The term chic cruise may sound like an oxymoron, but if such a thing really exists, then the MS Kasr Ibrim is it. Though the luggage being brought up the gangway at Aswan consisted of pull-along plastic suitcases rather than old leather trunks and hatboxes, and although the passengers were dressed in Bermuda shorts and polo shirts rather than layers of cream linen, boarding the MS Kasr Ibrim was like stepping into an Agatha Christie novel.
The boat itself is a replica of the sort of steamer Christie’s characters journeyed down the Nile on. Unlike most modern cruisers on the river, it is compact (55 cabins plus a handful of suites) and tastefully decorated in 1920s style (curved wooden furniture and pristine rows of cream cushioned steamer chairs on deck). If Coco Chanel had designed a yacht, it would have looked like this.
The Kasr Ibrim’s itinerary is a gentle jaunt around the man-made Lake Nasser, taking in lesser-known temples and tombs rescued from the area flooded by the creation of the Aswan dam, before culminating in a stop at the magnificent Abu Simbel.
Cox & Kings is aiming the trip at the second — or even third-time Egypt visitor. The idea is that after you’ve experienced Cairo, Luxor and a Nile cruise, then you’ll come back for another hit, this time on a less-traveled route. It is certainly less hectic.
While the 150-mile stretch of Nile between Aswan and Luxor is packed with some 250 cruisers, Lake Nasser is a spacious 310 miles long and accommodates just eight boats. Admittedly, there’s a lot less to see than on the river, but it is perfect for those who prefer the tranquil to the exciting — those who enjoy cruising for cruising’s sake. And while the marketeers are getting excited about the younger profile of cruising clientele, this is still very much the preserve of the (affluent) retired.
I was intrigued to find out who my fellow passengers would be, especially as my ex-boyfriend’s parents had been on a Nile cruise while in their early sixties and claimed they were the youngest on board, bar the crew. However, our fellow passengers were not in the least decrepit — they were mostly spritely individuals in their late fifties or early sixties, with a smattering of thirty — and forty-somethings.
Our trip had its share of intriguing Christie-esque characters though: the eccentric French couple in the presidential suite who never mixed with the rest of the passengers; the lone Egyptian who bombarded the guide with superfluous questions; the tall English woman permanently dressed in clothes more suited to a big game hunt. Add to this a group of frisky French retirees, and there was more than enough to keep us amused.
The first port of call (although bizarrely we hadn’t left the port at this point) was an island just west of the High Dam, to visit the temples of Kalabsha, Beit Wali and Kertassi. We were taken across in two launches, guards standing astride the bow touting sub-machine guns, an indication of how seriously the government takes the security of tourists. It was the same story on land, with guards dotted about with various weapons. This is meant to reassure rather than alarm you, but it is hard not to be distracted while you are meant to be checking out antiquities.
Cruising, you soon realize, is based around drink. The days are punctuated by it: mid-morning? Here’s a pot of coffee. Crossing the Tropic of Cancer? How about a cold drink? 5pm? Time for tea.
Nothing prepares you for the sight of Abu Simbel approached from the water. The guide books may urge you to take a day-trip down from Aswan by plane, but only by taking a five-day cruise are you truly able to appreciate the massive temple dedicated to Ramses II and the slightly smaller, but no less awesome, one to his wife, Nefertari. We had been told to start looking out for Abu Simbel half an hour before we were due to reach it. I was singularly unimpressed by the grey hulk on the horizon until I borrowed somebody’s binoculars and focused on the four colossal figures hewn from a mountain of rock that marks the main temple’s entrance. From then on in, I was hooked.
By staying overnight at Abu Simbel, we were able to visit the temples in both daylight and darkness (the light show is said to be the best in Egypt). And by staying aboard a boat rather than at a hotel, there was the added, if slightly surreal, pleasure of an al fresco candlelit dinner as the boat moved back and forth in front of the floodlit temples.
Most of our fellow passengers left on the crack-of-dawn flight to Aswan the next day, but thankfully we were booked on the more civilized (and massively oversubscribed) mid-morning plane. By this point, I was feeling a little templed-out, so a few days in the colonial splendor of the Old Cataract in Aswan was a welcome prospect. It did not disappoint. We were warned not to expect unadulterated luxury, and it was actually a relief to have old-fashioned, slightly-beaten-at-the-edges grandeur rather than the antiseptic, corporate blandness that five-star hotels sometimes provide.
The place oozes character. It is a cocoa-powder-colored sprawl with terraces, verandahs and balconies, and shutters, drapes and latticed woodwork providing shady retreats from the sun. Even the corridors are designed on a grand scale — over-sized to cartoonish proportions with great swathes of draped fabrics at the entrance ways. It is easy to imagine Christie here, drawing inspiration from the well-heeled “wintering” guests and concocting the plot for Death On The Nile (the hotel is name-checked in the book and the exterior was shot for the 1978 film version).
By the pool, a woman with her white hair in a bun, dressed in a leopard-print kaftan and with an Empire accent that carried, took me back to another era as I dozed on a sunlounger. You could easily enjoy Aswan without ever leaving the Old Cataract. You can even peruse a good deal of it from the hotel — from the cool, canopied terrace there is an unprecedented view of the Nile, Elephantine Island, and the desert beyond. But it is hard to resist taking a felucca from the hotel’s dock to explore one of the Nile’s islands, or just for the pleasure of sailing on one of these graceful vessels.
We headed for Sharia el Souk, reputedly the best bazaar outside Cairo. A stroll through the main street is a white knuckle experience. Even if you avoid eye contact, you are ambushed every step of the way by overeager salesmen, and if you stop to look at anything, you will be positively swamped.
It is a working market with stalls full of brightly colored spices and, hanging from doorways, cuts of meat hanging from doorways with the tails still attached. You will see plenty of traditional Egyptian robes as well as some bejeweled belly-dancer costumes.
That evening, dinner was a Nubian feast served in a ridiculously romantic location — the tea pavilion at the Old Cataract overlooking the Nile. All over the city, horns were sounding to signify the end of Ramadan. I took a sip of my drink and tried to remember that is was mid-winter back home.
- Arab News Features 4 September 2003
