Christmas Eve. This was a freakin' busy day! Up early, on the bus then a quick boat ride to an island located on Lake Nasser . The attraction here was a gorgeous temple on an island called Philae. Well, it used to be on that island, anyhow... when the Aswan Dam was built, that island was submerged. Aware of that possibility, UNESCO up and moved the entire temple complex to a higher island.
DH, his sister and I had had a late-ish night the previous evening and were feeling a smidge cranky. We breezed through the temple and made right for the Ancient Egyptian Coffee Bar. No sooner had our Turkish coffees made their way to the table then our guide indicated it was time to move on. Not willing to waste perfectly good coffee (oh sweet nectar of life), all three of us gamely shot our demitasses. Suddenly, the sun shone just a little brighter... the three of us were annoyingly happy for the rest of the day. It was, clearly, just what was required.
Next we toured Aswan Dam itself.
The Nile's beginnings at the dam.
Lake Nasser, formed by the damming of the Nile.
The Soviet-Egyptian friendship monument at the dam; it was funded, designed and given assistance during construction by the Soviets.
Next stop? The Unfinished Obelisk in the ancient quarries at Aswan.
This was insanely huge. There is controversy to this day as to how these are actually moved and raised into position, as such tasks are beyond modern construction techniques.
I think at this point in time we finally went back to the boat, ate quickly, and then were herded out for the afternoon's sights, beginning with the Aswan Botanical Gardens.
DH is being loomed over by some of the larges poinsettias I've ever seen. Free range!
I don't know what these were, but they're pretty.
There is a story I missed capturing in this picture. The laughing couple on the left were romancing a little in the park. Seconds before I managed to take the picture, he had her by her wrists and was spinning her madly around himself. Feet in the air, black abaya and veils streaming, her giggles lit the grove like sunshine. It was a truly magic moment, and I'm glad I was witness to their joy and love.
DH and I are Pied Piper to stray cats around the world. They see us and come a-running!
Our next stop was the Nubian village, an enclave of displaced Sudanese outside of town. It was a long-ish boat ride, through the First Cataract on the Nile. The Sahara desert begins here, and it was so annoying to be so close but not have the time to step on its legendary dunes and watch the sun set. Next time, I suppose.
Once there, we (evaded the hawkers) had a glass of tea, toured a rather primitive house, and petted their cat.
Whaddya mean, that's no cat??!!!
Free-range camels, too. It was on a mission... it dangled through town like it was a school kid late for dinner.
That was the end of the scheduled activities for the day. Rather then being drained, we were still giddy. Tonight represented the first free evening in a town we had, and to my sister-in-law and I, that could only mean one thing: shopping!
Aswan had a lengthy market district, and although it was almost 1800 by the time we were ready to go, everything was in full swing and would be for hours yet. Middle Eastern markets often are open until midnight. We waded through street after street, SIL and I doing most of the shopping (shoes, clothes, luggage) with DH being baggage boy. We were having so much fun that when it came time for supper on the ship, despite it being the nicest dinner of the cruise (according to the guide), we decided to give the meal a miss. For our fancy Christmas Eve dinner, we ate, from a street-side vendor, some of the best shawarma I ever tasted.
We returned to the boat hours later, poorer and tired but still giddy. What a fun day.
We were glad the next morning that we had opted out of dinner- a handful of other passengers were ill from it. The turkey was suspected as the culprit.
Amid the whirl of the last couple of weeks, I finished off a pair of socks, cast on for the second of another, finished the first of one pair, and did a quickkie one-day project. The needles are as active as ever.
This is despite having been bitten by the Home Improvement bug yet again... with mom and dad coming out next month, I have been busy finishing off painting and assisting DH with the basement. Fortunately or otherwise, my measurement and cutting skills from quilting transfer quite well to carpentry, and DH has been enlisting me to aid him. I know it's only fair as it's my basement too, but I can't help but itch to be anywhere else but the basement when the power-tools are screaming, I'm covered head-to-toe in sawdust and sneezing convulsively. This is why I am I love with textile arts... it's clean and quiet!
