Five days to remember *

Sunboat III was going to sail for one day and I had to move to Sunboat II and board at the restaurant of Boat IV. You got that? Anyway!

It was lunch time. I walked into the other boat, introduced myself to the cold-faced receptionist. I entered the restaurant and my initial impression was confirmed – there is an unfriendly atmosphere for some reason. Waiters in the restaurant kept looking at each other and in less than one minute everyone knew who I was.

“Would you like to drink something, Miss?” one of them asked.
“Red wine, please!” I replied. Without smiling. His eyes grew into two tires of a huge lorry. I smiled and looked at my plate. “Just water, please.”
“Ok. Revenge on the 22nd. I’m in your class then,” he smiled the reply and went to get the water.

Day 3: Up, up, up we went
My alarm clock went off at five forty in the morning. I jumped out of bed and in no time was dressed and ready at the reception. At five fifty-five a tall local guy walked hurriedly towards me
“Good morning, Ma’am. You must be Ms. Sherine.”
“Good morning. I assume it’s me who you’re looking for. Can I see your list?”
“Sure, Ma’am.”
“Okay, I’m not Sherine, but this is my cabin number. So, it’s me. AND, I’m not a VIP, ... please,” I smiled and handed him the slate. He smiled back and we walked to the minibus that took us to the boats.

And I thought I was early. Five small motor boats were already full. I stepped in and out of all of them till I reached the last one. There were cups and saucers, cake, tea and coffee. A young man attended to everyone and in less than five minutes we reached the west bank of Luxor. Another minibus was waiting for us and drove us through green fields till we reached our destination.

Hot-air Balloons of all colors were rising above the houses. It looked as if the kids inside the houses had tied them to their beds the previous night.

We got into the balloon, and got safety instructions from a Captain Ahmed, a mid-twenties guy who spoke English with a mixture of Luxor accent and many mistakes. But we all understood him.

We started to rise above the fields and I felt I had wings.
I became everyone I saw.

A woman shepherding goats by a small canal on her field.

A farmer ploughing his land using two buffalos another using his own legs.

Ramsis II on the walls of Habu temple.

Another balloon passenger looking my direction.

A young child lying in bed on the roof of his house and waiving to the passenger of the balloon that just passed above him. His eyes smiling more than his lips did.

“Where are we going to land, then?” I asked the captain.
“Anywhere. It depends where the wind takes us.”
“I see. And what has the poor owner of the land to do with all this balloons thing.”
“A couple of years ago, farmers used to love seeing us land in their fields and always welcomed our guests. Now, if I land in an arid field, the farmer will come crying about the ‘gold’ he had planted the day before. We usually have to shut him up with a hundred pounds or so.”
“What do you have to do to be a balloon captain?”
“I studied for a year and a half before I got the license. You do eight courses, three of them are medical. Here, have some water, you’re standing right under the flame.”

Dinner Time
It was eight forty five. I was wearing something that followed the dress code on the boat. A white blouse with white satin collar and cuffs. A touch of make-up and off I went. The restaurant was almost empty as I expected.

I walked in and the two waiters, who were my students, greeted me with a big smile. One of them walked over and tucked the chair under me while the other brought the menu.
I made the order and waited.
Less than five minutes later, the appetizer arrived. And ten minutes after that I was having my soup.
“Hey, Ayman. Sorry, since you’re not busy now. Would you mind explaining the unexplainable presence of this amount of utensils? I assume this is for soup. But what is up with the others?”
“SURE, Miss. My pleasure,” he said and in less than thirty seconds he enthusiastically explained the order in which the knives and forks were used.
“Oh, ok. I am glad it’s not a seven dish menu,” I said after thanking him.

The following day, during a quick chat during lunch, I discovered that this waiter, Ayman, came from a village in the Nile Delta called Tonoub. A name that has an unforgettable place in my heart. It was where my mom’s aunt used to live. We visited her almost every summer. I believe this place is what made me so in love with the countryside.
“Small world, Miss. This is where I come from,” he said pointing to his chest and his face brightened up.