Really Rather Wonderful

Another amazing entry c/o Simons travels.

Heading south from Luxor to Aswan. The Nile Valley narrows here, but even so the belt of green fertilised by the Nile doesn't quite stretch to the valley walls. There's a stark line where the water from the irrigation canals peters out, and the verdant pastures become bone-dry and rubbish strewn. The hungry desert laps away, trying to get a purchase, and angry djinn whip up sand to try and take back the land. Donkey backed boys wave as we pass, oxen patiently turn water wheels as they've done for millennia, and camels, those great ships of the desert, stand becalmed and bemused in an emerald sea.

Only the leccy pylons remind you of the now, far taller obelisks than the ancients ever dared. That and the mumpy train I'm on. I've taken third class again which always amuses the locals. There's the same smell of wee I'm used to, though a little fainter. As I put my backpack up in the luggage rack I realise there's a couple of fellahs sleeping there, which is a new one on me. When we stop in stations people leap out to retrieve sugar canes from the cargo trains sitting there, and leap back on grinning through their rotten teeth. As they munch away we soon develop a new carpet of cane detritus, which nicely covers the remains of the last few thousand journeys.

Aswan itself is hot. The sun beats down on molten pavements, and every breath of breeze is more important than that you suck into your lungs. Feluccas glide past down the Nile, which is full of islands and great granite boulders here. Tombs & mausoleums look down from atop the great sandy mounds on t'other side. If you're bored, you can sail across to an island and wander round Nubian villages untouched by the city a hundred metres away. The yellow and ochre paint jobs make the arms-width streets a kaleidescope of light, without disrupting the cool shade. Outside, palm groves shelter masticating oxen & goats, whilst men mend boats and children paddle out into the Nile on planks.

To escape the burning sun of doom it can be pleasant to take walks at night. I've wandered along a ridge by the Nile, following long tailed foxes that check to make sure I'm keeping up. Arriving in a fresh estate, the brilliant peachy light from the multitude of street lights is only enhanced by the yellow paint; the whole place seems almost healthy. A pink track-suited little girl flashes me a winning smile and an older boy offers me a solemn "Salaam Aleykum" - where's the packs of kids screaming "Mumkin pen?" or harrying me for baksheesh? In truth, Aswan's a pretty mellow place, once you've told the shop owners you'll have the proper price, please, they generally play ball. Though I did have to argue with the people in Telecom Egypt to pay the price which was on the big screen, as well as the government booze shop.

I spent a few days trying to sort out the Sudanese visa, and trying to get a felucca to take me down the river. The first was frustrated because i didn't have a sponsor from Sudan (but I did have the 4 photos, letter from my embassy costing 30 quid & photocopy of my passport), the second was put off by the mysterious people who were 'definitely' coming with me all falling ill but 'you can still go just for twice the price'.

However, eventually I got the sponsor by trawling through random Sudanese people on the internet, only to be toldby the Consulate that they'd have to send it to Khartoum and it would take at least two weeks. The only option was to go back to Cairo, 1000km away. On the way back from the Consulate I ram imto two Englishes who were genuinelly on their way to a Felucca so hastily signed up and climbed aboard. Another 2 American girls joined us, as well as a French lady, and we were off! To the island mentioned above 100 metres away. Where we had lunch. And waited. Very pleasantly admittedly, lying on cushions, chatting with each other. After a bit of badgering the crew finally took us another 500 metres downstream, where we sat in the shade and waited for sunset - "Bad Wind" they said. We had a bit of a wander through the Nubian village on the banks above us, before setting off at 6 for half an hour and finally leaving Aswan. As soon as we got to the edge of the streetlights we stopped for the night.

The next day was wonderful. Despite a late start after an early breakfast, and an extended early lunch, we had a blissful afternoon floating down the Nile. Head back over the side, looking up at the moon in the clear blue sky, past the sail billowing in the wind. Sitting up, palm trees drift by. Dangling a beer over the side to chill it to drink with sunset. A group of lovely people to talk to. We stop about halfway to the temple we were meant to go to - but a bus picks us up and takes us there the next day. It's a scam so they can get the boat back in one day, but given I paid under 13 quid for two days and 6 meals, it really wasn't bad. Plus I have a plan to make this scam impossible in the future; just got to get the LP and Rough Guide on side. And the one perfect afternoon was beautiful, and it was nice sharing time with sound Westerners as well.

Still, it's lovely to get to Luxor and check into my favourite little hotel with the roof terrace - have a shower and wash my clothes. The two English guys turn up later, and I take them to the place which does the best chicken in Egypt where they treat me like the prodigal son; hugs from all the staff.

The next day I book my overnight train down to Cairo, and find that the Egyptian authorities response to the bombing has been to restrict all foreigners to travel on one train, which conveniently costs two-thirds more than the local train. On a whim, I take a trip down to Qena, to visit the incredible temple of Dendera which is still complete. It's only 40 minutes away (according to the LP), and I've got plenty of time before my train tonight at 9.

It takes an hour and ten minutes. I've decided to walk to the temple as it's only 4kms away (according to the LP) but it turns out to be almost double that. There's the pungent sweet stench of death for most of the journey, but aside from the animal corpses the countryside is as wonderful as usual.