A couple of pictures before I run away and lock myself in the sewing room for a while. I made myself write an essay and a half this afternoon to buy myself time for good clean sewing fun!
Here's the socks. Love 'em.
OnLine SuperSocke 100, cotton/wool blend. Blueberry Waffle pattern.
Obligatory cat picture with knitting content.
The quikkie project, with a small rant inserted. After learning, much to my horror, that my ever-present Nalgene bottle has been secretly poisoning me, and much more so when I make my twice-a-day pot of tea in it, I recycled it immediately and bought a pretty, functional stainless steel replacement from a very efficient shop in BC. (I am making light of this but I actually feel sick and betrayed every time I think about it. For the love of God, get rid of your Nalgene bottles.) (I'm actually in the process of de-plastic-ing my kitchen. Should be interesting.)
Anyhow. The stainless steel is lovely but its single-wall construction gets too hot too the touch when I make tea in it. The tea also cools too quickly for my liking. What else does a knitter do, but make a Klean Kanteen Kozy out of scrummy left-overs from my leg warmers?! It works like a charm; the tea stays warm for hours, I love the feel of the wool/mohair, and I get to enjoy some of my favourite yarn every day. It's truly a win-win situation.
This has been an amazing couple of weeks for me. I don't quite know how to explain all the things that are going on and how I feel about it all!
I've had a lot of plans for a long time. Plans to leave my current job, plans to go to university, plans to work in textile arts. These were all vague goals I was working towards.
This seems to be "rubber hits the road" month. I am in the process of making each of these goals a reality. The years of dreaming and planning are over, and now it the time for doing. The paperwork for the medical release (!) is flying fast and furious, I have completed my application for university and am just awaiting a final transcript and a decision, and I have applied and interviewed for a part-time job involving textile arts (!!)
I ought to be scared witless, what with the prospect of losing my job and such major life-changes hovering over me, but I am giddy. Intoxicated.
There is something transcendent about this pause. I am a dancer who has thrown several sparkling glass balls in the air, and am exultantly suspended in the moment before they first start to descend. I don't know which ball will drop first, or even if I'll catch all or any of them... but it's okay. Whatever happens, it's okay.
This is a perfect moment, where everything is possible.
I woke up this morning feeling a little embarrassed at how I had such a panic last night about the whole flight situation. Not just a panic, but a rather public one, as I broadcast it in my last blog entry.
I swear I go a little off my rocker without DH by my side. It's a little frightening. I think he emits calming pheromones or something that I have completely become dependent on.
So, this morning I called the happy, friendly (obviously not Air Canada) reward call center lady, who set me up with the ticket I needed for a few thousand points and some cash. Sure, it's not strictly what I told dad; the only reason he agreed to come out was 'cause I needed to use those miles, and I ended up doing something quite different to get him out here. Not sure it matters; he's coming now, whether he likes it or not! :)
The unused Aeroplan miles I couldn't use this time around may expire... or I may have occasion to buy another short-haul flight before they disappear. Either way, I'm pleased to have gotten even a single "free" flight out of them.
Mom is coming out at Easter and staying for a week. (yay!!!) The cost of the flight for her this time was considerably mitigated by my use of accumulated Aeroplan miles... all I paid were taxes on her flight. I was feeling pretty good about this.
Then I got the email that dad had changed his mind and wanted to come, as well. No problem, says I, and logged on to the Aeroplan site to book another ticket.
No such beastie. Apparently the one I bought for mom was The Last Ticket Sold. Neither love nor money and certainly not reward miles are getting dad out here on that flight. I called the reward center and was told by a rather snotty agent that I was SOL as the last Aeroplan seat was sold.
(Brief aside here for all the people who are really puzzled 'cause they remember my Dad dying in October. This is my birth mother and her husband I am referring to here... her husband is not actually my biological father but he's my mother's husband... therefore dad. This is as opposed to my adoptive mum. I refer to both as mom/mum, get used to the confusion.)
