Living the Dream

Luxor temple banquet, a photo by ibischild on Flickr.
Classical Egyptian music in front of the pylon of Luxor temple.
Sound technician in the shadows; then drum; tamborine and group leader; oud; flute; violin.
The red-felt tarboushes are a bit of history. A little like American men wearing fedora hats. 

Does it get any better than this?

Dining al fresco, savoring the refreshing early-October breeze, near the entrance pylon of the great Luxor temple, the house of the wives of Amun.

The goddess Nut extends her star body like a canopy.

The moon? I can't remember whether there was a moon. A humid night. Hazy. Really not so good for stargazing. And the temple lit by artificial white light. The moon is an enigma here anyway. The moon is Djehuti, the ibis. The god of writing, and of scribes, and of storytelling. But around here--in Waset, the scepter city, capital of the land of the vulture Nekhbet, which is Upper Egypt--the moon is the god Khonsu. Take your pick!

So here we are at a dinner sponsored by the Ministry of Tourism. With traditional musicians. A skilled group playing classical music with a dancing rhythm. I suspect that, within the framework of each classic melody, there is some improvising going on. Some jazz riffs. After the sound technician makes some adjustments, the flute is hypnotic. And then we have a dancing beat again. No, the beat isn't set by the drum. The beat is set by the tambourine player, who sings in a decided yet sinuous fashion to show the other musicians the way. Oh, and the violinist is blind, by the way. Like the traditional blind harpist of ancient times.

Before dinner, I was able to amble among the colonnades and courtyards of the temple. Of the many temples around here, I have to say that Luxor is becoming my favorite. This temple is the architectural framework of the ancient boat procession from the opening pylon to the shrine at the southern end. I ride by the temple so often on the arabeya bus, observing what's happening in the plaza outside, in front of Abu el Haggag mosque. Children riding around in rented little pedal cars. Sweetmeat sellers and other vendors. The temple so familiar. Familiarity hasn't bred contempt. It's bred affection.

Fatigue and magic make me so relaxed. It's been an unexpected week. A conference sponsored by the South Asasif Conservation Project. Too wonderful to encapsulate in a blog post. So I've just given you the musicians and the dinner and the temple and this whimsical link to the South Asasif Project's supporters. Please have a look at the supporters. You'll go hahaha and awwww. And please consider assisting this project. It was thrilling to hear and see what they are doing to bring to light the glory days of the 25th/26th Dynasty Nubian Pharaohs.

Un-Tweets

spice shop, a photo by ibischild on Flickr.
Life rushes on at breakneck pace in Luxor!
No, I just jiggled the camera. Sorry!
This shot was taken a day or two ago near my apartment. Two young men, motionless, listen in on the conversation outside the spice shop. The baskets hold lentils, navy beans and the like. The spices are inside, sheltered from the sun.

End of the month again already. Time for the monthly roundup of Tweets.
But there are no Tweets this month (except forwarded blog posts.) I've been too busy with the open Facebook group Ibischild, which you are all welcome to visit or to join if you like.
So I'm going to post a few items which never got tweeted.

One morning earlier this month, I was walking my dog and I saw a Mongoose run out from under a parked car. It could have been the Marsh Mongoose pictured in the link here. It wasn't an Egyptian Mongoose, which has a gray upper body. This mongoose, and the two mongoose I saw last year on the way to Daraw, are rich brown like a beaver. Today's mongoose was a little smaller that the previous two. Not fully grown, perhaps.
My dog and I were just a couple of blocks from the river. These animals--mongoose? mongooses?--like to be near water.
My dog didn't react to the critter. Maybe she didn't recognize the smell.

This morning we had rain. First, a weak rumble of thunder. Then a drop or two of rain. A slightly stronger rumble. A brief drizzle, lightly speckling the roadway. This is about as much rain as you typically get in Luxor.
During the winter of 2010/2011 there were maybe a half dozen drops of rain one day. No rain since.
The Egyptian government has a flood watch in effect for Upper Egypt right now. Really! Maybe a canal or two might flood, or a wadi somewhere might get a flash flood.

