I usually keep my promises, but this time, I’m showing up fashionably late. Before I travelled to Egypt almost a year ago, I wrote on my Facebook page that I’d share blog posts from the journey. I did write a bit while I was there, but the rest of the summer flew by—and here I am, nearly a year later, finally putting it into words.

Since I was going to Egypt, I had to visit Luxor. I’d felt a pull toward the city for years, partly after reading about a Norwegian woman who runs a hotel there—and perhaps even more because I’ve had a sense that parts of my novel are somehow rooted in that very area. So I booked a room at her hotel and went.

The moment I got off the bus in Luxor, a young man approached me and offered to help me find my way. He had been on the same bus, and with so many people rushing to offer their services, it was actually a relief to just deal with one person. We walked a few blocks, and during that short stretch, I received my first marriage proposal in Egypt.

El Phardous Oasis

Eventually, I arrived at El Phardous Oasis—a little paradise. Here I encountered the warm, welcoming side of Egypt and its people. The staff couldn’t do enough to make me feel at home. The food was delicious and affordable, and the atmosphere simply lovely. Even though the hotel was about a 15-minute drive from the city centre, it was the perfect place to stay.

One day I took a tour of the Valley of the Kings, Hatshepsut’s Temple, Karnak, and Luxor Temple—all guided by the knowledgeable Noah. I got a glimpse of ancient times. Standing in front of Tutankhamun’s tomb and seeing his small, shriveled body—only 19 when he died—I felt like an intruder. Isn’t he supposed to rest in peace? Was he murdered, or did he die of natural causes?

By the Nile

Strolling along the harbour by the Nile brought simple pleasures. Women and children, especially, were curious about this pale lady. Several people welcomed me to Luxor, and some asked to take photos with me. I noticed little sign of prejudice or fear of foreigners.

It was mid-June, 45 degrees Celsius, and not tourist season. A few locals came by the hotel to swim. I wore a swimsuit and covered up on the sunbed, but still felt a bit uneasy—every other woman around me was wearing a burkini. The young men seemed more interested in me than in the local girls, which irritated me.

There was a feeling of something being repressed. Sexuality, perhaps?

If you’ve read my novel, you know it’s about how sexual energy can be a source of healing and liberation. I met a German woman about my age, wearing a bikini, accompanied by a much younger man. At first, I thought he was her son, but they acted like lovers. My biases kicked in. I don’t want to have prejudices, so I felt ashamed. But did she really believe he was interested in her? I struggled to stay open. It’s no secret that women over 50 don’t rank high on the wish list of most men our age. Maybe I should have a bit more empathy when someone actually shows us interest—whatever their motivation.

A Boat Ride and a Shift in Perspective

On my last day in Luxor, I took a boat trip on the Nile. I chose the least pushy boatman. I was the only passenger, and the trip was meant to go to Banana Island—though I later found out it wasn’t the real one. Oh well, tourists get fooled all the time…

The young man didn’t talk much but showed me around the place. When we were done, he steered the boat south, and I asked where we were headed.

“Relax,” he said. “You need to see the sunset.” He wanted me to enjoy the journey.

I exhaled and decided to be present. Go with the flow.

He dropped anchor, jumped into the river, and after his swim, let the boat drift north—the Nile flows north, something I hadn’t really thought about before. As the sun began to set, he asked:

“Do you want to come up on the roof?”

Why not? We sat in silence and watched the sunset over the western horizon. Then he suddenly said:

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

I was surprised, but I listened. He spoke about how difficult it is for young men to build a life. I tried to encourage him, said he’d find someone. But no—young women weren’t interested. They had no money. Then I understood. My heart opened to this young, desperate man—and my prejudices began to crumble. I got it. For him, and many other young Egyptian men, the hope is that an older woman might rescue them. Just as young women in the East may look to older men as their saviours.

Love? Hard to say. But maybe a dream? And isn’t falling in love exactly that—a dream, a hope that the other person will fulfil something you long for?

Listening with Your Whole Self

Some time ago, I was asked to write about shifting perspective. And here it was, my answer. It’s about listening—really listening—with your whole being. When we carry prejudice, we’re not open to others’ perspectives. Sometimes I’m a good listener, sometimes not. I may recognise myself in someone’s story and still not be fully present with them. To shift perspective, we need to listen and try to understand the other person’s reality—their truth.

It was a special moment. Intimate and vulnerable. He also told me he had never had sex and revealed such a lack of knowledge about the body and sexuality that I was stunned. I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind: the priestess from my novel, the one who teaches Elham the mysteries of sexuality. But no, I wasn’t going to play priestess here. Still, I shared some knowledge with him.

After I returned home, I watched a documentary about Egypt—and realised this is common. Young people receive no education about the body, sexuality, or intimacy. Not from family, not from school. My impression that sexuality is repressed in Egypt was confirmed. Just like in my novel, it seems that a free human being is viewed as a threat.

Are the authorities trying to control the population? Or is it simply ignorance across the board? Perhaps those in charge know just as little. It’s hard to say. Old patterns are hard to break—especially when you don’t even know there are alternatives.

Freedom, Not Free Sex

No, I’m not going to be a priestess. But I do wish my novel were translated into Arabic. I believe many people there could benefit from it. Sexuality isn’t just about where to place body parts. There’s pleasure in every touch when you let go of the idea of how it’s “supposed to be.” Sexuality can be a liberating force that heals old wounds and connects you to something greater than the body. A freedom to think your own thoughts, live your own life.

And no—I’m not talking about free sex. That’s a misunderstood form of freedom. I’m talking about freedom withinsexuality. Within the body.

Want to know more about my novel? Here’s the link.

Do you have suggestions for future blog topics? Leave a comment below.

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