Sand in the Wind

by Ruth Hay

  The wood smoke Alina had noticed from the ship came from fires in lanes between the fields where workers made their morning tea before starting their labours.

  Elaine pointed out features like the village of white-washed houses painted with scenes from the tombs on their exterior walls. She said that under these homes and shops were priceless tombs in danger of damage from leaking pipes and cellar construction. The villagers would not move for any price. They preferred their lifestyle as it was. Selling trinkets to tourists was their valuable business.

  Eventually we arrived at the entrance to the Valley of the Kings.

  I was disappointed to see the usual touristy buildings with Coke and Sprite for sale but once we left the parking area behind and walked as a group, we saw the true entrance where E bought tickets and handed us our allocation. Each person may visit only three tombs in a specific time frame. Since there were more buses arriving at the large parking area, Alina and I decided to waste no time.

  As expected, the queue for King Tut’s tomb was forming up quickly. Some of our group jumped into line but we walked on, away from the crowds and looked for quieter tombs.

  As we walked further, the heat from the white limestone cliffs and the white dusty roadway began to build up. I had a map of the tombs in my guide book so we turned left at a junction, looking for numbers 16 and 17. ‘Our’ Ramses was the first one and his father, Seti 1, was the second. Ramses tomb was shut. The guide book states this can happen so we had to be content with Seti’s tomb.

  This turned out to be an excellent choice as we had moved ahead of the pack and had a private tour from the guard/guide at the entrance. He was polite and informative and after a few dollars had exchanged hands, he took us right inside and told us we could take a few pictures. Fortunately, we had the required tickets for this also, thanks to Elaine.

  We managed to see our three tombs in the end but none was the equal of the first one.

  Seti’s is 100 metres long and descends down and back into the cliffs. The paintings are beautiful from the Horus hawk-headed god greeting him at the entrance, all the way to the burial chamber.

  The lighting is good here and we could fallow the details of The Book of the Dead on two entire corridors. There are twelve sets of gates and spells; one for each hour of the night. Seti had to answer riddles correctly to advance to the next test. Weird animal figures waited to devour him if he made a mistake. The final three chambers demonstrated that Seti passed the tests as he is shown being greeted by many gods and goddesses. The last room had a vaulted ceiling painted blue for the night sky with stars and recognizable figures from astronomy decorating every inch.

  We stood in wonder at the devotion and skill of the workers who laboured in incredibly difficult conditions to complete a tomb which they started on the first day of the pharaoh’s reign.

  Emerging into the sunlight is disorienting after such an experience. We gave scant attention to the third tomb and returned to the valley gate quite quickly. Some of our group were still waiting to enter Tut’s tomb so we were happy we had made the choices we did make.

  Alina reminded me we could visit Tut on our next trip!

  On the way into the Valley we had passed a bazaar of booths displaying a plethora of souvenir goods. I was determined to buy some things here as my previous attempts had not resulted in many useful or attractive items.

  Right away, Alina spotted a booth draped in the patterned scarves worn by the men on the ferry. The owners were delighted to show her every one they had. She stood back and watched as one lovely pattern after another was spread out on their table. The scarves turned out to be oblongs of soft material, similar to a large table runner, or table cloth, with two fringed ends. Alina saw the potential immediately and chose about five different colours and patterns to add to the variety of goods she had already acquired on the tour.

  She asked for a demonstration of how the men wore these and was shown how they were rolled and swung round the neck twice. By this time a crowd had gathered and other vendors were calling to her to try their superior merchandise.

  Alina was given a large cloth bag in which to carry her purchases and she walked on happily.

  I had spied pins and necklaces on another stall that reminded me of the paintings in the tomb we had just seen. I gathered up a selection of these and then I spotted the canopic jars in the shape of hawks and dog-headed Anubis. Since these were of clay, and hollow inside, I hoped they would not be too heavy to take home. The merchants assured me they were good copies of actual vessels for the storage of the pharaoh’s internal organs. They produced certificates to prove this. I bought a set of three and decided I would pay extra duty if required.

  We found E inside a cafe near the parking lot and joined her in a cold drink as she advised us that the local coffee was too strong for western stomachs. We chatted for a half hour until the rest of the VJV group had emerged from the bazaar. Everyone happily compared purchases as the bus rolled away to our next stop.

  * * *

  HATSHEPSUT’S TEMPLE.

  I had missed this item on the itinerary, so it was a pleasant surprise to turn into the huge parking lot, which they use sometimes for performances of Aida, and see the iconic structure set against high cliffs whose rugged shapes are such a contrast to the ultra-modern, linear appearance of the vast mortuary temple. They say the female pharaoh’s tomb lies far beneath the structure, although it has not yet been found.

  There are three terraces linked by stepped ramps. In front of each terrace are square columns depicting Hatshepsut as male pharaoh, a role she clung to in life despite fierce opposition. Interesting story to research here.

  We were taken to see carvings on the middle terrace where an expedition south to obtain myrrh trees for Hatshepsut’s garden on the first level, is portrayed. I recognized these scenes as copies are in the Egyptian exhibit in the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto.