Also today, I bought some scallions in the souq. Green onions in Arabic. Basal akhdar, or something like that. My Arabic is improving very slowly. But local folk are encouraging. Shweya shweya--slowly slowly.
A caleche horse was bending its head towards me. Nice friendly horsy. And then I realized it just wanted to eat my scallions. LOL!

Love in Karnak

Dervish Dance, a photo by ibischild on Flickr. This is the Luxor Folk Art Group, directed by Ahmed Abdel Razik, performing on the opening night of the Luxor Egypian and European Film Festival.
[For more Festival photos, click here: Luxor Egyptian and European Film Festival, 2012 - a set on Flickr]

No, your blogger hasn't found romance! But on Wednesday night I had the opportunity to time travel to ancient Egypt--1965! Nearly fifty years ago, and a different world.

As part of the the Luxor Egyptian and European Film Festival, the movie Gharam fi al-Karnak (Love in Karnak) was shown on Wednesday night. It was so pleasant to sit on the roof terrace of the Rowing Club, together with a diverse audience of locals and foreigners, and enjoy the show.

To see a trailer for the film, click here: Gharam fi Karnak - YouTube Typically 1960s, typically Egyptian. A lighthearted romantic plot. And plenty of music and dancing throughout. A fantastic feelgood movie. The entire movie is available on youtube (with a link currently posted on the Ibischild Facebook group page.)


The other highlight of my week was the opening of the Festival, last Monday evening. This featured a showing of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. This movie had a certain poignancy for many in the audience, thanks to all-too-recent antics of a few extremists in various countries.

It was thrilling when Amr Waked stepped onto the stage. He is the movie's Egyptian star. (I'm sure it was not easy for a contemporary Egyptian to pretend to be a Yemeni sheikh!) He and the movie's producer, Lasse Hallstrom, made a few remarks.

This was quite a week. The actors I saw aren't A-list Hollywood stars (in the case of Amr Waked, NOT YET), but it was exciting to see them in person. And fun to see some movies in movie-starved Luxor! 

Bas! Halas! Bye Bye Summer!

Luxor doorway, a photo by ibischild on Flickr.

After this summer, we're all survivors, like this valiant little tree!

Bas! Halas! 
Enough! Finished!
No, we didn't get up to 115 degrees Fahrenheit (46 Celsius).
But the summer was so long this year.

Signs that summer is OVER in Luxor!
A persistent breeze since the early days of this month. Some evenings almost felt cool.
The hottest part of the day now lasts from, say, 10 to 4, instead of 8 to 8 or..."You mean there's a time of day or night when it isn't hot?"
Kids are back in school.
Mothers crowding the lunch-box aisle at the supermarket.
I heard a bird singing, day before yesterday, A couple of little ripples of song. [Perhaps it was a warbler.] And the sparrows are chirping. I hadn't realized how bird-less the summer was.
People are out doing things during the day, now. On midsummer days, Luxor is quiet as a ghost town. Especially from 2 to 5 in the afternoon, when everything shuts down.
I forgot to mention the temperature, which has been hovering around 100 degrees (38 Celsius) for the past few days. Relief!
[We do have humidity, though. Up to around 40%. I think the river is evaporating!]
You can walk in the sun for a minute or two and not feel that you're being struck repeatedly by a hammer.
You can wait for an arabeya minibus at Luxor temple plaza, standing there for a minute or two, and not feel broiled.
That's it, really. Everyone starts to relax and get busy. After wilting under the assault of the sun for threeee loooong months.

August Roundup

Luxor graffiti, a photo by ibischild on Flickr.
This painting is on a different section of the same wall that has the Tahrir (Liberation) angels painted on it. (A Tahrir angel photo was featured on my Aug. 23rd post.)

My Twitter Roundup, once a month or so, will give you an impressionistic pastiche of my life here in Luxor.

5th Aug.--On the busy street leading to the station. Loose donkey trailing rope, trying to avoid the traffic.

6th Aug.--Yesterday, a woman got out of a car and made a sort of high whoop and, whooping again, crossed to a doorway where some men were standing.
How nice! a wedding (though she wasn't making the usual ululation sound.)
No. A funeral.
And there I was walking with a silly grin. Duh!

