Our time is quickly running out. Somehow, this is the last official day of touring with the group. It's been over two weeks, but it seems like we started this only the other day. It might have been Sam who said it – you travel around Egypt in a group, and you bond. True enough. We've become a troupe of happy campers.
It's on the bus by 7:00, and we all take our usual places – a seating plan that was set on the first couple of days back in Luxor. Even though we have different bus, we keep the same seats. Okasha up front with Tom (and Norma, I think. I was never really sure where she was on the bus), Alison, then Gayle, Clair and Eleanor, Susan and Hiram, Maureen, Karlene, myself, Sam, Paul, Rick and Sandy, and then in no particular order: Teri, Jennifer, Gwen, Melissa and Michael, and “the chipmunks” (Catherine and Gwen).
For the third day running, a breeze has kept the usual Cairo smog at bay. As we drive the elevated highway out to Giza, we can see the city stripped of haze. When it's like this, you can actually see the pyramids long before you get to Giza. From a distance, and in shadow, they appear a dark bluish gray in the distance. As the sun climbs in the sky, their limestone goes from pale pink, to a bright white-yellow.
At this hour, the traffic isn't horrible, so we reach the new site entrance in decent time, but then spend 20 minutes getting the special tickets needed to go into the two big pyramids (Khufu and Khafre). In the new system, tour guides are not allowed to buy these (thus saving time); instead, tourists have to line up and buy the tickets themselves. The whole process is slow, and it means you have to know up front what you want to see, rather than doing one pyramid, and then deciding whether you want to see another one or not. I've been all three of the big pyramids already, so I'm happy taking it easy and just wandering around wherever people want to go.
We start with the tombs of Idu and Qar just east of Khufu's pyramid. These are small tombs, with some decent wall reliefs. In a side chamber of Qar's tomb, I thump my chest with my fist to hear the reverberations. It's like being inside an enormous stone drum. The acoustics in tombs is something you should experience at least once in your life.
The pyramid of Henutsen gave us our pyramid fix of the day. You enter around ground level, then descend a steep ramp to an small undecorated burial chamber. As more people entered, we quickly ran out of room, so a number of us ended up standing in an open sarcophagus. Someone asked: “Do we have to sacrifice you to get out?”
What next? Waiting outside the Boat Museum for those people who went into Khufu and Khafre. Karlene and I killed a couple minutes wandering around, taking pictures of anything remotely interesting. A man selling postcards asks us where we're from. “Canada,” I say. “Welcome! Here, gift for you!” and thrusts a plastic package at me containing a headscarf. I immediately raise my hands (so I don't have to take it), and say that we really can't accept such a nice gift. The package falls to the ground. I expected him to pick it but, but he doesn't wait. He just waves goodbye and is gone. “Huh,” I said, and picked it up. Free headscarf.
A minute later, another fellow approaches us. “My brother gave you a scarf. Here – I will show you how to put it on.” This is when he took it from my hands and made to open it. If it's opened, they'll ask you for “something” in return. “Ah! Please don't open it!” I said. “It's easier for us to bring home if you don't open it.”
“OK. I'll take it back,” he said, and was gone. I feel like we've just solved a Rubik's cube. It's usually impossible to get rid of these guys once they latch on to you – they're really good at what they do, and getting them to take “no” for an answer often takes more time than you want to spend. And now we've found out how to avoid the whole thing! Much silly giggling and laughing ensues until we are distracted by something shiny.
Back at the Boat Museum, the group has reassembled, and most of us go in to have a look. I've been here a number of times, so I'm a little less concerned with looking at the boat (which is huge) than listening to Rick talk about boat building techniques, and how the things that look like oars are probably outriggers instead. Oars work best of the boat has a keel, but Khufu's boat does not, so having outriggers would lend some stability to its course as it floated (or was towed) down the Nile. I take a couple of token pictures, but I don't have high hopes for them. The boat is a real challenge to photograph well, even though you can walk all the way around it on a number of catwalks. Oh well. It doesn't really matter.
We take a bus out to the backsight – it's a photo-op. On one of side of a parking lot, you get a magnificent view of the pyramids amidst the Giza sand. On the other side, a neat line of stalls where trinkets and bobbles are sold: resin heads of Nefertiti and Tut,statues of the gods (the figurine of Thoth, apparently playing darts reappears), and fancy plates and tea sets with Egyptian motifs. Haggling is fast and furious; paper and goods change hands. I snap a picture of Maureen buying something, perhaps for the SSEA souq. I figure we can use the picture to authenticate the place of purchase when we get back. Even trinkets need a provenance.
We're dropped off at the top of Khafre's causeway, pausing at the Osireion and a couple tombs, none of which are open to the public. The Sphinx sits at the end of the causeway, surrounded by hordes of people. It's good to see it in the morning light like this, with the sun on its face. It's very big, and like the Step Pyramid at Saqqara, the Antiquities Department is doing work near its tail, adding some new blocks where needed to keep the statue stable.
Lunch at Albadawia. It's just a couple doors down from the KFC/Pizza Hut in front of the Sphinx, but serves actual food instead. It also has a spectacular view of the pyramids and Sphinx, marred only by a billboard put up by the Egyptian government which partially blocks the Sphinx. Still, they lay on a private buffet for us which is very nice, and includes fresh tangerines (which are wonderful) and bananas.
