, it was so beautiful and magical it is hard to describe. Dozens of colourful balloons were already aloft. Some were still firing up on the ground. There was a string of vans parked along the road that had to extend at least a kilometre long.

Hundreds of people were on the same adventure as me! Soon we could see the sun on the horizon. Our talented captain rotated the balloon so we could all get a good view and picture.

We drifted up and over the Tombs of the Nobles (I could clearly see the path I had taken across the desert),

over private homes (it felt a bit like being a peeping tom),

over many archaeological sites and green fields of unknown crops.

We could see to the edge of the desert.

Before we knew it, our hour had expired and we drifted to an open field, told to take our landing positions and we touched down. I was expecting more of a crash, but it was no worse than an airliner touching down.

We were instructed to stay in our crouched position as we could hear men rushing about outside of the basket. They were maneuvering the semi-deflated balloon into position, over a ground tarp to protect it from damage, to be wrapped up. After a while, we were told we could now stand up, but to remain in the basket to maintain the weight while the men packed up the balloon itself.

There were about a dozen men doing the job. What hot air remained in the balloon was fighting against them. They were huffing and heaving and putting their entire weight and strength into maintaining control of the beast. And beastly it was! It took them nearly a half hour to bundle things up enough for us to crawl out of the basket. As we were getting into trucks to take us away, they were still working at it.

Ahmed said he would pick me up at the Colossi of Memnon. It was where all balloon riders got dropped off. There was a small market set up. We all received our Hot Air Balloon Certificates.

The original function of the Colossi was to stand guard at the entrance to Amenhotep’s memorial temple. The three statues, Amenhotep III, his wife Tiye, and his mother Mutemwiya are all symbols of rebirth.

They have withstood floods and earthquakes. One statue received a crack during the 27 BC earthquake, which caused it to “sing”. Night-time dew would get trapped within the crack, and the sunrise heat caused the dew to evaporate, creating a series of vibrations that echoed through the thin desert air. Some say it sounded like a brass being struck, others say it sounded like a lyre string breaking. Myth has it as the otherworldly eerie wail of slain Eos crying out to his mother, the goddess Dawn. Unfortunately, in the 3rd century a well-meaning Roman “repaired” the broken statue while trying to gain favor with the Emperor. He not only silenced the singing, he disfigured it so that it no longer looked like its identical twin.

On the drive back to my guest house, Ahmed told me that he has a farm and raises camels and horses. I told him I grew up on a farm but had never seen a camel farm. He asked if I would like to go to his farm. Hell, yes! It was a short distance away, in the middle of town.

At his farm, he introduced me to his father and brother. The brother spoke good English and showed me around the farm. He said they used to have about 30 camels, but Covid put a huge dent in their horse and camel riding business. They had to sell most of the animals. They are now building up the herd again. He showed me their garden, where they grew onions and eggplant. As I was about to leave, the brother brought out a baby camel from the barn. It was so ugly it was cute. I asked if I could pet it. Of course! As I was holding the lead, Ahmed said something in Arabic and the camel nudged toward me. I backed up. Ahmed laughed and said to hold still. He was telling it to kiss me. And it did. I got kissed by a baby camel! That sure doesn’t happen sitting on the couch at home watching TV!

My time in Luxor had come to an end. I left my remaining groceries with Annie, who lived upstairs. She had fallen off a horse and broken a few ribs. The Egyptian government extended her stay to 3 months, from the usual one month, so she could recuperate. I am happy to say she is fully recovered. We still exchange travel destinations and stays.

Ahmed took me to the airport. He asked how I liked the apartment. I said that I really enjoyed it. He informed me that he and Ali were good friends and that he actually helped build and plan the apartment. Good job, guys!

At the airport, a guard started hassling Ahmed about something. Ahmed responded quite agitated. I asked him if the guy was trying to hustle bakshish (bribe money) from him. He said ‘yes’. I laughed and said I thought only the tourists got hassled. He said “No, we all do. Especially if they think we have money. I told him I WORK for my money and maybe he should too.”

We both laughed and hugged as he carried my bags to the terminal doors. Should I ever return to Luxor, I hope to see Ahmed again. And, hopefully, he will have the hotel he dreams of building complete.

Sharm el Sheikh next….

Other interesting photos: