Friday, 2nd September: The temple at Kom Ombo and onwards to Aswan

The boat had continued sailing during the night until docking at Kom Ombo at around 5am whilst we were all fast asleep, except for fellow traveller Colin who was up for a quick cigarette break.

Smoking was a notable feature on this trip after the relatively smoke-free UK. Smokers would be puffing away on the sundeck at all times of the day, or outside the bus, at the sites. Fortunately, the inside of the boat and buses was smoke-free.

The temple at Kom Ombo was a short walk from the boat, along the promenade (check whether east or west bank).

The first new thing learnt was the progression of the friezes from the outer wall inwards. We started on the right hand outside wall which depicted the anointing of the pharaoh Neos Dionysos by the gods Thoth and Horus on the left and in the presence of Sobek on the right.

The inside face of the same wall depicted the coronation of Neos Dionysos and the wall faciing that, the bringing of gifts to the Gods. The latter wall was also notable for the cartouches of Ptolemy, followed by Cleopatra's mother and then Cleopatra herself. Cleopatra's cartouche was not preceded by the King symbol as she had decided not to become King.

The figures were notable for their slightly more accurate physiology, due to the Greek influence in this late era.

Further in, still on the right hand side of the temple, was the only depiction of a calendar from ancient Egypt. It showed days, counted 1 to 10, month and season. Kom Ombo temple is also special for the listing of medical tools and birthing chairs.

After Osama's explanations, we had about 40 minutes to wander around ourselves. One of the unusual figures I wanted to photograph was the god of the Nile with his elongated breasts that gave the Nile water.

It was back onto the boat by 10am after a 2h excursion, Louise and I being the last to get there, before the boat set sail soon afterwards towards Aswan. We passed the very occasional other Nile cruiser, most of which looked very empty and the number of sailing boats began to increase. Most of the afternoon was spent in leisure on deck, mainly at the front, watching the scenery go by.

Aswan was heralded by a lovely riverside mosque before we hit the actual sprawl along the river. The quays were full of Nile cruisers, of which the majority were mothballed due to the horrendous decline in tourism during the days of the revolution. Even successful companies were only running a sixth of the boats they usually would have. However, things were definitely on the increase. Whilst in June, one cruise ship with its 85 staff had 10 passengers. The cruise preceding ours already had 36 and our boat now held 94. There is still a long way to go.

Louise and I bought our Gallabeyas (traditional Egyptian gowns) in preparation for the evening's party. I chose white with blue trimming and a sheik style headdress, Louise dark blue with gold decoration and a old beaded headdress to hold her shawl.

Since dinner was not until eight and we had a couple of hours ahead of us yet just after sunset, we debated going to the market, a ten minute walk away. We approached some of our other friends to see if we could get a group together but they were relaxing with drinks or preparing for the party. So we plucked up the courage to venture forth alone.

The main fear was being pestered by hawkers, because our current experience was one of tenacious persistence when catching us at gates to temples or the short walks from the coach back to the boat.
It was a balmy evening as we set foot outside and braved the first run past the now mercifully few hawkers. The promenade was filling with the locals out for their walks. There were many women, whilst wearing head-scarves and long dresses, these were often tastefully coloured. They would either be in groups on their own or with their men or friends/family in conversation as they took the evening air or checking their mobiles like people everywhere.

The time came to cross the road, a dangerous enterprise even at the pedestrian crossing we found as the red traffic lights were only observed on a whim. An obvious way to curb the impatience of drivers and pedestrians was the presence of displays above the lights counting down how many seconds till the next light change. We laughed in delight as our red man on the pedestrian light changed to a green one that was a running animated figure urging us to cross with 20,19,18,17 seconds remaining.
We walked along the boulevard towards the pink station with the occasional truck or car frenetically driving past, or the resting horse pulled carts with their skinny horses and chatting drivers. By the station we turned right into the Tourist Market and wandered along.

We eventually perfected the strategy required to minimise shopkeeper forays. We sauntered, feigning disinterest, glances would sweep over the shops ahead without too great a display of excitement. If approached, we would say Laa, Shockran (No, thank you) and wander on.

The occasional shopkeeper would be more persistent and I suddenly became Welsh. “Dim ysmyggy, maer tebod yn y gegin”, I would say apologetically, which left them confused and in most instances they left us alone.

There was a lot of cheap tourist trash on sale, but also lovely fabrics and patterned items. Almost every other shop was a spice shop with small baskets of spices piled high.

Eventually we returned back the way we came, relieved and happy that we had made the effort.

We dressed up in our robes and joined the dinner throng at eight. The photographer was already there taking shots of couples and then groups on the tables. Newly Arab men were accompanied by their glittering partners. Tony had turned up with a very fetching fez to match his gown and his wife Angie had kohled her eyes and transformed into a potential fortune teller. Liz sported a similar gown to Louise and Jenna was initially feeling very self conscious in her short red dress with a profusion of beads that really brought out the blue in her eyes. Myra and her daughter Amanda were in light and dark blue Gallabeyas respectively, matched by Jacqui in a cyan dress. Inspirational garb of the day was the guide Mustafa who came in pink with matching watch and glasses, which presaged how the night was going to unfold.

The real stars of the night were our guides Osama, Mustafa and Bishoy. They organised a series of games that got everyone onto the dance floor. Later that night, Bishoy gave an excellent impersonation of a female dancer, down to the finest detail, such as hand gestures and dainty tempting steps. He also brought Osama on stage for a dual dance performance.

Louise gave an excellent performance when the ladies were featuring their alluring dances for one game and Jenna surprised our group by wholeheartedly throwing herself into the evening, winning one of the games! I found myself with a group of men in a potato rolling competition. The objective was to try to hit a potato along the ground to a distant winning line – using what I can only describe as a hanging testicle made from another potato dangling on string. More by luck than judgement, I actually won by a whisker!

Despite the threat of an early start the next morning, it was not till after midnight that we found our ways back to bed.