To Connect With Obligation

Where’s the boat guy?  I went out to the front of the hotel and asked.  No one had been asking or me.  Oh dear.  Yesterday, we had a pleasant enough lunch at a rooftop joint which our guide had recommended.  The second round of mango juices must have done it. My older one and I soon had diarrhea.  This morning I had the hotel order us some Imodium.  That is usually a strong tonic.  We’d both consumed the tonic.  My wife now wanted some too.  That’s fine.  But where is our man?

Turns out he already has our luggage, down at the service door.   Right.  He’s there, with a sign with my name on it, in the window.  I dial our contact in England back and let her know I don’t need anything.  We’ve connected.  Tonic water.  We need that.  We’d gotten gin and wine in Alexandria but now we need tonic or this local gin will be undrinkable.  We also need to change money in a bank.  The first has a system-down problem.  The second may be able to do but their ATMs don’t work.  In the end we speed off with tonic and money and pick up another voyager and make our way down to Esna beyond the locks, where our dahabiya is docked. 

Fortunately, everyone seems pretty thrilled about this boat.  It’s a sail boat.  Soon, we are sailing.  We’re going against the current and we’re going very slowly, with a southerly wind.  Everyone in our family suddenly slows down.  Everyone acknowledges that the pace is now human.  It’s is Sunday.  Even if I wanted to connect with Obligation, I could not.  No one was doing anything anyway.  This boat, today at least, would not be stopping anywhere. There is nothing to do but read my Agatha Christie “Death Comes In the End,” set in ancient Thebes and watch the cane and the corn and the palms pass by, and hear the donkey’s bray and the kids yell to us from ashore.  We are on a sailing ship, heading up stream. 

A acoustic guitar brings out some drums.  Sure.  Let’s bang them. The other guests prove lovely.  A family from Belgium which leads to conversations about Leopold and Walloons and Brexit with the articulate young lady who’s also aboard from England.   All of us hate Trump.  None of us can understand Brexit.  We’re all perplexed and yet we’re all happy to be here.  I want my younger one to practice her French with these young girls who are chattering away in French.  Perhaps you can teach them some Chinese. Go ahead.  Introduce yourself.

Sunday, 07/07/19