I'm not going to kid you, leaving for the airport at 5:30 in the AM is not my bag. Arriving in Aswan, however, was a breath of fresh air: their airport is small and was relatively empty, and so getting our bags and getting out was quick and painless. We stepped outside into the blinding sunshine, under an outrageously blue sky, and found an early-morning cool breeze; met our new guide and new driver (both named Muhammed!); and were whisked away through my first honest-to-goodness desert to the Aswan High Dam. Look. I know it's both important and controversial, and so we were expecting something maybe a little more Hoover-y in scale. This dam, however, was underwhelming. I think it's a bit deceptive to put "high" in the name of a structure down which you could actually jog into the water, but hey. It wasn't mine to name. Presenting: the Aswan High Dam.
Yup.
On the other side, there's Lake Nasser, one of the largest man-made lakes in the world.
There's also this wacky lotus-shaped tower--a symbol of the friendship between Egypt and the Soviet Union, whose government assisted in the building of the High Dam. This thing is 230 feet high and was the only thing clearly discernible on the ground from our cruising altitude on the plane!*
The controversy here is that, as with any dam on any major river, there have been positive effects on industry, transport, and tourism... but there are environmental consequences that are mostly negative, including erosion and the loss of fertile land. In addition, the creation of Lake Nasser flooded heaps and heaps of ancient archaeological sites, although UNESCO put its foot down in 1960, and as a result, an international operation was launched to save some of the more important temples and structures in danger. We got to visit one of these.
The temple of Philae was dedicated to Isis and was constructed and expanded over the reigns of several pharaohs. The oldest portions were built around 370 BC, with most of the rest constructed during the third century BC. The cult of Isis was quite popular during the Ptolemaic (Greco-Roman) era, and that helped Philae become one of the lasts holdouts of Egyptian religion after Christianity became the official faith of the Roman Empire. Jumping ahead a millennium and a bit, with the construction of the original (lower...?) Aswan dam at the end of the 19th century, Philae was flooded for most of the year, and as a result, lost most of the coloring on its numerous hieroglyphics. When the High Dam was approved, UNESCO's Nubian Rescue Campaign--with the help of numerous international teams and donors--allowed for the complete disassembly, move to higher ground, and subsequent reassembly of at least 20 monuments and ancient complexes. Philae was one of these, and was rebuilt 20 meters higher and roughly 500 meters away from its original location. On an island. The only way to get there is to take a boat!**
Our first sighting of the famous Nile rocks, which are all gray and lumpy and rounded and fantastical. Neat.
First view of the temple from the water.
Main colonnades and first pylon.
Depictions of the pharaoh making offerings to the god Osiris. Those are some decent-looking roasts, friend.
Soooo many papyrus columns! And they're all different!
Detail of the first pylon. Those carvings are huge.
Inside the first pylon, a French inscription commemorating the victory of Napoleon's General Desaix over the Mamluks in 1799. It seems to have worked out for the locals, who didn't appreciate the oppression of their Mamluk overlords and began calling Desaix the "Just Sultan." (FYI, there's 18th- and 19th-century graffiti all over the place here.)
Philae's wee little hypostyle hall. (Term of the day: hypostyle = fancy term for big, tall room with roof supported by columns. You'll see these again.)
Also a little Coptic graffiti--crosses carved into the hypostyle column hieroglyphics.
No shortage of the aforementioned hieroglyphics, though! The entire interior of the temple is carved like this. For my first genuine ancient Egyptian temple, this was quite a picturesque and astonishing way to go.
The kiosk of Trajan, most likely--and probably built 98-117 AD. (In ancient Egyptian architecture, a kiosk is a small, columned, roofed structure, and in my experience, is some sort of resting place associated with the sacred boats, or barques, of pharaohs and gods.)
Leaving Philae, we spotted Diocletian's gate at the rear of the island, probably a triumphal arch built by the emperor between 285 and 304 AD.
I'm a bit ashamed, as I've forgotten so much of what Muhammed told us about the symbolism and the stories at Philae...he was just full of information, and told us so very much. (He learned English phonics on YouTube, people. Talk about drive.)
