a mixed bag

I am now writing from the most unusual situation and location of all. I am sitting with a cushion on my lap and laptop, listening to the Today programme in my kitchen. Egypt and all that I saw there is a world away, the rain is hitting the windows and the air is cold.
I have many experiences that I need to expel and to write of before they disappear into some dark corner of my mind. The most frustrating thing that I find with the travelling that I have done this year is that as soon as I return home I easily slip back into the patterns I left and soon my trip is simply a collection of colourful memories.
So where do I begin, well I last wrote to yoiu all of Aswan and the treasures of Philae temple now I turn my attention to the Nubian and the felucca.

KUMUKA the FELUCCA and the TOOTLESS ARAB.

Before two nights on the Nile we took a boat directed by another Mohammed, this one dressed in traditional garb topped off with a baseball cap and a cheeky grin. He took us to a small island in the Nile where he and his family lived. The Nubian people find it hard to own land and so are often found to be living seperate from other Egyptians. We lept off the boat in the gathering darkness and clambered into the back of waiting open trucks. We were driven through the dusty dirt tracks of the small village, only a few orange street lamps illuminated scenes of men sitting in the gloom playing dominos and women wondereing along only able to see from their small slits in the black cloth balancing colourful baskets on their heads. Camels rise out of the darkness lolloping along enthusiastically encouraged by the young boys taking them for a ride. We pulledup outside a blue one storey bulding all the rooms opening onto a courtyard. All the floors in the complex made from yellowy orange sand. We were ushered to the far wall where cushions had been laid out in our honour. We were served with hot glasses of hibiscus tea and fried aubergines. In one of the small and sandy rooms an interview was taking place. The father of the family was inspecting a prospective suitor to his daughter. The boy had been offered by a local family and it was the father's choice as to whether a romance could develop.
We were entertained by the small children who ran around uninhibited by the assembled throng of expectant tourists. A beautiful lady drew henna designs on all the girl's arms as the men played drums and pipes whilst smoking shisha.

The next day we were heading off on to the Nile. We loaded on our bulging bags, packed with water and snacks as we were not able to buy any more supplies for a few days.
The sails were hoisted on our two boats and the cooling boxes were loaded with huge blocks of ice that the boys bashed with hammers breaking into more mangeable chunks. The two boats both called 'Captin Hash' and 'Roiling Stones' started off from the shore and tacked their way down river towards Luxor. The wind was not strong enough to make our progress particularly speedy which meant there was plenty of time to look at the passing scenery, the plants the people bathing in the water and the small boats being punted along.
We stopped in the late afternoon and some of us jumped straight in to the gloriously cool water and then ran up the sand dune my feet burning from the hot sands before diving back in to relieve the symptons.
The days spent on the water were glorious we stopped regularly for swimming as on board ship it was stiffling. The decks simply open with a tarporline strung up to provide shade and cushions to sleep on. The second night we stopped at the side of a marshy island with tethered cows grazing and the pink sunset reflected in the pools of water. The scene became less romantic when one of the members of our trip got horribly drunk, very easy to do in such heat, and wondered off to find somewhere to sleep. A search party was launched when her absence was noted. I set off with a head torch fell in a cow pat and was nearly attatcked by a randy bullock. But was all was fine and she was found sleeping soundly under a hedge.

On our last morning on the feluccas we moored for breakfast of hard boiled eggs and the flat bread, which I dont think I will ever be able to eat again with any pleasure after eating it for three meals a day for a month. People disembarked to find a suitable place to relieve themselves in the banana plantation on the shore and were met by a man intent on trying to sell them his bananas. So with crossed legs we departed by mini bus for the temples. I must admit after little sleep no showers and need of a more solid meal I was not at my most receptive on these temple visits. And instead my concentration was given to the icecream selection and drinking as much water as I could get inside me.

We arrived back in Luxor in the afternoon at the same camp. I swam in the pool and changed my clothes which was an absolute joy. At 9pm we were on a train heading for Cairo. The train journey began with excitement a large group of friends off on a journey this soon changed as we all got so cold, the door was broken and kept flapping open and kept us all awake. The train pulled in to Cairo at 10am the next day four hours late for no explicable reason apart from this is Egypt.
We were ushed into the Cairo museum yawning and stretching. All of the memories of bumping along on the railway lines soon disappeared as we were gawped at the antiquities. The lights shining off the glod of the death masks the smoothness of the marble.
In the afternoon three of us went off to explore Islamic Cairo. We had a fantastic but exhausting day walking the streets, eating brain sandwiches from the street vendors and climbing the minaret of a beautiful mosque. We stood in contemplation looking acorss the rooves of Cairo and the minarets of the mosques and the Citadel.
That was my last night before an early morning and a long journey home with 4 airports and 1 bus station.
And here I am willing the sun to shine and trying to get back into the old routine.

I hope that you are all well and I will catchup soon and exchange stories.

Love to all

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