elizabethpeters.thegoldenone-第112部分

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ith　modern　Arabic　and　older　Coptic　scribbles　on　top。〃
　　
　Dec。　24。　Christmas　Eve。　Had　a　fancy　dinner　at　the　restaurant　in　the　Old　W。P。；　having　made　our　reservations　a　couple　of　days　before。　It　was　all　tarted　up　with　electric　candles　in　holly　rings　on　the　tables。　Lots　of　cutlery。　（I　had　a　knife　left　over。）　Music　by　a　blonde；　French　chanteuse　with　silver　sequins　down　her　front；　mostly　Beatles　and　Elton　John。　Then　Santa　Claus　in　a　tacky　red　suit；　very　dark　face　framed　（sort　of）　in　strips　of　dangling　cotton　wool。　From　his　red　bag　he　presented　each　guest　with　a　few　chocs　wrapped　in　red　cellophane。　He　was　adorable。　Stumbled　off　to　bed　at　eleven；　having　eaten　too　much　and　drunk　just　enough　wine。
　　
　Dec。　25。　Hard　to　believe　it　is　Christmas　Day；　with　the　shutters　wide　open　and　the　sun　shining　on　the　western　cliffs；　and　palm　trees　along　the　corniche。　The　gardens　are　bright　with　flowers　…　tall　poinsettias；　roses；　coral　vine；　jasmine；　bougainvillea；　and　other　tropical　blooms。　The　Winter　Palace　has　a　number　of　Christmas　trees；　in　front　and　in　the　lobbies；　nicely　decorated　ones；　too。　Everyone　wishes　us　Merry　Christmas。　Ramadan　is　almost　over；　nobody　seems　quite　sure　whether　it's　tomorrow　or　the　next　day。　Lesser　Eid；　a　three…day　celebration；　starts　the　following　day。　Happy　Ramadan　is　Ramadan　karim。　Xmas　dinner　at　Chicago　House。　
　　
　Dec。　26。　I　leave　for　Cairo　this　p。m。　on　the　third　of　eight　flights　I　will　be　taking　this　trip。　The　Expedition　arrives　tomorrow；　and　I　want　to　be　there　to　greet　them。　I'm　sitting　on　my　balcony；　eating　breakfast。　What　a　way　to　live。　The　western　cliffs　form　what　appears　to　be　a　single　massif　directly　across　from　Luxor。　Paler　paths　winding　up　and　across　the　face；　clefts　like　parallel　vertical　strokes　of　a　gray　pencil。　（Will　I　ever　be　able　to　describe　it　accurately？）
　　
　What　must　the　Winter　Palace　have　been　like　in　Amelia's　day？　No　taxis；　no　paved　road；　but　still　directly　below　the　terrace　paved　with　ornamental　tiles；　to　the　right；　the　balcony　of　the　Khedival　suite；　beyond　it；　the　pillars　of　Luxor　Temple　and　the　minaret　of　the　mosque。　The　British　flag　would　have　been　flying　instead　of　the　red；　white；　and　black　of　Egypt。　Tour　boats　certainly；　though　perhaps　not　as　many；　and　the　office　of　Thomas　Cook　at　the　end　of　the　curved　arcade　on　the　first　level；　where　it　has　been　for　over　a　century。
　　
　The　newspaper　that　is　delivered　most　mornings　is　The　Egyptian　Gazette　…　gives　me　a　kick　to　be　reading　the　same　paper　the　Emersons　read　back　in　1914。　Admittedly　the　service　is　erratic；　energetic　attendants　keep　taking　things　like　glasses　and　laundry　lists　away；　and　never　bring　them　back。　（In　fact　most　people　don't　stay　longer　than　a　few　days；　my　two…week　stays　throw　everybody　off　base。　They　look　astonished　every　morning　to　see　me　still　there。）　
　　
　The　plane　left　an　hour　and　a　half　late。　
　　
　Cairo。　Arrived　at　the　Mena　House　Hotel　（where　Amelia　and　Emerson　and　Ramses　dined　with　Howard　Carter　before　the　Master　Criminal　stole　Ramses　from　off　the　top　of　the　Great　Pyramid）　at　about　eight　（Giza　is　a　long　way　from　Heliopolis）　to　find　I　had　been　upgraded　to　the　Churchill　suite。　This　place　must　be　seen　to　be　believed。　Takes　five　minutes　to　walk　from　the　living　room　to　the　bedroom；　through　dining　and　dressing　rooms。　The　terrace　is　about　the　size　of　my　whole　downstairs　at　home；　with　the　Great　Pyramid　looming。　Bougainvillea　in　pots；　including　the　white　one　I　so　admire。　Over　the　living　room　couch　is　a　huge　circular　mirror；　the　head　of　the　bed　is　an　equally　immense　gilded　sunburst　that　reaches　to　the　ceiling。　Anything　made　of　wood　is　carved；　lamps　are　antique　pierced　brass；　antique　oriental　rugs　are　laid　over　wall…to…wall　carpeting。　Bowls　of　red　roses　and　baby's　breath　in　every　room；　plus　huge　arrangements　of　glads；　etc；　two　plates　of　sweeties　and　fancy　chocs；　fruit　bowl。　The　fittings　in　the　bathrooms　（one　is　really　only　a　powder　room）　are　gilded；　swans　and　stuff。　Marble　floor　and　surrounds。　I　seem　to　have　a　personal　butler；　or　so　his　card　describes　him。　It's　pretty　heady　stuff　for　a　girl　who　grew　up　in　a　small　town　in　the　Midwest。
