Aswan is a Nubian city in the south of Egypt, on the first cataract of the Nile - where Agatha Christie wrote her murder story.
Here, I fall into a pattern; up at four thirty in the morning; I dress and put my photo gear together. Then, for eight cents, I take an engine-powered ferry and cross the Nile. I sit knee to knee, the only white man in a boat filled with turbaned Nubian men; dressed in Galibeyas; garrulously Salaaming each other; waving with their walking sticks; friendly and quick-smiled.
Aswan is the most African part of Egypt. It's heat only increases its exoticism.
As the sun rises I make my way through west bank villages shooting photos in the early morning light. By nine o’clock, I go back to our air-conditioned hotel room and sleep for the rest of the day. Then, late in the afternoon, like the rest of Aswan, I too awaken. For it’s only in the coolness of night that we can breathe here. The heat abates as we take our sunset diners on a Nile barge called the Aswan Moon. We eat grilled aubergine – eggplant – and tomato soup.
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