A sunset felucca ride to Banana Island... what more could one ask? But, as Rebekah Logan discovers, the road to paradise is paved with promises The sun glows iridescent in the evening sky; fiery and romantic over what I think resembles a grassy savannah. This is Southern Egypt, and Luxor on the Nile feels like the Africa I used to read about as a child. This is Lion King Africa; I half expect Timone and Pumba to appear and serenade my felucca (sailboat) with "Hakunnah Mattata". Of course this does not happen, and the main purpose of the splendour surrounding us at this moment -- as a backdrop -- is to alleviate our frustration at being stranded in a felucca in the middle of the Nile for half an hour. "Banana Island by sunset, I promise you!" Mr Felucca Middle Man assured us. We all have trains and planes to catch tonight; the day was stuffed with sightseeing, and all we want to do is reach Banana Island in time to sit and eat a picnic of bananas, mangoes and oranges and watch the sun set before we head back to Cairo. No such luck. The horizon has already swallowed half the sun, and the vibrant gushes of amethyst and cerise sky compete for space against the oncoming blunt navy of night. We all voice our frustrations to the felucca driver, but to no avail. "No problem! No problem!" He tells us over and over again. Time is some vague nuance to him; I suppose his flights never depart until he has arrived. Aggravation morphs into acceptance. What options are left? I could always swim across. Defeated I pull out my notebook and lie on the stern of the felucca and review the day. Hassan Hofni, the amiable hotel manager of Everest Hotel on Television Street, is waiting for us as we sludge into the hotel lobby for yet another day of tourism. He has arranged a private taxi, at our disposal for eight hours, to take us to The Valley of the Queens, The Valley of the Kings, and Luxor and Karnak temples. He offers us tea while we wait for the taxi to arrive. "He will be here soon." Hassan says. My ears perk up for it, but the "Insha'allah" (God willing) does not follow. This worries me. However, my last sip of tea and the driver arrive in synch and I am delighted and amazed at our host's lucid ability to predict the future. Fare negotiations run smoothly; there is no taxi driver-hotel owner commission spiel. Upon an agreement of LE60 for the day our taxi driver takes us away. Luxor's streets are riddled with life; old women with fruit baskets stare out from their hijaab (scarves), their eyes wise with life; men pool around tables too small for them and blow shisha (water pipe) smoke from their time-lined countenances while their sons play football with Coca-Cola cans. Photographs rarely capture such understated portraits of life, so my Nikon stays in its bag. The scene changes as we drive down the Corniche Al-Nil; carriage and felucca drivers barricade the jetty gates and harass every tourist who walks by; the holidaymakers' faces grow redder with every remark, but the drivers pay no heed. Their living is one paved with rejection; they know that sooner or later a mother will break and they will make double the money. When we reach the West Bank Antiquities Inspectorate ticket office I am disappointed to learn that the tomb of Nefertari closed for renovations just a few days earlier. Before I left for Luxor, my roommate advised that if I visited only one tomb, it should be that of Nefertari. The length of the site list intimidates me, and suddenly I wish I had more than a day; but my friends and I stick to our plans and purchase tickets for the Valley of the Queens and the Valley of the Kings. It is LE20 to visit three tombs in the Valley of the Kings and LE12 for three in the Valley of the Queens. Initially I feel this is a raw deal; 60 tombs, at least, have been excavated in the Valley of the Kings, yet I can only visit three? However, as the day passes I realise that for most, Egyptologists aside, three tombs is plenty. Inside the tombs you are forbidden to take photographs unless you have pre-purchased a rather expensive ticket permitting you to do so. Flash photography is absolutely prohibited since it destroys the already desiccated wall paintings. However, many of the tomb guards overlook these rules, and with a little backsheesh (tip) even flash is allowed -- which really is quite unfortunate when you weigh the gains of what might amount to $15 a day against the historical value of the ancient and irreplaceable art. From tomb to tomb and temple to temple, the day vanishes in what seems like an hour. Luxor Temple can be seen on every stroll along the Corniche, and another friend and I decide we need coffee instead. Our group arranges to reconvene at the coffee shop in front of Karnak Temple. Once inside Karnak Temple, I knew this couldn't be missed. Not to visit Karnak when in Luxor would be unthinkable. Within the colossal tribute to the Pharaohs of Egypt and the Theban gods I feel like Alice in Wonderland; miniscule inside this 1.5km by 800m complex. Exploring the ancient temple consumes the last of my energy, and upon leaving my friends and I cannot wait to relax on this wonderful Banana Island that Hassan from the hotel has told us about. When we arrive at the Corniche, Mersiha insists that we take a motorboat. However we give in to the persuasion of a felucca go-between, who promises us that we will hitch the felucca to a motorboat which will be waiting for us when we reach the middle of the river. "Total trip? Half-hour." He swears. I am laying on the stern writing when Pedro announces that he's had enough. We're not very far from land -- still the Corniche -- and he suggests we just jump off. "Mutiny!" I shout a little too enthusiastically. The sad part is that I actually hop off the stern and gather my things to follow through. It feels staged when I turn around to see that the motorboat, lugging about five full feluccas, has finally arrived. If, in fact, the island is really only ten minutes away it will not be completely dark when we pull in. And it isn't. We step off the boat and agree among ourselves to pay the driver a little over what would be the one-way price. We can hail a taxi from the island (perhaps the only island in the world connected to land) and make it back just in time for our respective departures to Cairo. Unfortunately, this causes a bit of commotion, but we pay and leave the driver to sulk in his felucca. The island is sodden with lush foliage and I feel as though I have left Lion King for The Jungle Book. We sit under a canopy of banana plants while men who claim to live on the island feed us all the bananas we can eat -- plus some to take home. Although I am ready to skip my flight and relocate to this paradise islet tonight, I know I really have to get back. A boy of about 10 guides us through the fruit tree jungle to the road and treats us to sugar cane on the way. Once on the road, we walk for about five minutes before we see and hail a taxi. Suddenly, accompanying the loud whine of a motorcycle, we hear shouts and curses. Just as we are climbing into the taxi the man on the motorcycle pulls up and yanks Pedro by his arm. "You don't pay LE30? Why don't you pay? Why you take taxi?" he refuses to let go of Pedro and starts spitting at him, using words unfit to print. The three of us in the back yank him away and slam the door. Practical information We stayed at the Hotel Everest, Television Street, Luxor. Room with bath: LE20 per person. Tel: (09) 537 3260/(09) 538 5971 or 010 5649180, e-mail [email protected] Taxi for a day to the West Bank: LE60 plus tip. Round trip to Banana Island: approx. LE60 per boat.
