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A Sentimental Journey Across Egypt, Libya, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and Italy IX
Day Eight
(continued from ish 214 in which it appears we've finally finished with day seven! And there was much rejoicing.)
...and we slept on through Day Seven and into Day Eight.
And awoke, on a boat, in the Nile.
Which makes sense, when you think about where it is we went to sleep, but your mind always seems to forget these things while it's off sleeping, and often will poke you awake hard with a few questions about just where the hell you think you are and what you think you're doing there (besides being rudely awakened by far too many questions in the early morning). So it was a mild shock to awake under the gossamer shade of a mosquito net, on a slightly wet, slightly sandy mattress thing, slight wet, myself, as well as slightly sandy, still, probably from the desert, though it could also have been from the beach against which we'd parked for the evening. Luckily, my mind relaxed a little more after a swift and inadvertent whack off that railing against which my cushion/pillow was resting when I woke, as they say, with a start, and had tried to get up too quickly, didn't clear the sleeping bag I found myself ensconced in, and when I failed to do that, I also failed to take into account the distance away the mosquito netting appeared to be, and only by virtue of being bound up in the mosquito net and the sleeping bag did I not tip into the Nile to get my first taste of the Nile water. Hanging somewhat in midair, lying tangled in a mosquito net is surprisingly comforting, even after you've spotted the numerous dead bugs and other assorted Egyptian nightlife that are being dragged forcibly into the daylight stuck in your net not inches from your face.
I was dragged back into the boat by a rather generous crew of people, very much more sedated than when I awoke. My mind, which had been wibbling on that morning about waking in strange places was thankfully still.
The Nile, as has been mentioned, is safe, sure. Drinkable, shipworthy, swimmable, all that.
It is also incredibly, mind and body-numbingly cold.
So much so that, upon leaping in to the Nile (or even sticking your toes in, as some people found out), you suddenly forget that it happens to be approaching forty degrees Celsius and all you can think is... well, it's a bit unprintable, actually. Especially if you're a firm believer that the only way to better potentially cold water is to leap with abandon into the breach, as it were, and get it over with. The only problem with the Nile is that getting it over with generally isn't done until you've actually gotten out of the water and lain on the shore for some time, while feeling returns to your various limbs and body parts.
We set sail while I was still defrosting, like a fridge I once had with a built-in freezer thing that I hadn't realised was a freezer thing, and when I opened the compartment one day I discovered a solid block of ice with the occasional styrofoam bit implanted like some neolithic... bit of styrofoam. Thankfully, someone brought me back on board, so when I say we I mean we in the proper sense of the word, and not we in the sense that we, our crew, minus myself, lying on the shore, being devoured slowly by Egyptian ants, set sail.
There was a strong wind coming up... I could feel it in my bones. And in my hair, teeth, and the little bits that weren't tied down to the boat also felt it.
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