7th Aug.--One thing your e-bookstore doesn't provide: The opportunity to roam around aimlessly and pick up and browse books at random.

14th Aug.--Everyday sight in Luxor. Man at the end of my street. Long galabeya garment. White cotton head wrap. A surprise, after all this time.

20 Aug.--Luxor was jumping yesterday evening. Folks out for Eid al Fitr, and folks leaving Sunday-evening church service. Folks in Luxor Temple plaza, having fun.

22nd Aug.--Watermelon Car. No, not a lemon--watermelon!

30 Aug--Men down my street, in their little open workshop, filling mattresses with kapok. Pressing it to be even, then sewing anchoring stitches. The mattress has a cotton cover.
I want a kapok mattress! Not hot like polyester. Cool in Luxor heat. And cozy on chilly winter nights.

The Little Red Mosque Is Still There!

When I was writing my previous post, I was a bit annoyed at my neighbors across the street, taking down their pretty lights right after Ramadan. They remind me of those folks who take their Christmas decorations down on Dec. 26th.

But the little red mosque still hangs above our street. I just couldn't see it from my window. And most streets still have some streamers, a bit dusty and windblown. And a lantern here and there.

 Little red mosque, Luxor a photo by ibischild on Flickr. 

And you know, I can't really be angry at my neighbors across the street, for taking down their lights. After all, their garland of colored moons and stars gave me so much pleasure. And the neighbor women covered them with newspaper every day. Oh, but I already told you that, in my previous post.

Every morning while I was asleep, the ladies came out onto the balcony and clipped the newspapers on. And every evening, frazzled from preparing the iftar meal, the ladies took time to come out and unpeg them. A little thing, protecting the lights from the pervasive Luxor dust. Expressing their love of God. Giving people like me a little joy. God bless them for that.

Happy Eid al Fitr

Ramadan street, Luxor, a photo by ibischild on Flickr.

The decorations are down now. There is one lantern still up, diagonally across the street. But I'll no longer be able to look out of my study at night and see the pretty crescent moons and stars in colored lights, hanging from the clothesline opposite.
These decorations across the street were hidden during the day, with newpaper clipped over them with clothespegs. This was to protect them from Luxor dust. At sunset each evening the women of the house would come out on the balcony and unpeg the newspaper. Voila.

Mini Arabic lesson
Root: FTR
Fitaar = breakfast
Iftar = generous meal breaking the Ramadan fast each evening
Eid al Fitr = a time of celebration and feasting, breaking the fast of the month of Ramadan
So now you know!

Cairo

I've been meaning to write about Cairo. I was there last week. Not this past week. The week before.


The thing is, Cairo's kind of disorienting. The big city.


Cairo is a city of over 20 million people. Possibly as many as 25 million. (Estimates vary widely.) So I'd always thought I'd never want to live there. But, in a sense, you don't live in a city, you live in a neighborhood. So it's just a matter of finding a livable neighborhood.


I was staying in the lovely relaxing guest house of the Anglican cathedral. It's in the Zamelek neighborhood, on an island. And you do feel a bit isolated there. A little bit away from the hustle and bustle. Although you're a jump over the river bridge from Tahrir Square, and in the other direction from the busy Dokki neighborhood.


If you've guessed that I'm thinking of moving, you guessed right. If I can find a livable neighborhood for me and my dog. Luxor is a lively small city with a thriving community of foreign residents. Many foreigners have left, but many have stayed, and many continue to return for the winter season every year--escaping the miserable British/European winter. But little Luxor can feel like a pressure cooker sometimes.


Believe it or not, the place where I was staying in the heart of Cairo was less noisy than my little street in the heart of Luxor. Both are side streets. But you get motorbikes racing up and down our street showing off a variety of excruciatingly-loud horns. In Cairo there was the dull roar of traffic, but none of the motorbike mayhem.


I wanted to chill in Cairo, and I did. Literally. It's significantly cooler there. In spite of greater humidity, this was a relief. And I chilled figuratively, without a schedule.


But I did revisit the Egyptian Museum, that amazing higgledy-piggledy warehouse of wonders.


