Domestic air travel and meeting the Nubians

Back to internet access so here are the photos for this post.

The day started off with a 4:30am wake up call courtesy of the 3 closest mosques that were blasting their call to dawn prayers. Serves me right for not taking an Ambien last night. Mohammed met us with boxed breakfasts in the lobby at 5:30am and we headed for the airport to catch our flight to Aswan, picking Walid up en route as he is accompanying us for our cruise as well. Having arrived just days earlier at the very civilized International Terminal, we were completely unprepared for the Domestic terminal experience. First it is important to note that there are no lines whatsoever at the Domestic terminal. This by no way means that there aren’t hoards of people trying to check in; it just means that there are no lines at all and so people swarm like human wasps shoving and grunting in an attempt to get through security. It was vaguely reminiscent of the Thanksgiving Day Walmart stampede, although I did not see anyone actually trampled. I had to hold my arms out to protect the kids as best I could using the camera bag as a strategic weapon to swipe people with “by accident” when they crashed into us. Once having cleared the initial security screen we proceeded to the check in desk, and there again there were no lines but the throngs of pushing and shoving and yelling masses. Justin and Livvy were trying to be good sports but were visibly unsettled by being alternately pushed and patted by the rude yet curiously friendly local passengers. I received what I want to believe were numerous compliments on the kids from smiling, toothless old women and invasively smelly mustachioed men who poked and shoved me like a large blonde ragdoll as they made their way past me and the kids. It took about 45 minutes to pass through the second security screening and no one even checked the contents of my carry on. “That man just spat on me Mom,” seethed Livvy through her teeth, “ I swear Justin it’s true. He was shouting something at the man next to me in Arabic and you know how they make those spitting sounds when they talk sometimes like they have some apple stuck in their throat, and his spit landed on my arm. That is soooo gross.” Once onboard the aircraft Justin demanded Purel and insisted Livvy use 2 dime sized dollops for extra safety.

Ensconced in their Business Class seats and safely divided from the spitting and pushing crowd in Coach by a teal green curtain that felt as impenetrable as steel, the kids settled into their complimentary pre-flight juice and snacks, and relaxed. We were the only people on the happy side of the teal curtain, so the kids had the entire cabin to themselves and thought that was awesome. After a breakfast of hot croissant and yogurt, we landed in Aswan, and the chief flight attendant held the rest of the passengers on board while the three of us disembarked and were greeted by our own private shuttle bus to the baggage claim terminal. Justin thought he’d died and gone to heaven and spent the next 10 minutes calculating how many passengers per shuttle bus there would be for the rest of the passengers. I must have reminded the kids a dozen times not to expect to travel like this in future and that this was a very rare treat. Livvy stopped me cold in my tracks saying, “We know, we know Mom, we’re just enjoying this but don’t worry we aren’t spoiled brats.” So there.

Once in our new mini-bus we cranked up the AC and headed to the High Dam which was built during the Cold War with Russian money as the World Bank refused to loan Egypt the funds in 1961, and has enough water to keep Egypt hydrated for 27 years. We then headed to a Nubian port where at least 100 Nubian men were selling wares and offering boat rides to the island where the Temple of Philae is located. Walid found yet another dozen friends at the port, and we caught a small boat with a 15 horsepower motor, and a large and friendly Nubian guide. The kids bought Nubian handicrafts from our guide right on the boat as we made our way to the island and wondered why they don’t have shopping boats like this in San Francisco.

We stopped for Gatorade and while the kids enjoyed fresh mango popsicles we played a few rounds of the Animal game. You know where one person picks an animal in her mind and the other can ask YES or NO questions in order to guess what animal it is . Anyhow, a small crowd of guides collected at the table behind us (all friend of Walid of course) and by the end of the 3^rd game they were throwing in guesses as well. One guide guessed “motorcycle” so maybe they weren’t too clear on the concept but nonetheless everyone was having a great time.

After the temple we headed to the cruise ship where we will be for the next 3 nights. The kids were giddy at their suite and terrace overlooking the Nile. There aren’t any other children on board so the staff seem to adopted the kids as mascots and smile brightly and make jokes we cannot understand every time there’s an opportunity to interact. Justin and Livvy enjoyed the sun deck pool and then had a great game of pretending to dance the Tango as the sun set over the Nile.

This evening there was a Nubian dance and drum show in the lounge before dinner and Justin got to participate in a dance where he was to wake the sleeping horse, see the pics attached. All the guests joined in what I can only describe as a Nubian conga line and I had the dubious honor of standing directly behind one of the performers who had most definitely refrained from showering or laundering his jallabeh for a considerable period of time. Every time I tried to let go of his waist he’s reach for my hands and place them firmly back on his eerily slender waist. For the record, I prefer when a man wears a larger belt size than me. As soon as the show was over, Justin said how much he liked it and insisted that I could go to the room to get the Purel. His conga companion was apparently no better smelling than mine.

Everyone went to sleep happy and tomorrow we sail for Edfu.