8:00 AM local time, Thursday, April 18 (0600 April 18 UTC) 27 24 N 033 40 E.
Temp. 77, Humidity 39%, Cloud Cover 0%. Stiff breeze. Abu Tig Marina,
El-Gouna Resort, near Hurghada, Egypt.
To get to Luxor from El-Gouna one travels overland, first south to Safaga
along the Red Sea coast, and then west through the mountains to the Eastern
Desert and the Nile. In Safaga your vehicle, in this case a large,
comfortable Mercedes van, joins up with a group of others to make up a
convoy. The convoys run several times a day and the idea is to protect
tourists from whatever terrors may lurk along the road. Security is tough
everywhere in Egypt. There are airport-type metal detectors and bags are
checked at the entrances to all major hotels and theatres, and many stores,
and in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo you go through two of them. The convoy is
a peculiar idea, since it makes a much better target for whomever we're
worried about, while taking public transportation is seemingly less
attractive for the bad guys since one then becomes mixed in with locals. Mr.
Shrode and Caroline did so. Technically, tourists are supposed travel as part
of a convoy, but no one at the bus station suggested to them that there was
any problem, and it's much less expensive. My guess is that the main enemy
that the convoy strategy is directed against is unemployment. Anyway, the
convoy is headed by a pickup truck full of armed soldiers, and there's
another similar one bringing up the rear. And so we went on down the road.
Dusk fell as we entered the mountains to the west, which I think were basalt
but my request to stop the convoy, so I could take a sample with the
geologist's hammer I always carry for such purposes, was denied. As we
emerged from the mountains and approached the floodplain of the Nile, I began
to notice numerous strange towers befetished with bright green lights on
strings, like Christmas tree lights. Only they weren't, because the towers
they were on, as I could see the next morning, were the minarets of mosques.
Luxor is the current name of the ancient city of Thebes, once the center of
Egypt's power and situated directly on the Nile. It is home to the ruins of
the temples of Karnak and Luxor among others, the Valley of the Kings and
Valley of the Queens, and innumerable other antiquities. The gods worshipped
by the ancient Egyptians are well represented here, as are the Pharaohs whose
power was intimately connected to them. But these gods, a la Nietzsche, are
dead. It's always possible there may be, in Bolinas, for example, a cult of
Osiris or Amun-Re, but I guess that doesn't really amount to a proof of life.
When you think about it, Baal, Apollo, Mithra, and Thor, to name a few, are
among a long list of dead gods, so maybe being a god isn't really as secure a
career as one might suppose. Networking, that's the key to long-term success
as a god.
What makes a god die, wonders the Captain. The death of a god is no small
matter. Judging from the history of Egypt, it might be the result of his or
her worshippers being defeated in battle, their land and consequently their
temples being made available for the use of the conquering gods, which for
some is what the substance of the intractable conflict between the
Palestinians and Israel is all about. This is just what one sees at Luxor
temple, where a mosque stands on the ruins of the temple of the once
all-powerful Amun-Re, and in the Agora in Athens, where medieval Christians
placed a chapel, if memory serves. Since the ruins of Egypt are so old, and
the conquerors so many and varied, the death of Amun-Re at one point becomes,
I suppose, an established fact. The vulnerability of the pyramids themselves
to marauders was the reason the later pharaohs of Egypt began being interred
at the Valley of the Kings, where, instead of being prominent landmarks for
miles around and for thousands of years, their gravesites were completely
camouflaged so as to prevent any notice of them at all. This didn't work, but
it shows what a poor job Amun-Re was doing of defending his people, even when
he was alive. The priests of ancient Egypt seem not to have noticed this, or
if they did, they weren't about to make it common knowledge and diminish the
collection plate offerings.
I won't bother to further elaborate on the ruins of Luxor and vicinity,
which are among the world's best known destinations and have been described
thousands of times. Herodotus was one of the earlier tourists, and the
Captain, one of the most recent, has nothing new to add. A search on google
or yahoo, or for you luddites, an encyclopedia, will satisfy the curious.
