On our final night in Siwa mum and I went on a desert safari to watch the sunset and commune with the stars.
This is a typical tour offered to tourists and judging by the desert tracks they follow a pretty standard format, that include some rollercoaster dune rides, a stop at a little hot spring in a mini oasis, a stop at some fossilized whale bones and a final stop at a massive dune where we could sandboard before the setting sun.
We pulled up at the first stop alongside another 4x4 taking a group of tourists and to our surprise the young couple we had met at the island in the lake were there.
They are called Nancy and Michael, originally from Cairo, and on their honeymoon in Siwa. We had a lovely chat with them, discovering our mutual connections with Brazil. They were so friendly and sweet, not only befriending us but everyone in their car too. Truly people whose inner light shines like a blazing sun.
Our cars followed each other along the route until we ended up by the same dune for the sunset. As the others sand-boarded down the eastern side of the dune, the two young drivers laid out rugs and fruit on the sand and started to build a little fire to brew some tea. Mum and I settled down to watch the sun inch its way closer to the horizon and in the stillness, just be.
There was something so peaceful about the boys crouched by the fire, purposefully making tea. Nothing was rushed, it was as if we had all the time in the world and all that mattered was this eternal moment.
I have missed watching the sun set. In the Caribbean we would watch the sun go down most days. I always knew where the moon was in its cycle. I watched the movement of the stars. But living in France, in the mountains, I don’t have the same view of the sun rising and setting and it’s often cold, which sends me indoors. I miss the warmth and outdoor living that warm weather inspires. I miss that deep connection to my day that participating in the sunrise and sunset brings.
As the sun got closer to the horizon my heart was at peace with my day. Just that morning I had climbed the mountain and received such precious gifts of insight and vision. I could still feel the frequency of the temple in my fingers and hear it buzzing in my ears. And when I looked at the clear sky, I could see transparent geometric patterns filling the empty space.
Thank you for this wondrous day, I whispered to the sun as it finally dipped below the desert dunes.
And just as the primordial waters told me, we were now ready for our journey. We said our goodbyes to Ramy, who I think was actually quite sad to see us go. By the last couple of days of our stay, he would practically come and join us for mealtimes, standing by our table and regaling us with stories of his life. Bless him.
We said our goodbyes to Nefertum-tum too who was outside as usual, waiting for his morning cuddles and titbits saved from our table.
And we said au revoir to Siwa as our driver from Cairo sped us across the desert back to the bustling metropolis of Cairo.
After a good night’s sleep at an airport hotel, we were ready and excited to board the plane to Luxor. Corina wouldn’t be joining us for this section of our trip as she wanted to rest and catch up on work. So, Hakim met us, all fresh-faced with a new haircut and bursting with energy. We were all in a playful, excitable mood. Sekhmet and Abydos, here we come!
The flight was full, mostly with tourists, and we were all seated separately but that didn’t dampen our spirits in the slightest. On the contrary, the whole plane seemed to be buzzing with excitement.
It’s a short flight, a little over an hour, and it’s a convenient way to make the trip. We had toyed with the idea of the night train but I heard the cabins smell of stale smoke and it put us off. Perhaps another time I’ll try it – without mum.
Walking down the steps of the plane onto the blistering runway, waves of hot air engulfed me and I have to say I was in heaven. Luxor is a lot hotter than the north of the country and although it was spring, the heat was already beginning to swell under a cloudless sky.
Mum came down the steps a little after me, followed by Hakim. Her face was shining with a huge smile.
“Vanessa, I love it here! I want to move here!” she gushed as she took the last few steps to where I was waiting. “Just flying over, looking at the mountains, I don’t know what happened, but I felt within me, in my heart, this love for here.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm and clear connection.
“It is a special place,” I agreed and I left it at that. I was being very careful not to influence her experience of Egypt by being too vocal about my own love for the land. I wanted to see how she truly felt there and let her come to her own conclusions.
