Why Egypt’s Colossi of Memnon are my wonder of the world
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Emerging from the heat shimmer, these two enormous statues in Luxor appear completely otherwordly – like giants in a wheat field. I was 22 and after finishing a degree in Arabic had moved to Cairo to try to learn how to actually speak the language. I was thrilled by the chaotic wildness of the city that is called Umm al-Dunya, the Mother of the World. Millions of people crowd into Cairo night and day. It was dusty and noisy and polluted and I loved it. I also wanted to explore the country, so that first summer I headed south to the temples and tombs of Luxor.
It was an overnight ride of 13 hours on a bus stuffed full of farmers going home after selling their wares in the fleshpots. I fell asleep, soothed by the driver’s Qur’anic verses, and woke up in paradise. After the mayhem of Cairo, there was total peace. The Nile flowed darkly through green fields punctuated with swaying palm trees and adobe houses. On either side were golden dunes.
I checked in to my hotel, which cost £1 a night and where you had to wear high-heeled wooden sandals (thoughtfully) supplied for the bathroom, in order to avoid the piles of poo. I forgave it everything for the wrought iron balcony which looked over the river, past the street bustling with horse-drawn carriages and persistent souvenir salesmen, and on to the temples.
Biking to the west bank and the main sites was the best and cheapest option I had been advised. I negotiated a price, avoided all offers of guides, and wobbled on to the wooden ferry to cross. It was extremely hot but the breeze blew and I was cycling through tiny oases and vast green wheat fields. I was alone and full of the joy of adventure. No one else was brave, or stupid, enough for the fiery sun.