Monday. Rest. We meet the boat of Mr Robert and the Pole who lived in Neufchâtel.

February 18th, 1850, 10pm

Monday. Rest. We meet the boat of Mr Robert and the Pole who lived in Neufchâtel. Big makeshift rafts made of jugs, paddled with uprooted saplings. Our sailors bring a whore on board, who dances - dance done back to back or head to head. At sunset the Nile is flat, the sky pink, the ground black. On the river’s blue, a pink tint, a reflection of the sky. Before us comes a boat; the sailors sing while paddling. All black in the surrounding light. It boards near us. At dinner Joseph surpasses himself cooking a pâté, as he did in the morning with an omelet.

He comes back from the city - he went to see a girl “who has… (gestures, a pumpkin), which are hard as” (knocking on my writing table). We go.

A primitive brothel. It’s a hut of silt, one must crawl to get in. One can only be crouched down or bent. The roof is covered with bundles of reeds. The lamp is in a hole in the wall. This girl has an horrible face - nice way of getting naked and down flat on the mat in one move - the door didn’t close - 10 piastres for the two of us, Max and I - we think it’s cheap - the sailor at the (non-closing) door claims it’s enough. Moonlight - two dogs on a wall - two wood beams jutting from a wall hurt me.


David Wade said thanks.

Share this moment

Gustave Flaubert

"Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world." [extracts from Flaubert's travel diary written in 1849-1851]

Create a free account

Have an account? Sign in.

Sign up with Facebook

or