With a View of the Pyramids

Again, unedited...

Our stopover last night was the Moevenpick (Swiss multinational) “Jolie Ville” hotel. You’d have thought they could have come up with a better name than that, in Luxor, but…. No matter. A very pleasant, semi-luxury establishment with green lawns, trellised walkways, expansive pools, all overlooking the Nile River. Ellie and I opted out of the drive into Luxor from our hotel just outside the city, on the Nile, and chose instead to stay here for a restful late afternoon—with PAL catching up with the blog—and a walk along the riverbank at sunset. A small zoo along the path, with donkeys, pelicans, a camel, and—the highlight—a crocodile who refused to put in an appearance. Then onto the pier, with fellucas and motorboats parked alongside, with a lovely glimpse of a kingfisher, and an incredible treeful of egrets. So many of them, they literally looked like strange, white fruit.

A quiet dinner on the terrace, then back to our room for an early night and a good, long rest. This morning, up early for breakfast (bags outside the room by 6:30, was the marching order from Fadel) and time to get ready for the bus, which leaves for the airport in fifteen minutes. Then back to Cairo. More to follow…

Tuesday, I guess…

… sitting here at six a.m. on the balcony soaking in the energy of one of the greats pyramid (before my very eyes, Bush! Amazing!) and, above it, the pale sliver of a new moon. Just sketched out the idea for a poem, and open up my computer to join you once again.

Another amazing day yesterday. First, the news of the Pope’s death, in Rome. Sad news, but welcome, after his long struggle between life and death. I admired him for his stand on social issue, his rapprochement with the Jews, his recognition of the inevitable process of globalization, his calls for social justice for third world countres. And yet I hope for a successor who will be more open when it comes to questions of world population and the growing necessity for birth control; and, of course, the liberation of women from the stubborn clutches of male domination throughout the world.

The reality of the efffects of population growth are dramatized by travel, Bush. It would be hard not to notice that there are whole populations still living in abject poverty, and the results of overcrowding the planet are too obvious to ignore. The smoke-filled air around Luxor—the result, surely, of hundreds of fires set by local farmers to burn the stubble from the sugar-cane fields, is stifling. Eyes and throats burn. So many on our bus alone coming down with hacking coughs. The billions of us humans are endangering not only our own health, but the heritage the ancients left for us to learn from. The monuments here in Egypt are suffering terribly from overvisitation, the oil of hands that can’t resist the urge to touch, the tramp of feet, the overheating, down in the tombs, caused by the sheer mass of human bodies.

There is a special place in hell, I have to think, reserved for the man who invented plastic—by now an indispensible material that caters to the daily needs of humans everywhere. But one that makes inordinate demands on our depleting natural resources, and one whose indestrucible products clutter our delicate environment. Those damn water bottles, Bush. Please do what you can to see they’re banned. They’re everywhere. Abandoned, dropped, left lying along the roadside, floating in canals, accumulating in wind-swept piles in sacred sites. What future archeologists will unearth this dreadful detritus, and what conclusions will they draw about our so-called civilization? I dread to think. But we have to find ways to halt the destruction of our delicate habitat, Bush. We can’t go on like this.

Onward. Air to Cairo, and another interesting lecture from Fadel in the bus, once on the ground again, about Islamic Cairo. We stop at the old city wall, with its tenth century fortifications (crusader style) and enter under the great medieval gate into the old city itself. A massive and hugely noisy construction project impedes our way past dozens of garlic and onion stands (their aroma joins with the fumes of roaring heavy construction equipment to create a glorious, somewhat poisonous stench!) but we make it through the danger zone to the 10th century mosque of Alhakim Bi Amr Allah, whose central courtyard opens before us as a sudden sanctuary of peace and light. The mosque, Fadel explains, is not considered a particularly sacred place in the world of Islam, but rather an ordinary place where people comne to pray. A central fountain offers a place to make the ritual ablutions, the washing of hands, and feet, and face to prepare for prayer.