After we left the temple, we headed for Aswan proper and the Unfinished Obelisk. The pink granite quarried at Aswan was used in pharaonic temples all over Egypt, as well as for building the pyramids; the blocks were cut and shipped on the Nile, the course of which used to run directly through the quarry, to their destinations. And once again, Hatshepsut comes into the picture: she ordered the creation of this particular obelisk sometime during her reign, between 1508 and 1458 BC, but the rock developed cracks well into the quarrying process and the obelisk had to be abandoned. Had it been completed, this would have been the largest Egyptian obelisk ever created, standing about 42 meters (137 feet) tall and weighing almost 1200 tons.
Amazing that you can still see the marks where the quarry workers would hack away at this thing with chunks of diorite, that supremely heavy and hard rock that creates those fantastic formations that somehow resist the Nile. Sadly, my photos can't even remotely do any justice to the sheer size of this monster.
Here's another shot anyway. For better perspective, here's an aerial shot with some people for scale. (Just over the ridge to the right of this photo, too, there's a giant flat carved down into the quarry that carries the distinct imprint of two additional obelisks successfully created here. So very cool.)
Next, we drove into Aswan, spent a little time meandering around in their small-but-pretty "tourist market," ate a terrific ful pita sandwich, bought some peanuts and spices, and had a shisha and some tea in a coffee house in which I was the only female. Maybe ever.*** It was terribly awkward, especially since all the tables were around the outside of the room and faced inwards, and so trying to avoid making eye contact--which, I was told, might be inappropriately forward--was a bit difficult. I thought I was a pretty darn good sport, though, and despite the weirdness, it was fun to watch the younger men play dominoes and drink their mango juice, and to see the shoeshiners coming and going with brushes and shoes and cardboard slats to put on the floor under their customers' bare feet. (On a slightly related note, I think I was one of two women I saw the entire day that wasn't wearing a headscarf and robe.)
Near the market, pumice stones, hibiscus tea, loads of spices, and baskets of things I couldn't identify. (We also bought some delicious, delicious lemon-chile potato chips. Yes, please.)
Then we hopped a boat to our next rather mysterious destination--a "Nubian guesthouse" where we were to spend the night. Because I didn't know this going in, I'll assume you were maybe, possibly, as uninformed (please don't be offended, though--I know for a fact that you're all brilliant and patient people), and just tell you that Nubia is the land in southern Egypt that stretches roughly between today's Aswan and Khartoum. Populated for at least the last 10,000 years, ancient Nubia was a wealthy source of raw materials and riches, which often brought it into conflict with its powerful neighbors to the north. Egypt occasionally dominated Nubia, and slightly less so, vice versa; Christianity came and went; and now the region is mainly Islamic. Modern Nubians suffered quite a bit with the building of the both Aswan dams, as they were forced to abandon their traditional villages, lands, and fields for two successive moves to higher ground. Thankfully, they have managed to hang onto some of their own traditional architecture and unique cultural identity through it all.
People, I cannot emphasize enough how truly gorgeous our little half-hour cruise down the Nile from Aswan to Garb Soheil (the Nubian village) was! The valley itself is so, so green, the rocks are so elephant-y and interesting, the desert is just right there, and there are birds everywhere.
Across the river from the Aswan harbor is a gigantic complex of nobles' tombs carved into this hillside. I think I took 30 pictures of it, it was so striking.
Along the way, we passed the Aswan botanical gardens, which are on an island in the river.
Srsly...birdies everywhere.
Ooh, and camels! Just hanging out on the side of the river!
Palm trees and sand dunes and the gorgeous river. I really, really enjoyed this boat ride.
First sighting of a genuine Nubian village. I'd read that they were colorful, but I had no idea.
Our guesthouse, which I believe I immediately called a "rainbow Hobbit house." Our room was the to the right of the top of the stairs. Because I'm too slow in the head to remember to take photos of absolutely everything anymore, it was a little square room with a brick, domed ceiling, and stained glass windows on both sides. So lovely and cozy, and the owner even greeted us with a big, vibrant pink, frothy glass of hibiscus juice.
