Breakfast is in the Palace Wing in what is called the 1902 Restaurant. There is a huge buffet laid out and you can have eggs made to your order. Hussein told us yesterday when he showed us this restaurant that if you eat here for lunch or dinner you must dress in “appropriate” attire. That leaves Paul and I out since all we have in our suitcases are hiking type clothes and a pair of blue jeans.
Speaking of clothes, I forgot to write in my last blog that Hussein had a call from the Captain of the Aida a day or two after we left that wonderful ship. The captain reported to Hussein that his new clients from OAT were shivering in their cabins because it was so cold. Man were we lucky on having warm weather, and to think we questioned why OAT had advised us to bring warm clothing.
We leave the hotel at nine o’clock and our bus driver drops us off at the entrance of the pier where our boat is waiting to transport us to the temple. Hussein must purchase the tickets for Philae before we board the motorboat so while waiting for our guide, several men vendors try to sell us items, particularly Egyptian style clothing. The salesmen have no luck with anyone in our group purchasing anything. When Hussein returns, he calls out his familiar “follow me” and we trail him down a long wooden dock. We must walk in the middle of the pier as both sides of the dock are packed with vendors displaying their wares. We reach our boat, climb on board, and find a seat on the padded benches.
Before we can begin our journey to the island, we must escape the crowded mooring area. As soon as our boat begins to back away from the dock, other boats begin vying for the place our boat is leaving. It is complete pandemonium. The small boats all have tires attached on the sides of their vessels and it is soon apparent why, because they bump into other boats. As one aggressive “captain” begins to push his way toward the spot we are trying to leave, Hussein tells everyone to lean forward. He gives this advice so you will not get hit by the protruding tires. Paul does not react quick enough and gets thumped in the back by the tire of the encroaching boat. Paul says the tire did not hit him very hard and he is fine. Jeez, this is crazy. The stench of diesel fumes is the icing on the cake.
We finally break free of the Nile version of bumper cars, (boats), and make our way to Agilkia Island where Philae Temple is located. Hussein has invited a jewelry salesman to make the trip with us, musing that he felt dealing with one man instead of being waylaid by dozens would be less stressful. Our personal jewelry salesman has success on our trip as various members of our group purchase necklaces and/or bracelets. I do not wear jewelry, (nor does Paul), so as it was in the spice market, we are not one of the fellows’ customers. We are a souvenir sellers’ worst nightmare!
When we arrive at the temple, Hussein schools us in the history of Philae. The temple is dedicated to the goddess Isis and Egyptians worshipped her here along with Osiris and her son Horus. Like the Ramses II temple, this complex of temples and buildings were going to be end up under water by the building of the Aswan dam. Again, UNESCO came to the rescue and moved the stone blocks from Philae Island to Agilkia Island where the Philae complex would be safe. This project took ten years to move the temples and buildings and reconstruct them.
We wander through the Temple of Isis, which is crowded with other tourists and look at the carvings dedicated to this goddess who had many titles including “The Queen of all Gods.” Hussein shows us around the rest of the grounds on this small island. One of the stone buildings is an eye-catching rectangular structure that has the nickname “Pharaoh’s Bed.” With my imagination I can turn the stone structure into a gigantic four poster bed but doubt that is why it was given the nickname. There is a hypostyle hall where the impressive line of stone columns has lotus petals carved at the top of the pillars. A smaller structure has six stone pillars with the face of Hathor carved upon them. Once Hussein has finished showing us around, he allows us to explore things on our own for thirty minutes or so. This is a beautiful place, and it is accentuated with the stunning views surrounding the island.
Slide show of sites on Philae Island.
We board the same boat that we arrived on and the person who had left their backpack on the boat by mistake is relieved to find that it is still there. The group member informed Hussein about forgetting the backpack as soon as they realized they had left it on the boat. Our guide immediately called the boat owner to alert him about the pack so he would keep it safe. This was easier than recovering the cell phone that was lost by one of our companions, on our second day in Cairo. That entailed a trip to the police station for Hussein and the phone’s owner. At the station Hussein was somehow able to track the phone and could see that that the lost phone was on the move. At first, they assumed it was stolen but on further investigation determined it was on our bus. Hussein called the driver and after searching the bus he found the phone laying under a seat. Amazing. According to the phone owner, Hussein solved the location of the phone himself. Is there nothing this amazing man cannot accomplish? I can imagine our traveling companion regaling friends by beginning the story with “I was taken to the police headquarters in Cairo!” I am not guaranteeing that this is a completely accurate rendition of the story.
When we leave Agilkia Island, Hussein has our boat captain chug alongside the shoreline where he points out remnants of ancient stone structures and even some hieroglyphs. We reach our destination for lunch which is a waterfront Nubian restaurant and guesthouse atop a cliff. What a colorful place. We climb up a fleet of stairs to reach the restaurant and find tables prepared for our group. The specialty is a fish dish, (Paul who is allergic to fish cannot have this), but most of us order it. I must say it is delicious. After our lunch we board a different boat which hauls us back to our starting point.
