Afternoon thoughts from the winter banks of the Nile
The winter sun casts long shadows across the courtyard of my hotel as I sit on the small balcony, watching the Nile flow by in the distance. It's just past 4 pm, and I've spent most of today in quiet reflection, giving my mind space to process the sensory overload of the past few days.
Luxor has been nothing short of extraordinary. From the towering columns of Karnak to the silent tombs of ancient kings, I've walked through spaces that have witnessed over three millennia of human history. It's humbling in a way that's difficult to articulate.
This morning, I woke early (a habit I can't seem to break) and decided to walk along the Nile promenade as the city was coming to life. The temperature was a pleasant 15°C - perfect for a long walk. I found a small café opening up and had my morning coffee while watching fishermen prepare their boats. The coffee here is rich and thick, served in small cups that barely last three sips, but pack enough caffeine to jump-start the day.
I spent about an hour just observing the rhythm of morning life along the river. There's something meditative about watching water flow by, especially a river with as much history as the Nile. As Mahmoud told me during our felucca ride, "The Nile is Egypt, and Egypt is the Nile." Sitting there this morning, I understood the truth of his words more deeply.
After breakfast, I walked to the Luxor Museum, arriving at 9:50 for its 10 am opening. The museum is smaller than the Egyptian Museum in Cairo but houses a carefully curated collection from the Theban region. I was particularly struck by the statue of Thutmose III - the craftsmanship is remarkable, and the subtle expression on the pharaoh's face seems to shift depending on the angle you view it from.
The museum was relatively quiet today, allowing me to linger in front of displays without feeling rushed. I spent nearly two hours examining the artifacts, especially fascinated by the everyday items - the combs, mirrors, and furniture that offer glimpses into the ordinary lives behind the grand monuments.
For lunch, I found a small local restaurant away from the main tourist streets. I ordered koshary again - that wonderful mix of rice, lentils, pasta, and spicy tomato sauce that seems to be Egypt's national comfort food. The owner noticed me taking a photo of my meal and insisted on showing me the proper way to mix all the ingredients together. "Not like this," he laughed, taking my spoon and demonstrating with dramatic flourish. "Like this! Now it's perfect!"
As I sit here now, I'm thinking about what to do with my last full day in Luxor tomorrow. My flight to Aswan leaves on Sunday morning, giving me one more day to soak in this remarkable place. I'm considering visiting some of the less-frequented sites on the East Bank - perhaps the Luxor Museum or returning to Luxor Temple during daylight hours.
The winter sun is beginning to sink lower now, casting a golden glow across the city. The temperature is dropping slightly as evening approaches, but it's still comfortable enough to sit outside. From my balcony, I can see the silhouette of the Valley of the Kings in the distance, where just yesterday I stood in the silent chambers of pharaohs who ruled when much of the world was still in the Bronze Age.
108 days into this journey, with 392 still ahead, I find myself wondering what traces we leave behind. The ancient Egyptians were clearly preoccupied with this question, building monuments designed to last for eternity. What will remain of our civilization in 3,500 years? Will future travelers look upon our ruins with the same wonder?
These are the kinds of thoughts that travel - real travel - provokes. Not just seeing new places, but allowing them to see into you, to shift your perspective and challenge your assumptions about the world and your place in it.
Tomorrow is another day in this ancient land. For now, I'm content to sit and watch the light change over the Nile, grateful for this moment of stillness in a journey that sometimes moves too quickly.