Nile River, Egypt, Day 289

It is quite wonderfully relaxing to float gently up the Nile. There is ample food and Christi and I have quickly trained ourselves in true Pavlovian style to respond immediately to meal times. Putting on an extra pound now might come in handy as we head deeper into Africa and the Heart of Darkness. At the moment, though, our hearts are light, bright, and happy. I try not to dwell on what will happen when we arrive in Aswan tomorrow. We will have reached the end of civilized Egypt. If we are to continue south overland (well by ferry anyway) into Sudan then life will become much tougher. And if we survive Sudan, then it’s Ethiopia and the wild open spaces of Northern Kenya. We will not reach Nairobi and the tourist trail again for at least a month. And that month is pretty much a black box. Christi and I have planned much of our Year of Wonder, but Africa is an untamed beast. We had Dragoman take the strain in West Africa, but getting from North Africa to East Africa will be up to us. From the safety of our apartment in San Francisco that sounded like a grand adventure. Now that we’re face to face with that adventure, it feels a lot more daunting. That is even assuming we can follow our preferred route into Sudan because we seriously do not have a back up plan.

The residents of the Nile delta are completely oblivious to our plight. They are much more concerned with the daily chore of finding enough food to stay alive or earning enough money to pay for essential items. There are many islands in the Nile River and people have made their homes on these fertile parcels of land. Presumably now that the Nile has been dammed south of Aswan (creating Lake Nasser), living in the middle of the river is a lot less precarious and the chances of flooding much less likely. Still a shack in the middle of the Nile seems like a dodgy proposition to me.

Egypt has an infinite number of historical artefacts and ancient temples. It is truly mind-boggling. Indeed, without such riches, many of the major museums in the world would be much emptier. If I were an Egyptian I’d be pretty angry that much of my heritage is on display in places that I will never see. Having said that, my poor brain can only soak up so much information and it’s almost full to bursting. I force myself to embrace Kom Ombo, a temple dedicated to Sobek, the crocodile-headed god of fertility, and our old friend Horus, god of war. I have to question why the ancient Egyptians used the head of a crocodile as a symbol of fertility. I don’t mean to appear sexist, but why not a gorgeous woman? If I was tasked with taking part in some sort of fertility rites, I think the ‘results’ (if you catch my drift) would be a lot more promising if my mental image was of a beautiful woman rather than a crocodile. But that’s just me.

In any event, Kom Ombo is unique in that it is dedicated to two gods and its double design meant that there were courts, halls, sanctuaries, and rooms duplicated for two sets of gods. As with the Temple of Edfu, the Temple of Kom Ombo was built during the Ptolemaic dynasty, which was the last dynasty of ancient Egypt before the Roman conquest of 30 BC. If the crowds at Edfu were impressive (and not in a good way), Kombo was dire. The trouble is all the houseboats arrive at the same time. Surely there could be a way to stagger the entrances throughout the day to dissipate the frenzy. Are you listening Egypt! And just to show the ancient practitioners of mummification were a weird lot, more than 300 mummified Nile crocodiles have been found at the site some of which are on display at the nearby crocodile museum.

I tread carefully on the way back to the Nile Story in case any of Sobek’s descendants are hanging around. This proves to be the least of our problems, though, because our boat has gone. It isn’t where we left it and there are so many boats double parked that it takes us half an hour to find its new mooring. We jump aboard just as the Nile Story sets sail for Aswan and an uncertain future.