adventure, after all.
Finally, after a delay of about two and a half hours, during which three of our number developed sunstroke and had to be taken back to the ship, a bus drew into the parking area, sending clouds of rich red dust up into the air. Even the dust was more appealing than our own Roman dust. At first the driver kept the doors firmly shut and wouldn’t let us in, even though some of the gentlemen in our group threatened him through the window with their fists.Then, when at last he did open the doors, out of nowhere came a swarm of local people who surged onto the bus accompanied by their herds of animals and children. The cruisers fought back and pushed their way in, although the maximum capacity was soon ex-ceeded and many of the third-class passengers were forced to stand for the entire five-hour journey.
I was fortunate to get a window seat next to a jolly big lady swathed in black robes who carried a cabbage of monstrous size on her head. Behind were her five little children and a sheep, which seemed overcome by the heat. Beyond them, I was amazed to see the ventriloquist. How had he managed to get on board without my seeing him? He was cooling himself with a fan of flamingo feathers, and above his head—in the luggage rack stuffed with chickens, watermel-ons, sugar cane, and kettles—was the big black suitcase.
I was delighted with my view from the window and kept my eyes glued to the constantly changing kaleidoscope of interest.Yet I could not feel entirely comfortable with the ventriloquist so near.
The bus baked, and the occupants gave off a riper odor, and the noxious fumes of the traffic penetrated the open window and mixed with the vapors created by some of the passengers who had lit fires to boil up stews or roast slabs of mut-ton. The bleating of the sheep and lambs, the gobbling of the geese, the lilting conversation in Arabic of my fellow travelers—everything had the mesmerizing, confusing quality of a dream. And as I succumbed to the heat and the fug, I imagined other voices that seemed to come from far, far away:
“Why her?”
“You know why: because Madame Jo-Jo never gets it wrong.”
“Puh! You and your fortune-tellers! What do they know?
And what about me?”
“It won’t change a thing between us, trust me.You know we’ll be together forever.”
I slept. It had been such an early start, and I had been sleep deprived since I left home. I woke up some hours later to find the bus had broken down, far from the port, but way before reaching the pyramids.We were marooned.The driver was brewing hibiscus tea at the side of the road. A man had tethered his buffalo in the shade, and was milking it into a pail. My neighbor handed me a slice of succulent water-melon, with a completely toothless smile. I took it gratefully.
She sucked a slice herself with relish and spat the seeds out with a splat. Around me the ship’s passengers had collapsed like flies, groaning. Chickens pecked among their sprawling forms.The ventriloquist was still in his seat two rows behind.
Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and on his upper lip. In the luggage rack Malco was strangely silent.
We never did get to see the pyramids or the Sphinx. The bus remained at the roadside for the rest of the day, and into the night. At sunset we were passed by the luxury coaches containing the first and second classes, on the opposite side of the highway, returning to the port. Sometime later another local bus was sent out to retrieve us and we were driven back at frightening speed to reach the cruise ship before it sailed.
The ventriloquist was glued to my side during the return journey. Neither of us spoke.
As we bobbed across the pontoon, just as the
Santa
Domenica
was about to weigh anchor, I turned to the short, fat man and said:
“I’m agreeing to nothing until I’ve consulted my parrot.” And then I left him without a backward glance.
Chapter 19
T he climax of the cruise was now over, and the ship
Finally, after a delay of about two and a half hours, during which three of our number developed sunstroke and had to be taken back to the ship, a bus drew into the parking area, sending clouds of rich red dust up into the air. Even the dust was more appealing than our own Roman dust. At first the driver kept the doors firmly shut and wouldn’t let us in, even though some of the gentlemen in our group threatened him through the window with their fists.Then, when at last he did open the doors, out of nowhere came a swarm of local people who surged onto the bus accompanied by their herds of animals and children. The cruisers fought back and pushed their way in, although the maximum capacity was soon ex-ceeded and many of the third-class passengers were forced to stand for the entire five-hour journey.
I was fortunate to get a window seat next to a jolly big lady swathed in black robes who carried a cabbage of monstrous size on her head. Behind were her five little children and a sheep, which seemed overcome by the heat. Beyond them, I was amazed to see the ventriloquist. How had he managed to get on board without my seeing him? He was cooling himself with a fan of flamingo feathers, and above his head—in the luggage rack stuffed with chickens, watermel-ons, sugar cane, and kettles—was the big black suitcase.
I was delighted with my view from the window and kept my eyes glued to the constantly changing kaleidoscope of interest.Yet I could not feel entirely comfortable with the ventriloquist so near.
The bus baked, and the occupants gave off a riper odor, and the noxious fumes of the traffic penetrated the open window and mixed with the vapors created by some of the passengers who had lit fires to boil up stews or roast slabs of mut-ton. The bleating of the sheep and lambs, the gobbling of the geese, the lilting conversation in Arabic of my fellow travelers—everything had the mesmerizing, confusing quality of a dream. And as I succumbed to the heat and the fug, I imagined other voices that seemed to come from far, far away:
“Why her?”
“You know why: because Madame Jo-Jo never gets it wrong.”
“Puh! You and your fortune-tellers! What do they know?
And what about me?”
“It won’t change a thing between us, trust me.You know we’ll be together forever.”
I slept. It had been such an early start, and I had been sleep deprived since I left home. I woke up some hours later to find the bus had broken down, far from the port, but way before reaching the pyramids.We were marooned.The driver was brewing hibiscus tea at the side of the road. A man had tethered his buffalo in the shade, and was milking it into a pail. My neighbor handed me a slice of succulent water-melon, with a completely toothless smile. I took it gratefully.
She sucked a slice herself with relish and spat the seeds out with a splat. Around me the ship’s passengers had collapsed like flies, groaning. Chickens pecked among their sprawling forms.The ventriloquist was still in his seat two rows behind.
Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and on his upper lip. In the luggage rack Malco was strangely silent.
We never did get to see the pyramids or the Sphinx. The bus remained at the roadside for the rest of the day, and into the night. At sunset we were passed by the luxury coaches containing the first and second classes, on the opposite side of the highway, returning to the port. Sometime later another local bus was sent out to retrieve us and we were driven back at frightening speed to reach the cruise ship before it sailed.
The ventriloquist was glued to my side during the return journey. Neither of us spoke.
As we bobbed across the pontoon, just as the
Santa
Domenica
was about to weigh anchor, I turned to the short, fat man and said:
“I’m agreeing to nothing until I’ve consulted my parrot.” And then I left him without a backward glance.
Chapter 19
T he climax of the cruise was now over, and the ship
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