The front gate of our guesthouse.
We decided we were going to wander around the village for a bit before dinner, and suddenly a man materialized to show us around. Ugh, we thought, now we'll never get to see anything off the tourist path, and we'll have to tip him at the end. How wrong we were. At first our new friend Omay kept us on the main, tiny market street, with its 6 or 7 vendors and a house with three live "Nile" crocodiles in tanks in its courtyard. (So bizarre.)
Just outside the gate of our guesthouse was this gorgeous brickwork.
This amazingness was around the corner.
Frankincense in the market.
Still another amazing building, and then the battery on my camera died. Noooooooo! So the following are, heartbreakingly, taken with my (and Mike's) phone. (Stupid lame worn-out malfunctioning battery. GAH.)
Strolled past their mosque, which looked like it was made of bubbles. So pretty and unique.
Then our little tour took a turn for the cheesy, but it was all in good fun: Omay deposited us at the village school, where this lovely man tried to teach us the Arabic alphabet and the Arabic and Nubian numerals. We were hopeless, but he also showed us how to write our names in Arabic, so that was fun. (You can see our pitiful practice scribbles at the bottom of the board.)
We got to climb to the roof of the school for a view over the village...
...and out to the river. You can see the old Aswan Dam in the far distance.
After we left the school (and thanked our teacher profusely), I don't really think Omay knew what to do with us, so we just walked.
We kept strolling past the mosque and the school, and down what I think is the main road of the town, which has this view. You'll just have to trust me when I say that this was one of the most beautiful, tranquil, lush scenes I've ever witnessed, and it really got to me. I don't think that even the real camera could have captured it. So green, little flocks of goats, the river, the sunset on the rocks...just surreally gorgeous.
After this, we took a turn uphill from the river, where we came across Omay's sister, Karima, who immediately jumped up from the wall where she was sitting and chatting with friends; shook our hands with genuine enthusiasm; and invited us into her home for tea. (Despite the fact that we obviously spoke no Arabic or Nubian, and she spoke zero English.) What can one say, but yes? Inside her gorgeous, colorful home, we met her beautiful and sweet daughter, Esme, and Esme's two-year-old son, Yusef. Esme was quite shy, but spoke enough English to converse with us a little, and we all headed upstairs to a room with an arched door that was flanked by plaster spiral columns, and had a gigantic flower medallion plastered into the ceiling surrounding the fan overhead. (I have never been in a home that colorful--it was really remarkable. Downstairs the rooms were blue, upstairs there was lots of orange and red.) Karima brought us the best mint tea that we had on the entire trip, and we all sat and awkwardly chatted for a while; they showed off the view from their balcony (similar to the one above), and then Esme pulled out her wedding photos and invited us to stay for dinner. Had we not already committed to dinner at the guesthouse--where we were two of the four staying guests--we would of course have said yes! What a gracious invitation, and incredible opportunity to spend time with such kind, warm people! (And, of course, to eat their food...). We may have been too complimentary about their beautiful home and delicious tea, though, as they asked if we could just stay (as in, in the village... maybe forever...). I loved them, but our dinner obligation caused us to move on.
We had a little time left before dinner, though, so Omay walked us up the hill, on the way passing donkey carts and these crazy little three-wheeled vehicles with benches in the back, which were obviously the local version of both taxis and cargo transport. We ended up at his own house at the top of the bluff overlooking the village and the river, where we sat outside and had more tea and saw his own wedding photos (and got to see his lovely home as well, where we found a few sand-colored geckoes skittering about on the walls!!). We talked about his family--his sisters and their families all live extremely nearby, although one is all the way in Aswan--and the tourist camp that he owns in the desert (which is hosting a Nubian music festival in February). He'd said a very familiar hello to every single person, large or small, that we'd passed on our circuit through the village--it was obvious that he knew everyone. And all the little kids loved Mike; they'd run towards us or pass us on their way home from school and stop a few meters away, smiling and shouting, "Hello!" (I'm fairly certain that that was all the English they knew, but it was adorable and very sweet. And what beautiful children--all dark hair and big eyes and huge toothy smiles.)
