I’ve gotten to know most of the people by now and have chatted with most, though I will never get everybody’s name straight; I’m hopeless about names. This is a great bunch. Phil and Kathe came back from shopping with a bottle of gin for me. That’s what you get when you expose your vices and complain aloud (there is no gin at the bar of the boat.) It’s Egyptian gin and probably quite vile, but what a sweet thought – n.b., I brought it down to the bar next night and made everybody sample it. Tasted like grappa or anisette! After I had swilled some down someone told me I shouldn’t have because sanitation is questionable; but I figured 90 proof alcohol would kill most everything.

Lunch on the upper deck, then departure. I do like sailing. The weather is perfect, sunny, and not too windy. My window faces east. There’s not much village life, only lots and lots of palms, with the golden brown hills behind. Road and railroad on this bank from Hammadi south; sometimes they run close to the river, so you can see a car or a train.

Jan. 6. We arrived at Edfu last night and tied up, if that is the phrase. Bill had the gang off the boat at seven a.m. to see the temple. I watched them complacently through a slit in my curtains as they got into carriages. It’s a bustling, busy scene. Across the street, shops display the conventional tourist stuff, galabeeyahs and those gaudy sequined shifts, shawls, and scarves. Racks of Baraka bottles, Coke, and soft drinks; a cafe with plastic chairs of red and yellow. The occupants of an apartment building across the street have hung their bedding and clothes out to air, over the edge of the balconies. Two elegant old wrought-iron Victorian style lampposts flank the top of the stairs that lead up to the street from the waterfront. The steps are crumbling and uneven, and sometimes, depending on where the boat docks, you have to pick your way over broken concrete and stones to reach the steps.

It’s all part of the Egyptian experience…

Bill has certainly kept the gang busy. When they aren’t rushing around at odd hours seeing sites, they are being entertained. The first night at Aswan it was Nubian dancing – a lot of horseplay (pun: part of it was two guys in a horse suit) – but some was quite splendid and the drums and tambourines were expertly played. For one song a little old gent in a turban strode in and tootled on a pipe along with the drums.

Part of the fun is dragging the tourists up to dance – I’m sure the locals find it very funny – and I finally got dragged up too and made, I am sure, a perfect idiot of myself, but I got lots of applause. I wore my Nubian lady’s black dress with a deep ruffle around the hem. Everybody was supposed to wear Egyptian garb, and some of the outfits were great. These people are really good sports – they’ll try anything.

Next night was Victorian night, in honor of Amelia, and I made an exhibition of myself again trying to waltz with Phil. Stepped all over his feet. The dear person whirled most of the women round the floor to Strauss waltzes. None of the other men danced, poor shy things. Last night was Bill’s mystery, featuring stolen antiquities and a gold dagger and a corpse on the bed in the spare room. Bill was very funny as Lord Carnivore, in plus fours and Holmes hat, stick, and huge calabash pipe. Everybody entered into it with great good spirits, but we didn’t solve the mystery. We were having such a good time we failed to notice the suspects sneaking out of the room at important moments. There are a few other groups on the boat – French and Spanish, I think – who must think we are mad. We take over the saloon every night and carry on outrageously. There is a lot of talent in this bunch. They sing, they dance, they write skits and perform them, all with an engaging lack of inhibition.

Some of these nice people have brought books all the way from the states for me to sign. Others packed voluminous fancy garments – Victorian gowns and Edwardian blouses and extravagant hats – so they could participate in the various entertainments. People get confidential in such surroundings and I’ve heard more than once that a particular book "helped me through a bad time." I’m so pleased if that is true. I just wrote the way I felt, not with any aim in mind except entertainment, but it makes me feel great to hear such comments.

Several of them have done Amelia tributes during our amateur talent hours; one, a Gilbert and Sullivan takeoff, got huge cheers (esp. from me) and I hope I get a copy of it, as I requested. Another time a bunch of them got together and did a "sound and light" performance, with friends in the audience shining flashlights, and deep voices intoning "Emerson! Peabody!" from the shadows. It was marvelous. I laughed till I cried. The gang is divided into three groups for purposes of site-visits, each under the supervision of Bill or a cohort. Leaders of all such groups carry signs or umbrellas or something, as a rallying point; Bill’s people carried signs reading "Ramses," "Amelia," or "Emerson." I love it.

Last day of cruise. I think I’ve managed to chat privately with everybody, including the very shy ones. Also gave two talks – "conversations," rather. The second one had to be postponed, for a rather interesting reason: I was preceded by a talk by the four guides, two handsome, intelligent guys and their pretty, intelligent wives, discussing Islam. The group was immensely responsive, curious, and open-minded, and it was going so well that when Bill interrupted to introduce me, I stood up and said I thought it would be a pity to stop the discussion. I would talk another time, whenever they wanted. So it went on for over an hour, and was continued next morning, on deck. One would like to think, wistfully, that a few lines of sympathy and communication have been opened. My talks were the usual – all about the books.

The locks at Esna are the big sticking point for boats traveling between Aswan and Luxor. Low water levels and congestion make it impossible to schedule arrivals at Luxor. We got through late at night, and were in Luxor next a.m. After some strolling and (guess what) shopping, we left for the airport to catch the ten p.m. flight. Arrived in Cairo about eleven but didn’t get out of the airport for a long time; they are very touchy about security, esp. for large groups on buses. We had to sit while they collected an escort, or swept the surrounding streets, or something. Nice room at the Nile Hilton – my usual – balcony on two sides, overlooking the river.

I was wakened next a.m. at nine-thirty by a call from Salima and made a date to meet her at the Museum after noon. Accompanied by a few chosen souls, I inspected the animal mummies room, which is Salima’s specialty, and then started looking for her office – where I had been a number of times. Could I find the damned place? Of course not. A knowledgeable guard finally set me straight, and we spent a few minutes looking at some fun things, including several of the royal mummies that are awaiting their fancy new cases, and then wandered the museum for a while looking at some of my favorites. The back entrance of the hotel is just across the street from the Museum – very handy.

Later. Salima came by for a final drink and put me together – repacking bags, collecting scattered objects – and then I got on the bus with the gang for dinner and a visit to the Khan el Khalili before we caught the plane at, oh, god, one thirty a.m. I love the Khan el Khalili. It may not look exactly as it did when Amelia went there, but It’s close enough for me. I almost always get lost, but that’s part of the fun; one is never in the slightest danger and there’s always some amiable soul around who will respond to pleas for directions. Elia, Mahmud’s pretty wife, went with me this time. Maybe she was taking no chances on losing me at the last minute! We found a shop… Enough about my extravagance.