I've decided to post up more of my bridge holiday adventures in small bite-size bits. I had thought of making a book about the whole bunch - I think I have gone on at least 15 over the last 15 years. But will see how this goes.

This one is on the trip to Egypt - about 10 years ago. I think it was the most fascinating place and the one where I did the most sightseeing.

As usual, I didn't know who I would be going on the holiday with, since I don't have a regular bridge partner or anyone who I see regularly who would be interested in that sort of thing. But I booked anyway, and took pot luck on both someone to share a room with and play bridge with.

So, having confirmed with Pauline at least 3 times that I had the day and time correct, (I'd got the date wrong on the previous trip) my kind husband delivered me to Manchester Airport on Friday, 19th January at 5.30 a.m. for this new and exciting experience.

The people in line to check in were the same familiar faces from the other eight bridge holidays I had been on. Some I liked very much, and some I hoped to avoid as much as possible. Having checked in, I realised that I had done a bad job in getting myself organised - so I went to the duty tree shop at the airport and got a money belt (Philip said I must always have my passport with me, but in fact I left it at the hotel check-in place the whole week) - a tour guide on Egypt - and some high factor sun block. 

When our flight was called for going to the boarding area, I was one of the first ones there. In the letter from Pauline, which came with the tickets, I got the impression that I would be rooming with someone whose first name began with a W but I had no idea who that was. So I asked Pauline and when she said it was Win - I was very pleased. Win I remembered as being a good friend in many of the previous holidays - a rather short, plump lady with a very good sense of humour who carefully saved her money over the year to be able to splurge on a bridge holiday. She was a pretty good bridge player too, so I was really quite happy about that.

But when the various people came into the lounge and I hadn't spotted her, I was rather worried. Where was Win? Did she do what I did last time and get the date wrong? And then I spotted another old friend - a lady I had met at Lake Garda who lives quite close to me in Romiley - Zaib. She seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see her, and she came and sat next to me. She had booked a single room, but having only decided on coming on this trip at the last moment (she had only just returned from a trip to Saudi Arabia with her son to visit Mecca and Medina), she hadn't arranged to play with anyone - and I knew she was a very good player - so I was so pleased when she agreed to play with me.  Zaib and I chatted away - with me still keeping an eye out for Win - my roommate.

"Is everybody here?" I asked Pauline. "Yes, I think I have seen everyone now," she said. Well, that is strange, I thought - and suddenly I realised my mistake. There were two Wins. the sweet and pleasant one I had been expecting - and Irish Win - who was one of those I had been most hoping to avoid. I don't know what I looked like, but I felt just awful and I told Zaib, "The person I'm rooming with isn't who I thought it was. It's a person who is very loud." I was being polite. But what I hadn't realised was that Pauline had heard me sort of, and then asked her husband to repeat what I said, and I heard him say, "very loud". And just at that moment I noticed that Irish Win arrived and was talking with Pauline about her new earrings she had just bought at the duty free shop and probably had overheard me too. I was embarrassed, and upset and wondering what I could do to change my fate. 

My main impression of Irish Win, had been one of somebody who was not only loud, but who was drunk most of the time, and rather abusive and certainly not "proper", as the English would think of it. I hesitate to use the word "common" but I must admit that would sum up what I was thinking. That makes me sound like a real snob, and come to think of it, a lot of people might have termed my other friend Win as being common, because she was so obviously poor and from a working class background, but that wouldn't have been my label for her. At least I didn't have to play bridge with Irish Win, I thought, because I remember her as being an awful player.

As we flew into land, you could see a patch of green, obviously the irrigated parts of land on either side of the Nile, and then nothing much but sand. The landing strip was a long straight line in the middle of a huge desert. We had finally arrived in Luxor, and when we deplaned, we were bussed to the airport terminal. This was a shed-like sprawling building, with masses of people inside and no feeling of any sort of organisation.

I had failed to do what the organiser had asked us to do in advance of coming, namely to get a Visa. But the airport was a scene of enormous confusion. We were told to go to one area if we hadn't visas - but others were told to go to another area, so we just stood in a sort of muddled line and hoped for the best.

Suddenly a friend called to me -"Have you got your Visa already?"

"No" - I said.

"Then you are in the wrong queue"

So I left the line I'd been straddling for the last half hour - and went to join the 50 or so milling around an office which was unattended, and continued being so for at least another half hour. The officials kept saying, "We will go and get the man in charge of visas,"  but it was a very long time before he appeared, but he apologized,. saying he had been in another building.

Anyway, by this time all the Visaed passengers had gone through customs , and we who were left fought for priority to pay our money and have them give us the proper receipt and stamp in our passports so we could go on through customs too. When it was finally my turn I thought all was going well, but the man who was helping the official chased after me thinking I'd been given too much change. So I had to wait while he went back and checked it all through again, which was at least another 10 minutes. By this time there were only about four of us still in the airport.
 