  Turning to look along the valley it is sad that none of the fountains and trees from Hatshepsut’s time survive to provide relief from the glare of the afternoon sun.

  A section of the Karnak restaurant had been reserved for the farewell dinner of the VJV tour group. Anna and Alina attended although they were staying on for a few more days. Toasts were given and thanks conveyed to Elaine for all her help and advice.

  An excellent meal of soup, salads, chicken, rice, fish and desserts followed and addresses were exchanged between those who had spent the most time together.

  The small Canadian contingent consisted of couples who had inherited money or saved for years for the trip of a lifetime.

  They gladly, if quietly, shared stories with Anna and Alina about the strange things they had seen and heard from the mostly British travellers in the group. Neither Anna nor Alina mentioned the fact that Anna spent considerable time in Scotland and enjoyed the differences in the cultures.

  In what they decided would be a nightly ritual, the two women concluded the evening on the hotel terrace where they had talked with Philip on the previous evening. Debriefing after their amazing day was accompanied by orange juice in tall glasses and a pot of tea to ward off the chill of the cooler air.

  “So, we will be on our own for the remainder of our time here,” ventured Alina.

  “It seems so. Elaine has left us some ideas for places to visit if we wish, but I would be happy to just enjoy the hotel’s facilities for a day or two. It’s so pleasant here by the Nile.”

  “Of course!” Alina agreed. “There’s that pizza restaurant on the little island surrounded by water with ducks swimming around and the shops that are open late into the evening and we don’t have to move out of the hotel area to do any of that.”

  Anna laughed at Alina’s enthusiasm. “We do have to stir ourselves to go for dinner to The Winter Palace tomorrow. It sounds like a very classy place. I think I saw it from the ferry this morning and it is very impressive. What will we wear?”

  “Oh, here we go again! The eternal question! I think on
this occasion we should wear Maria’s beautiful outfits and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it.”

  “Fine with me!” agreed Anna, and she settled back to drink her tea with the major decision made so easily.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Anna knew she was dreaming. It was the strangest feeling to be both an observer and a participant in the dream. She tried to wake up but the dream continued.

  She was in a courthouse of some kind, on trial for a crime she could neither remember nor defend. The prosecutor refused to face her. She glimpsed him briefly from the side and felt as if she knew him from somewhere. The jury was composed of people with animal heads who barked and bayed and howled whenever she tried to speak.

  She turned to ask the judge to bring order to the court and saw that the judge was a woman with the head of Sekhmet carrying a golden sceptre in her hand.

  The lawyer for the defense looked like an older version of Nigel and spoke constantly and emphatically towards Anna. She could not make out one word of his advice in the overpowering and chaotic noise.

  The Sekhmet judge rose to pronounce sentence and Anna felt horrible fear course through her. She was about to be condemned without the opportunity to present her case.

  She tried to flee from the courthouse, but could not find the strength to move.

  She opened her mouth to scream and no sound emerged.

  * * *

  Anna sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, but so glad the dream was over and she was safe.

  The morning call to prayer resounded through the bedroom from the open sliding doors. Thankfully, Alina was still asleep in the dawn light.

  Anna could not bear to lie down again in case the dream would resume. She grabbed a robe and tied it across her middle, searching in the pockets for a tissue to mop her brow and neck.

  Outside, she thought. The fresh air will drive away the demons.

  Sitting on the balcony, its half wall topped with flowering plants, restored some feeling of normalcy. She waited for the sun to light up the hotel grounds below, and she listened to the dawn birds call to each other as they flitted from tree to tree.

  A few minutes of deep breathing steadied her racing heart but she was still affected by the strange nightmare of a waking dream. She recalled seeing a television program once, where a therapist comforted a patient by stating all events in dreams had their source in the dreamer’s daily life and memory.

  “Heaven help me! That’s not a comforting thought. I must be losing my mind.”

  Reluctant to even begin to pursue the origins of the dream, she paced back and forth on the balcony. A longing for a hot drink to chase away the residue of her feelings made her return to the bedroom and grab a pair of slacks and a sweater. She pushed her damp hair into place with her fingers, slipped on sandals and tiptoed to the door where she employed her most careful movements to open and close it without disturbing Alina.

  Once safely in the corridor, she walked to the elevator and descended to the main level.

  The Sheraton’s Karnak restaurant must have been staffed twenty-four hours a day. Men in crisp hotel uniform were moving around stocking the buffet tables with fresh goods for the few early morning travellers who were seated by the windows hunched over their breakfast and looking as dazed as Anna still felt.

  She picked up a plate in passing and filled it with rolls and pastries without looking at them. Coffee was what she really needed and it was not long before a young man noticed her at a quiet corner table and brought the required carafe.

  Four cups later and the day was beginning to brighten up. The sun had arrived in force and Anna felt more able to cope with whatever the day should bring. With returning confidence she realized that Alina might be worried when she awoke and found her companion’s bed vacant.

  A quick word with the waiter supplied a small carafe of coffee, cream and a cup and spoon on a tray. Bearing this peace offering, she knocked softly on the door of their room and was greeted by Alina’s relieved face.

  “I was just about to send out a search party!” she complained. “Where were you, and why? I would have panicked if I hadn’t seen your keys lying there.”