It was such a major coup to have dad agree to come out, and the argument that decided it for him was the fact that I was laying out my reward points for him, as I had to use them else I'd lose them. (God bless Air Canada. Cheap bastards.)
Anyhow. What to do??! I could book an actual ticket for him, but at hideous expense and kind of taking the point right out of using reward miles. I was panicking hard at this point in time, not helped at all by the fact that DH, my stable rock in such (actually, all) situations, is out of town and out of touch. Damn bad timing.
A few more minutes of panic before something the agent said clicked. If the last Aeroplan seat was sold... what about other reward seats?
DH and I love to travel, as you may have guessed, and are in 3 different reward systems with ample points in each. It was the work of a moment to pull out another card, go to the website and find the same flights- ready and available and fully redeemable by reward points. Due to technical difficulties I can't book online, and can't call- the call center is closed- but if I call first thing in the morning, I should be okay. If these seats are reserved by reward programs, as the agent implied, there ought to be a seat for him left in the morning. Pleeeaaase!!! I hate to get everyone all excited and then call him to tell him it's not going to work out.
Gah!!! The frustration will gnaw at me all night and taint my dreams.
So I was sitting at the hockey tourney on Saturday, knitting my heart out, enduring both looks of curiosity and looks of disdain from the other puck bunnies there. One lady across the table looked over several times, and I smiled to encourage her to talk to me. A knitter's missionary work is never done, you know. :)
She finally took the bait, admiring the work on the needles, then saw my completed pair on the table. I invited her to pick them up and try them on... that angora lining sends most people into a swoon. She ooh-ed and ahh-ed over them a while, then went back to chatting with her girlfriend, sneaking peeks at the mittens every once in a while.
After about an hour, she picked them up again, tried them on again, and then said those magic words... "How much would you charge to make me a pair of these??"
I have thought about this long before the words came out of her mouth, and I know that I am not a knitter that could work on commission for someone. I like calling the shots as to what projects I'll work on next, and I think the pressure to turn out perfect products might detract from the fun and creativity I enjoy when knitting. I also know that no-one would ever pay what I would have to charge for materials and time.
All that being said, I loved the fact that she asked, and that she loved my handiwork that much that she'd commission a pair. I thanked her, and gently explained that I knit only for the love of the sport. She totally understood.
Never mind the hockey game; score two points for me! One for getting an offer of a commissioned project, and another for tempting a muggle into picking up needles and trying it for herself. I could tell as she sat down but continued to surreptitiously watch my fingers dance that she was interested. That's half-way down the rabbit-hole, my friends.
(BTW. My husband's team lost miserably. Considering the team name was "The Doubtfuls", this didn't surprise anyone.)
I feel like I'm a negligent wife tonight...!
DH asked me to go to the movies with him tonight. We don't make a habit of this... we go maybe 4 times a year, waiting until a really special movie comes along.
This, IMHO, wasn't a special movie. Maybe for him, certainly not for me: the new Rambo. Can't think of too many movies I'd rather not see. Especially up-close and personal and in my face like it is on the big screen. Violence is not so much my thing.
On the other hand... if it was me wanting to go to a double-feature of Fried Green Tomatoes and Ghost, or some equally sentimental chick flicks, he'd give me a strange look (they're not my style, either) but he'd go with me if I asked. He'd do anything for me.
Me? I weighed the sick feeling I'd have after I just irredeemably wasted two hours of my life against the sick feeling I'd have from not being as good to him as he is to me. A lose-lose situation.
I'm here. He's there. The choice is made, for better or worse.
What would you have done???
December 23. We docked last night at Edfu and toured the amazingly well-preserved temple there.
Amazingly, traces of paint still are visible by the solar disc on the lintel.
The tops of each column were carved differently. Such craftsmanship.
Can you spot the hieroglyphic symbol for fertility?