Then back to the narrow ancient city streets, past dozens of shops selling, in this area, mostly pipes and copperwear—no tourist stuff yet, all for local consumption one suspects—and burrowing deep into the labyrinth of alleys that leads into the heart of old Cairo. We stop for a tour of the splendid 15-17th century mansion of Bayt El Suhaymi, a wealthy merchant, with its cool inner coutryard surrounded by rooms whose windows are shuttered with intricately patterned wooden lattice work. A tour of the house takes us to spacious gathering rooms with low coffee tables, carpets everywhere for family and guests to sit and, in one instance, beautifully elaborate tile and mosaik work on every wall. The craftsmanship is impeccable, the living quarters both inviting and intimate, with friezes everywhere inscribed with ancient verses. Fadel was persuaded to read some of the text to us, and we loved the sound of the language. The bathroom area was a special treat, with a massage room, a Turkish bath, and stained glass skylights in the shape of stars. A truly wonderful, and to us wholly exotic living space.

On into the bazaar, a tangle of streets with shops selling jewelry, stoneware, ceramics, materials in silk, linen, and cotton, slippers… a mass of color, sound, and texture that is at once gaudy, noisy, and irresistably attractive. We took time out from shopping for lunch at the famous Nagrib Mahfouz restaurant, eating at tables laden with the Middle Eastern foods we have now come to expect—another sumptuously decorated space, with waiters hovering close by in their tunics and fez.

Our next stop after lunch was the El Alazahar mosque, site of a great university as well as a religious center. We sat together on the carpet in the far arcade and listened to Fadel’s lecture on the religious history, traditions, and practices of Islam whilst the faithful prayed around us. Fadel was anxious to distinguish between the “fundamentalist” Muslims who are the conservative pracitioners of the faith, and the “fanatics” who have given Islam a bad name, with the aid of the Western media. Fanaticism, as he points out, is not restricted to Islam. This is an issue worthy of much further
discussion.

Some interesting discussion about circumcision on the bus—a pratice of the ancient Egyptians long before it became a trademark of Judaism—as we drove past the magnificent Saladin Citadel, another medieval fortress. Then a brief stop at the Qasr El-Shama area, home to many churches and a synagogue, where we visited only the chapel of the Crypt of the Holy Family, where Mary, Joseph, and Jesus are supposed to have stopped on their flight into Egypt. And finally on to our hotel, at the foot of the pyramids. Notable, along the way, was the sight of a camel pissing at a busy intersection. About forty days’s worth, we thought.

The Mena House hotel was once the residence of King Farouk, and the original building reflects that age of wealth and grandeur—something along the lines of the great Victorian hotels, with sumptuously decorated interior spaces and beautiful, expansive gardens. Here, tons of marble—floors, walls, vaulted ceilings dripping with massive glass chandeliers… and uniformed footmen everywhere. We were greeted by the manager with much ceremony (thanks to the ubiquitously famous Fadel) and glasses of “hibiscus”, which tasted more like pomegranate juice, but was nonetheless a welcome refreshment.

We’re in the extension wing—not so grand, but our balcony offers the magnificent view of the pyramids mentioned earlier in this entry. A pleasant room, hardly luxurious, but certainly comfortable. Hardly time to get our bags unpacked, however, before it was time to meet with our group in the lobby to be escorted through a labyrinth of marbled, mirrored halls and corridors to the reception room where we were to meet with the Deputy Minister of Culture, Zahi Hawass—another bosom friend or our trusty guide—for a lecture on his recent archeological activities.

A fascinating hour. Hawass is in point position on all recent discoveries, and is possessed of a wonderful excitement and energy. Recent work included the discovery of a desert site with an estimated 10,000 tombs of workers and their supervisors, the CT scanning of King Tut, and a host of other digs and reappraisals. Good slides, good timing, and endlessly fascinating material. After the lecture, we were treated to a formal dinner with Hawass at a long, elaborately set table in one of the hotel’s banquet rooms. Betsy and I shortchanged on our glass of wine (we got a half glass each, since our waiter was nearing the end of his bottle) but managed to get a top-up after a mild complaint.

Hawass swept out before the end of the dinner, presumably to some other official function; I managed to stop him on the way for long enough to remind him about Lita Albuquerque’s work by the pyramids, and he nodded sagely while he continued working with his toothpick: “Ah yes,” he said: “a very good friend of mine. A very good friend.” And swept away.