Magic Moments

Nimi Kurian

16 February 2008, 02:46

It’s still early when we leave the cruise ship. The last of the moon beams dance over the waters of the Nile. We get into the boat that is to ferry us across the river to the west bank. Helpful hands pull us on to land. We walk along the water’s edge to a van parked close by. The van will take us to the hot air balloon.

The previous day, sitting on the sundeck of Hapi 5 watching the sun rise, we had seen the balloons lifting off. Against the dark sky, the sight of the translucent brightness of the balloon lighting up was motivation enough to want a ride.

As we near the take off site we are confronted with a myriad of colours all glowing above the gas induced fire. People hang around the basket doing small jobs that will culminate in the balloon taking off. The pilot arrives. He is in uniform – similar to any airline pilot. We are helped into the basket. We are told how to stand and what to do when we land. The pilot is busy checking controls. Soon we are ready for take off.

The balloon leaves its moorings and glides. The people around break into song, clapping hands and waving. A joyous occasion. There are six of us in the balloon.

A doctor from Argentina, hastily takes a picture on her digi-cam. “It could be our last picture!” she says. Nervously we watch as land slips away.

The pilot is cheerful. “Is this your first time on a balloon?” he asks. We nod anxiously.

“Mine too!” he says, grinning happily.

Anguished screams rent the air, but its too late – we cannot get off now.

So we go sailing higher and higher. Down below we see the vans following the balloons. They need to do this so that they can be there when we land. It could be anywhere the wind wills.

Through the morning mist we see green fields and at a distance the Nile as it snakes its way down to the sea. The balloon is floating by and we see fields, houses, people getting ready for the day, cars, bikes… in miniature – all oblivious to our scrutiny from above. We float above the homes of people working at the digs. We have read descriptions of their homes in a thousand books and so the homes seem familiar. An open terrace has a bed, with a small table close up and an open book – upturned. Some of the rooms have no roof.

“What will happen if it rains,” we ask. We from the land of the monsoon, where torrential rain causes so much destruction.

“What rain? Once a year, for half a minute may be one…” says the pilot. The whole region is dependant on the Nile, and the land is fertile because of it.

It is an amazing feeling. “Is this how god feels?” we wonder.
We are close to the Valley of Kings. “You can see the sun rising now,” says our pilot. We turn around and there we see the orange ball, rising over the horizon. The Nile takes on shades of blue as the first rays hit it. In the hazy mist the scene seems surreal.

“You can see the tombs of the kings,” points the pilot.

“Can we fly over the valley?” asks someone.

“We can, but we may not be able to return!” We gasp. “Its too high up.”

So we move away from the valley. Now we are over the Temple of Queen Hapsetshut. An amazing woman if ever there was one. First wife and queen of Thutmose II, she proclaimed herelf Pharoah. Her claim? Amon Ra had spoken crowning her king of Upper and Lower Egypt because she was his daughter. The people did not dispute the claim. It is said she dressed herself as a Pharoah and also fixed a false beard to her face to ensure that there would be no doubt about it. The statues in the temple depict her dressed in king’s robes and with a nice, long beard.

A little further on we catch sight of the Village of the Workers. Tiny homes built into the mountain sides. This is where the people who worked in the tombs had lived. Looking at the homes, you travel back in time. You can almost see tiny figures scurrying about getting ready to begin work in the Valley.

All too soon, the balloon is coming down. We’ve been up there an hour and a half. The vans that are to carry us back to the boat are already in place. So are the people who will secure the balloon to the ground. We are asked to sit in the basket and hang on to the ropes on the sides. There’s a thud! and we are back.
Unbelieveably, we have landed – safely. Up there we had forgotten that we were sailing in balloon. The majesty of the moment was so breathtaking.

Little boys on donkeys greet us. They try striking a conversation with us. They want a tip. Everyone in Egypt wants a tip. We drive back to the boat. The sun has risen, but it is not warm. The waters of the Nile ripple as a gently breeze flutters over.

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