Egypt Unveiled: From Cairo to Luxor

Scenes from train windows, Cairo to Luxor, along the Nile. 

We were up at 6:00 am to catch the 8:00 am train from Cairo to Luxor. We chose a day train because we wanted to see the Egyptian countryside. We wanted to see Egypt unveiled. And we did.

The train station is behind a lot of rubble, I think because it's under construction. Lots of things are hidden from Western eyes, like the veiled women in burkas. We stood bewildered, bogged down by baggage and void of our morning coffee fix. Fortunately an elderly man offered to help carry our luggage and get us to the station. There was no path but the one he made. It was good enough. We tipped him 5 pounds and agreed that it was the most worthwhile tip we'd given so far. Sometimes Egypt provocative is just what we needed!

We met a lovely couple as we boarded the train, Leo, from Austria, and Lucia, from Melbourne, Australia. They were a 50ish couple who had known each other 25 years ago, met up again in Cairo, and are on their way to Ethiopia. How wonderful is that?! We chatted off and on during the train ride. I hope I hear from them again. We also met some friendly English-speaking travelers who were curious and helpful. One woman asked where we were going and when we said Luxor she told us how beautiful it is. "You should go to Aswan, too," she said. "We're thinking of a day-trip," Jud said. "You should make it a 2-day trip!" Ah boy, we don't have enough time to do all we'd like to do.

The train was clean and comfortable; a waiter or steward came through our first class car from time to time offering tea and coffee and biscuits. The whistle, however, never stopped blowing, so if sleep came it was interrupted by the constant announcement of the train going through one Nile river town after another. I caught a name every once in a while, first in Arabic, which is such a beautiful script, and then in English. A darkening sky and gray haze followed us for several hours from a small town called Matti to another larger city called Assuit. And then the heavens opened up and the rain fell.

People on donkeys, which are still the predominant beasts of burden and main source of transport in rural Egypt it seems, rushed hither and thither. A man stood with his hands outstretched, as if welcoming the rain. At one point it hailed, large stones almost the size of golf balls, falling hard on the dry ground. How odd to see hail, or rain for that matter, in the desert! At one point it rained so hard water came pouring through my window and I had to move.

We were rewarded with a beautiful rainbow in the Eastern sky as the rain subsided and the sun set. It seemed to start in Cairo and end in Luxor, the end of the rainbow! The eastern landscape glowed in stunning golden light. Oh how I tried to capture the magic, but rain-streaked windows on the moving train made it difficult!

From the windows of a train, the Cairo countryside along the river and canals looks very green and pretty, miles of fertile fields, of what I'm not sure. Fields of wild grasses, some corn, alfalfa, other vegetables, herbs maybe, some sugarcane. The means of farming looks pretty traditional, sythe and sickle, but the irrigation systems, canals and ditches carrying water from the river to fields seem to be effective. We learned only later that some of the canals are polluted and we were warned not to put even a finger in the water. Except for the donkeys and minarets, the Egyptian countryside looks a lot like Florida, with many varieties of palm trees.

After being in the bustling and chaotic city of Cairo, the rural scenes seem calm and serene. The palms compete with the minarets in reaching for the sky, lovely pastoral scenes in pastel.

Stacks of hay are bundled into humps with stalks reaching out from them, making them look like camels sitting in the desert.

And yet poverty is evident too. People live in stick huts, dank hovels and crumbling buildings along the canals and the railroad tracks. Donkeys, cows, goats, and chickens run around muddy yards. There's little to no protection against the elements, or the harsh sun. Nothing in the way of material possessions, which seems ridiculous even to note. Material possessions? For people living in huts, tents and stick structures with only a few palm fronds for a roof? It's survival.

Still, women did laundry and hung it out to dry on posts and falling fences. Boys kicked a soccer ball around a muddy field. Young children in ramshackle buildings next to the train tracks smiled broadly and waved as the train passed, so close to windows without glass that I could almost touch them.

Sometlmes Jud's side of the train had the prettier views, while mine filled with the gray-brown of poverty and slum dwellings. Sometimes I had brilliant green fields on my side, with swaying palms, while Jud had row upon row of brown brick dwellings surrounded by brown dirt paths and fields.

You have to look out of both sides of the train to get the whole picture, to process all the images, the conflicting views and visions, the beautiful and the ugly, the rich cultural overlays and the gray-brown underbelly.

On the train from Cairo to Luxor I could see both sides of Egypt.

The train was almost three hours late and we arrived in Luxor in the dark, the lights of the city shining brightly after the unusual rainstorm. We found that out later: how rare the rain and how welcome, no matter the damage it may have caused or the activities it slowed down. Rain in the desert is a gift, like the huge clear rainbow we saw over the landscape of Egypt, a sign of good luck I thought.

The train ride from Cairo to Luxor shows daily life over the patina of antiquity. It’s Egypt in the now, an unfolding panorama of rural and urban landscapes, grace and poverty, green and brown, palms and minarets reaching for the sky, people going about their business, farming, buying and selling, seeking tips and advantages wherever they can, heeding the Call to Prayer, heeding the call to survival and daily life. It's Egypt unveiled.