And I visited the amazing Coptic Museum for the first time. But I think this could be a separate post.

Odds & Ends

My street is garbage free, at least for the time being. And now the street around the corner is looking spiffing as well. This is because people in Luxor and all around Egypt are cleaning up their neighborhoods. President Morsi is encouraging this effort.
This video shows people working away in a neighborhood not too far from the Giza pyramids (and a long way from Luxor.) ‘Clean Homeland Campaign’ in Giza | Egypt Independent


My street is looking pretty in the evening, with Ramadan decorations. The dog barks when the firecrackers go off, though.


Yesterday, I viewed the movie Salmon Fishing in the Yemen at our local social hub, the Regal Lounge. Quite an entertaining movie, but the basic premise is flawed. The movie assumes all of Yemen is a waterless rainless waste, though rocky in parts.
But I've been researching the Arabian mountains, traversed by the hero of my tale. The mountain slopes are green. Wiki says::
"The western highlands have peaks reaching around 3000 meters [around 10,000 feet], with relatively fertile soil and sufficient and plentiful rainfall."
Oh well, I guess, as a writer, I have to support artistic license, but I think there are limits!


On the way home from the movie, I bought a 6-liter bottle of water. I walked on home cradling the bottle in my arms, shifting the weight from one arm to the other. 6 liters is fairly heavy. I  was wishing I knew how to carry the water bottle on my head. That's what many women from around here would do. It would have been much easier.
Of course, the easiest would be a shopping bag on wheels. I saw one on my way home yesterday, but didn't buy it. There's another shop I want to check. But now this post is getting really trivial...

Frozen--in the heat

My dog was barking a sort of yippy bark, instead of her usual baying howl. I finally figured out she was actually barking at something in the spare bedroom. Under the bed. No. Behind the nightstand, or behind the bedhead.
I saw it now.  Maybe the knotted cloth end of a dog toy. No, a tail and a rump. Not moving. A pigeon. Not an exotic Egyptian bird, just a regular old charcoal-gray pigeon, which is Egyptian because there are plenty of them around here.

The French doors from the bedroom to the tiny balcony were open. So I closed the other bedroom door, with me and the dog on the other side of it. And opened it again to put a dish of water on the floor, next to the balcony door. I figured that might have been why the bird came in to begin with—to find water. And I shut myself and the dog back out of the room.

I took the dog out for a walk, past the large municipal garbage containers around the corner. There was a boy, maybe about 12 years old, sitting motionless on the edge of a garbage container. His donkey cart was standing nearby, ready for recyclables to be loaded on. The boy wasn’t sifting through the garbage for bottles and cans, though. He was just sitting there, gazing emptily into space. Well, he’d probably earned a break. Working since dawn, I guess.

But I think there was something else in that nothing look. I’ve seen it before, in boys between age 10 and 20. I don’t think I imagine it. The feeling, more of a longing, a remote dream, that there must be something more. A lad with brains sorting through garbage or sweeping stairways, going through the same motions, day after day, with the nagging thought that there must be something better, if only he could find it, if only he could find the means to grab it.

I went on to the greengrocer’s. On the way back, I saw the recycling boy covering the goods so they wouldn’t fall off the cart, getting ready to go on to the next garbage container. I stopped to pet the boy’s donkey. Well-fed enough, with generous cushioning under the parts of the harness that might chafe. I said to him, “Humar mabsuT”—happy donkey. It’s the only Arabic I have to say that the animal is well-cared-for. Then my dog got nose to nose with the donkey, as she often does. Just making friends. The boy was afraid that the dog might bite. And then he warned me of a car coming. Nothing, really. Just communication skills, people skills....

I think the pigeon’s gone, now that the dog and I are back from our walk. The dog’s tranquil. I guess that’s the big clue.

Well, that’s enough for one day. And all before 10 a.m.

Grocery shopping in Luxor

I’m trying to come up with a fascinating post, to resurrect my blog after a hiatus.

Meanwhile, I went grocery shopping today, with only 50 Egyptian pounds to spend. I thought you would be interested to know what I bought at the supermarket for 43.50 Egyptian—a little over 7 US dollars:

A 1-liter carton (about a pint) natural mango/peach/apple juice.

