My husband Michael and I enjoy adventure with a twist--we got engaged in a snowstorm in the Grand Canyon and celebrated our first anniversary with dyspepsia in Senegal. But with our infant son, Brendan, in tow, that sense of adventure has been tempered by the parental need to plan. This year, we opted for the ease of a package vacation but at a culturally interesting destination. Which is how we ended up here, halfway around the world, at the Desert Inn on the Red Sea.
The plan was to relax. We strolled to the beach the evening we arrived. Across the bay, an Egyptian boy in a blue tunic, his head wrapped in a white scarf, walked his camel past one-story mud-brick homes. Later, we sat on our terrace, looking out over desert dunes as the setting sun streaked scarlet. We could deal with this routine.
The next morning, after a breakfast of citrus fruits, papaya and figs, local pastries and strong coffee, our tour director summoned us to discuss a variety of excursions. We opted for a tour to the banks of the Nile. We would travel by bus for "approximately" three hours to Luxor and visit the Temple of Karnak with its mysterious sphinxes and granite obelisks; then on to the tombs of the mighty Ramses II and the treasures of King Tutankhamen. All this for $100. We couldn't resist. After all, hadn't Michael and I driven our son from Denver to Vancouver when he was six weeks old? Three hours in a bus would be a piece of unleavened cake!
For the next few days, we played at the beach and reveled in new learning. We bought the 200-page illustrated Art and History of Egypt: 5,000 Years of Civilization and proceeded to take turns reading aloud from a lounge chair as the nondesignated reader built sand castles with Brendan. We learned how to spell Cleopatra in hieroglyphics as we discussed the afterworld beliefs of the pharaohs.
Our wake-up call sounded at 4:15 a.m. The day had not yet dawned, and for some reason I felt queasy. I shrugged it off but in hindsight should have taken it as an omen.
The bus turned out to be a large van, not the Greyhound I'd envisioned. It soon filled with other explorers, mostly Germans. We would sleep for three hours, then magically awake amid the treasures of ancient Egyptian civilization. We couldn't wait.
I woke about 6 a.m. to a pronounced jolt. Michael, who was sitting next to me, was green. At this point, we were both suspecting a bout with the flu. To exacerbate our nausea, our seats were at the back of the bus and directly in front of two cans of spare fuel. We bounced along experiencing maximum diesel smell and minimum shock absorption. A half hour later, we pulled into what must have been "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe." It sat in the middle of nowhere, and it didn't serve food, just beverages. Our guide announced that we should grab our box breakfasts and debark for the cafe.
Feeling queasy, I volunteered to stay with our soundly sleeping child. Our bus driver apparently failed to notice my prostrate form, and I heard the van door slam shut and lock behind the last passenger. That's when my queasiness metamorphosed from abstract to solid--right behind the driver's seat as I struggled to unlock the door. Well, at least the ride was half over.
Or so we thought. When we arrived in Luxor six hours after leaving the Desert Inn, we realized that our tour leader's "three hours" was indeed approximate. Fortunately, he had a plan to make up for lost time. We were whizzed through the Temple of Karnak in 45 minutes. At our next stop, the Museum of Papyrus, he sped us past the mysteries of papyrus-making.
Then it was lunchtime. We crowded back into our van and drove past the Temple of Luxor (no time to stop), catching a glimpse of its colonnade and colossal Osiride statues before zooming on to a five-star hotel. Our fellow tourists lined up for a feast of mouth-watering Middle-Eastern specialties, while my husband and I lurched toward the nearest chairs, nursing Cokes as we dug out the baby food.
Next stop: the Nile. Take everything with you that you need, admonished our guide. We were to cross in a boat and pick up another bus on the other side. In the confusion, I somehow forgot the babywipes and extra diapers.
By the time we arrived in the Valley of the Kings, Brendan was cheerfully fermenting. We decided it would be best to take turns going underground, so one of us could keep the baby in the open air. Brendan amused himself by exchanging smiles and waves with unwitting strangers until, enchanted, they begged to hold him. His poor victims were so polite that they actually continued to hold him until their guide summoned.
Appropriately embarrassed, we hauled our intestinal bugs back on the bus and drove on to the temple of Deir-el-Bahri. It was built 3,500 years ago by Egypt's woman pharaoh, Hatshepsut, who dressed as a man and wore a false beard. The walls are decorated with scenes depicting her life. Truly awesome. But I was thinking more about babywipes than history--and barely made it up the entrance ramp.
Today, we arose feeling weak but cured of our 24-hour flu. Yesterday's trek already seems like a bad dream. We staggered out to the beach and plunked down with our sack of sand toys, beach towels, spare diapers, babywipes, extra clothes and baby food. Fresh supplies are only 200 yards away at the Desert Inn, and the only thing on our itinerary is rest. Hey, are we pros!
Katie Smith Milway, '82, is a management consultant with Bain & Co. in Toronto.
