Two Glaswegian girls had arrived in Luxor, some 650 miles up the Nile and site of many of Egypt’s archaeological treasures, during the middle of the previous night on a charter flight from the U.K. By early afternoon they were understandably still looking a bit groggy, but enthusiastic about starting their holiday.
They had headed for the reception thinking they would get some information when they encountered a busy scene in the hall where a tour leader, Bob Cranwell was giving a quick briefing to his group who had just arrived from Aswan after a two and a half day’s sail in feluccas, those tall and graceful sailboats seen everywhere on the Nile.
The group were part way through a two week adventure tour and were now free for the rest of the day. The Scots lasses earwigged on the briefing, glad to hear some snippets what sounded like well founded advice, where to change money, how to get phone calls made, nice things to buy or do while they were here and what were the points of interest in their immediate area.
As the tour group peeled away with their baggage to their allotted rooms, one of the girls took the chance to get a most vital piece of info from the tour leader and to the amazement of the remaining tourists, said “excuse me, but you sounded as if you knew your way around here so could you tell us, where is the beach ?”
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