Our hotel in Luxor, the Movenpick, was not a budget accommodation but was still pretty cheap by American standards. When we checked in we noticed on the form that
breakfast was "compulsory," and though we think they meant complimentary, we
showed up every day just in case. The hotel stands on a large island in
the Nile, and walking its grounds was one of our favorite experiences in
Egypt. There was abundant bird life, including the cartoon-like hoopoes
(Upupa epops), wheatears, pied kingfishers, white storks, white wagtails,
bulbuls, and numerous other species. A farmer living in a mud-brick hut, so
commonly seen everywhere in Egypt that is not actually in town, toiled in his
field using only a water buffalo (family Bovidae) and his own strength for
power. On the other side of the island from the Nile, fishermen brought in
their catch using small nets cast from their rowed skiffs. On the way to the
town the ubiquitous donkey cart was observed, and this is the first country
we've been to where people ride donkeys, or, one is tempted to say, asses,
since the look of it is so biblical.
The island had its own small dock, where feluccas were available for a sail
on the Nile, something Theresa and the Captain could not resist. This is a
common tourist outing, but that doesn't detract from its charm. Unlike the
atmosphere at the temples and tombs, where one is unremittingly fending
off touts, the boat is, like all watercraft, a world of its own, separate
from the cares of landbound folks. A lateen-rigged sloop, the felucca is a
latter day version of the traditional vessel. It's made of steel, not wood,
and has a swing keel where the traditional boat had the disadvantage of a
short keel which was deep enough so that it was vulnerable to grounding, but
on the other hand shoal enough that sailing upwind was frustrating. But
still, the newer version is no Express 27. It's heavy, beamy and
flat-bottomed, and my best guess, although no compass was aboard, is that it
tacks through about 120 degrees. The sailors who sail them have to be good,
since without an auxiliary engine they must be clever so as not to leave the
tourists stranded when the wind dies and they head for the Mediterranean on
the swift current of the Nile. Our captain, Abdul, a funny guy, poled us out
into the river and then unfurled his sail, set the boom, and immediately had
us reaching along in a nice breeze. When dousing, he merely raises the boom
up against the mast using a tackle, but to furl the sail at night he must
shinny up the mast and then up the long yard that holds the luff of the sail
at about a 60-degree angle to the mast. The felucca is an ancient type of
sailboat, and its yard gave birth, we believe, to the square rig. It isn't
known whether the Egyptians or Arabs invented it, but in both civilizations
sailing predates history.
Our own sail was very romantic, although probably not to Theresa, and got us
back to the dock in time to enjoy the most civilized event I have seen since,
thirty years ago, I attended a concert by the London Fire Brigade Orchestra
at Hyde Park. Perhaps the Captain's use of the word "civilized" could use
some updating. Never mind. The hotel set up stereo speakers, for what it
called an evening concert, in front of a small amphitheatre on the banks of
the Nile, facing west towards the river. There, as one nursed a gin and tonic
and observed the "silence please" admonition, he could watch the sun set over
the Nile while feluccas glided dreamily by. Once in a while a tired barge
would morosely motor up the river, but this did not affect the peaceful
ambiance as we listened to violin concertos by various composers. Withal, the
scene had a decidedly nineteenth century air, one that Monet would have been
pleased to capture.
ADDENDA:
There has been an Okiva sighting. Veterans of this list will remember them
from the boat theft attempt in Papua, New Guinea, the trip up the Kumai River
to see the Orangutans, and the rough bash up the South China Sea (see trip
reports for those locations). Last we heard they were stuck in Malaysia with
engine problems and we thought they might never make it to the Med this year.
We've been a bit out of touch because of our inland travel and dealing with
repairs, but today I happened to tune in to a net and heard a yacht speaking
about a big party in Ismalia, in the middle of the Suez Canal, to celebrate
making it up the Red Sea. The party was held on a boat named "Okiva" which
was now on its way to Rhodes, so they've actually fixed everything and lapped
us. They must not even have stopped to buy beer. So now we're the ones stuck
with an engine problem and we're the ones that have to catch up. Had we been
here when they passed we might have made contact but since we missed them you
can be certain we'll do everything we can to reach them and report back. I
must say, this has brightened our day considerably.
Speaking of Orangutans, we understand that locals have raided camp #1 back in
Tanjung Putting National Park in Borneo, taken it for their own use, and the
rangers have had to abandon it. This does not bode well for the future safety
of the Orangutans, of course, as illegal logging will no doubt begin there,
destroying more of their shrinking habitat. There are a couple more camps
still operating so for the time being, at least, the program continues. One
of the cruisers here in Abu Tig contributed some VHF radios when he went
through there and has flown back to visit several times since. He's not happy
about recent developments, but there seems to be little anyone can do.
The largest boat in the Abu Tig marina where Maverick is med-tied to the quay
is a powerboat owned by a brother of Osama bin Laden.
Next report from this location:
Night Train To Cairo
|
