Mohamed the Potter

I left Denny to rest at the hotel (his fever did break and he says he is feeling somewhat better), and decided to go to the Egyptian Antiquities Organization Ticket Office some two-three miles up the road from here near the Colossi of Memnon. The plan was to buy all the tickets I needed for the next ten days -- one buys entry tickets for each individual site -- so I could just get up and go each morning. First I had thought of getting a taxi ride, but there wasn't any available nearby so I decided to walk, bad hip, messed-up knee and all. Actually it wasn't so bad, the terrain being absolutely level.

Long story short, but at the end of that long walk I learned that one can only buy what tickets are going to be used on the day of purchase. Maybe they issue only so many tickets for each site each day, or maybe it is to discourage scalping. Oh well!

But it was time wonderfully wasted.

I got to stop by at the office of ARCE (American Research Center in Egypt) across the road from the Colossi of Memnon, and briefly meet with John Shearman, director of ARCE for the Luxor area. We have plans to meet again later in the week and see the wonderful things they have been working on here.

Then I meet Mohamed. He is standing proudly in front of his display of rustic pottery alongside the road. His galabeya does little to conceal his rail-thin frame. His eyes sparkle and his smile is genuine. He invites me in and asks where I am visiting from. California I say. I ask about his pottery -- obviously utilitarian in nature -- and what sort of meals are cooked in the bowls and dishes he makes. The unglazed but highly burnished pots are so much better than modern metal pots and pans, which contain harmful mineral and toxins he says. Much better to use unglazed pottery to cook meals. I say that I am a potter too, but use clay to make sculpture. He raises a curious eyebrow. Would you like to see? I have my iPad with me and pull it out of its padded bag.

Mohamed's eyes grow wide. He's never seen an iPad before. They grow even wider when I show him some of my work, especially the Egyptian-inspired pieces with neon. I feel almost sorry as I can feel the synapses in his brain blowing up like so many overloaded power grid transformers on a three-digit summer day in Southern California.

But he recovers quickly. "You are not a tourist", he says, "you come here to work?" I come here to study, I say, to see the wonderful artwork of the tombs and temples, and be inspired by it all. He tells me that he has worked as a day laborer for the French Egyptology Mission, and then we switch to French, which he is better at than English. By this time he is holding my hand like a long-time friend would, introducing me to his assistant and showing me the wares he just pulled out of his kiln earlier in the day. He invites me to come back for tea. We part after many handshakes and a hug or two.

On the way back an old water wheel captures my attention, as do the verdant fields and distant Theban Necropolis, the latter glowing in golden ocher tones in the late afternoon sun.