Aswan, Egypt

Tuesday, May 24, 2005:

I was hungover when I got up at 10:00. KC was feeling worse, however. Her unspecified medical problem was unspecifically unimproved.

"I might need to go to a hospital," she told me. I doubted it, inconsiderate and insensitivie guy that I am. KC was clearly not feeling well, but her concerns that she had contracted malaria on Zanzibar did not seem to jive very well with her unspecified number one symptom (involving the letter "d" and a lot of time spent on a toilet, lest anybody forget). Worries about certain severe bacterial infections seemed a little premature as well. Nevertheless, KC felt rotten and wanted to get out of Aswan and to Luxor, our next stop, as soon as possible. The state-run hospitals in Aswan were to be "used as a last resort," according to Lonely Planet. "Last resort" is code for "the sudden and simultaneous contraction of the black plague, ebola, tuberculosis, typhoid and really really really severe acne" if you ask me. (This reminds me: There are statistics on the Tanzanian government hospitals that suggest that a significant percentage of admitted patients come to consciousness, realize where the $@#% they've been sent, and madly flee the premises (crawling, hobbling, hurling themselves from the windows and otherwise), preferring to take their chances on their own than face dreaded "medical treatment" at the hands of the staff.) In any event, Luxor was supposed to offer more and better options for the foreign traveller.

I went out and bought us two tickets for the night train, grabbed some food an circled back to tell KC we would be heading to Luxor at 9 PM. I was about to go to see the Temple of Isis on the island of Philae and would check on her when I got back.

But wait. KC wanted to tough it out and go. So we caught ourselves a cab by the barges on the Nile and off we went on a ten minute drive down to the docks where the boatmen wait to ferry people over to Philae. As we were the only people on the spot, aside from a tour group of about 30 Germans (who had a guide and were provided for), our negotiating power was pretty pathetic. All the boat men quoted us inflated prices and smiled, knowing we were stuck until we gave in. Finally we went with the least extortionate of the bunch and he motored us over to Philae in a small wooden fishing boat. The Temple of Isis rose up before us on the water. Large and ornate, featuring imposing rows of columns and large walls inscribed with deep and complex hieroglyphics, it was a place of cult worship for many years, even after Christianity was widely accepted.

We wandered around for about 45 minutes. The boat man was only willing to wait an hour, telling us that the site wouldn't take very long to see. That was true enough, and with the temperature nearing 100 degrees, there wasn't much sense in hanging around any longer and getting heat stroke. For our last 20 minutes we sat in a cafe and order iced tea, ice cream and (in my case) some spongy cake vaguely resembling a Twinkie (but sadly not quite a Twinkie). KC seemed to be OK, more or less, despite some grumblings, rumblings, etc...

The cab driver we found for the ride back quoted us a rate that was four times higher than the one we paid to get to the docks. I spun around angrily and walked away until he chased after me calling me "Rambo" and coming down to the standard price.

That night we spent three hours on the train to Luxor. Our car was probably only 1/5 of the way full. Entertainment came in the form of two Egyptians in the back. One was about 22 and the other in his 50s. They were sharing a walkman and singing along (loudly) to the Bob Marley's Greatest Hits disk they were listening to. So, for about 45 minutes, we too listened to their Egyptian-accented renditions of Buffalo Soldier ---

"I'm just a Buffalo Soldier in the heart of America,
Stolen from Africa, brought to America,
Said he was fighting on arrival, fighting for survival;
Said he was a Buffalo Soldier win the war for America.
Dreadie, woy yoy yoy, woy yoy-yoy yoy,
Woy yoy yoy yoy, yoy yoy-yoy yoy!

And Get Up, Stand Up ---

Most people think,
Great God will come from the skies,
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high.
But if you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on earth:
And now you see the light,
You stand up for your rights. Jah!

Get up, stand up! (Jah, Jah!)
Stand up for your rights! (Oh-hoo!)
Get up, stand up! (Get up, stand up!)
Don't give up the fight! (Life is your right!)

It was all very moving and you'll just have to take my word for it.

More touts at the train station in Luxor. Oh, many more. Trailing and hassling, hassling and trailing, I told them they didn't have a chance in hell. "You'll be back," said one to me. "You'll see."

Following the suggestions in Lonely Planet, we headed down the crowded, brightly lit streets in the direction of the Luxor Wena Hotel. Luxor was clearly a lot more developed and tourist-oriented than Aswan. The McDonalds in front of the Luxor Temple (shrouded in darkness at midnight) was a clear indication of this. Exchanging looks, KC and I realized that this was where we were going to have to have a late dinner. To improve KC's stomache, sadly. McDonalds: Hey, at least you know what you're going to get.

After a Spicy Chicken and half of KC's Fillet O'Fish (mmmm) we stumbled around in a circle until we came to the Luxor Wena. Lonely Planet described it as a once-great hotel that was now charmingly faded around the edges. In the dark, musty lobby, the chandelier lights pulsating and twitching in their final throes, the young man at reception quoted us a price of $20 per night for a single, which was just too much.

"No more than twelve," I said, trying to seem unimpressed with the place, which wasn't very difficult.

"You see rooms first," he said. A bell-hop led us up a grand flight of creaking wooden stairs. The carpet was frayed, the lights grew dimmer yet. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, most of them lopsided (the paintings and the walls, come to think of it). We were shown two large rooms with TVs, refrigerators, large double beds, giant bathrooms with bathtubs, and balconies overlooking the Luxor Temple. It didn't seem bad, although the lighting was very depressing.

I negotiated some more with the man downstairs. "Where you from?" he asked, halfway through.

"New York," I said.

"America," KC said.

The man frowned. Not because he hates Americans but for another reason. Shrewdly he shrugged his shoulders and said, "but Americans --- they are rich." Open palms suggested a need for immediate remuneration. Since this incident I've noticed a number of other people asking me halfway into negotiations or before them where I am from. I now know enough to smile and never answer them until after the transaction is closed. In any event we settled for $15 per room per night. (If it seems like a mention bargaining a lot in Egypt, its because that is a large portion of the interaction I have with the people.)

I went back up to the room and prepared for bed. As I did so I noticed several things: The shower had no hot water; the TV received 1 channel with barely any picture; 2 of the 3 lamps didn't work; there was no toilet paper; there were no towels; the refrigerator didn't work. I probably left a few things out. Faded around the edges? This hotel was finished.