The view of the river (with the dam at the far end) from Omay's house. Just stunning.
We took the shortcut from his house back to our guesthouse by sand-skiing down the hill, and said a sad goodbye to Omay, who'd turned out to be the warmest and most generous host one could hope for. We arrived just in time for an absolutely stupendous and massive dinner, obviously freshly prepared by the two men working at our guesthouse. I don't think they spoke much English, either, but enough to tell us what we were eating and to exchange the necessary pleasantries. They were also very smiley and kind, though, and so everything was just lovely. We sat there right on the Nile, listening to Nubian drums and music from somewhere down the road, and stuffed ourselves silly with tahini and pita bread; tomato soup with croutons; some crazy-flavorful brown rice; a tomato and okra stew; and really fantastic beef kofta for Mike, and an entire head-to-tail freshwater fish for me. (Thankfully, my dear husband is good with filleting fish...!) Dessert was simply apples, which seemed appropriate after the amount we'd just eaten.
The next morning, we had breakfast by the river, and enjoyed yet another unbelievably delicious meal of honeyed tahini and bread; a soft white cheese with peppers and tomatoes, and a firmer white cheese cut into tiny blocks; ful; "Nubian honey" consisting of vermicelli-like noodles in honey and cream; a plain egg omelette; and some fried potatoes. (Honestly, I think I could eat that spread every day and not get tired of it. My mouth actually just started watering.)
The view from breakfast.
Breakfaaaaaaaaaaaaast! So, so excellent.
Throughout breakfast I kept hearing what sounded like a child yelling from the island across from us, and when I finally got curious enough to try to figure out what was going on, I saw this.
Goats! Running, galloping, frolicking, yelling goats! They sounded just like this: "AAAH! AAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAH! AAH!" And it was glorious. Our first-ever screaming goats.
Ahem. Once we'd regained our dignity after the excitement of discovering the goats, we ran back out into the village to buy some scarves I'd seen the night before. (And, of course, to try to take some photos with the real camera.)
I wanted said scarves because we sat and watched the man who had made them weaving more. His shuttles were so soft and worn--almost shiny--and they just flew through the crossthreads. I'm fairly certain he's been doing this for a little while.
This house has a crocodile on the wall next to the door. (We saw another on the post of a market stall, and some sort of dried raptor over the door of another building.)
These amphorae, which are essentially ubiquitous, are usually found inside these little thatched-roof huts, and are positively ingenious: they're full of cold water, which seeps through the sides and evaporates, thus keeping their contents cold for whomever would like a drink. That's what the cup on the lid is for: community water.
Omay stopped by for just a brief goodbye, which was really lovely, although it was quite sad to leave Nubia, which was so beautiful and peaceful and full of generous, smiling, warm people. We thanked our sweet hosts at the guesthouse, and we struck off for the intriguing three-hour ride north to Luxor. But that, friends, will have to wait until next time.
Next up: the temples of Karnak and Luxor. Incredible.
*Interestingly, the tower was a bit of a passion project for Egypt's President Nasser, although it wasn't completed until after his death. It's also a rather unsubtle and rude gesture (ahem) towards the US, as Eisenhower had given Nasser some rather large sums of money to try and sway Egypt's position westward during the Cold War. Didn't really work, is what this tower says. The Cairo Tower--that huge lotus-shaped thing near our hotel in Cairo--was also funded by US "persuasion" money and carried the same symbolism for Nasser.
**The rescue operation was a genuinely remarkable feat of both engineering and international cooperation, and as its thanks, Egypt donated four smaller temples to museums in Spain, the Netherlands, the US, and Italy. The last of which, of course, went to the Egyptian Museum in Torino, but the temple exhibit was closed when we were there back in October. Obviously, we had no idea at the time what we were missing, and I'd wondered what it was as we walked past its curtained room. Who knew it would come up again, and in this context?? The world is so interconnected. Sometimes it's surreal.
***In my defense, we had a little time to kill before we left for the boat, and so it was on Muhammed's suggestion that we went into the coffee shop. It's really not my style to tread on other people's customs, if at all possible...!
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