Day 15. Sat 27th September
St Simeon's Monastery. Aswan Dam. Philae.
Today we get a lie-in - of sorts. We are roused at 6:00 to catch the ferry
across the river at 7:00, and I finally get to ride a camel, not an unpleasant
experience, altough the camels do have a tendency to stand up before one
is quite settled, and I never did manage to work out which end was going
to get up first. Camels are not, in fact, indigenous to Egypt, but are
imported from Sudan, and are no longer used for anything except for giving
rides to tourists.
We are going to visit the monastery of St. Simeon. Built in the sixth
century, it originally housed 300 monks and served as a way station for
travellers crossing the desert. If the ballon pilot was Egypt's Brian Blessed,
then our guide at the monastery is its Eric Morcambe. He is a real comedian
and enhances his commentary with mime and impressions, imitating the sounds
a baby being baptised, the cock crowing and (best of all) a herd of camels
carrying water up the hill. We are shown where and how the bread was baked,
and the grapes trodden for the communion wine, and are given a graphic
demonstration of how St Simeon would stand for five hours in meditation
with his beard tied to the ceiling to stop him falling asleep.
After returning briefly to the ship, we are off again, this time by more
convential taxi, to the Aswan High Dam. By the 1940s it was clear that
the original Aswan dam, built by the British above the First Nile Cataract
at the turn of the century, was not large enough to cope with the river's
unpredictable annual flood, and in 1952, under President Nasser,
plans for a new dam 6km further upstream were put forward. It was, in fact,
the withdrawal of funds for this project by the World Bank that precipitated
the Suez Crisis in 1956. This contemporary example of construction on a
monumental scale was eventually realised between 1960 and 1971, contains
18 times the amount of material used in the Khufu pyramid, and created
Lake Nasser, the world's largest artificial lake. The dam has increased
the area of cultivable land by 30%, doubled the country's electricity supply,
and the rise in the Saharan water table has been recorded as far away as
Algeria. However, it also prevents the flow of silt that was critical to
the fertility of the Nile Valley, leading to greater use of artificial
fertilisers, and the environmental effects reach right down to the Nile
delta. There is also the problem that the silt will eventually fill the
lake.
After the High Dam we visit the Philae temple of Isis. Built between 380
and 246 BC this temple dedicated to the godess Isis was original on the
island of Philae, now submerged beneath the waters of Lake Nasser. Like
Abu Simbel, this temple complex was disassembled and moved stone by stone
to the nearby island of Agilkia to save it from the rising lake. We take
the ferry across to the island and spend an hour exploring the various
temples and monuments.
We return to Aswan to discover, to our consternation, that the M. S. Doma
is no longer there. However, it turns out that it has had to move to allow
an enormous gin palace, the Napoleon, to set sail. The Doma puts in briefly
to allow us to board, and then sets sail immediately on the return journey
down river back to Luxor. We spend the afternoon relaxing on deck, playing
cards and scrabble, and Ash, the manager, gives me a stiff game of backgammon,
and also shows me how to write my name in Arabic (which is bound to come
in useful sometime).
When we go below to get ready for dinner we find that the crew have
decorated the cabins with flowers, writing our names (or, at least, an
approximation thereof) on the bunks.
The food on the Doma is excellent, and the service too. All the crew are
very friendly and go out of their way to make us feel at home. Tonight
after dinner they all assemble and sing songs, after which they organise
party games. The drinks flow and a good time is definitely had by all.
I am taken for a sucker by Ash, who challenges me to drop a coin from my
forehead into an inverted plastic bottle stuck down my trousers, but it's
all a trick - when I put my head back to balance the coin he pours water
down the bottle and into my shorts. I then chase him round the bar and
end up going headlong over a beer crate and somehow manage to tear a pectoral
muscle, which is extremely painful.