One kilo and a bit (about 2 and a quarter pounds) tomatoes.

Almost one third kilo (well over half a pound) red onions.

Three quarters of a kilo (nearly one pound) red grapes.

One packet each frozen peas, beans, mixed vegetables (peas/beans/carrots).

Half a kilo (about a pint) of rayeb, which is a fermented dairy product.

A box of 12 peppermint tea bags.

The bill would have shot up if I’d bought:

Meat (especially red meat—even liver and kidneys are expensive).

Yellow cheese (Egyptians eat various soft white goat cheeses).

Real butter.

Long-grain rice (imported—Egyptians eat short-grain).

Granola (imported from E. Europe) or other breakfast cereal.

There is a variety of nuts and dried fruits in the stores now, ready for Ramadan. These are also expensive.

Photo--Traditional Musicians

Putting up a picture for a change!

Here are some traditional musicians in front of ancient Luxor temple. (The temple view somewhat obscured by a modern performance stage.)
The temple is over 3000 years old.

Mystery fruit

On the ferry there are usually one or 2 little kids selling pocket packs of tissues. Tourist price one Egyptian pound each. Locals get two packs for that price. There are roughly 6 Egyptian pounds to the U.S. dollar right now, by the way. So the price is less than 20 cents for one or two packs, depending.

For the past couple of weeks, other little kids have been selling clear plastic bags filled with laymun. The price of these is one Egyptian pound per bag.

I thought these little green fruits must be limes. The Arabic word laymun sounds similar. And these fruits look like limes, although not exactly like any limes I'm familiar with.

So I finally got up the nerve to spend big bucks and buy a bag. The seller—a boy maybe 10 years old—told me, in English, "eleven". Sure enough, there were eleven items in the bag.

So, what is a laymun? Or what are laymun? The word laymun is the same for singular and plural, I'm told.

Laymun are indeed limes. But not like any limes most of my readers have ever seen. These limes are small, and more round than ellipsoid, but not perfectly round either. The length and the diameter are each less than 2 inches (4 centimeters or less.) The color is a vivid green or yellow-green.

These limes are certainly tart! I suspect that these are similar to the limes that the children craved in Little Women, by the way. And I bet these limes would make wonderful limeade, if I knew how to make lemonade or limeade. But on the internet I found the suggestion of pouring boiling water over a lime (cut open), making a refreshing summer beverage. I'll have to try that. It should be very healthful, too. Limes are supposed to be beneficial in remedying all kinds of medical conditions.

Believe it or not, sampling these limes is also research! These tiny fruits are probably much less hybridized than their giant supermarket counterparts. (I'm just guessing about this.) In other words, these limes would be genetically more ancient. So I'm hoping that they're similar to the first limes to be cultivated in the Middle East/North Africa region, a little more than three thousand years ago. Limes were the first citrus fruit to be cultivated, by the way. I believe they came from the Far East.

I find that these limes improve a cup of tea. Just divide one almost all the way through, and then perch it on the rim of your full-to-the-brim tea cup. It adds a subtle zing.

I wish the internet could transmit flavor, so your teeth could be set on edge by one of these little babies!

I'm baaack!--sort of!

Alternate title: Computer woes.
Another title: Don't bring your Apple computer to Egypt.

I fried my power cord, and it doesn't look as if I can get another one here--not even ordered from Cairo.

So I'm blogging from a really nice internet cafe.

And I'll probably be buying a cheap PC laptop, so that I can stay connected conveniently.

And I'll be waiting eagerly for my shipment to come. All the boxes that are in storage in central TX. I need my books! And now I badly need the extra power cords that are packed away in a box somewhere, I think.

It's good to be back blogging, y'all.

A Hazardous Celebration!

There are risks associated with the Easter Monday celebration in Egypt. [See yesterday’s post.]

For one thing, you can’t have an enjoyable picnic if you’re in the middle of a sandstorm! But severe sandstorms are uncommon at this time, it seems. Sham el Nessim is at the very beginning of khamsin, the windy season.

