March 27, Saturday.

From Qasr to the Kharga Oasis

I started the day with an early morning walk through the town of Qasr. Kids were headed off to school, some of them girls in their uniforms of black dresses from throat to foot, white tops, and head scarves -- with gym shoes peeking out underneath and US-style backpacks on their backs.

Our first stop of the day was the Roman town at Amheida. The town itself is largely gone -- this includes the temple, which Vivian calls "a ruin of a ruin;" but the cemetery survives, and a building in the center which yielded exquisite wall paintings. The most famous painting shows Aphrodite and Ares caught in adultery; unfortunately, the room with the painting is closed, and the best we could do was to gaze down into the house, wondering at the wonders known only through the sketch in Vivian's guide. We had to settle for less famous but perhaps equally remarkable geometric designs, preserved by the sand on the mudbrick wall of a house.

Gedida (which means "new") is a village along the road. There's not much there except a workshop where exquisite furniture, like the intricate carved screen pictured to the right, are made. There I bought for the girls two delightful little miniature rocking chairs which would have been perfect for their dolls, but alas they got left behind when we switched vehicles, and I never recovered them.

Qalamun, a bit farther down the road, was once the capital of Dakhla (now that role belongs to Mut); the old Ottoman town on a hill testifies to its former power, now depleted. Its cemetery, with low, elongated tombs and the distinctive domes of the more monumental examples, remain to attest to its importance.

But Mut is the capital now, a big bustling city (by Western Desert standards; it wouldn't even be a neighborhood in Cairo!), natural stopping place to replenish our lunch supplies and see some sights. The chief attractions included the Ethnological Museum, in a pattern we were by now quite familiar with -- a traditional house converted (with foreign money) to a museum crammed with objects of local manufacture and use; for me one of the most interesting was a form for making mud bricks. For me this museum was however perhaps the best of the ones we saw, if only because on display were some absolutely lovely rugs (I really wanted them!) and charming local dresses. The director told us he had bought the rugs in the 1970s, though he couldn't remember how much he paid for them; I kept my eyes open for similar ones (I would have happily paid several hundred dollars) but, alas, nothing as unique and beautiful ever appeared.

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