Egypt

Cairo

Travel Overload. Where am I? How did I get here?
All these images are colliding in my head. Wildebeast and Zebra are spread across the Serengeti. Next I am in St Paul's Cathedral in London walking around the whispering gallery. Now I am entering the Great Pyramid of Giza, Egypt.

Modern stone steps supplement the short climb up the ancient blocks to the pyramid entrance. This is the lower entrance hacked into the north face by explorers searching for treasures. The main entrance was discovered from inside the pyramid and opened at a later date.

I have to crouch down as I make my way through the roughly hewn, fluorescent lit passage.
The tunnel is stifling, hot and humid.

Soon I come to the ancient Egyptian passage of smooth stone. I still have to crouch down as I descend a steep 45 degree angle. The modern addition of hand rails and wooden anti-slip flooring make it possible. At the bottom a small section before the passage ascends again at the same angle. But now there is more than enough room to stand.
The ceiling is level with the uppermost end of the passage. It is spacious and impressive, yet confined and claustrophobic at the same time. I feel echoes of the excitement of past explorers.

At the top I need to duck again to enter the burial chamber at the pyramid centre. The room is about 20ft wide, 20ft high, 40ft long and 5500 years old. The lights are dim, the room gloomy. The stone walls are smooth and unadorned. At the far end of the chamber there is a large empty box shaped stone pit - the tomb where the Pharaoh once lay.

Around the room, several people sit on the floor with their backs to the wall, resting from their exertions or simply meditating. I join them and spend a few minutes contemplating and experiencing.

Then it is through the tunnels and back to fresh air.

There is only one known surviving statue of the Pharaoh who demanded such a huge memorial. I see it later in the afternoon in the Cairo national museum. It is 7cm tall. The Pharaoh is seated. The head of the statue is less than 1cm high.

The Nile

The main deck of the felucca is one large mattress twenty feet long, fifteen feet wide tapering to ten feet wide towards the stern. A cloth shade is suspended four feet above by a robust frame of four metal pipes on four metal posts. A large triangular sail is loosely attached to a tall mast on the front deck. It swings from side to side over the top of the shade cloth.

Three Nubian sailors guide the boat. Most of the work is managing the rudder as the sail swings easily as we tack up wind and down stream.

There are fourteen passengers including our tour guide, Sam. Half of us are lounging on the mattress, reading, talking, sleeping or enjoying the view. "Chillaxing" as Sam says. The rest are standing on the fore deck or at the stern, chillaxing, moving with the boat and avoiding the moving sail when required.

The weather is perfect - the hot sun is ineffective against the shade and the cool breeze blowing gently over the water.

We sail throughout the day with brief stops for toilet. The shore has rushes, bushes, weeds and palm trees. Beyond that may be farm land or sandy desert.

At night we anchor on a large sandy island. blankets are hung down from the sides of the shade cloth. A plastic mat is spread down the centre of our new room and we dine. We sleep soundly on the boat, side by side, with day bags and feet down the centre line.

In the morning we sail to a temple built by Romans - an odd mix of Greek Columns and ancient hieroglyphics.

After exploring we retire to a Bedouin tent. Well, maybe it is more a room in the style of a Bedouin tent. Carpets on the floor and walls. We lounge on low cushioned seats around the wall. Most of us have locally made chocolate and mango ice cream. A few smoke apple and peach flavoured tobacco from sheeshas.

As I am down to my last few spoons of ice cream a wave of satisfaction and well being inundates me. I am relaxed and happy. This feeling lasts throughout the day and enhances the simple pleasures of relaxing on the Nile; the food, the breeze, the gentle sway of the boat, the water lapping at the sides, the gentle blue expanse of the river with a backdrop of palm trees and sand.

I ask Mondo on the rudder if he enjoys his job. He does. I am not surprised.