Esna

One of the stranger moments on the trip so far: it’s our second day of three on our brilliantly tacky monster-sized Nile cruiser, and we have to queue up among six other tourist boats to use the lock on our way to Luxor. It’s Ramadan, it’s dusk, we’re temporarily tied up to the dock at Esna, and most of us are sitting around on the top deck, looking right over at the street scenes of Esna, watching goats, mule-carts, and scooters pass by, watching ourselves being watched from the streets and crumbling buildings. The call to prayer emanates from three different mosques that seem equidistant from us; they are each staggered by a few seconds, so the sound loudly reverberates over us, ghostly as the sun sets. In a brilliant Fellini-esque juxtaposition, three young Asian women (possibly Korean?) are loudly laughing, shrieking and splashing in the pool, oblivious in the special way Asian tourists can be, taking snapshots of each other, and noticing the call to prayer only long enough to laugh and mockingly imitate the muezzin’s intonations.

I would stare at the giggling water-nymphs, and look back at the crumbling buildings on the shore, imagining robed men on the rooftops, assembling rocket launchers to rain fire down upon all of us disrespectful infidels.