(No photos version )

Temple of Khnum

Today was Esna Day — the temple I’d secretly been looking forward to the most. Everyone talks about Karnak, Luxor, Abu Simbel… but Esna? Esna is for the romantics. For the nerds. For the people who crane their necks at ceilings in heritage buildings and forget to breathe.

Because at Esna, it’s all about the ceiling.

A vast, celestial tapestry of deep blues and golds, constellations, symbols, goddesses, and sacred creatures – all miraculously preserved and glowing as if someone polished the sky itself. I stood there, staring up like a wide-eyed child, letting the colours pour over me. It felt intimate. Ancient. Alive. Like the gods had left the lights on.

And then, almost too soon, we were back on the Nile – sailing onwards to Luxor, inching quietly closer to the end of our journey. Tomorrow we fly back to Cairo and leave river life behind. I already feel the ache of goodbye settling in my chest.

Back on board, the afternoon drifted by in that dreamlike Nile way. Once we passed through the loch of course!

We continued south along the Nile, the river widening and narrowing again like breath. Life happens along its banks – farmers tending fields, children waving, fishing boats gliding, waterbirds rising from reeds. 

We could feel ourselves getting quieter internally too – the kind of quiet you can only arrive at by water.

O Captain my Captain

We were invited up to the bridge to meet the captain. Nile captains are a breed of their own: decades of experience, a near-instinctive feel for the river, and a calmness that borders on mythical. The Nile isn’t like other waterways; its depth shifts with the seasons, its currents change with the wind, and sandbanks appear and disappear like magic. Modern ships have radar and navigation tech, yes, but the real art is in the captain’s eyes and hands – reading ripples, gauging light, sensing the river’s mood and navigating the boats that attach themselves to the ship to sell table clothes and galabeyas!

He showed us the control panels, the old-school wheel, and the quietly humming instruments that keep the SS Sphinx gliding as if on silk. Up there, with the river stretching ahead in gold and blue, you understand why Egyptians once called the Nile “the giver of life.” The captain allowed us to take photos with him in his massive chair (they get to decorate the bridge however they like!), but his face remained impassive and serious – as Kathy said, the kind of man you want sailing the boat.

Afternoon Limbo

Afternoon packing is a strange limbo – half one foot in tomorrow, half clinging to the present. I sat on the bed with my suitcase yawning open, watching the Nile glide past my window like an old friend who refuses to slow down for goodbyes. I left the curtains wide open and didn’t care who saw me; there’s something honest about packing in full daylight, letting the river witness the reluctant ritual of zipping up a chapter you’re not quite ready to finish.

Feedback for Uniworld

This afternoon, the ship’s tour manager, Samasked if we would say a few words for their social media – something encouraging for future travellers, something to reassure future travellers that Egypt is safe, welcoming, and absolutely worth the journey, despite everything happening with their neighbours. Something heartfelt. I started strong, talking about how magical and safe and welcoming this journey has been.

But somewhere between gratitude and trying to find the right words, my voice cracked. One moment I was smiling at the camera, the next I was overwhelmed by how deeply this trip has settled into my bones – the people, the river, the temples, the warmth.

Suddenly I was crying, and Sam, our wonderful manager, wrapped me in a hug. I just kept saying “shoukran” — thank you – over and over, because I didn’t have the English for the rest of what I was feeling. He hugged me back and said I’d captured exactly what they hope guests feel.

For a moment it all felt too big – the beauty, the kindness, the history, the privilege of being here. How do you sum up something that has touched you so deeply in just a few sentences for a camera?

You don’t, really.

You just feel it and hope the feeling travels with you long after the river is behind you.

Final Sunset – Amun Ra journeys to the west

Later, we stepped out to watch the final setting of Amun-Ra, and honestly… you can see why the ancients worshipped the sun. The light hit the water in molten gold, the sky shifting into the kind of colours that look painted rather than real. For a moment, the whole world stilled – ship, river, sky, even my anxious little heart about tomorrow’s transition. Just sun, slipping beneath the horizon with the quiet authority of a god who knows he’ll rise again.

Arabian Nights

Our last dinner on the SS Sphinx was one of those evenings that felt stitched together from colour, music, and pure joy. It began with a vibrant folkloric performance, drummers echoing through the dining room as dancers spun and stamped in patterns older than most countries. Then the whirling dervish arrived – a blur of colour and devotion – spinning with that hypnotic grace that makes time feel elastic. You could hear little gasps ripple through the room as his skirt fanned out like a living mandala. And we all wondered how he could do and not vomit!

Then came the Arabian feast, dish after dish of rich spices, slow-cooked meats, dips the colour of desert sunsets, fragrant rice, and warm breads you tear with your hands. It felt like Egypt’s way of giving us one last hug.

And as if the night wasn’t already overflowing, it turned into an impromptu birthday celebration for Kathy. The crew brought out a cake, and suddenly we were all clapping along as Happy Birthday rang out first in English, then in Arabic. Kathy beamed (it went for so long her face hurt!), the crew beamed back, and it was just… joyous. One of those unexpectedly perfect travel moments where the whole room becomes a little family for a night.

Josh and I headed off to our stateroom and for one last time, slept with the curtains open.