I awoke to the rays of the early morning Egyptian sun penetrating the dusty and smeared window of my sleeping car. The train bounced and rattled as it plowed past a beautiful and constantly changing landscape, one that I was quite unfamiliar with. Whole forests of palm trees seemed to sprout out of nothing as if defying the harsh and unforgiving desert environment, while vivid green crops were tended to by the fellaheen, or farmers. I was incredibly amazed by the lushness and diversity of the Nile Valley. It makes it all the more tragic that with such productivity and life there can be so much poverty and even starvation in this country. Again the stark contrasts that I explained earlier that seem to characterize Egypt play with one's emotions. People are friendly (mostly), yet there is so much poverty and desperation. Beauty seems to exist on the same plane as suffering and sadness.
The train ran along the river as I was taking notes in my journal. This was my first glimpse of its strikingly blue waters since we departed from Cairo, whose smog-chocked streets and miles of crushing urbanity seemed worlds away from the rural land the stretched before my eyes. Egypt truly is 'the gift of the Nile'. It was an unreal feeling. The window of the train felt like a movie screen, where images of a far away land could be seen but not truly felt. It was beautiful but it felt distant, the polar opposite of the cool mechanical cabin that had held me in relative comfort for the past fifteen hours. The landscape looked ancient, and I began to put together images in my head of imposing temples and monuments of the ancient Egyptians lining the riverbed. My fantasy was somewhat marred by the obvious poverty which, while evident all over Egypt including upscale Zamalek, seemed more desperate here. From the train the communities here seem to consist mostly of simple dweelings of mud, brick and other materials. Some of these are painted in bright pastel colors in what I interpreted as a form of civic pride, however rare it seems to be in Egypt and many other places for that matter. Mostly, however, the colors of the buildings were of a practical beige coloring. I'm pretty sure that painting ones house pretty colors is not so high on the list of priorities here. Yet, the natural beauty and peacefulness of the landscape stuck with me the most as I gazed dreamily out of the train window. The skylines of these small towns were punctuated by the religious edifices of mosques and Coptic churches whose minerets and steeples pierced the pale blue sky. There was still a faint morning haze that added another evocative layer to the rural scenery. I couldn't wait to get out of the train and breath the fresh air and discover a completely new part of Egypt.
I was, however, feeling a little stuffy and light headed. The friendly train attendant offered me some of his Chinese herbal remedy. It was a gel that could be rubbed under your nose in order to enhale the soothing smell of herbal goodness. It was very similar to the Vicks Vaporub that is sold back in the states. An hour after taking it I could still feel the gel tingling under my nose. You can never go wrong with traditional Chinese medicine, even in Egypt. I had some small chats with the attendant/medicine man in Arabic, or bil-arabee. It was fun having some practice with the language, even though a few times I had to switch back to english in order to be understood. My confidence in the language fluctuates, but nevertheless I feel I am becoming more adept at surviving here day by day.
The train ran along the river as I was taking notes in my journal. This was my first glimpse of its strikingly blue waters since we departed from Cairo, whose smog-chocked streets and miles of crushing urbanity seemed worlds away from the rural land the stretched before my eyes. Egypt truly is 'the gift of the Nile'. It was an unreal feeling. The window of the train felt like a movie screen, where images of a far away land could be seen but not truly felt. It was beautiful but it felt distant, the polar opposite of the cool mechanical cabin that had held me in relative comfort for the past fifteen hours. The landscape looked ancient, and I began to put together images in my head of imposing temples and monuments of the ancient Egyptians lining the riverbed. My fantasy was somewhat marred by the obvious poverty which, while evident all over Egypt including upscale Zamalek, seemed more desperate here. From the train the communities here seem to consist mostly of simple dweelings of mud, brick and other materials. Some of these are painted in bright pastel colors in what I interpreted as a form of civic pride, however rare it seems to be in Egypt and many other places for that matter. Mostly, however, the colors of the buildings were of a practical beige coloring. I'm pretty sure that painting ones house pretty colors is not so high on the list of priorities here. Yet, the natural beauty and peacefulness of the landscape stuck with me the most as I gazed dreamily out of the train window. The skylines of these small towns were punctuated by the religious edifices of mosques and Coptic churches whose minerets and steeples pierced the pale blue sky. There was still a faint morning haze that added another evocative layer to the rural scenery. I couldn't wait to get out of the train and breath the fresh air and discover a completely new part of Egypt.
I was, however, feeling a little stuffy and light headed. The friendly train attendant offered me some of his Chinese herbal remedy. It was a gel that could be rubbed under your nose in order to enhale the soothing smell of herbal goodness. It was very similar to the Vicks Vaporub that is sold back in the states. An hour after taking it I could still feel the gel tingling under my nose. You can never go wrong with traditional Chinese medicine, even in Egypt. I had some small chats with the attendant/medicine man in Arabic, or bil-arabee. It was fun having some practice with the language, even though a few times I had to switch back to english in order to be understood. My confidence in the language fluctuates, but nevertheless I feel I am becoming more adept at surviving here day by day.
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