Anubis, looking pretty svelte.
Another excellent reason to look up... Click through to see the full picture; it's worth it.
The relief on these carvings is amazing. Muscles are well defined, the curve of her belly looks so soft. These were made by master artisans.
DH and I at Horus's feet.
Scenery along the way south. We cruised south of Edfu to arrive at another temple site, Kom Ombo, near dusk.
There was a crocodile cult located at this temple; they raised, worshiped and eventually mummified them.
DH and I at the Galabea Party. I thought he looked damned hot as an Egyptian sheik, and I know I wasn't the only one who thought so... some dear old soul leaned over and told him that he was the best Lawrence of Arabia she'd ever seen.
The word "Party" was a bit of a misnomer... we dressed up for dinner, and then retired to the lounge afterwards, expecting games and such, but after one crazy round of conga-line style dancing, the fun appeared to be over.
The ship we were on was lovely, though dated... the music in the lounge was proof enough of that. They played terrible music that drove people away in droves. Tonight was no exception; though many gaily-dressed cruisers were still enjoying conversation in the lounge, they turned off the lights and cranked the horrible music. We all filtered out for the night.
I indulged in a little abstract art this weekend. It's kinda weird, kinda wild, but I'm feeling brave and I'd like to share it with you.
I call it "Beaver Pond Hockey Tournament 2008."
Like any good art, it has more than one aspect, thus more than one name. Here's another aspect for you to ponder.
"Thank God I Had This Yarn 'Cause Otherwise I'd Have Had To Poke My Eyes Out With These Needles"
I think if you squint a bit and maybe sit outside on a cold board for 10 hours that you can really feel the angst in this piece.
"This Is How Much I Love My Husband, That I'd Sit Here For A Whole Day To Watch Him Play".
I love this piece. There's love, drama, patience all within its amorphous form.
That being said, I don't think I would like to sit through another hockey tournament just to make its little buddy.
And I'd just like to add, now that I have this posted, I can see an error I made in the pattern. It's way too late to rip back, so it will just have to do. How sharp are your eyes?
December 22. Another freaking early morning. We're still in Luxor, the city that once was Thebes. We toured the East bank yesterday (some toured it more than others!). It's considered the Heliopolis- the city for the living. The West Bank holds the Necropolis, city of the dead.
Specifically, the Valley of the Kings. Our Egyptologist guide prissily informs us that the name is a misnomer- there are unknown persons and nobles buried there as well, and the name was a marketing ploy. Does it matter? Not to us, but it was of grave concern to this native Egyptian.
We were the first bus to the Valley of the Kings, but it filled up quickly. I can understand why they thought it might be a good place to hide the tombs- the area is arid and mountainous and utterly unwelcoming.
The thing you probably don't grasp is exactly how much is going on in this valley. Tombs are still being discovered, excavations still ongoing. Some 3000 years later, the work continues, and will continue for generations to come. Go see the brief Wikipedia article that has a handy map, or to lose yourself for hours in the wonder of this site, check out the Theban Mapping Project.
Unfortunately, photography was forbidden in the tombs. There was concern that repeated exposure to flashes would fade the vivid colours of the painted motifs inside the tombs.
Our ticket included entrance into three tombs of our choosing, and our guide recommended purchasing the ticket to tour KV9, which had unique texts and religious paintings.
After crawling through and admiring our 4 chosen tombs, we bailed back into the bus and drove a short distance to the impressive mortuary temple of Hatshepsut. Breathtaking when first seen, this temple seems to be more Greek or Roman in design than the other monuments we have toured.
It was a cool morning, and windy as heck here. Picture the area behind us lush with gardens and trees... Hatshepsut had the courtyard of this temple, miles away from the Nile, irrigated and grew an orchard here. Ancient roots of trees still poke from the sand.
She was an amazing woman by all accounts, and was considered one of the most successful Pharaohs.
