Monday. We ride along the desert

December 10th, 1849, 12am

Monday. We ride along the desert, which subsides and falls over the valley - sun, fresh air - the pyramids of Sakkara are much smaller, and more ruined than the pyramids of Giza. In Sakkara we lost our luggage. I stay in the middle of the village - palm trees - while Max wanders around at full gallop to find our people. A few Arabs were smoking at the foot of an earth wall - yard surrounded by a fence of dry reeds - hens here and there… Our servant in a small blue blouse (he was running with elbows pulled backwards, like a bird, and the head forward), with a rope above it and a small white turban on his head, walked my sweating horse. Some Arabs direct us back to the road and we reach Memphis. Camping on a sort of small headland with palm trees, at the edge of a large pond, remains from the flood; on the left, houses spread and a white holy tomb; in the background, flat view, green.


Cassie, Gully and David Wade said thanks.

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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]

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