The temple is absolutely breathtaking. Very few temples have roofs left, this one had rooves on the buildings on the main temple's roof. When you realise how much extraordinary artwork is on the ceilings, you realise what you're missing, especially as they're cleaning it all here, which brings back the fantastic colours. It also creates a lovely feeling of mystery to be out of the sun, and going through the chambers. This was only heightened by descending some steep steps and squeeing through a tiny opening into an underground chamber with even more incredible reliefs. This is without doubt the greatest temple in Egypt - just astonishing. It was really, really, really amazing. I thought I'd been about templed out but this one was just incredible.

I decided to get a minibus back (it was only 6p) and get back to town at 5. I ask at the station when the next train will be and am told 6. That's a shame as I'd agreed to meet up with Ben & Katey, the English people from the felucca, for sunset tea, but I'm sure they'll understand. At quarter past 6 I ask again - "[Maybe 7?]" Seven o'clock passes with little to recommend it. The train is announced at quarter past 7. Still nothing comes...

The train arrives as I'm just deciding I'll have to get a taxi. The trip takes an hour and 10 minutes, and I have an hour and 40 minutes before my train to Cairo leaves. Flying through the countryside past galloping donkey carts and sleeping teashops is exilirating; the speed seems to make the flourescent lights flicker, those same omnipresent flourescent lights whose cool light is everywhere in Egypt, as if to make up for the hot yellow of the days. I'm actually enjoying the pressure - my adrenaline's flowing and I feel alive, the cool air rushing through the window onto my face.

And then, we come, to a halt. And we wait. As my 30 minutes turnaround in Luxor ticks down, second by second, I try to remain calm. I realise that if I don't make it down to Cairo for tomorrow then it'll be the weekend and I won't be able to make next weeks ferry in time. And still nothing happens. After 10 minutes, we creek forward a yard or two, then stop again. Finally, after 20 minutes, we start up again. 10 mintues turnaround now, not enough time to say goodbye to Ben & Katey, maybe just enough time to run to the hotel, pick up my bags and run back.

Wierdly, Luxor's lights come into view and I check the time - we've only taken 1 hour and 10 minutes. The 20 minute stop hasn't affected the time at all. I pick up my bags, leave a note for the guys, and make it back with 5 minutes to spare. The train doesn't leave till 9:50...

It was nice being in Cairo for a day, visiting some old haunts, being asked the actual amount for everything instead of what they guess I'll pay. The Sudanese embassy is friendly as anything, and the man serving me has a giant Bashir badge on - if I can pick up one in Sudan that's a definite WIN. As I was back on the overnight train I decided to have some fo the local brandy to help me sleep. This seemed like a great plan until I caught myself pouring brandy into a coke under the table at Macdonalds and felt like my descent into alchoholism was complete.

Still I made it back to Aswan feeling fairly refreshed. The countryside looked particularly beautiful as I glided through the rose brushed dawn, scratching fellaheen waking and walking the fields. It has got hotter though. I crossed the Nile to visit some, disappointing for a change, tombs, and the walk up to them almost killed me. The view was incredible though.

In the distance was the monastery of St Simeon, who appart from being named after me had the enticing habit of tying his beard to the ceiling to stop him falling asleep during prayers - life was crazy in the world before caffeine. It didn't seem far to walk, but the desert is no respecter of distance; your eyes deceive you; your feet betray. I stumbled through the hallucinatory heat into a field of pigeons plucking at the dust, as happy as in Trafalgar square (but with more toes). Camel mounted police trotted past and made sure I was alright.

The monastery shimmers out of the desert, but it's closed. The ferry back to town from beside it stopped years ago; I walk back across the burning sands. I'm taking my anti-malarials now which is meant to make your skin sensative to sunlight: it seems that it's finally given me a tan rather than the vague reddish-brown hue I've been carrying around for months. It does make me weep if I face the sun though, sometimes, and my tears are drunk by the thirsty sands.

Today, I drink tea and read, and try to find out if Sudan's actually dangerous or not. I walk to a beautiful sunset spot and take sheesha and lemon juice as the sun sets over the old cateract, which has got sleepy since they built the High Dam. On my way back into town I'm attracted by a myriad of bright flashing lights in a country which isn't exactly shy of them. They seem to be emanating from the cemetary. All around them booming soundsystems with the reverb turned right up are bouncing back and forth "Allah!"

It's an incredible atmosphere, everyone smiling and shaking my hand. I'm told to come back tomorrow at 1 when apparently the party will be really kicking. It's the warm up to the prophet's birthday on Monday. It's held in the graveyard, because, well, that seems to be where the Sufis like to party - it's certainly where they dug it in Pakistan. Nothing like a bit of death to remind you of the miracle of life.

Thanks to everyone who's been in touch. It's so good to hear from you. I may be out of touch for a bit as Sudan & Ethiopia are pretty bad for internet, but don't worry too much. I'll make it a priority to send "I'm here!" e-mails and not stress so much about the mammoth e-mails I've been sending of late.

There's still so much I could tell you all about Egypt: I never got round to describing what they looked like, the lookey-likeys that I saw, or my fundamental understanding about why their are so many misunderstandings between Arabs and the West (might save that for my book on philosophy). But things are coming to an end now - it's time for the Egyptian chapter to close and a new one to begin.

Take care all of you. You are in my heart and soul,

Simon