We collected our bags and found our driver outside the airport who would take us to the hotel we would be staying in during our time here. The hotel was the house where Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon stayed when they began the excavations that led them to discovering the tomb of Tutankhamun.
It is actually owned by the local family who ran the dig for them and is still managed by one of his descendants. To this day they have an artifact from Tutankhamun’s tomb that the Ministry of Antiquities allowed them to keep – not on display of course.
It is a beautiful, traditional home with thick clay walls and a stunning, leafy courtyard garden where they serve delicious meals, all cooked and mostly grown on site in the farm behind the hotel. They do everything here, from making their own jams and sauces, to baking all their own bread for the restaurant from wheat they grow on the farm. The bread from their wood-fired oven is to-die-for.
Marsam sits directly in front of the mountains that hold countless tombs, as well as a number of mortuary temples, including the magnificent temple made by the powerful Queen Hatshepsut, a Pharoah in her own right.
“I love it here,” mum said as we drove around the outskirts of the town on the eastern bank of the river to cross over to the west bank. “It’s not built up, its much calmer and there is so much green and flowers. Your dad would like it here too, I’m sure.”
And she is right. There is something special about Luxor. Whether it is the proximity to the temples, especially Karnak, where Sekhmet stands, or the openness and lushness of the fields that line the banks of the river, I don’t know. Or perhaps it is the mountains. They are certainly powerful and command respect. Whatever it is, there is something appealing about Luxor. I certainly could see myself living here, tending my garden, communing with the majestic Nile. It’s rather a pleasant dream.
Our room is spacious, comfortable and quaint. We are instantly enthralled with the hotel, from the original, tiled floors to the thick clay walls and gorgeous, old doors and windows.
“Oh, my goodness, I want to paint that!” exclaimed mum, pointing at a window with a large, clay pot in front of it that is filled with oleander flowers. She gasped, “and that!” pointing at a stairway that leads up to a delightful little roof terrace with lovely views over the farm towards the colossi of Memnon. “I am feeling so inspired.”
One thing I will warn you about Luxor, especially sleeping so close to the mountain, is that it does take you some time to adjust, especially at night. The first 3 nights we were there we barely slept a wink. And it wasn’t a wide-awake type feeling but that in-between state where you aren’t quite asleep yet you drift in and out of lucid dreams.
Mohammed later confirmed that it takes three days to acclimatize to the west bank and once you make it through those days you are one of them, a native west banker, considered family. We accepted that status enthusiastically. It was a small price to pay, after all.
It was genuinely lovely to see Mohammed again. We met last year on the tour I went on with Hakim and Corina. He was our Luxor and Aswan guide who quickly became like a brother to us all. I gave him a big hug when he stopped by in the evening of our first day. It felt like seeing an old friend again.
“Mama!” he said, giving my mum an equally big hug. He treated us like family and the whole time we were there called mum “mama”, which I think she loved.
Having Mohammed with us made a huge difference when we were out and about in Luxor in the evening. He is very well-known in the local community and well liked. He used to be a professional footballer and now trains the local youth team. It was like walking around with a celebrity or royalty, which gave us a certain amount of protection from people trying to sell us things.
I was astonished to discover he can trace his family back over a thousand years, all from the west bank of Luxor. He certainly looks like he could be an ancient Egyptian, with sharp features and light eyes.
What a thing to be so rooted in a land. Part of me is a little jealous, as I have never had that. Being such an international mixture and having moved my whole life, I am more vine than oak tree, spread out over a large area, with shallower roots, rather than large, deep ones. I have always wanted to be a tree though. Deeply connected to the land, knowing I belong – at least somewhere.
But it wasn’t meant to be. And we can’t all be trees. Some of us are vines or mycelium - I think I prefer mycelium, it’s slightly less parasitic than a vine – and we have to accept that.
We all have our role to play in the theatre of life. How boring would it be if we were all the same? Not only boring but the cycles of experience would keep on happening perpetually as we refuse to grow and diversify. We are all connected after all – to All. And everything has to be experienced, in every possible way.
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