The Golden One

Later. A super day. We went to Kerdasa, a suburb a few miles north, noted for its fine weavers. Many shops have been replaced by more modern establishments selling galabeeyahs and the inevitable t-shirts, but we found one place (after making a few minor purchases elsewhere) that was great. The owner had the jolliest laugh. Listening to Salima and the owner bargain in Arabic was wonderful; at one point she lowered her hand, indicating that the price was too high, whereupon the man instantly squatted. So did Salima. Big whoops of laughter from everybody.

He had nice woven stuff, beautiful rugs and some sensationally gaudy gowns and capes. Lots of gold. I like lots of gold. Bought two genuine black dresses like the ones I had seen proper Egyptian ladies wearing – was told later that they are Nubian, but I saw them in Luxor and elsewhere. They have long sleeves and a yoke, embroidered or trimmed, from which the gown hangs, with a flounce at the bottom. Both fit perfectly, since I am the same shape as many Egyptian ladies – round and short. The dresses are old, charming, and probably very dirty.

When the bargaining was completed the jolly chap wound round me a lovely woven scarf I had rejected – a present. (This is often done.) I thought the overall price was dirt cheap, but I suppose it represented a good day’s take. Foreign tourists don’t come here often. They were intrigued by my interest in the genooine dresses. One middle-aged lady in a similar frock and a close-fitting black headcloth (I haven’t seen a face veil since I got here, but all except "mod" city ladies wear the headcloth) darted out and came back with another – maybe she took it out of her closet, or her mother’s.

Then on to Abu Roash, for a day that combined frivolity (shopping) and Egyptology in exactly the right balance. The site is about five miles north of Giza, the northernmost of the pyramid sites. We bounced off into the desert, along bumpy tracks, back and forth and around and around. If I were only sixty again we could have taken a shorter route, climbing up the escarpment, but my dear buddies didn’t want to send me home in a cast or with terminal shortness of breath, so we finally found ourselves on top, right at the base of the pyramid. I had never been here before. The archaeologists (French-Swiss) weren’t working, so we had the place to ourselves. The pyramid, of which most is gone, belonged to Djedefre, Khufu’s son and successor. Why he moved here nobody knows; theories of dynastic infighting and religious differences are only speculation. Maybe he just liked the view. Or didn’t want to put his little bitty pyramid next to dad’s great monument. It’s very high up and a long way from the river. The causeway, whose line can be seen, but of which nothing remains, must have been very long and steep. Went halfway down the shaft to the burial chamber, which now lies open and exposed, since the greater part of the superstructure has been quarried away. Had I been sixty again I’d have gone all the way down, but it was steep and a bit slippery from there on.

We walked round the structure and then I managed to get to the top, with a lot of help from my friends. We had a picnic lunch atop the "pyramid" and then headed back, since I had to clean up for my first meeting with the Expedition members, drinks and di

Dec. 30. I am fading, Egypt, fading. I am back in Luxor, but can’t remember how I got here. I must have arrived yesterday. When I got to the dear old Winter Palace I found De

Dec. 31. De

Stopped by Medinet Habu, where the Epigraphic Survey works. The manager of the restaurant across the street from the temple is an old buddy; we’ve had many a cup of tea and coke and several good meals there. He insisted on giving us a farewell cup of tea. Then we went on to Deir el Medina, where the boys started up the long slope to the path that leads to the Valley of the Kings. It’s steep, but not precipitous – just too long. Steps have been built, but everybody says they are harder on the legs than just climbing. Some day I may make it, but I am saving myself for the Expedition.

Ali, our driver, and I went on to Deir el Bahri after a brief stop at the Bedouin shop near the colossi. It’s owned by Ali’s daddy. Everybody on the West Bank is related to everybody else. After browsing a bit, on to Deir el Bahri, where I visited the restroom (someday I must write an article on Egyptian toilets). It’s in a building that was the old Cook’s rest house; I do hope they will restore it one day, since it’s a historic building and was well known to Amelia and Emerson.

Before long Ali let out a shout and pointed, and there they were, descending after the hike across the hill. The walk takes about an hour. Coming down looks trickier than going up, if not as hard on the lungs. Certain slopes are fairly steep, with only pebbles and debris underfoot.

There are three terraces at Deir el Bahri, Hatshepsut’s lovely temple. The lower two are open to the public, but the third is still being reconstructed. Bill had gotten permission for some of us to swagger past the barrier and go up all the way. They have done a lot since I was there two years ago – more of the Osiride colossi of Hatshepsut in place, some of the paving laid, some of the little shrines nicely cleaned. Much Egyptological gossip, then we went down and found Ali and dropped Bill and Nancy at the taftish (checkpoint) before stopping at the shop, where I bought a few little things.

I was a mess by then, hair all over the place, but managed to tidy up before De

Jan. 1, 2001. Slept in (and did I need it) while the group went to the West Bank (good for them). No, I tell a lie. It was Luxor Museum and a free afternoon. De