Ramses's giants
Being a tourist can be tiring, but rewarding. Rebekah Logan visits the sites south of Aswan
From a superficial standpoint, the post-Western holiday season in Upper Egypt looks much like the post-Western holiday season in the West. The streets of Aswan parallel the crowded corridors of shopping malls during post-Christmas clearances; the sidewalks teem with tourists touting plastic bags overflowing with useless purchases (on sale), and the shady ploys of the men shouting "Felucca! Felucca! Good price, you know how much," more than slightly resemble the tactics of second-rate salesmen whose livelihood depends solely on commission. Remnants of tinsel droop from telephone poles and plastic Santa heads garnish the doors of most hotels. However, one glance at the residual architectural splendours of an era long before the child who caused this commotion was wrapped in swaddling clothes, and you realise exactly where you are. And it is light years away from a Western mega mall.
I arrive in Aswan late after a day of travel. First, a shuttle flight to Luxor out of Sharm El- Sheikh after an ostentatious New Year party and then a three-and-a-half hour train ride to Aswan to meet up with a group of friends. Upon arrival I ring my friend's mobile and we arrange to meet on Corniche Al-Nil in front of the Nubian Restaurant in 10 minutes. The moment I step out of the railway station taxi drivers bombard me from all directions. "El-mataam Nubian fe Corniche?" I say to the one whose face is closest to my nose. "Khamastashar (fifteen)," he replies. "La shokran. Ana la saayha, sakin fe masr. Ana taliba. (No thank you. I'm not a tourist, I live here)." Although I may be eons away from fluency in Arabic, I do know from five months of life in Cairo that these few sentences can slice a LE30 cab ride to LE15. If it worked there, where a lot more Westerners know a lot more Arabic than I do, then it should definitely work in this den of spandex sporting day-trippers.
Just before I turn away he softens. "Khamsa (five)... ok?" I agree and consider his concession to a lesser rip-off as a personal bargaining triumph. I request he drive quickly because I am meeting people. He whisks my bags from my arms and loads them into the boot. We are off. In the long-standing tradition of Egyptian cab drivers, he delivers me to the gate in front of the Nubian Restaurant sign in three minutes flat, and there I am greeted by a mob of seven weary and famished travellers. I know we are all on the same page.
As it turns out the Nubian Restaurant is on an island just south of Elephantine Island, so the management provides "complimentary" transport by way of felucca. In this case, the definition of "complementary" has been stretched to include a 50 per cent mark up on the price of meal. Of course, we only discover this after we get the bill.
When we arrive the restaurant host escorts the eight of us to a table at the back. I try to display my incredible language skills by asking in Arabic for the menu. He replies, in English, that there are no menus and proceeds to describe to us the night's Nubian cuisine; first, a variety of mezze (appetisers) such as salad, hummus (chickpea paste), and babaghanoug (sesame with aubergine), and for the main course an array of meat or aubergine tagen (baked) dishes accompanied with rice and vegetables. Appetisers and bread appear and disappear promptly; a mere tease to our ravenous taste buds. However, my hunger is momentarily staunched by an unordered garnish topping the forkful of salad about to enter my mouth. "I did say I was vegetarian, right?" I ask a friend. Appalled, she stares at the tiny fly corpse resting on the bed of lettuce still on my fork. "Looks like you got the door prize," someone says, and we laugh it off. I am too tired and hungry to complain; besides, it can happen anywhere once.
Our tagen and main course arrives a few minutes later, and its savoury aroma regenerates my appetite. Between bites we discuss our plans for tomorrow's ambitious day: up before dawn to embark on a hotel-arranged trip to the Temple of Ramses II at Abu Simbel, the Aswan High Dam, and finally Philae Temple. Dinner is delicious and the conversation light until Fix, the guy sitting across from me, pipes up, "I got one too." We all look over to see what he is talking about, and there in the middle of his half-eaten tagen floats a relative of my dead salad garnish.
Three am. The alarm lets off a series of obnoxious shrieks to ensure we will comply with its demands to wake up. Sleep still dripping from my eyelids, I slide on clothes and wander into the hotel lobby where everyone else is already waiting. We trail out of building like zombies and pack into the microbus. It is already crowded with the group from our hotel, but by some means we manage to squeeze in four more people from another hostel. Somehow I manage to contort my body into a knees-up ball position and sleep most of the way to Abu Simbel. After two or three hours, golden rays prop my eyes open and present me with a horizon spraying sunshine across the desert and illuminating the sky above it with shades of pink and lilac. This tail of sunrise lasts only a few moments before the entire sky becomes a blanket of azure dotted with a bright yellow sun. For a moment I entertain the idea of returning to sleep, but my friend Mersiha tells me we are nearly there. So instead I borrow her guidebook and refresh my memory about the history of the temple. After three pages, we arrive.
