Thom, Sari and I boarded a van that took us 185 miles south through the eastern Sahara to Abu Simbel, not far from the border with Sudan. Min, Sari's guide for the day, knew how to get the desolation money shot
. . . but I think Sari threw him for a loop after they enjoyed a second cup of tea. She told him to tell the driver to step on it!
After all, the journey requires a special permit from the Egyptian government because the desert bordering Lake Nasser lies in a high security zone. It reminded me of the road trip my family made to Berlin in the early 60s. If we hadn't reached the American zone by a certain time, East Germany would have sent the polizei to find us.
We stopped at the Mirage, or "Fake Lake" Cafe for a pee break.
Egyptian currency emphasizes a cultural hierarchy, with the Sphinx and the Pyramids on the higher denomination notes. King Tut's royal mask appears on one pound coins while Cleopatra adorns 50 piasters.
Abu Simbel grace one-pound notes, now worth little more than a nickel.
Their valuation seems like an insult once you've seen the magnificence of the temple.
The St. George, operated by Sonesta, was our home on the Nile for four wonderful nights.
Thom described its old world charm as the "Orient Express on water."
The bartender displayed only alcohol bottled in Egypt at my request.
Needless to say, we spent most of our free time on the sun deck. Afternoon temperatures reached the low 80s.
Thanks to a boat that pulled up alongside us, Thom perfected the art of shopping and tanning simultaneously.
The boat merchants threw him up a towel. He threw down 100 Egyptian pounds (less than $6) in the bag he's gripping even though the unhappy souvenir salesman employed by the St. George told him it probably had been used.
The tranquil scenery mesmerized as we glided past. I honestly can say I've never seen anything quite like it.
This may have been the captain of the boat taking a break
. . . while the porters cleaned the chandelier in the chilly pool!
Sari, author of My Home Sweet Rome, her memoir of living and loving in the Eternal City, was our delightful dining companion.
She did a mean impersonation of Shahrazad (note the wine label) our last night at dinner. Having a new audience for your stories is one of group travel's unsung joys!
Cruise ships parallel park when they dock in Edfu, lining up their entrances to create an alley for passengers to get on and off the embankment.
A horse carriage took us to the main attraction bright and early.
Ahmed told us to withhold our tip until we returned if we wanted transportation back to the St. George. "Remember your number!" he said.
Completed a little more than 50 years before the birth of Christ, Horus Temple is much newer than the temples at Luxor. The Hypostyle Hall still has a roof, probably because sand buried much of the structure for centuries.
Horus, the god of the sky, is usually depicted as a falcon.
Kwesi (which means Sunday in Ghana where people often name their children after the days of the week) and Nora listened more attentively to Ahmed than many in our group. He explained that Egyptians built the temple in the Ptolemaic period, after they had been conquered by Alexander the Great. Realizing their gods weren't so different from those of the Greeks, Alex shrewdly allowed the natives to worship whoever they liked. He added his stamp to temples constructed during his reign with an occasional doric column.
The Christians were less tolerant after eventually coming to power. They obliterated the faces of the pagan gods. Here, Horus stands atop a hippo, a symbol of evil. Then, as now, hippos were the most dangerous animal in Africa. Who knew their range once included the Nile?
Famous for what now is known as "aromatherapy," ancient Egyptians priests recorded the recipes for their potions in one of the temple's rooms.
Maybe because I'd begun adjusting to the 7-hour time difference with New York I retained more information after my visit to Horus. Like the difference between the crowns that distinguish the ancient kingdoms of upper (southern) and lower Egypt (northern). Upper Egypt's crown resembles a bottle of champagne; lower, a bucket. The pharaoh in the middle wears a combination of the two, symbolizing his dominion over both kingdoms.
Enough lessons. Ahmed finally released us for photos. He was hoarse from talking, and I was chomping at the bit.
The shrieks of children delighted to have their pictures taken echoed throughout the temple.
Number 150 awaited us in the parking lot.
Now that the streets had come to life, our return trip reminded me of the pedicab ride we'd taken in Jaipur.
Even in Edfu, the citizens knows what butters their country's bread!
Before disembarking at the St. George, Sari took the reins for a photo op.
Hatshepsut, one of the few queens to rule ancient Egypt, had to grow a beard before the priests took her seriously. But if pharaohs are judged by their size of their tombs, she ranks up there with the best.
Is that rouge on her cheek?
Hatshepsut covered all her bases. In death, she's depicted as the goddess Osiris, who promised resurrection after death.
Thom posed with our new friends, Sari, an American journalist from Rome (far left), and Kwesi and Nora, a couple from Ghana celebrating their 10th anniversary.
I found a kindred spirit upstairs.
Here's Hathor, a goddess with the eyes of a cow. More about her later.
