Our train was due to arrive in Aswan at 10:30am ("Egyptian time," Georgie had warned us. "Egypt runs when it wants. I once was due to arrive at 10:30 and pulled into the station at 2:30 that afternoon.") We arrived just before 1pm. I had not slept in hours, and had amused myself for the last hour or so watching a mouse crawl through all the luggage overhead (the shelf was clear plastic, so I had a good view of everything), rubbing its dirty body on each bag. I changed my mind about sanitizing my bag, and wondered at this point if it would even help.
Our hotel was just around the corner from the station, and I was too tired to feel my body instantly melt as soon as we step into the sun. We are in Upper Egypt now; the average temperatures during the day exceed 105 degrees. This isn't the warmest month, either! Weather.com tells me the temperature today is 113 degrees. This is insane.
The shower is small and the curtain sticks itself to my body as I try to get clean. There is no way to turn around without bumping an elbow or getting completely wrapped in the damp curtain, but the shower still feels refreshing. I suppose that anzthing would feel clean compared to the train. I nap until we meet for a cruise on the Nile and dinner in a traditional Nubian village.
Our ride on the Nile is beautiful. We have a guide explain in the different sites and islands, but I enjoy watching the boats and birds go about their activities. We pass the hotel Agatha Christi busied herself in while writing "Death on the Nile". We see more ancient ruins, and drift in between massive golden sand dunes as the Nile takes us slowly down the river. We are offered the chance to swim but I decline. We pull over at the end of our river cruise to a caravan of waiting camels. I had signed up for a camel ride and was excited. Ian hates camels and decided to wait in the boat. A group of us are hoisted on the tall, noisy animals and led along the dunes while the rest of the group follows from the boat. We will meet at the village for dinner.
My camel seems to enjoy walking on the very edge of the sand dune, threatening to topple down the dune onto the rocks below, or, if I am lucky, just to stumble and throw me into the waiting Nile. I try to urge him to move further right, awaz from the abrupt cliff on the left, but he insists on walking literally on the edge of the dune. I hold on nervously.
I like camels. Of the domesticated variety of animals, they remind me of cats...they have a mind of their own, and unlike horses and dogs, they follow instructions onlz when they want. They seem intelligent. I love how their ears perk up to things I don't see in the distance; they seem to notice everything.
Our camel ride lasts maybe 20 minutes. We are hearded through a village of bright colored buildings and into a large house where tables and benches are set up. A baby crocodile, mouth taped shut, is passed around and the girls in our group squeal as they touch its tail. Dinner is served and is very good. After dinner our the Nubians pull out drums and a tamborine and sing with us, pulling us from our seats and making us dance. Young children mingle and take turns dancing in our group. When we leave it is dark already.
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