One of our group members has scored free passes from an antiquities department VIP, and we are allowed in without waiting in line. From the gates it is only a short walk on the temple terrace. Indescribable magnificence emanates from the four colossal statues of Ramses II as they guard with enduring stoicism the entrance to the temple. Understated in print, photo, and film, the Temple of Ramses II must be viewed through your own eyes. If you imagine yourself as an ant standing next to Shaquille O'Neil, the feeling may be similar.
As with all ancient buildings, the architectural history of the Temple of Ramses II is rich and fascinating. Whole books, and many chapters of books, exist on that very topic. Here is the story in brief: from the years 1274 to 1244 BC ancient Egyptian architects chiselled away at the mountain on the Nile's West bank to create a sanctuary to the gods Ra- Harathy, Amun and Ptah. Primarily, though, they toiled in honour of the great Ramses II. For centuries the temple towered, mystifying and terrifying all who were in its shadow. However, as the land of Egypt was plundered by foreign conquerors the winds of time quite literally buried the temple under the dust. Swiss explorer Jean-Louis Burkhardt is credited with its rediscovery in 1813, and four years later Giovanni Belzoni began excavations, finally exposing temple entrances. The temple remained intact until the 1960s, when it was realised that the impending construction of the Aswan High Dam would have a detrimental effect on the ancient shrines and memorials of Upper Egypt, burying them under a deluge of the waters of Lake Nasser. UNESCO organised teams of archaeologists from all over the world to dismantle and relocate 14 ancient monuments, including the Temple of Ramses II. The temple was cut into 10- to 40-ton blocks and moved to its present location at Abu Simbel. The project cost about $40 million.
My friends and I meander through the passages of Ramses II's magnificent temple, examining the hieroglyphs and discussing what it would be like if your temple were still in existence thousands of years after your death. Maybe one of us will find out.
Time seems to evaporate and we only have 15 minutes left to explore the Temple of Hathor, pose for touristic pictures, and purchase tacky souvenirs before our bus departs. Six mammoth statues; four of Ramses and two of his wife, the stunning Queen Nefertari, guard the entrance of this temple. Each of us takes a turn in statue poses at the base of a real one. Then it is back to the microbus for destination number two: the Aswan High Dam.
Exhausted from the previous sleepless night, most of us in the van fall asleep as soon as its starts up. The dam is about 20kms south of Aswan and the trip takes about two hours, enough time for a respectable nap. However, when we arrive it turns out to be more of a smoke break for the driver than anything else. We are given ten minutes to stretch our legs and checkout the surrounding vista of Lake Nasser, the largest man- made lake on the planet. Unfortunately there is nothing much else to see except for a vendor selling overpriced water and some dog-eared post- cards. Once again we step into tourist role and pile into the paddy wagon for the day's concluding sight.
Following the construction of the old Aswan Dam, the high waters of the reservoir submerged Philae for six months annually. As plans were devised for the High Dam in the 1960s, UNESCO wrote Philae into its own salvaging project. Between 1972 and 1980 the temple was dismantled and moved from Philae to another higher island nearby, Agilkia.
It does not take long to reach the island from the High Dam, and we jump-start ourselves to head for the boat to the temple. Once again, the very special member of our group provides us with free passes, and we need only to pay for the boat across to the island of Agilkia. So the microbus crew trot over to the boats, carry out the routine bargaining with the drivers, and we file into the boat offering the lowest price.
The day's herd mentality is irritating me, so when we approach the base of the Hall of Nectanebo on the island I decide that I will wander solo for this sight. I amble about the ancient ruins of the temple for a while, but tire quickly. Although I can hear the voices of my friends rounding a pylon I sneak off to the entrance of the temple to relax alone and appreciate the isle.
Warm winter sun cascades across my body as I stretch out on the cement stoop of the dock. I stare off into the river. Here the waters of the Nile are blue, with the lush islets of verdure spotting it like emeralds. I want to take my own boat and explore them.
Someone walks past me and I catch a glimpse of his watch. Still, one more hour before we have to get back on the bus. I close my eyes; Abu Simbel was great, but this moment is the highlight of my day.
Practical Information
Agents can assist with tours..
Trains to Luxor and Aswan run from Ramses Station. Tel: 575 3555.
Cairo-Luxor-Aswan: "Spanish" deluxe trains without sleeper cars. Services to Luxor and Aswan 6.45pm, 7.30pm, 9pm, 10pm, 12am. Tickets to Luxor: first class LE62; second class LE41. Tickets to Aswan: first class LE81; second class LE42.
There are EgyptAir between two and five domestic flights daily each to Luxor and Aswan. Check with EgyptAir Tel: (Abbasiya) 682 3271, (Zamalek) 347 5193.
Cairo-Aswan: Round trip tickets: LE370 for Egyptians; LE1,510 for foreigners.
Cairo-Luxor: Round trip tickets: LE278 for Egyptians; LE1,102 for foreigners.
Hotel and Travel Agents can assist with tours.
