Heat, Dust and ‘Bucksheesh’ Didn’t Stop in Luxor

Our tour group had a dress party on the river boat one night as we floated down the Nile. We were all supposed to wear Egyptian clothes, but I hadn’t bought anything--not even a T-shirt. So I wore my light blue seersucker suit with a black polo shirt. I thought I looked rather natty, but I was definitely out of uniform.

I couldn’t believe the costumes my fellow males turned up in. They had dressed as everything from Pharaohs to slaves. The women, of course, looked elegant in their long, loose djellaba , and their fake gold necklaces.

After dinner we retired to the lounge for a gala show. I wasn’t in it. I had been asleep in my cabin when they asked for volunteers. They had had one rehearsal that afternoon. Amateur theatricals being what they are, I didn’t expect much.

It was an absolutely stunning show. It was inventive and funny and sexy. I was amazed at the unexpected histrionic talents of my tour mates. And I was especially amazed at the performance of a woman who had been in my graduation class at Belmont High School, and I remembered her as being rather demure. But she did a belly dance that was sensational. I was reminded of the old ditty, “It must be jelly ‘cause jam don’t shake like that.”

The tone for the evening was set by Sandy Klein, who read the following poem (if indeed it is a poem):

Once onto the plains of the Nile A group from L.A. did descend; Unsuspecting they came to cruise and have fun,

Never knowing what this would portend. Luxor and Karnak, (Offstage) Heat and dust.

Pyramids and camels,

(Offstage) Heat and dust.

Edfu and Esna, (Offstage) Heat and dust.

Pharaohs, gods and small children,

(Offstage) Heat and dust and baksheesh,

Lost in time we are reborn and with fevered brains

Play a history somewhat amended. Join us while we cast a spell on the Nile. May God Amon be totally offended.

If Amon was listening, I suspect he was offended. Totally.

I should note that baksheesh is a word that means the tip one is expected to pay for any service, however inconsequential and unwanted that service may be. The temples are full of locals in robes who point out perfectly obvious works of art and then extend their open palms. Mark Twain noted this custom in “Innocents Abroad,” though he spelled it bucksheesh .

The most gross example of baksheesh I saw on the trip was in the temple of Isis (I believe it was Isis--they run together) when one of the older gentlemen in our group was felled by heat prostration. He lay on the base of an ancient column, gasping for breath. Two locals came to his aid, raising his legs to send blood to his heart. After a minute they dropped his legs and asked for baksheesh. His only comment was “Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.” He was a tough old bird. He survived.

By the way, Twain also took the tunnel into the inner chamber of the Cheops pyramid, as my wife had done, and he described it as being “not more than twice as wide and high as a Saratoga trunk.” For days after that experience my wife complained that her legs hurt from walking in a crouch. A remarkable woman.

From Luxor, EgyptAir picked us up and flew us back to Cairo. This time we stayed at the Semiramis Inter-Continental, a really sumptuous, world-class hotel. That first evening we had dinner at the nearby Nile Hilton, and once again serendipity played its hand.

When we entered the hotel a band in dazzling white uniforms was blasting out a martial tune. Then it switched to Arabic music, sensuous and flutey. A crowd of extraordinarily handsome young people was gathered about. The room and staircase were garlanded with extravagant bouquets. Obviously, it was a wedding.

We went up another floor to dinner. Suddenly people began leaving their plates and rushing out to a balcony that overlooked the staircase. The bride and bridegroom were descending. Our group agreed that she was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. But the marvelous thing was that the band was playing the triumphal march from “Aida.” It was certainly the most stirring moment of our trip, approached only by an experience my wife had later on the Sea of Galilee.