DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0300
282 A THOUSAND MILES UP THE NILE.
Lastly, there are the minor inconveniences of sun, sand,
wind, and flies. The whole place radiates heat, and seems
almost to radiate light. The glare from above and the
glare from below are alike intolerable. Dazzled, blinded,
unable to even look at his subject without the aid of smoke-
colored glasses, the sketcher whose tent is pitched upon
the sandslope over against the great temple enjoys a fore-
taste of cremation.
When the wind blows from the north (which at this
time of the year is almost always) the heat is perhaps loss
distressing, but the sand is maddening. It fills your hair,
your eyes, your water-bottles; silts up your color-box; dries
into your skies; and reduces your Chinese white to a gritty
paste the color of salad-dressing. As for the flies, they
have a morbid appetite for water-colors. They follow
your wet brush along the paper, leave their legs in the yel-
low ocher, and plunge with avidity into every little pool of
cobalt as it is mixed ready for use. Nothing disagrees
with them; nothing poisons them—not even olive-green.
It was a delightful time, however — delightful alike for
those who worked and those who rested—-and these small
troubles counted for nothing in the scale. Yet it was
pleasant, all the same, to break away for a day or two, and
be off to Wady Ilalfeh.
Lastly, there are the minor inconveniences of sun, sand,
wind, and flies. The whole place radiates heat, and seems
almost to radiate light. The glare from above and the
glare from below are alike intolerable. Dazzled, blinded,
unable to even look at his subject without the aid of smoke-
colored glasses, the sketcher whose tent is pitched upon
the sandslope over against the great temple enjoys a fore-
taste of cremation.
When the wind blows from the north (which at this
time of the year is almost always) the heat is perhaps loss
distressing, but the sand is maddening. It fills your hair,
your eyes, your water-bottles; silts up your color-box; dries
into your skies; and reduces your Chinese white to a gritty
paste the color of salad-dressing. As for the flies, they
have a morbid appetite for water-colors. They follow
your wet brush along the paper, leave their legs in the yel-
low ocher, and plunge with avidity into every little pool of
cobalt as it is mixed ready for use. Nothing disagrees
with them; nothing poisons them—not even olive-green.
It was a delightful time, however — delightful alike for
those who worked and those who rested—-and these small
troubles counted for nothing in the scale. Yet it was
pleasant, all the same, to break away for a day or two, and
be off to Wady Ilalfeh.