Several people each year die of botulism poisoning from eating the traditional fiseekh, which is salted fish. Some people dispute that the botulism is contracted from the fish. Others have switched to dishes such as tuna salad—which also has its dangers as a picnic food in a hot climate! In any case, the moral seems to be that you should buy your fiseekh from a reputable fasakhani and not from your local supermarket.

They say that fiseekh was part of the festival in pharaonic times. But this can’t have been true in all places. In some regions of upper (upriver, southern) Egypt, fish was taboo and wasn’t eaten. Even then, apparently, it was hazardous to eat fish from Nile waters! [Although the other day I saw one or two people fishing from the dubious-looking waters of a canal. And people fish from the Nile even in Cairo, where the water must be really nasty. After all, not so long ago the worst danger from falling into the Thames wasn’t drowning but poisoning from the murky water.]

Apart from fiseekh and boiled eggs, traditional foods of this season are onions and scallions and garlic, as well as tirmis, a kind of bean (legume). One source also lists molokheya, a dish prepared from a kind of green leaves. But Egyptians eat this all the time anyway.

Many places in Europe have special Easter breads. No special bread is reported for Egypt. But bread is special here every day. So many kinds, all absolutely fresh and delicious. The wheat is grown in the fields all around Luxor.

As we’ve seen, the word sham means not only smelling or breathing, but also life and resurrection (shemu in ancient Egyptian). The word sham must surely be related to shams, the sun. The sun gives life. Without sun, the crops cannot grow. (In ancient times, remember, shemu was the hot, dry season, the season of harvesting crops.)

Of course, the sun also gives death. We all know that the desert sun is deadly. So the ancient Egyptians often depicted the sun with a cobra at its heart. It gives life, but it carries a deadly poison. The Pharaoh was the sun, giving life to his people and bringing death to evildoers. (Well, in theory, anyway.)

Here’s a happy thought. This is one picnic where you don’t have to worry about getting rained on. Oh dear! That’s not a very happy thought for people living in the English climate, enjoying a picnic of soggy sandwiches, crammed inside a car because the grass is too wet.

Happy Sham el Nessim, everyone!

Sham el Nessim

Or, more correctly, Sham en Nessim. [For you linguists, the definite article el changes to en, for reasons of euphony or ease of pronunciation, because the noun begins with the letter n.]

This is the holiday celebrated on Easter Monday (the day after Coptic Easter) by people of all faiths in Egypt. Like the Easter celebration most of our readers are familiar with, it is associated with colored eggs and family get-togethers, especially picnics.

In his book Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (1834), Edward William Lane reports:

A custom termed “Shemm en-Nessem” (or the Smelling of the Zephyr) is observed on the first day of the Khamaseen. Early in the morning of this day, many persons, especially women, break an onion, and smell it; and in the course of the forenoon many of the citizens of Cairo ride or walk a little way into the country, or go in boats,…to take the air, or, as they term it, smell the air, which on that day they believe to have a wonderfully beneficial effect.

[Note: the Khamaseen or Khamsin (fifty )is the wind which often brings sandstorms, and also the windy season which typically lasts around fifty  days. And the festival is celebrated everywhere in Egypt, not just Cairo.]

This celebration is roughly 5000 years old! The name comes from ancient Egyptian shemu, which was the harvest season and the first season of the year in the ancient-Egyptian calendar.

The first day of Shemu was believed to be the anniversary of the day of creation. This was the day when the benu bird (gray heron, symbol of life and resurrection, and probably the prototype of the phoenix—the Greeks borrowed almost everything from the Egyptians!) sat on the first mound of earth that rose out of the swirling waters of isfet, or chaos. So, even in ancient times, eating and decorating eggs was an integral part of the celebration.

The ancient word shemu was not only the word for the harvest season, but also the word for life, renewal, resurrection. So it is probably the origin of the modern word sham, which means smelling or breathing. After all, if you can't breathe you aren't alive! So, then and now, the whole festival is a celebration of the breath of life and the breath of renewal and the bounty of the earth.

So, when you enjoy an Easter egg of any kind—chocolate, painted, etc.—just remember that the ancient Egyptians started this whole thing of celebrating with eggs.

