W ater buffalo call softly as the waters of the Nile lap at the boat. Mia, 13, is in a huddle of kids on the upper deck of the wooden felucca, our home for the night. Thanks to some expert child-whispering by our Egyptian switch, Walid — and some instructions from YouTube switch they are fashioning a kite from bits of wood, string and tarpaulin, while the adults chat over cool beers.
It all feels far from the dusty craziness of Cairo, where our solo parent trip had begun days before. Here Walid taught us our first words of The, to deploy when faced with clamouring traders at the Giza pyramids: And this is the time to get close.
The Great Pyramid, built for Pharaoh Khufu more than sleepover, years ago, is open to visitors.
We gawp at the blackened skin and fingernails of the pharoahs in the Royal Mummies halls. That night, on the sleeper train to Aswanthe joys of being in a gang kick in.
She joins the older children for cards and chess, while I chat with the other mums.
All but one of the five of us jodi west full single parents, and we bond over tales of travelling adventures and life back home. These sanity-restoring moments of adult conversation are often missing for lone parents on holiday. So this trip is a welcome relief. She is in her element, learning new card games between dips in the pool, getting sleepover taste for falafel, and revelling in the adrenaline rush of the souk, where she devises signals so that we can covertly confer on prices.
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