Horas the Falcon Protector

Al Kab.  We pulled up to a village that looked to my eyes not dissimilar to the village my wife grew up in coastal Shandong. Daub and wattle constructions, plumbing, no electricity.  Donkeys and grain and buildings that are all more modest than the other.  We plodded along en route to the Al Kab.  “How do you say, “how do you say?”  I asked Mustafa.  “Mazu tunzi”  I see.  Well, “Maza tunzi daughter?”  “Benti.”  “Maza tunzi mother?”  “Maza Tunza palm tree? Mango? Horse?  Train?  Bag?”

The Belgian family we are traveling with are intrepid.  They’ve reached the foot of Al Kab before us and have seen the ruins.  “Is it worth it?” asks my step son as he stares up to the open orifices in the cliffside above.  “No.  If you’ve seen Valley of the Kings, it’s not really worth it.”  This was not what I wanted her to say, but she has said it.  Now I must be extra insensitive, extra authoritarian, extra non-negotiable to get everyone to accept a ticket and march up to the ruins which are pleasant and are four-thousand years old but are not as dramatic as what can be seen in Luxor. 

This proves expensive for later, when we want to go to Edfu, which is considerably more recent at a “mere” 250BC, the wife and my stepson’s wife and both my daughters all bail on the chance to have a look.   This is a pity as the complex at Edfu is particularly wonderful.  Dedicated to Horas, the falcon protector is prominent throughout the temple journey.  The artwork is not colored but what is shown in relief is clear and where not defaced by fearful Christians is elegant and majestic. 

The cop wants to bargain, as he’s shown me a special room and shot my photo.  Twenty Egyptian pounds seems to leave him nonplussed but by this time, I’ve been around.  Ahmed at stall number two insists I visit his shop and I do.  He wants fifty US dollars for a tee shirt and I grow so tired of even beginning the negotiation process I almost just leave but I tell him $5.00, which is what I’ve paid elsewhere.  He takes it down and down and down but its only when I step up into the carriage that is to bring me home that he acquiesces to one-hundred-Egyptian pounds and unbeknownst, swipes-out the refrigerator magnate I’d had in there as part of the deal out before tossing me the contents in exchange for the money. 

Monday, 7/8/19