I decide I want to buy a small stone cat for the woman who is taking care of our two cats while we are traveling. Hussein tells us to only pay five or six dollars for this item. I spot some cat statues among the myriad of things one man has on display. I pick one out and Paul asks the man the price who states that the statue is 25 dollars, knowing we will negotiate. It is then that I realize our group has left and is exiting the pier. I tell Paul that they are leaving us and hurriedly begin to walk after them. The salesman follows us and now is offering the cat for twenty dollars which Paul counters with our original offer of five bucks. One of the women in the group sees that we are trying to catch up and turns around telling us they are going out to where they are selling the apparel as they hope to buy a scarf so we should take our time in buying our gift. Oh. It just so happens that we are standing by another man’s display, and he has many cat figurines for sale. I find one that is much nicer than the initial cat I was going to buy. When Paul asks him how much for this very detailed cat, he immediately says five dollars. Suddenly the man that has been trailing us decides his cat is only worth five bucks too. Guess which one we bought?
Hussein gives us two choices once we are back on the bus, we can visit a papyrus and jewelry market, or stay on the bus and continue back to The Old Cataract Hotel. Seven of us stay on the bus, while the rest of the group, including Jennifer, go with Hussein to tour the market. Jennifer told us later that the Papyrus and jewelry market was mostly a place to purchase jewelry or papyrus items. A woman did give a short demonstration that showed the process of making papyrus paper which Jennifer said was interesting.
Once in our room, Paul and I rest for a while and then do some packing as we will be leaving early in the morning for Cairo, (cannot wait to get back there, I am being sarcastic). We then go out and walk around the beautiful grounds of this historic hotel. We walk down to the edge of the Nile and watch the sailboats and ferry boats that tourists can hire for a short ride on the Nile. We are following a group of people back up the stairs who are being flanked by a big, burly guy that is obviously their security guard. Every time the guard steps up with his right leg, we catch a glimpse of what we assume is his gun. However, it appears to have three bore holes on the end of it which makes no sense. We are both leaning forward trying to get a better look at this odd piece of hardware, when a voice behind us says “We are a Jewish group, and we have to have security guards.” Paul relates to the man that we too have had security guards in the cities while on tour. We do not tell him that we were trying to ascertain what the heck that guy was carrying at his waist hidden under his suit coat. A mystery never to be solved.
At our farewell supper, Hussein asks all of us to relate to the rest of the group what our favorite part of the tour was. Although many people listed things like the hot air balloon ride, or the Valley of the Kings tombs, everyone acknowledged that the time on the Nile was at the top of their list. Paul and I also comment that our farm visit with Sayed was something we will never forget. One thoughtful person proceeds to tell Hussein how he was a big part of making our adventure in Egypt extra special. Everyone agrees with this, and we give our guide a round of applause.
We are up at five a.m., finish packing, and place our two check-through bags in the hallway. We go to eat breakfast at 5:45 taking our hand luggage with us. Hussein has us loading up on the bus by 6:30 and we are at the airport after a short drive. Once I am through the screening line, I look around to see where Paul is. I spot Paul and see him taking things out of his backpack and handing it to the man who is screening the luggage. Finally, the fellow finds what he has been looking for. Paul hands him a flat piece of plastic the size of a credit card and not much thicker. The plastic box contains a miniature knife and scissors. This was an item that was a give-away from some company, but Paul did not know it was in his pack. The kicker is that this escaped the attention of every screener on the journey to Egypt, but this eagle-eyed man spotted it at this small airport.
Everything else goes smoothly and we arrive in Cairo an hour and a half later. We gather our luggage and climb into our waiting bus. We stop at The National Museum of Egyptian Civilization where the exhibits portray the different historical periods of Egypt. The museum exhibits are very well showcased and most of the displays have placards written in both Egyptian and English that explain what one is looking at. Jennifer, Paul, and I take our time perusing the displays and then go down to the bottom floor where there are royal mummies on display.
Some of the items on display at the museum. Paul’s photos.
The lighting is dim in this portion of the museum and there is a no photos rule. The first mummy we see has its mouth open and it looks like the shriveled, brown corpse is screaming. To make things worse one of the arms appear to be broken. Oh man, that is all I can take. As the three of us wind our way through the maze of rooms I literally put my hands up alongside my face, using them like blinders on a horse, whenever we walk by a mummy’s glass encased dwelling. I also look at the coffins or statues that are on display in the rooms. I must confess it seems to me that the display of the mummies is morbid and demeaning to that ancient person everyone is staring down at.
All of us appear at the meeting place Hussein gave us at the appropriated time except for one couple. Hussein directs the rest of us to where the bus is and we climb aboard while he goes to find the missing pair. A few minutes later we spy Hussein walking towards us with the wayward couple. I never heard what the problem was but assume they had not heard the correct meeting time or had not understood where we were to meet.
