This is the first draft for a piece I am entering into a travel writing scholarship comp. This is one of the four topics I chose. Needs a bit of work, but what do you think? x
How
meeting a local change my life….
It’s 48 degrees and I’m hot, really
hot.
The harsh Egyptian sun beats down on me as
I wipe the mix of dust and sweat from my eyes. I have just narrowly escaped a 9-hour rickety
train ride from Cairo and I’m thirsty, really thirsty.
First class train? I think not. This version of first class consisted of
sticky vinyl seats, that don’t recline mind you, and windows that ajar only enough to just sniff the rushing warm outside air. Toilets, so hideous they are definitely not worth mentioning, and to top it off, an old Egyptian
man sitting two seats away is coughing up consistent phlegm balls the entire
journey. Gross, but strangely funny. Luckily my ipod drowns him out, but only
just.
The streets burst at the seams with noise
and excitement as I wander through the Aswan markets, slightly disorientated, yet
full of excitement and wonder. With my hefty backpack on, I see the
sparkling water of the Nile at the end of the road. Half of me wants to stop and stare in awe at the hundreds of
different coloured spices and herbs that adorn many market stalls. The other
half of me, “get me to the Nile now”. Wandering hands grab me from all directions
and people shout at me in a mix of Arabic and English. “Izzayak, hey hey you you
ozzy ozzy!”
I make my way towards the water at the end
of the dusty road, fending off everyone from snotty face kids to stray mangy
dogs.
I stop still, and there she is. In all her
glory, the mighty River Nile.Palm trees saw high in the sky along the
waters edge, smooth rounded boulders rise up from the water. In the distance
across the other side of her, mighty sand dunes create the wavy horizon where
land meets sky. White triangles crisscross each other smoothly across the
water for as far as I can see, down, or maybe up the river. It’s beautiful and
peaceful. It’s as though I have stepped back in time to a lost desert oasis.
I fumble around my backpack for my journal,
and see that I’m quite close to where I need to meet my felucca. A felucca is
the name for a traditional Egyptian wooden sailing boat. It’s basically a big flat
deck under a canopy of old sewn together sheets, canvas and flags from
countries of past travelers before. The deck is covered in cushions, blankets
and woven’s rugs full of bright colours and worthy of telling many a tale of
past adventures.
I meet Captain Gunja. The Captain of my
Felucca.
He has the biggest, whitest and widest grin
I have ever seen. In such contrast to his smooth dark Nubian
skin. His eyes are like white golf balls with sparkling chocolate brown centers.
Captain Gunja is from the most southern Nile delta region known as Nubia. The people
from Nubia are more African looking then they are Arabic. He is instantly
welcoming and kind, shuffling me on the boat and doing his best to speak to me
in his charming and very disjointed English.
He does his rehearsed welcome speech that
he has probably done a thousand times before, yet somehow it seems like he had
written it just for me. He opens a big green bottle of beer for me,
Egyptian Stella, and we talk about my journey and how I got to where I was now. A few
other travelers jump on and he makes them feel instantly welcome, just like he
did with me.
The big orange ball of sun is slowly
setting below the distant dunes, as the felucca pushes off slowly into the calm water
of the Nile. I watch Captain Gunja jump about the boat effortlessly untying and
tying up ropes. The huge white sails open up into the evening breeze as we
begin to sail up-river.
I have a tingling feeling that runs from deep in my stomach and up across my face, turning into a huge grin. One that only an
experience like this can bring.
Sipping my beer , thoughts about the journey
ahead of me dance in my mind. As I look back at Captain Gunja, he smiles and gives me a wink. A wink that will encompass an experience,that will, and has already changed my life.
