Jonathan C. Lewis
Author and Artist
Notes from the Nile
A fictional travelogue; four minutes to read.
Dear Ben and Brittany,
Egypt is mind-blowing, no question, but I miss you terribly. Egypt—rich in history, culturally exotic—would be a lot more fun if you were here.
“Exotic” is travel agent-speak meaning not everyone in the world shares our Western customs, ideals, norms. “Exotic” is a heads-up not to judge other cultures too quickly, too harshly, too stupidly.
Newsflash: King Tut is still dead. Last week, I visited his tomb in the Valley of the Kings. Turns out, as far as pharaohs go, he was kinda a nobody. Because his excavated tomb had so many wonderful treasures—burial mask, sarcophagus, gilded furniture, statuary, beads, bracelets, rings, amulets, necklaces—he found fame in death.
At the Valley of Queens—once home to the mummifed remains of queens, princesses and the Egyptian aristocracy—I step back 3500 years. On this day, it is very, very quiet—like a tomb.
The surrounding desert is a desolate, delicate landscape. Across its sandy, rocky, jagged, shifting shapes, it is variously the color of coffee, clay, khaki, buff, dried mud, beige, brown, military gray and, when the sun sets, dirty blonde. Soothing. Calming. Hypnotic.
The air smells arid, thirsty. In the next five hours of walking in this hot house without walls, I will sweat out about a gallon of water. It’s open season for the annoying people who endlessly pronounce “drink plenty of water” to anyone with parched lips. The canteen hanging on my belt says, “I’ve got this,” but that doesn’t stop people from shoving plastic water bottles at me.
In 1139 BC, after getting paid late, craftsmen working at the sacred necropolises in the Valley of the Kings invented the labor strike. Two thousand three hundred and fifty-four years later, English noblemen used the same tactic to force a King to sign the Magna Carta. Thank the ancient Egyptians for worker walkouts, slow-downs, stoppages plus your student sit-ins.
Speaking of workers, women do not work on Nile cruise ships. No female maids, cooks, servers. No women captains or deckhands. Until marriage, single women are expected to sleep at home. Wrinkle your noses, but the custom resides in the same genus as safe spaces, women-only dorms and public transit segregating the sexes. A primitive, prophylactic #MeToo. Brittany, when I get home I’d like your opinion about balancing our family’s commitment to women’s equality and our traveler’s tolerant respect for local traditions.
Ben, Egypt imported cedar wood from Lebanon to build ships, doors, coffins. Compared to the date palms, acacias and sycamores which grow along the Nile, cedar is resistant to insects and salt water plus more pliable. In exchange, Egypt traded linen, gold, ox hides, rope, lentils, fish. Notwithstanding what your leftie college classmates think, international trade and globalization is not always a bad thing.
I looked into purchasing a pyramid timeshare. Apparently, I have to die first which pretty much kills the deal. Did you really expect a letter from your father without at least one dad joke?
Love, DAD