Well, that’s enough information for one day. More tomorrow or Thursday, inch’Allah.

I first learned of this holiday only about a week ago. (After all, this will be my first Easter in Egypt.) I read about it on page 22 of Egyptair’s Horus magazine, April issue.

Internet sources are Wikipedia and:

http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/shamelnaseen.htm
http://www.answers.com/topic/sham-el-nessim
http://www.absoluteastronomy.com/topics/Sham_el_nessim
http://www.realalternativesite.com/coptic-easter-monday-sham-nessim-a-2887.html 



 

Kingfishers and Hoopoes

Dateline: Saturday, April 16th--post delayed by technical difficulties.

This morning I was visiting an apartment on the west bank. Directly across the river from the city of Luxor, that is.

As we sat drinking tea, on the balcony overlooking a banana plantation, I saw a large-ish bird fly into a small tree—perhaps a fruit tree. It was a brownish-looking bird and its wingspan had striking dark stripes. At first I thought it might be a small bird of prey. But then I saw its mate walking on the path nearby. I was watching a pair of hoopoes—although the first bird was now invisible among the leaves of the tree.

This is part of the reason why I want to live on the west bank. To be close to nature, and especially to see and hear the birds.

On our way back to the ferry, we were driving alongside a small canal. Wires were strung across the canal at intervals. Once, and again, and again. On each set of wires—well, on only one wire in each instance, to be precise--sat a kingfisher, surveying its domain or keeping an eye out for dinner or both.

The kingfishers here are like nothing you’ve seen, I’m guessing. They’re pied kingfishers. Entirely black and white, in a stunning configuration. To see them in flight is remarkable. The zebras of the bird kingdom, I guess.

I was wishing I could see the kingfishers in flight again, as I did when I was visiting Egypt last spring.

And now, this evening, I have in my mind an image. The beginning of a chapter. An “oh, by the way” chapter. (More about “oh, by the way” chapters later, perhaps.)

A kingfisher dives towards the river, catching a meal. A crocodile leaps out of the river and catches the kingfisher for dinner.

This is all you need to know about the new chapter for now. Especially because I haven’t written it yet. You see, this evening I faced a dilemma. Should I start the chapter first? Or should I start the blog entry first? As you see, the blog won.

Oh, and here's your free bonus for reading this post. For those of you who believe crocodiles can't jump--and for the amazement everyone else as well--we present this video.

Camel skeletons

Just finished Visit to the Great Oasis of the Libyan Desert, by George Alexander Hoskins. (So high-tech--I read it on my electronic reader.)
Note to self: Camel skeletons. On the way to the oases in Egypt's Western or "Libyan" desert, Hoskins passed many camel skeletons. I already knew this was a delightful feature of the Arabian desert, too; and a feature that needs to be in my fictional desert narrative somewhere. Maybe, now I've told my friends about it, I won't forget. Inch'Allah.
I wonder whether vultures and carrion crows visit "Empty Quarter", the barren heart of the Arabian desert. Probably not. Hmmm. Insects must live in even the driest desert, though.

Also just finished Letters from Egypt, 1863-65, by Lady Lucie Duff Gordon. (Also electronic.) A pretty lively account. She spent most of her time in the Luxor area. She depicts well the amazing tolerance of Luxor people for the foibles and eccentricities of foreigners. She also depicts a picturesque culture, much of which may have been lost, although people here still tend to dress in a more traditional fashion.

At church yesterday, I met a German woman whose grandfather collaborated with a remarkable Nubian man, preserving the songs and other traditions of Nubian Egypt. As we focus on antiquities, we shouldn't forget the importance of other aspects of Egypt's wonderful heritage.

And, in yesterday's sermon, Brice, the amateur egyptologist/professional clergyman, threw out the fact that ancient Karnak temple had a population (priests and others) of 80 thousand! Well, in the New Kingdom, for many decades, it was a hub of the Amon priesthood. And the Karnak site is 200 acres! (verified today at Mark Millmore's amazing Egyptian website). The temple precincts alone cover 61 acres. Just a bit or two of trivia.