Hard as you try you'll never overstay your welcome The monarch stands in ceremonial glory, body entirely shaved and anointed, tended upon by middle-aged priests splendid in bracelets, wigs, and linen skirts, his bare-breasted, half-sister wife watching from the reviewing stand. He is handed a bow encrusted with semi-precious stones and that marvel of contemporary industry, glass. Fortieth incarnation of Osiris, beloved son of Amun, scion and high priest of Ptah, slayer of enemies far and near is about to assert his rule over the known and unknown universe. The demigod recites a short incantation, places one papyrus-sandaled foot behind the other, takes a deep breath, and pulls the bow taut. The music stops, the crowds fall into silence, and he of the many names releases four arrows. The first arrow goes north, claiming sovereignty over everything that moves south of Troy, impressing the first two letters of the primordial creator Ptah onto Greek memory, and ultimately onto the anglicised name of the land (Mansion of the Spirit of Ptah, Hwt-Ka-Ptah, Ai-ghy-pto, Egypt). The second arrow travels east, to the home of the scarab that pushes the big fiery ball across the sky. The third sails west, claiming authority over the land of the dead, and beyond. The fourth heads south, casting its shadow across time and the worst lentil soup known to man. And it is all the fault of the Italians. We are sitting 50 steps away from the southern boundaries of the Luxor Temple, the closest any diner can hope to approach eternity -- or the relics that launched that concept. Situated atop a non-descript commercial compound, the restaurant advertises itself through a hand-painted sign on two of the front pillars of the compound: Marhaba, welcome. This innocuous word will hound you like a demon across the corridors of antiquity. It does not matter if you walk briskly or at leisure, if you're shopping, sightseeing or just lost in thought. The eager welcome will find you. Passers by interrupt their conversation to kindly remind you that you're welcome. Some dutifully guess your country of origin just in case you might have forgotten. Two of the guessers, acting independently, inform us that we come from an overpopulated, peninsula-shaped Asian country with a history of ethnic strife. Time for a haircut, we think. Our only neighbours on the restaurant's spacious rooftop are eight Italian tourists and their guide. We sit at a distance, at a riverside table with a better view of Luxor temple and the corniche. The town, or at least this part of it, is spanking clean. My last visit was 27 years ago. Since then the riverside promenade has been upgraded, strewn with rustic pergolas, provided with litter bins every few metres or so, with not a wrapper or discarded plastic bottle in sight -- a fitting homage to ancient grandeur. At the height of its opulence, the nearby Karnak Temple controlled 40 workshops, 60 villages, 80 ships, 400,000 heads of livestock, and a workforce of 80,000 people. We order the most basic of Ancient Egyptian meals, lentil soup. A poor excuse appears at our table, watery, diluted, inedible. We send it back. "But the Italians like their soup this way," a waiter tells us, hopefully. The night before waiters in another establishment had similarly blamed the most tasteless meat tajin imaginable on Germany. Thankfully we had just bought some spices in the market, and we proceeded to modify the meal at the table, the Germans eyeing us with envy. The rest of our rooftop meal contained acceptably grilled chicken and lamb and the usual tehina and babaghanoug appetisers. The next day, back in the vicinity, shopping at the bookshop downstairs for stuffed camels and inflatable deities we suddenly get the urge. We climb to the rooftop, place our own sand-dried peanuts in the middle of the table, order beers and make ourselves welcome. Marhaba, situated atop a tourist market between the Winter Palace and the Luxor Temple, (095) 382633, is divinely restful, superbly gaudy and reassuringly inexpensive. Dinner for three: LE150, including alcoholic beverages and tips. By Nabil Shawkat
