This dates back to January, when I tore it out of my father's newspaper, but I've only just refound it in a file. Being a travel article the four months between now and its original publication shouldn't much matter.
Nick Maes was unsure about taking an Egyptian cruise, until he boarded a luxurious houseboat offering delicious food and the chance to moor at spectacular but tourist-free sites en route.
I don't think I've ever been so captivated by a narrative I couldn't understand. Thousands of symbols, cartouches and countless pictograms made up a vast, sophisticated strip cartoon. Its meaning eluded me, but I was more than happy to just stand and stare in the cool dark hall of the Temple of Khnum.
Khnum is the ram-headed god revered by the ancient Egyptians as the creator of humanity, and his stupendous Ptolemaic-Roman temple is in the sleepy present-day town of Esna. Its miraculous state of preservation is due, ironically, to development. Two thousand years' worth of mud brick construction and destruction gradually entombed this masterpiece until its excavation in 1860. Apparently the magnificent hall is only a fraction of what is still interred under the municipality.
The temple's outside walls are as ornate and elaborate as the interior. They're also more dramatic as the sun brings the hieroglyphs and bas-reliefs to life by casting laser-sharp shadows that contrast against the rose coloured stone. It was a genuinely thrilling experience. Best of all, I had Khnum all to myself. Drifting through this mesmerising site without having to negotiate around other sightseers was a wonderful treat. But this was only the first stop on my journey from Esna to Aswan, 120km further south - and the bar had been set ridiculously high. How would the rest of my trip compete?
Like millions before me, I'd chosen to travel through Upper Egypt along the Nile. But instead of joining one of the large tourist boats I opted for a dahabiyya. I've always associated the Nile with feluccas; the dahabiyya was new to me. Essentially they're a much bigger, infinitely grander houseboat that puts their poor relative to shame. The name translates as "golden", a nod to the gilded state barges once used by the Pharaohs.
The boat I'd booked, the Meroe, was moored a 10-minute walk from the temple of Khnum - and she was quite something. At 52m long and 7.5m wide, her vast open-air upper deck was the size of a Tesco Metro. Furnished with cushions, daybeds, cane armchairs, carpets, rugs and a dining area, it was more than big enough to swallow all 20 passengers.
See the above page for the full story, with photographs.
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