Backstreets

    Today was a day just to cruise, in every glorious sense of the word. Being new to riverboat time, I was unaware that when the ship is not in port, your activity options are limited to relaxing, eating, and enjoying other people's company. Not a lot to report today, because I practiced the fine art of cruising like a rookie determined to perfect every aspect of his new profession.

    In the morning, Julie from Melbourne and I taxied out of town to see the Great Dam at Aswan. Recalling trips to see the Niagara Hydroelectric Plant as a kid, I was curious about this massive project in the southern Egyptian desert. It was a short expedition, but interesting to see and read about the transformation of the Nile flood plain and area around the project. Basically, before the government of Egypt could dam the river and create the enormous Lake Nasser, they told millions of peasant farmers to move out of the area. Move it or become part of the lake. Of course, the 22 ancient temples determined to be in the watery footprint were another story. International teams of archeology preservationists had to be deployed to disassemble the Pharoahs' granite masterpieces and move them to higher ground. Abu Simbel is two examples of this mindboggling relocation effort.

    After lunch, the riverboat pulled away from Aswan to make its way to the town of Edfu. Our tour group enjoyed the cruise in 111F heat. Or 43 Celsius: yes, I'm learning metric temperatures and distances. Meters and celsius are the currency of our little group, I'm the only imperialist holdout. Before dinner we made a quick stop at Kom Ombo to visit the ancient temple there. The detail and the majesty of these treasures still astound me.

    By nightfall we docked at Edfu. My travel mates and I have formed a rowdy little group, enjoying each other's company as old friends late into the cruise-life night. It's truly wonderful. 

    The highlight of this unstructured day for me was my stroll through the Aswan Old Market, just a few blocks from our morning mooring.  It's made of vendors' booths lining both sides of narrow city streets, packed between the old buildings. The first "avenue" is touristy items: t-shirts, souvenirs, faux local clothing. But when you veer away from that vacuous merchandise, you turn the corner into a real Arabian marketplace with bakers putting fresh breads on open racks, butchers hacking up chickens on the street, and sellers of vegetables, toys, cleaning supplies, fancy apparel, and pretty much everything you find in a supermarket. Under bright but weathered awnings, on rickety tables and cupboards, crowding into the broken pavement with just enough room for shoppers and boys with goods stacked on their shoulders. I strolled up and down this kaleidoscope of smells and voices and products with a keen sense that people didn't care who I was, because outsiders don't typically venture this deep into these outdoor catacombs. There are women buying food for tonight's supper and men who want to share the latest news and prices. 

    Whereas the vendors in the tourist areas try to grab your attention and sweet-talk you into buying some of their overpriced junk, vendors in the sidestreets were true shopkeepers, and the pedestrians were just picking what they needed that day. I bought a cold Coca-Cola from a friendly father and son running their version of a 7-11 convenience store, no bigger than your kitchen. No hassle, no hard sell. The father asked in earnest where I was from, and we chatted casually about my vacation to escape all the nonsense back home. Whether the smiling duo understood everything I said in my joking manner, they acted like I was an old friend from out of town.

    Before I left the scene, a big teenager offered me a treat he was selling. I think it was a spicy, candied cherry tomato on a tiny bed of dried grape leaves. He had two pyramids of these delicacies on top of a pair of hogshead barrels. He showed me how to eat it, and he was quite excited to hear I was from the U.S. He didn't push me to buy any, he just wanted me to taste one. Whatever it was was delicious!

    I found it magical to glide into that world and to feel accepted so effortlessly. Soon after, our ship pulled away from Aswan, and I was disappointed I couldn't go back to experience those backstreets again.