I luckily found my suitcase, and rushed towards the exit, but there was no sign of anyone I knew. I asked the Golden Joy representative where our bus was, and she said “Down the steps and over in the corner,”  but by this time it was so dark, I hadn't a clue where I was going and was thoroughly frightened. Lots of men were anxious to help me carry my case, but I pushed them away and clung to it as if it were vital that I not relinquish it for a moment. I eventually found the way around the barrier and across the road, and sure enough there were some stairs, which I dragged my case down, and there was a bus. I asked if it was the bridge bus, but alas. no it wasn't. But then suddenly a man I recognised appeared and showed me the way to the right bus.

We drove about half an hour through some countryside, but mostly built-up area, but it was too dark to make out much other than low, rather shabby houses lining a narrow street with the occasional very large and rather posh hotel. I had envisaged the word Hilton as being the very best in Hotels. I was surprised that we could afford to go to such a posh place and knew that it was a 5 * hotel in Luxor. But according to one friend, it was much more like a Butlins.

Finally we arrived at the Hilton almost at the end of the section of town called Karnak, and right on the Nile. We drove through some gates, and up a tree lined avenue, and were deposited outside a three story hotel, in white stone, with nothing terribly outstanding about it. We went through big glass doors, continually manned by a doorman, with a security guard just outside. The lobby was rather open, with couches here and there and shops along the walls. The decorations were large wall hangings in bright colours which I found very attractive. The main feature of the lobby was a big fountain and the lobby itself went up for the three floors, so you could see the rooms on the above floors circling around. We were offered a fruit juice drink, and we discussed whether the water would be bottled, and decided being the Hilton, of course it would, so we drank it.

We then found our rooms and unpacked, and went down to the dining room for an excellent breakfast, served buffet style with such a range of possibilities that we all overate. We did wonder what happened to the leftovers, and hoped that the kitchen staff benefited somehow.

We decided to spent that first day sightseeing and shopping in Luxor. So we agreed to take the hotel-provided bus down to the town about 12.

We had been told by our rep that the main forms of transport into town were taxi and horse carriage - and that it was very important to settle the amount you would pay before you started. The Egyptians always started bargaining at least twice the price they expected to get and liked and wanted you toto haggle with them. But I found it very unnatural to fight over prices for everything and found that an element of Egyptian life that I would happily have done without.

We arrived in the town - six of us - Zaib, Pat, Ena and I - and Barbara and her friend Audrey, but they soon left us because walking was more of a problem for them. They hired a horse carriage and did a tour of the area in that way and were quite pleased with themselves. We just started wandering and the first thing to catch my attention was some bookmarks in papyrus with rather pretty hand painted motifs on them. There was a young man who quickly made himself available to answer my questions and when I asked how much these were, he said “£E 15” which seemed like a lot. But then he said he would take us to the Egyptian market which was only open on Saturdays and we would find things a lot cheaper and he would help us bargain for things.

I don't know why we didn't tell him to get lost. I think we were too polite, and partly we felt happy with the thought of having an escort in through the narrow streets and confusion of the town. And he was such a friendly personable young man. Abdul, his name was. So we agreed that we would let him lead us into his world, no price for his service was mentioned. We knew he would expect a tip but nothing at all was agreed at this stage.

He was a good looking man, about 25, I'd guess , tall and slim wearing jeans, t-shirt and jacket - slightly unshaven look - but  eager to do what he could for us. We walked several blocks through the streets and he told us that some of these markets were for Europeans and not good value, and he could get us much better prices. Then after wandering down a road for awhile, he took us into a narrow shop where the man sold the papyrus bookmarks. To be honest, most shops sold these things, and most prices were similar, but we didn't know that - new recruits fresh from England that we were - so we thought we had been taken to the only or at least the best place in town. We were first shown the cheaper ones - and we bargained the man who was called Akbar (with the help of our guide) down to 7 E£ for these -but then he produced some nicer ones - that we could have our names cartouched (put in a circle like the pharohs had on their hierogylpic tombs) so we decided to opt for that. Zaib and I gave him seven names which we wanted the hieroglyphics for, and we picked out the appropriate pictures on the cards, and he told us he would have them done in an hour or so.

So our friend Abdul led us on deeper and deeper into the market area. The streets were narrow and dirty , no paving, with lots of donkeys bearing loads walking by. You saw the occasional car but mostly it was donkeys or horse carts. And there didn't seem to be any other Europeans here, we really felt we were in a special area - which made us excited, frightened, and very glad to have a guide. We were shown into a t-shirt shop and a souvenir shop but we didn't buy anything in either. Then we were taken to a jewellery shop and immediately Pat found something that attracted her. She wanted a gold scarab to wear on a chain and she bargained for it and got a chain too ( which she later found had no hook so we had to go back to get it mended). All the gold was 18k, and we were told what a bargain we were making every where we went, and like the dupes we were, we believed every word.

