Beginnings and Endings

We are in Luxor, a city in Egypt that is renowned for its monuments and tombs like Karnak and The Valley of The Dead. After our boat trip on The Nile, we take 2 trains to get to Luxor. When we arrive, we are exhausted and it is hot. We follow our next host, Ismael, through the busy streets and take a short ferry ride across the river to what will be our modest home for the next 5 days. Ismael is a middle-aged man with a penchant for worrying that is apparent as soon as one meets him. Without knowing why, he seems worried for us. He tells us where to do groceries, advises us against using a particular bakery, and gives us many words of traveler’s caution. While I appreciate the advice, I am tired and eager to relax.

I sleep for the rest of the day. While I am resting, Mat and Wes hit the town and discover what they call “the best sandwiches ever.” They have met Mahmoun, the sandwich man. Mahmoun owns a shop near the end of the main road leading to the ferry. He makes the most delicious chicken shawarma, which he serves on fresh warm Egyptian pita along with the customary pickled vegetables. We will eat his sandwiches almost every day that we are in Luxor.

Later in the day, Ismael delivers us 3 bikes. The bikes represent freedom and a bit of familiarity. Somehow riding through the streets on a bike helps me know the place better and feel less like a visitor.

The following day we are invited to have lunch with Ismael and his family. He tells us several times to have a light breakfast because there will be plenty of food. We ride an unpaved road to his home. We take off our shoes to enter and sit down to talk before we eat. I am immediately struck by the fact that his wife is not present for socializing though I know she is at home. It is only after I ask about her that he calls her out and introduces her. After being introduced, she goes away again and I am left with a gnawing curiosity about her and her life. I hope that she will join us for lunch, but she doesn’t.

We also meet Yasmin, Ismael’s 7 year old daughter. When she is introduced, she comes to me and gives me a hug. It is such a nice warm exchange that we smile at one another and she immediately hugs me again. I say thank you as we hug. Because hugging is so distinctly American, this is the first one I have had as a greeting since we have begun our journey. My heart is filled with gratitude. Later in the afternoon, she sits next to me and we look at her English school workbooks and she “practices” her English with me. She is shy and we don’t understand each other’s language, but somehow we enjoy each other’s company. She is clearly the apple of her father’s eye and I understand why.

When we leave, I feel bad that I don’t have picture with Yasmine, but I tell myself its ok because Ismael has invited us to spend time again before we leave. Unfortunately, that never happens. One of the things I am learning about photos is that you must get them when you can. Everything is day by day and time is limited, so you can’t rely on seeing someone or something “the next time.” Often there is no “next time.”

After lunch, we take a long ride up to where the various tombs and valleys are like the tomb of Hatshepsut and The Valley of the Kings. We watch the sunset on our bikes. It is a simple and magical evening. Over the next days we will visit these tombs and be astounded by the intricacy of detail and marvel at how they have survived.

Soon it is time to leave Luxor and go to our next city. On our last night, we have sandwiches at Mahmoun’s one last time. We spend hours sitting and talking to him. We have tea, smoke shisha, and get all the information that he can offer on the best places to visit in Cairo.

Mahmoun’s sandwiches

Mahmoun the sandwich man

Enjoying tea, sandwiches, and shisha on our last night in Luxor

The next morning we ride the ferry to catch our train to Cairo. Another 10 hour ride. After one night in Cairo we get a bus to Siwa. We ride through the night and arrive early the next morning.

Siwa is an oasis town in the Libyan desert. When we arrive, I immediately notice that people are uninterested in our presence. This is different from everywhere else we have been in Egypt. No one stares at us, no one says “Welcome” when we pass, and no tries to coax us into their shops. They are a self-contained people who are content with their way of life. I find this refreshing. It is nice to not be reminded everywhere you go that you are a tourist.

Later that night, we have plans to meet Hadi, a couchsurfer. We walk a long way down a sandy road only to find that we have misunderstood the place to meet him. He comes to meet us on the road on his motorcycle. He is wearing a helmet, which I had not seen anywhere else in Egypt. When I comment on this he says, “Yes. I love my life” and tells me the percentage of deaths caused by motorcycle accidents in Siwa. I like him immediately.

