As I walk out of the train station in Luxor, I’m provided with a breath of fresh air. The pressure from Cairo starts to dissipate at once: what stands before me is a pleasant-looking city of low, pale buildings that do not aim to overtake nature. This is the modern reincarnation of glorious Thebes – the capital of Egypt when it used to be an empire.
Grateful to be here, I quickly breathe in the surrounding earth, water and air before following the taxi driver, Hani, to his car. Other drivers prowling around try to bait me but Hani yaps at them in fierce Arabic – I’m his.
Thirty seconds into the drive, the remains of Luxor Temple, a graceful religious complex built by a series of illustrious Pharaohs more than 3400 years ago, stand out by the edge of the Nile.
My eyes and mind are captivated by the millennia-old colossal pylons that appear then quickly withdraw from view. Simultaneously, Hani reveals a fixation of his own:
- You want to go Edfu, Kom Ombo, one hour, two hour. You go, I take you, my taxi.
I’ve barely arrived in the world’s biggest open-air museum, featuring an impressive concentration of ancient Egyptian temples and tombs, but Hani his ready to move on, with me in the passenger seat, to other sites some hours away.
I turn my head, blocking him out of my consciousness; the streets are presently bordered with endless trees generously blooming in pink and white – a gorgeous spectacle by any standards. Hani changes his tone of voice and attempts to give fresh emphasis to his sales pitch:
- Edfu, Kom Ombo, Abydos, Dendera… Ed-fu, Kom Om-bo, A-by-dos, Den-de-ra. I drive. You go, yes?
In what is turning out to be a séance of traveler hypnotism, Hani repeats similar incantations every minute or two over the next few kilometers. Telling him I understand the possibilities and taking down his phone number do not appease his ambitions. It is not understanding Hani is after, it is commitment. And so, he just goes on.
Meanwhile, as we move away from the city and proceed to the West Bank of the Nile, the environment transforms itself into large fields of cane sugar, banana plantations and patches of date palm trees.
Farmers and kids on donkey carts smile and wave at me – pure charm. But Hani does not like the competition:
- English: one. Arabic: wahid.
Hani grabs my hand and proceeds to teach me Arabic numbers. I’m encouraged to repeat after him. I go along, it’s much nicer than the hypnotism session and his enthusiasm can be appreciated.
- English: two. Arabic: itnayn.
And so it goes while minutes pass. Hani has slowed down to something like ten kilometers per hour in order to prolong the drive. He claims we’ll get arrested if he goes faster. The moment stretches out, becomes timeless like the surrounding vestiges of Thebes. The donkey carts might catch up with us now.
- English: thirty. Arabic: talateen.
Hani won’t let go of my hand. I’m getting a firmer and longer version of the usually loose Egyptian handshake. I would prefer his two hands to be on the wheel, but I decide to relax and begin to wonder which of the Ancient Egyptian gods should be called upon to intervene.
When Hani finally let go of my hand, it is to grab his cell phone. He clicks on it a few times and proudly shows me the screen: a scantily dressed Arabic woman with her legs not really crossed.
- English: beautiful. Arabic: gameela.
The effort to bond is lost on me but I congratulate him on his fervor. I’m not sure if he just licked his lips or not but I try to focus on the small mountains appearing in front of me. In the distance, the desert rises into solid cliffs. Beyond lays the famed Valley of the Kings where numerous tombs of Pharaohs have been found – including that of Tutankhamun with its fantastic treasures.
- Repeat, English: beautiful. Arabic: gameela.
Gameela, I say, my mind picturing Tutankhamun’s majestic golden death mask.
Hani clicks on his cell phone again: the screen now displays his firstborn child. First the professional woman posing for some, then the newborn child. Is that how priorities go? A few more words of Arabic later, Hani pulls up the picture of the seductress again.
- English: fuck. Arab: naak.
What is it that I see before me? Two massive Pharaonic statues make their appearance in the distance. Hany waves in front of my face.
- Mister, listen to me. English: fuck. Arab: naak!
But I’m distracted by the grandeur of the Colossi of Memnon: the twin statues of Amenhotep III are growing larger as the car advances. These used to stand guard in front of the Pharaoh’s temple (now virtually non-existent due to damage inflicted by the Nile waters over time). I feel a slight shiver of electric excitement and uselessly attempt to share this with Hani.
- English: fuck. Arab: naak. You like? Naak good.
I might resort to impatience any moment now but I find I have a little bit of diplomacy left in me. Yes, yes, I understand, fuck, naak. God bless your mother.
- Fuck. Naak. Naak. Fuck. In Canada, yes? Naak.
Hani is getting excited and laughs like a hyena. He grabs his genitals over his pants and starts to make motions. To think that, for once, I had gotten a good deal on the price of the taxi ride. Thankfully, I surmise we must be approaching our destination.
Seconds later, indeed, Marsam Hotel is in view. Hani drops the sex talk and resumes the hypnotism session. Realizing I will soon slip away, his speech accelerates. Destinations bounce back and forth in the car. Desperate repetitions are made. The car finally stops.
I step outside and glance around. The setting is perfect. I’ll be staying here for a few weeks and I could not have hoped for a more picturesque location: in front, the Theban hills with their tombs and colourful village houses dominate the panorama. In the back, sugar cane fields shimmer in the breeze all the way to the Colossi of Memnon. On either side of the hotel, remnants of Pharaonic temples bestow magic. I’m blissed out.
Hani is paid and thanked for his services. Until the last moment, he crudely tries to build ties, but this is an encounter that will not get a sequel.
- Call me. Remember: fuck, naak. Good. Yes?
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I hear and read these stories all over the place but I spent 3 weeks in Egypt as a solo female in October 2010 and never had to deal with such forward sexual encounters and am very thankful for it. I had a few conversations about sex with different men but they never pushed too far or acted in any strange way.