Ena bought some of the cheap postcards, but so far I had kept my money firmly in my pocket or rather in my waist wallet. Then we went on down the streets and alleys, getting more remote all the time. Our guide Abdul was going to take us to a factory. But when we got there it was more of an outlet shop with quite ordinary sorts of goods  and much like all the others we later saw. We were told it was a government shop which didn't mean anything to us really but maybe it meant prices were controlled in some way. We were to spend the next hour in that shop so we got to know it quite well. The man we bargained with was obviously known to our guide and they chatted in Arabic for awhile. It again was the jewellery that was attracting people and Zaib bought a gold cartouche with an Egyptian head on the front and a space for her real name in Arabic, Zaibanessa, to be written on the back. She then also got similar ones for her daughter and daughter-in-law. Ena got a necklace and charm for her bracelet and I think Pat got another necklace too. But I firmly resisted. I was tempted both by the stone paper weights in the shape of sphinxes and in the embroidered wall hangings  but I resisted when I heard the prices.

We had to stay such a long time while Zaib's stuff was being engraved which had to go off to another shop. But we spent the time being entertained by our guide. He tried to get Ena (aged at least 70) to sit on his lap, and then to talk to his mother on the phone. "Will you marry me" he asked her.
 
"Go on, you're like my grandson," she said, but she was obviously pleased by all his attention. Of the four of us, the others were all widows having lost their husbands to heart attacks, two of them when the men were in their early 40's and very fit men, and I mentioned that my husband had had a heart attack. Ena's husband had just died a few months ago. They were talking about how they liked when they bought themselves expensive jewellery to think of it as coming from their dead husbands, since if they had been still alive, they would have wanted their wives to have nice jewellery.

Ena said to me, "When exactly did your husband die?" I was somewhat taken aback, but came out with "He's still working on it.”

Someone went out and bought cokes or tea for us. In the end it was becoming somewhat of a strain with all the waiting, but eventually the necklaces came and were approved of, and we set back along the way we came very pleased that we had a guide to show us the way back.

While we were killing time there, we discussed what we should give Abdul for a tip and decided on £5E each so that he would have £4 from the group of us which we felt was fair. We had been told that the usual wage was only about £30E a week. Anyway, we delegated Ena, since she had been the one he had spent most of his time charming, to give him the tip and had each given her our share of the money.
 
We then went back to the jewellery store to get a clasp put on Pat's necklace, and then back to pick up our bookmarks. It was now about 2 p.m. - well past the time of the hotel bus. The Egyptians like all the people in this part of the world take from 1-4 as a siesta so the busses don't run and most of the shops close during those hours. But our papyrus shop was still open and he hadn't quite finished with my bookmarks. We watched as he painted in the last few hieroglyphics. We found out that he had spelled PAM instead of PAT for one of Zaib's names, and STEPHANIE was in fact put down as STEPHANIL - since he couldn't read my writing. But they were lovely and we happily paid over the agreed rest of the money - having given a deposit when the agreement was first reached. Now Abdul showed us back to the main street, and Ena proudly gave him the note as a tip from all of us as we started walking away.

He looked at it, and then he got very angry." Come back here", he shouted, so we all got back together. "I have given you two hours of my time and this is what you give me" and he showed us the note. It was a 25 peseta note - worth about 2 cents if that. Ena had gotten mixed up and had intended to give him a £E20 note, but had pulled the 25 peseta note out of her bag, and didn't realise there was a difference.

So first of all, she refused to give him any more, thinking he was making a fuss for nothing. So Zaib and I each gave him £EIO. Eventually she got a £E20 note out and gave it to him and then Ena grabbed my £E 10 back from him but I told her I wanted him to have that as well, and Zaib also said that  so in the end he got £E40 out of us instead of £E20  but what we ended up with was a very unhappy experience to remember the day. We had been having a lovely time but now we remembered only his anger and our embarrassment at the stupid mistake. Ena felt awful about it - but it hadn't been intentional - so we said we must just forget it. But we were very pleased not to have to encounter him again later in the week.

We decided to get a horse carriage home. First the man said that only two could go at one time, but we insisted that we all four wanted to ride. We finally got him to agree to E£8 - 6 for him and 2 for the horse which conveniently worked out at 2 each. But when I saw the poor horse being beaten to take the four of us faster up the sloping road the several miles to our hotel, I thought how mean we were, how miserly and determined to get a bargain at all costs.