Nile-Side Strolls: Discovering the Heart of Luxor After Dark
For people who worry that Egypt may not be a safe place to visit, I have to share about my amazing experiences on the West Bank in Luxor. When we booked our Airbnb, we were ignorant that the West Bank is historically where people didn’t live. It’s known as the necropolis, since it’s where the dead are buried and it’s filled with mortuary temples and tombs. The East Bank is where more vibrant city living happens, it’s where the cruise ships dock, and all the heavy night life happens. While we could have taken a boat to the other side and spent most of our time among the living, we decided to embrace the laid-back atmosphere and disregard any thought of the more macabre. We thrived on the West Bank.
Nightly brisk, hour-long walks have been a part of my travels for the last several months, regardless of how much exploring we’ve done throughout the day. It’s been a consistent thread through all the countries and cities we’ve visited, but no where else so far have I made the brief but heartwarming connections that I have here.
The area where we are staying is a stone’s throw from the Nile, and you don’t have to be a major league pitcher to hit the water. One of the things I love about this little area is how the locals make themselves comfortable on a chair across from their shops and just hang out and people watch. As the sun sets and the heat of the day dissipates, restauranteurs see me pumping my arms as I kick a small cloud of sand in the air. We have wide grins and armwaves for each other and the next day I can expect to hear something from one or the other of them about us seeing each other the night before. Even vendors who approach us by day for a boat or taxi ride will switch out their solicitations in the evening to instead make a comment about seeing me night after night as I pass.
I leave the dusty road parallel to the Nile and head up towards the main road, past the construction widening the docks. I nod hello and gracefully decline the taxi drivers and tour guides who solicit their services along my route and dodge the motorcycles growling past me. As I turn off onto the busy street, I encounter shades of Cairo with its horns, motorcycles, buses, and chaos. The sideways are in disrepair, so it means that I usually am walking alongside parked cars or at the edge of the road. The path splits off into a more desolate route, but I stay straight and pass stray dogs and cats as I continue onward.
There’s a guarded intersection with security personnel directing some of the traffic, including what’s coming from a side road connecting to nearby farmland. Donkeys with hitched wagons stuffed with farmed produce join the fray, and we all begin a dance of moving in perfect time so that we slow or quicken without anyone having to get stuck waiting. I dodge women with sheaths and hijabs walking arm in arm alongside parked cars, sometimes five across, trusting that oncoming traffic will shift to accommodate them. Alongside the street is more farmland with a random scattering of restaurants and businesses adjacent to the road. The route bypasses a small banana plantation to my left with blue bags protecting some of the delicate fruit. I exchange Arabic greetings for peace with an older man shuffling along headed in the opposite direction.
And then there are children. Sometimes children are encouraged to sell to tourists, but on these walks I mostly see little boys and girls waving and shyly saying hello from the safety of their porches. I’m sure my pumping arms and brisk pace are a strange sight, but nonplussed, they ask where I’m from. They are the highlight of my walks.
Colossi of Memnon, West Bank, Luxor, Egypt
By now I’ve gone over two miles, and in only another quarter mile, I’ll get rewarded for my determination. I cross the road and cozy up to the massive stone statues of the Pharaoh Amenhotep III, who stand resolutely since 1350 BC—the Colossi of Memnon. I snap a few pictures this time before flipping around and take the return trip home. The return is more of the same, except I watch a man bob up and down squeezing his legs to stay up on a donkey while holding long grasses in front of him. I’m in awe of how he stays balanced and how much pain he had to have been in before strengthening his legs enough to cover long distances this way. I continue to wave and weave through the traffic as I pass fellow pedestrians or people coming and going from their parked vehicles. Taxis and TukTuks stop to see if I need a ride, and slowly the gravel road once again turns into dusty sand, and before I know it I am alongside the Nile and exchanging greetings with the restauranteurs that we frequent on a daily basis. Their eyes light up as they see me, and my heart warms with a feeling of connectedness to this now familiar stretch of dirt. Without fail, I know that tomorrow I’ll hear the familiar phrase, “I see you every night.” Luxor, you do not disappoint.
