I suppose I had better say a few words about camels. I have taken enough pictures of them, but I don't particularly care for them. They are vile, cantankerous beasts. Don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate their adaptation to harsh, desert climates. And I realize their incredible utility which has earned them a spot of vast cultural significance. I get all that. But none of that makes me want to ride one. I'm fine walking. The one or two times I have ridden a camel I found the experience to be remarkable, wholly, indelibly uncomfortable. Straddling the huge hump, with your legs forced apart, is probably as close to giving birth as I am likely to get. So the repeated exhortations to "take nice air conditioned Taxi?" "How about a camel ride?" "Camel ride", "Camel ride", "Camel ride"... were not met with an overabundance of enthusiasm on my part. At one point I got so exasperated with the ceaseless offers that I resorted to the last ditch effort of the weary traveler: reason. "Look," I said to the affable young man who had just offered me a ride on his huge, shaggy, leering, toothsome beast, "I'm fine walking."

"But she is the ship of the desert!"

"Yes, I understand." (at this point I had far exceeded his understanding of English, but I pressed on, determined to state my case, if not to him, to the camel) "I get it. Camels are remarkable tools and invaluable to your culture, but I would no sooner ride a camel across this desert as I would a circular saw."

Unsure of my words, but certain of my meaning, he turned his bactrian away and called over his shoulder, "long walk."



El Deir, the Monastery, which is about an hour's climb from the city center.