Nile cruises, Ozymandias, and bad Egyptian beer

Sound exciting?

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘I am Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Those lines from Shelley became something of an obsession this week-- after reading that Shelley was inspired by the largest colossus ever constructed in Egypt-- that of Rameses II, which lies toppled in the Ramsseum (the largest temple complex ever constructed, but, alas, little remains of it on the west bank of the Theban Necropolis). The name Ozymandias, interestingly enough, is a Greek corruption of one of Rameses' titles-- User-maat-Re (the Ruler in the name of Ra) which was carved on the colussus' right arm.

Irritatingly, we never got to see the colussus itself-- due to the inflexability of our tour group, we merely drove by (I did manage to glimpse the enormous, toppled structure, though driving by), but the words constantly haunted my thoughts the entire trip. We were, after all, seeing things which very much had the same sentiments about them. Rameses in particular was obsessed with the idea that he should remain remembered throughout history-- so much so, in fact, that his cartouches are engraved deeper than any other pharaoh's-- often to the point of several inches. And it certainly was a danger-- Hatshepsut, Akhenaten...along with many others that had serious religious and political conflicts with one another...had their names literally scratched out from the very monuments they had erected-- even the names of gods whose cults some pharaohs wished to suppress were chiselled from (seemingly) the walls of their history. The Copts had this nasty habit, too; most every temple we visited bore the marks of a "cleansed" space with images of gods and men effaced and Coptic inscriptions and crosses to mark that the place had once been used for the then-underground Christians.

Back track.

The tour company screwed up several times and Nehad's paranoia about traveling with seven girls on the less-than-quality Egyptian overnight train led to us taking a minibus down to Aswan, which is an eighteen hour overnight drive. Bad move. I later met a student from AUC at Luxor who, in addition to providing Norman and me a couple of couches for this weekend in Cairo, informed us that the overnight carriages, though simple and a little cramped, were completely fine.

Arrived in Aswan early--checked in to the M/S Ra around four. Norman and I spent the afternoon clambering over Fatimid gravesights and searching for the "unfinished obelisk," in the local granite quarries-- alas, it was closed early for the last night of Ramadan. Supposedly, this particular obelisk was to be the largest in existence (even larger than the "Lateran" one in Rome...outside St. John Lateran Basilica, hence the name), but was abandoned when a flaw was discovered in the stone. Whoops.

Actually, around sunset, we stumbled over a hill into an unlabelled part of the graveyard (all but the most recent graves are unlabelled-- a freak rainstorm washed away the tablets and now are in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo) and encountered tombs that had collapsed in on themselves...revealing the bones of their occupants. It was kind of unnerving around dusk. Especially with stray dogs sniffing about the cliffside.

Meanwhile, the others slept. Losers.

The nitty-gritty details of the trip I'll omit, but to give you a general idea: we cruised north to Luxor, stopping at Edfu and Esna and Kom Ombu temples along the way, exploring (or rather, touring) the Theban Necroplis on the west bank of the Nile. The best moments were abandoning the tour to go off on our own-- Norman and I crossed the Nile to Elephantine Island at one point, where an ancient Egyptian settlement had guarded against the Nubians for years-- including a Aramaic one from the early Ptolemaic period that has revealed that practicing Jews guarded the Egyptian "gates of the Upper Kingdom" as part of the Elephantine garrison. I think I like the south better-- the streets are shoddy, but swept and clean, and the houses crumbling, but brightly painted (most often in blue, which is to ward off the evil eye).

Also managed to practice my bargaining skills-- Aswan is reputed to have the best souk outside of Cairo (certainly better than Alex's) and it looks like something out of the Arabian Nights. Finally bought a chess set (alabaster...knocked the guy down from 300 quid to one hundred) and particularly pretty box, along with many gifts. Also stumbled into maskouri glass-- popular in the medieval period, it's a kind of bubble glass that is extremely inexpensive...and incredibly beautiful. It's kind of the specialty of the south (along with beadwork). ALMOST bought a camelhair blanket...until I realized that I'm in Egypt, and although it gets chilly, I don't live in the desert.

Sunsets were incredible-- managed to get a few letters off while we were cruising north-- and the song that kept playing in my head was RT's "Banks of the Nile." I've never seen a place so desolate and yet so breathtaking.

It's good to be back in Alex, though-- borrowed the Quartet and started reading (still have to buy it...I'm only halfway through the first book and have to return it)-- and the weather's changed (a little chillier). I think the more you go away from a place, the more it feels like home. And I'm thinking it works the same for friends: the more you leave, and the more you can come back, the more they have a place in your heart.

Love to all. Miss everyone.