We eat lunch on one of the riverboats and the waitstaff bring out small plates of various foods such as small sausages, eggplant, breads, for us to pass around the table. I am still being very careful with how much I eat and what I eat so I don’t have more than a bite or two of the various foods served to us. I see a waiter with a plate of French fries and assume he is serving them to the couple at the table next to us. Without thinking I exclaim in an envious tone that “those people are having French fries!” When the waiter ends up placing the fries on our table along with a few more plates of fries, I express my delight that we are being served the fries. I love French fries. Luckily for me, most of our group has filled up on the other dishes we were served, and I demolish the big end of one plate of fries. They were delicious.
Upon leaving the parking lot our bus driver must back our bus up because a car is driving toward us and due to cars parked on either side of the narrow street there is no place for the bus and car to get past each other. The driver has only inches to spare on either side of the bus as he continues in reverse until the advancing car finds a place to park. Hussein is shaking his head and tells us that the professional driving is one of the things he so admires about the bus drivers. Everyone agrees with him as our drivers have all been superb.
We get checked into our rooms at the Marriot but unpack only what we will be wearing tomorrow and our toiletries. We have a very early wakeup call tomorrow to catch our morning flight home. At least we will have a few hours to sleep, some of our traveling companions leave for the airport around midnight if I remember correctly.
We still have one meal together this evening, and even though our lunch was at two this afternoon somehow, we all seem to be hungry. Tonight, all of us individually present Hussein with our gifts of money that he has definitely earned. Jennifer, Paul, and I combine our tip for Hussein in a card that features a photo of the Flint Hills on the front. We each have written a message for our wonderful guide, thanking him for a great trip. At one point during the meal, I ask Hussein if he has a photographic memory. He smiles at me and says that he looks at his clients’ photos and names once and knows the names and faces from that moment. I kind of figured the man had this gift. After the meal is finished, all of us hug or shake hands, and say goodbye to those we will not see again. This was a fun group of people to travel with.
It was a short night, but Paul and I did get a few hours of sleep. Setting the luggage by the door we go to the lobby to meet with the others that have the same flight as we do to Munich. Hussein is here which is a surprise since he intended to take the train home. Hussein does not like to fly. Unfortunately, he was not able to book a seat on the train. Each of us are handed a paper sack containing a ridiculous amount of food for our breakfast. Hussein tells us we can leave what we do not want to take into the airport on the bus as the driver will find a use for it. As we leave the hotel, Jennifer and I quietly laugh at the two seated security guards that are sleeping. There is a third man who is awake and upon seeing our reaction to his snoozing buddies, he says something that wakes them up and they all start laughing too. On our trip to the airport, Hussein is asked what he is going to do now that he has some time to himself. Our guide tells us with a smile that he is going to turn off his phone and sleep for twenty-four hours!
We get through the check-in and security without a problem except I tell Jennifer that I hope my pants do not fall down when we have to take our belts off. I am only half kidding as I have had to cinch my belt a notch tighter than when we came to Egypt. (When we get home, I find that I have lost eight pounds!) We part ways with Hussein and find our departure gate. We have arrived at the airport in plenty of time and must wait two hours before we begin boarding.
Paul and I are sitting next to an Egyptian woman who was seated before the rest of us passengers boarded since she had wheelchair assistance. As the plane is preparing to land a stewardess tells the woman that she will need to stay seated until everyone else has left the plane. I ask her what about us and she says that we will have to wait until they come to get the elderly woman. What! The fact that we have a connecting flight does not seem to matter to her. A young man across the aisle that has been conversing with the older woman in Egyptian on and off during the flight, speaks to our seat mate after the stewardess leaves. The fellow than tells Paul and I that he has instructed the woman to stand up when he tells her to and to let us out into the aisle. When I thank him, he says that he understands our predicament and so does the woman and she is happy to accommodate us. How kind is that.
The only other problem I have is when we reach D.C. and I do not follow the instructions correctly on the machine for our global entry pass, so I do not get my paper receipt. After thinking I will have to join the hundreds of passengers in the regular line Paul tells me to go to the booth that is off to the side of the global entry computers. The fellow manning the booth, asks me if I have global entry and when I answer yes, he takes my photo, looks at my passport and sends me on my way. Our flight to Kansas City is fine, we catch the shuttle to where Jennifer’s car awaits and are home by 10:30 p.m. after a 27-hour commute entailing three flights and layover time! Paul and I fall into bed where Paul states “I am so glad to be sleeping in my own bed, I love this bed”! And I swear he is asleep as soon as he finished his pronouncement.
This morning I walk to the window and gaze over the scene of the cows and calves on the brome field and the hills beyond them. I think to myself, “I love this place” and yes, I am going to write it, there really is no place like home. Nancy
Sorry about the lack of photos. I had packed my camera the night before we flew to Cairo and didn’t want to dig it out. Nancy
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