Hustled in Luxor

Posted on 24 April 2012

We were on the bank of what they called Banana Island on the opposite side of the Nile to our cruise ship. The seven of us from a tour group stared silently at each other, wondering if we were in danger.

Four days earlier we had started a tour of Egypt and we had been cruising from Aswan and just arrived in Luxor. Our tour guide had departed the ship at Edfu where we had stopped to view the temple as he had needed emergency dentistry. ‘When you to Luxor I recommend you stay on the ship as you will get hassled’, he had warned.

We had become accustomed, though annoyed, by the hassling to buy all kinds of souvenirs ranging from jewellery to scarfs and postcards. In fact we believed that we were learning the art of haggling.

How naive we were.

On docking in Luxor and with three hours to spare I suggested we experience a sail on a felucca, a traditional Egyptian sail boat. As we discussed and assessed the situation on the deck, a voice called from below inviting is for a sail. ‘How much?’ we asked. ‘For three persons for one hour or two hours, 200 Egyptian pounds’, was the reply in fairly good English. ‘I will take you to Banana Island.’ We haggled and agreed on 150 pounds (about R180) for all seven of us.

The warnings and concerns floated away as we hassle-free sang out ‘hacuna matata’. We boarded the Queen Mary felucca to hospitality of offers for drinks and cigarettes which we graciously declined knowing the nothing Egypt is free. We set off to the sun setting in a joyous, peaceful mood with cameras clicking. The deckhand and skipper chatted friendly as they slowly manoeuvred the felucca in a subtle wind.

As we approached Banana Island it was getting dark and we debated just returning to our ship but our curiosity allowed us to be coerced to have a look. As we had expected it didn’t appear to be worth the look let alone the five pound entrance fee.

Nonchalantly we returned to our sail boat when things took a turn. ‘You sailed one hour, it’s another 100 pounds to sail back’, the deckhand demanded. The more we argued and haggled the more tempers grew. We stood and stared at each other knowing we were caught on the wrong side of the Nile.

Grudgingly we agreed and the trip back was a dreary one knowing we had been hustled. This time we followed Chris de Bergh’s advice, ‘don’t pay the ferryman until you reach the other side.’






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