19 January – Day One with Viking
Today we officially joined our Viking cruise, though in truth this journey started nearly two years ago.
Almost two years ago, Mardi asked me a simple question: Where would you like to go for your 60th birthday?
Without hesitation, I said, “Egypt.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure it would ever happen. Our travel has usually leaned towards Western countries, slower trips, long stays in familiar places. Egypt felt different. Bigger. More complex. Potentially overwhelming. Mardi’s neurodiversity. My eyesight. A non-English-speaking country. The Middle East. Security concerns. Chaos layered on chaos.
We talked it through. Mardi researched. And eventually, we landed on this Viking Nile River Cruise, with time in Cairo before and Jordan afterwards. Still, part of me quietly wondered if it might never come to pass. With world events as they are, I feared this lifelong dream might remain just that, a dream.
But today, it hit me. It’s real.
Standing hundreds of feet underground in a tomb, looking at vivid scenes of daily life painted more than 4,500 years ago, my mind simply struggled to keep up. Fishing. Farming. Music. Work. Family. Even crocodiles mating. Ordinary life, extraordinary in its survival.
At Saqqara, we visited the Tomb of Mehu, a Sixth Dynasty tomb dating to around 2345–2181 BC. The walls are alive with colour and movement. Scenes of agriculture, hunting, fishing, musicians at work. It’s not kings and gods dominating the walls, but people. Everyday Egyptians. It’s intimate, almost personal.
Nearby, the Tomb of Kagemni took this even further. The reliefs here are beautifully detailed and remarkably preserved. Again, scenes of daily life unfold in stone and pigment, as if the artists stepped away only yesterday. These tombs weren’t just about death. They were about preserving life, memory, and continuity.
I lightly ran my fingers across the carved hieroglyphs. Carefully. Respectfully. I was touching history. Connecting, in some small way, with an ancient civilisation that still has something to say. These weren’t abstract symbols. They were stories. Instructions. Observations. Records of how people lived, worked, loved, and made sense of their world.
And then there was Saqqara itself.
The Step Pyramid of Djoser absolutely undid me.
This is the first large-scale stone structure ever built by humankind. The moment I saw it, tears came without warning. Not sadness. Not joy alone. Something deeper. Awe, maybe. Gratitude. Humility.
Our Viking Program Director, Ibrahim, walked us through the story behind its construction. Designed by Imhotep, the architect, physician, and polymath, this pyramid began as a simple mastaba and evolved into a six-step monument that changed architecture forever. Standing there, I tried to imagine Imhotep seeing it for the first time. Or imagining what he would think if he could see it now, still standing 4,500 years later.
The ancient Egyptians were obsessed with the afterlife, with eternity, with what came next. Standing there, I wondered if this is what Imhotep imagined eternity might look like.
The ground around me was rough and uneven. I stumbled a couple of times, distracted, transfixed, unable to tear my eyes away. Eventually, reluctantly, I made my way back to the bus.
As we drove away, a fellow guest climbed aboard and said to his partner, “Well, that’s one checked off.”
It landed heavily.
This trip, for me, isn’t about ticking boxes. I don’t have a bucket list. Egypt has sat quietly at the centre of my curiosity for decades. As we pulled away from Saqqara, tears came again. Tears of joy. Tears of fulfilment. Egypt is changing me.
From Saqqara, we were taken to a local carpet factory and school. Children sat at looms, weaving intricate designs. I found myself wondering whether this was education or child labour. I genuinely don’t know. The lines aren’t always clear when culture, tradition, and economics collide.
We were shown carpets and encouraged to buy and haggle. Mardi spotted a small but beautiful piece depicting birds and wildlife around a tree. We both loved it. After some enthusiastic bargaining, we walked away with it. That carpet will forever carry the memory of this day.
Lunch followed at the Saqqara Palm Club. Traditional Egyptian barbecue. Chicken. Beef. Baba ghanoush. Salad. Flatbread. We sat outside under palm trees in a place that felt like it had seen better days, perhaps more vibrant decades ago, but still warm and welcoming. The food was excellent. The pace slowed. Exactly what we needed.
Our final stop for the day was the Citadel and the Mosque of Muhammad Ali. The architecture is impressive, even in its worn state. Some parts feel neglected. Chandeliers hung above us looking like they might fall at any moment. Still, we were given a brief history of the mosque and a gentle introduction to Islamic beliefs. It was quiet. Reflective. A fitting way to close a very full day.
After a short rest back at the hotel, we met up with David and Kerrie around 5.30pm and decided to walk to the Sofitel for dinner. It’s only about 800 metres, but it felt longer. Broken pavements. Poles. Steps. Debris. Cars roaring past inches away. We hopped on and off the footpath, weaving our way forward.
We made it.
Up on the third floor, we found a Turkish-Egyptian restaurant and settled in. Dips. Beautifully fresh, hot flatbread. Lamb. Beef. Halloumi. It was, without question, the best meal we’ve had in Egypt so far.
Rather than brave the walk back in darkness and traffic, we sensibly grabbed a cab and were home in five minutes.
Tomorrow promises to be another highlight. A visit to the Grand Egyptian Museum, open for just six weeks, followed by the Giza Plateau and the Great Pyramids themselves.
But tonight, I’m sitting with what today gave me.
This isn’t just travel.
This is something else entirely.