　　
　Dec。　27。　It　was　very　foggy　this　a。m。　Strange　how　guilty　one　feels　about　loafing。　I　swore　I'd　take　it　easy　today　but　it　has　been　something　of　an　effort　to　stretch　out　on　a　lounge　chair　on　the　terrace　and　just　lie　there。　（I　think　I'm　getting　the　hang　of　it；　though。）　I　can　see　the　Great　Pyramid　from　where　I　recline。　Twelve　noon　and　it　is　still　foggy；　the　Great　Pyramid　remains　a　featureless　silhouette；　gray　blue　against　a　pale　sky。　A　row　of　tour　busses　at　its　base。　There　is　a　yellow　canopy　over　me　and　birds　are　flitting　in　and　out。　Every　room　on　this　side　has　a　balcony；　dark　carved　wood　and　pleasantly　asymmetrical。　This　is　the　〃Palace；〃　the　old　part；　which　must　look　from　the　outside　much　as　it　did　in　A's　day。
　　
　Dec。　28。　The　Expedition　arrived　last　evening；　but　I　didn't　get　a　chance　to　greet　them　since　they　didn't　e　into　the　lobby　of　the　Palace　and　I　was；　er　。　。　。　in　the　bar　with　several　friends　who　had　dropped　by。　This　a。m。　they　went　to　Giza。　Reclining　on　my　elegant　terrace；　I　watched　the　buses　roll　up　the　hill；　starting　before　eight。　Dozens　of　them。　It　was　understood　that　I　wouldn't　acpany　the　group　on　all　their　trips；　by　the　time　I　leave　Egypt　I　will　have　been　away　for　a　solid　month；　and　I　am　forcing　myself　to　take　it　slow。　I　am　now　sitting　on　a　balustrade　outside　the　hotel　waiting　for　my　friends　Salima　and　Nick。　
　　
　Later。　A　super　day。　We　went　to　Kerdasa；　a　suburb　a　few　miles　north；　noted　for　its　fine　weavers。　Many　shops　have　been　replaced　by　more　modern　establishments　selling　galabeeyahs　and　the　inevitable　t…shirts；　but　we　found　one　place　（after　making　a　few　minor　purchases　elsewhere）　that　was　great。　The　owner　had　the　jolliest　laugh。　Listening　to　Salima　and　the　owner　bargain　in　Arabic　was　wonderful；　at　one　point　she　lowered　her　hand；　indicating　that　the　price　was　too　high；　whereupon　the　man　instantly　squatted。　So　did　Salima。　Big　whoops　of　laughter　from　everybody。　
　　
　He　had　nice　woven　stuff；　beautiful　rugs　and　some　sensationally　gaudy　gowns　and　capes。　Lots　of　gold。　I　like　lots　of　gold。　Bought　two　genuine　black　dresses　like　the　ones　I　had　seen　proper　Egyptian　ladies　wearing　…　was　told　later　that　they　are　Nubian；　but　I　saw　them　in　Luxor　and　elsewhere。　They　have　long　sleeves　and　a　yoke；　embroidered　or　trimmed；　from　which　the　gown　hangs；　with　a　flounce　at　the　bottom。　Both　fit　perfectly；　since　I　am　the　same　shape　as　many　Egyptian　ladies　…　round　and　short。　The　dresses　are　old；　charming；　and　probably　very　dirty。
　　
　When　the　bargaining　was　pleted　the　jolly　chap　wound　round　me　a　lovely　woven　scarf　I　had　rejected　…　a　present。　（This　is　often　done。）　I　thought　the　overall　price　was　dirt　cheap；　but　I　suppose　it　represented　a　good　day's　take。　Foreign　tourists　don't　e　here　often。　They　were　intrigued　by　my　interest　in　the　genooine　dresses。　One　middle…aged　lady　in　a　similar　frock　and　a　close…fitting　black　headcloth　（I　haven't　seen　a　face　veil　since　I　got　here；　but　all　except　〃mod〃　city　ladies　wear　the　headcloth）　darted　out　and　came　back　with　another　…　maybe　she　took　it　out　of　her　closet；　or　her　mother's。
　　
　Then　on　to　Abu　Roash；　for　a　day　that　bined　frivolity　（shopping）　and　Egyptology　in　exactly　the　right　balance。　The　site　is　about　five　miles　north　of　Giza；　the　northernmost　of　the　pyramid　sites。　We　bounced　off　into　the　desert；　along　bumpy　tracks；　back　and　forth　and　around　and　around。　If　I　were　only　sixty　again　we　could　have　taken　a　shorter　route；　climbing　up　the　escarpment；　but　my　dear　buddies　didn't　want　to　send　me　home　in　a　cast　or　with　terminal　shortness　of　breath；　so　we　finally　found　ourselves　on　top；　right　at　the　base　of　the　pyramid。　I　had　never　been　here　before。　The　archaeologists　（French…Swiss）　weren't　working；　so　we　had　the　place　to　ourselves。　The　pyramid；　of　which　most　is　gone；　belonged　to　Djedefre；　Khufu's　son　and　successor。　Why　he　moved　here　nobody　knows；　theories　of　dynastic　infighting　and　religious　differences　are　only　speculation。　Maybe　he　just　liked　the　view。　Or　didn't　want　to　put　his　little　bitty　pyramid　next　to　dad's　great　monument。　It's　very　high　up　and　a　long　way　from　the　river。　The　causeway；　whose　line　can　be　seen；　but　of　which　nothing　remains；　must　have　been　v