The 3 of us hop on the back of his friend’s pick up truck. Our first stop is a place to rent bicycles. Then, we will go see the sunset from Hadi’s house, which is at the top of a beautiful mountain called Dakrur. He shows us his garden as well as his house, which he is in the process of building in the traditional Siwan way, with mud (mixed with grass, date seeds, and small stone) and stone from the mountain. He has 2 adorable children, ages 4 and 2. In Siwan culture, married women can only be seen by other women when they are not wearing full hijab. Their attire is a full black hijab that covers the entire face, including the eyes, which are covered with sheer fabric.

As the only woman, I am the only one allowed inside the house to meet Hadi’s wife, Asma. She is a stunning woman with a warm smile. I offer to help prepare the tea, but she refuses. I once again feel the familiar longing for the company of women. I want to stay inside and chat with her. What is she like? What does she like to do? What is her life like here? But she does not speak English and I do not speak Siwan. I join the men.

Asma rings a little device that sounds like a bird chirping when the tea is ready. Hadi goes inside and brings out tea that has lemongrass from their garden, which they call Louisa. Soon the bird chirps again and they serve 2 kinds of dates from his father’s garden, sunflower seeds, and what seem to be small pumpkin seeds. Siwa is known for its dates and olives. I have never tasted dates like these in my life. I want to sing every time I taste one.

Hadi tells us all about Siwan culture. Siwa only became a part of Egypt a few hundred years ago. They do not consider themselves Egyptian and speak Siwan (a Berber language) instead of Arabic. They are doing very well economically and there is no unemployment. Many young people have more than one job.

The sunset is breathtaking and soon it is dark enough to lean back and look at the stars. I feel as if we are in a sort of paradise. We laugh and talk for hours. We find out that Hadi is a big Jim Carrey fan and conversation with him is interspersed with Jim Carrey references and impersonations. He is also fluent in French, Arabic, English, and Siwan. We talk about travel, agriculture, religion, and astronomy, among other things. He also tells us about Siwan weddings, and brings out the shawl that Asma wore on their wedding day. It is embroidered by her mother and sisters with symbols and designs. He allows me to try it on and I wonder what it would feel like to be a part of such a strong tradition. Sometimes we sit in the silence and it is broken by Hadi’s lone laughter and he admits that he is remembering a Jim Carrey moment.

Trying on Asma’s wedding shawl

Our friend, Hadi and the dates from heaven

The sunset at Hadi’s

 The next night Hadi takes us to a hot spring, which Siwa is also famous for. I can’t believe we are swimming in a naturally occurring hot tub under the stars. We have hot tea with Louisa and sit around a fire continuing the easy conversation from the night before. I am sad to think that it is our last night here. I don’t want to leave.

The next day we try to go to another hot spring on an island called Fatnas, but the directions we have are not very clear. Before we know it, we have been biking for over an hour and we are, more or less, lost. It is hot and we see no people anywhere. We thought that we would see a market to buy water but we didn’t, so we are riding without water in the middle of no where. We are getting anxious, but the scenery is so beautiful that I decide to just do my best to enjoy the ride. After over 2 hours of biking, we finally arrive at Fatnas. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to see and the hot spring does not look appealing. We have tea and dates and bike back to town.

We made it!!

That night we take a 10 hour bus ride back to Cairo. It is one of our last nights together before Wes leaves. We are all feeling sad that this part of our adventure is coming to an end. On the bus ride, Mat gets a stomach bug and throws up the entire time. I empty plastic bags for him and do my best to keep him comfortable. It is one of the worst nights we have ever spent. We arrive in Cairo shortly after dawn and quickly get a cab to our home base, Pension Roma, the hotel where it all began. The next day Wes will leave to go to India and the day after, we will leave to go to our next country, Ethiopia.

We say heavy goodbyes and talk about the highlights of our time in Egypt. None of us can believe any of it actually happened. We are filled with gratitude for our time together and for the peace of belonging to our little family. We know that while this is one ending, it is the beginning of many adventures to come.

 

Mat on the ferry to leave Luxor

Lost and tired but determined to enjoy the scenery

I was singing at the top of my lungs and probably getting on Wes’ nerves

Our fearless leader at the top of the mountain

A man ordering food from a street vendor with his donkey. Our last night in Siwa