The monument, while spectacular on the outside, wasn't much to see on the inside. I think the circuitry in our brains that dealt with wonder and beauty had been short-circuited after seeing everything we had... it sounds ridiculous now to say that this fabulous temple "wasn't much."
Next stop- an alabaster factory. These men used ancient tools to carve the soft alabaster into vases and statues. I hate to think of what their lungs looked like from inhaling years of rock dust...
On our way back to the boat, we stop at some random statuary just hanging around the countryside. This area is sometimes called the world's largest outside museum, and it's easy to see why.
This afternoon, the cruising begins. We finally leave Luxor, winding our way south to the lock at Esna, where we are queued to pass through the lock.
There are 280 cruise ships on the Nile, most of them roughly the size of ours. Each has a schedule pretty much the same. One of the events that almost all the ships holds is a Galabea night. (Galabeas are the traditional long dresses worn by both men and women here. At least, that's what they said- I never actually saw a woman wearing one. However, it's pretty hard to tell what they're wearing under their gorgeous abayas. I suspect more Western clothes predominate.)
Anyhow. Galabea night is coming up. Never one to miss a chance to make a buck, every merchant up and down the Nile knows that every tourist is going to want to buy a galabea for the party. And some merchants are more... opportunistic... than others.
We're stopped at Esna lock, waiting behind other ships to pass through. It's dark yet warm, and we're enjoying a drink before dinner on the sun deck. All the sudden, shouts from the water draw our attention... it sounds as if a bar fight broke out on the water. We lean over the side of the sun deck, four stories up from the water, to see what the commotion is about. A dangerous move; we immediately get pelted with dresses.
Six or seven rowboats are jockeying for position on the water far below. They know we need a dress and have had no good opportunity to shop for one, so they're doing us the favour of bringing the shopping to us. They see a head over the rails, they choose a dress and whip it up to us. The target... er, recipient, takes the item out of the plastic and has a look... if they like it, they proceed down to the water level to begin negotiations for the item. If they don't want the item, they lob if over the deck back to the waiting merchants, who had great success snagging the items before they had a bath in the Nile. Completely random. Completely Egyptian.
My SIL bought a dress that way... the gaudiest, most overblown piece of tourist crap I have ever seen. (I've walked through the world, looking at the crap that people try to sell to tourists, wondering who actually buys that stuff. Now I know. DH's big sister keeps them all in business.)
DH and I took a couple of minutes at the vendors in front of Hatshepsut's temple to buy our galabeas, so we didn't participate in this wild game. Sure was fun to watch, though.
After we cleared the locks, we sailed through the night to dock at Edfu, ready for the next day's adventures.
I took a long hard look at the calendar recently, and realized that I was coming to a major turning point in my career.
Seven years back, I was injured on the job. It was a knee injury (completely torn ACL), and not diagnosed properly for years... by the time they realized what the problem was and I had surgery to fix it all up as best they could, my knee was permanently damaged from the years of internal instability. They thought at the time I should heal properly and be back to full duties in a year.
It's now been almost three years since the surgery, and I have still not recovered full function. I have come to the conclusion that I am as good as I'm going to get, and I had better adjust accordingly. I cannot meet the physical requirements of my job any longer.
They are deciding whether to release me as a result of my decreased abilities. However, even if they decide to keep me around, I know what my limits are and I know that this career and I are so over. I've been making plans to fulfill a life-long dream of obtaining a university degree.
If they don't release me and I have to quit, I need to give six month's notice. Six months to September is (holy crap!) March.
The deadline began breathing down my neck in a huge fashion once I realized how close it really was. Last night, I did a hugely exciting thing: began my application to university. As much as I've talked and planned, actually filling in the application online suddenly made it up-close and personal. I am very excited and of course nervous... what a huge thing to go to university 20 years after high school! Not to mention the the massive change in my annual income. Interesting times ahead.
I am willing to quit in order to get to where I need to go, but there's huge advantages to being released medically, not the least of which are educational benefits. I will know within the next month what that decision is... keep yer fingers crossed for me that I am released.