  Anna made excuses about waking early and not wanting to disturb her friend’s rest. This was mostly true and seemed to pacify Alina. She gratefully drank her coffee and they planned their quiet day in the hotel grounds, saving their energy for the formal dinner in the evening when Nigel and Philip were to collect them and escort them to the Winter Palace.

  Alina chattered on about the shops they could stroll through at their own pace without a time frame dictated by a tour schedule. Lunch was already decided. They would eat at the pizza restaurant and throw crust crumbs to the ducks while they ate under the shade of the palm trees. It sounded like a leisurely, happy day but Anna could not shake a feeling of foreboding that emanated from the dregs of the dream she had endured.

  * * *

  After a pleasant lunch, the women retired to their room for a nap. When the heat of the day had dissipated somewhat, they donned swimsuits and robes and claimed lounge chairs by the pool for an hour’s gentle exercise in the pool’s cooling water.

  Appointments had been made at the hotel’s beauty salon so that hair and nails might be made more presentable for the evening event. Alina persuaded Anna to have a makeup application. She also insisted their skin had suffered from the parching heat and they both needed a moisturizing facial first.

  By the time they returned to their room to dress, the day had disappeared and shadows were

  gathering as the breeze wafted through the trees. Anna was glad she had agreed to the salon pampering. She felt more relaxed than she had in days and laughed with Alina as they shared jewellery for their respective outfits, congratulating themselves for allowing Maria to insist on one dressy outfit each for their trip.

  “I wonder what an embassy official wears to a dinner party?” mused Alina, as she fastened pearl drop earrings and adjusted a matching chain around her neck. “Maybe she will appear in a dark suit with an official briefcase full of government documents and I will feel overdressed in this long, light-green skirt and fitted jacket.”

  “I doubt that,” replied Anna. “She is Egyptian by birth remember, and could wear either North American style or possibly something more culturally appropriate.”

  “Can’t imagine what Egyptian style would be like. We have seen so few upper-class women on our travels. She could be draped in those dark, Muslim robes from head to foot for all we know.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough, Alina. Now help me with this zip. I have to wear my new leather belt around this top. I have really lost weight in the middle and the handkerchief hem is hanging too low without it.”

  “The bronze belt complements your hair colour, Anna, and the creamy shade of the top looks even better with the tan you have acquired.”

  “I am not too dark, am I? I don’t want to compete with Philip.”

  “No chance of that! Let’s get going. We don’t want to keep our escorts waiting.”

  Anna was amused by Alina’s eagerness to see Nigel again. What a flirt she was turning into on this trip! There was always more to learn about people, even those you have known for your whole life, she thought, with a happy smile.

  The Winter Palace had the stately facade reminiscent of The Old Cataract Hotel but its entrance was far more spectacular. The taxis drew up in front of the hotel and guests could ascend by a choice of semi-circular stairways to the elaborate doorway at the top.

  Alina whispered to Anna that she felt like Cinderella entering the prince’s palace for the ball.

  Anna nodded but concentrated on lifting her feet in their high heels so as not to trip on the hems of her delicate, silk palazzo pants. Philip, resplendent in a dinner suit, lent her his arm after he noticed that Nigel had politely assisted Alina in this way.

  They all arrived safely on top of the balcony level with a view out over the Nile to the west bank sunset. The usual clamo
ur of the Corniche was muted at this hour and the glimmering lights of the hotel’s many glass coach lamps and lanterns, turned the scene into a fairy tale setting that matched Alina’s comment perfectly.

  An immaculately-dressed maitre d’hotel met them inside the doors as if he had been waiting there just for their arrival.

  He conducted them to a candle-lit dining room overlooking the gardens at the rear of the hotel where strings of tiny white lights illuminated featured flower beds and fountains.

  Their table was arranged to take full advantage of the views outside the lavishly curtained windows but Anna could hardly concentrate on the views when the dining room itself was so amazing.

  Table linens and crystal glasses gleamed in the candlelight of the chandeliers and fragrant flowers scented the air. A small posy lay beside each lady’s place and an entire drawerful of elegant silverware spread out on each side of a delicate china plate embellished in filigree gold.

  Anna and Alina exchanged surprised glances as they sat carefully on the silk-upholstered armchairs.

  They were glad of a moment to adjust to the fabulous setting before their hostess arrived.

  The lady in question soon advanced through the dining room like a ship in full sail.

  Philip and Nigel got to their feet and bowed respectfully as the impressive woman approached them.

  She was attired, (dressed did not seem to be the appropriate description), in an ensemble which would not have looked out of place on the wall of an Egyptian temple. She might have been Isis herself.

  The dress was a cloud of fine, pleated white linen, over a tunic of crimson silk. The linen covered her arms and swept around her neck but it did nothing to disguise the quality of the jewelled belt and collar of the tunic. Alina thought of the pitiful copy on the cotton dress she had bought on the ship and recognized the real thing now.

  Gold bracelets and earrings of a depth of colour that denoted a very high carat grading, caught the light as she moved. A similar gold decorated her night-black hair that was twisted expertly and piled on her head in heavy coils indicating a luxurious length.