A word about Egyptian bananas. They grow here, so if you have one, it was probably on a tree not too long ago. They're also smaller than we get in Canada, only about 5” long. Back home, I have a trick where I take an unpeeled banana and snap it in half. Works every time there. Works never ever here in Egypt. The banana crushes rather than breaking cleanly, much to the amusement of the other people at the table. I wonder if it's because it's a different banana species, or because they are sill unripe when shipped to Canada so they don't get a chance to mature properly.
There is just time for a two-minute look in Lehnert & Landrock (a bookshop) before boarding the bus. In a spasm of guilt, I buy a couple of postcards (I really haven't sent enough this trip), Gayle picks up a festschrifft, and Karlene knocks over a plate which falls to the floor and smashes into a hundred bits. Time to go.
The drive back to Cairo is uneventful. As they drop from sight, we say our goodbyes to the pyramids “until next time”. And then it's nothing but heavy traffic and block after block of shops and apartment buildings. Karlene and I try to photograph anything interesting. Ordinary people in shops. Street vendors. Pretty birds. Rocks. Oh look – there's a tree. Did you get a picture? Maybe next time.
One bizarre image (from the day before) – as the bus ascended a highway ramp in the middle of nowhere, we saw a man in a very nice suit climbing the embankment towards the roadway. Where was he going? Was he going to cross the 4-6 lanes of traffic on foot? Was he off to make a sale?
Back to the Shepheard Hotel, but now, the song is over. Some people are off to Aswan tonight. Others will stay a day or two longer. Karlene heads out first thing in the morning. In any case, we're all on our own now. No more itineraries, no more touring.
I haven't the foggiest idea what to do next.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010. Dashur.
Something from supper last night did not agree with me, and I awoke feeling a bit like fireworks were going off in my extremities. I thought that breakfast might settle me down, but still feel fractured and out of sorts. A smarter man would have stayed back and slept if off. Instead, I got on the bus. Somewhere around Giza, I began to feel woozy. By the time we got to Dashur, there was nothing for it but to camp out in the tiny serdab of a toilet on the bus (thank goodness) and let my GI tract get the better of me.
This wouldn't be so big a deal, but I did come here with the express purpose of visiting the Bent Pyramid, and here I was, on-site, but on the wrong side of a WC. Maddening. Still – it's better to get close than not being here at all.
We revisited the Saqqara Palm Club for lunch (I had tea), then hightailed it back to Cairo so we could attend an ARCE lecture at 6:00 about the Osireion at Abydos. I pass on the lecture, and spend the evening watching a German-language program about zoo animals, then “A Beautiful Mind” in English.
This wouldn't be so big a deal, but I did come here with the express purpose of visiting the Bent Pyramid, and here I was, on-site, but on the wrong side of a WC. Maddening. Still – it's better to get close than not being here at all.
We revisited the Saqqara Palm Club for lunch (I had tea), then hightailed it back to Cairo so we could attend an ARCE lecture at 6:00 about the Osireion at Abydos. I pass on the lecture, and spend the evening watching a German-language program about zoo animals, then “A Beautiful Mind” in English.
Tuesday, January 19. Saqqara
The day starts with a visit to the new(ish) Imhotep museum at Saqqara. I think the staff were a bit surprised to see anyone there before the usual opening time; they were still mopping the floors when we arrived. It's a fine museum with five galleries and a good assortment of items from the area. I've decided that I really do like these smaller museums; there's enough to satisfy your curiosity, but not so much that you become overwhelmed.
Saqqara is the site of the oldest stone building in the world, Djoser's Step Pyramid. So here's the thing: The Supreme Council for Antiquities is in the process of adding new facing stones to the pyramid. And they've started on the south-east corner where one could previously clearly see that the pyramid started as a mastaba, then was added to a number of times to form the current structure. So now this is covered up with new facing blocks. It is a curious thing to do, but not unprecedented in the very long history of Egyptology. Even the ancient Egyptians occasionally went back and fixed up their old monuments (e.g. the pyramid of Wenis at Saqqara). But why do this work to the Step Pyramid? It's mysterious.
We had a chance to visit a couple of tombs near the Wenis causeway: Irukaptah and Neferhernptah. The tomb of Nyankhra, a doctor and rather important fellow judging from his titles, is nearby. The tomb is currently buried in sand, but a lintel is exposed with fine hieroglyphs.
We take lunch off-site at the Saqqara Palm Club – a buffet with BBQ under palm trees by a swimming pool. It's a relaxing meal with a good selection of dishes. The pumpkin-mango-apricot (?) dessert is a big hit with the foodies who try to suss out its ingredients with moderate success. (45 LE for the buffet, 5 LE for a bottle of water).
At the Pyramid of Teti, dark clouds blow in, and it starts to spit rain. We are also dogged by a large group of Korean tourists who move slowly in and out of tombs. We're exactly the same, but that doesn't make us any happier about it. Why are these other people here at all? Isn't this our site?
Tomb of Kagemeni – Lovely reliefs, some with colour. Karlene tells us about the scene which depicts a man force feeding a basengi. It's also been described as a man feeding a piglet, but if you know dogs, it's clearly a basengi.
Tomb of Ti – some excellent reliefs of boats, offerings, and (by now) the usual tomb stuff. It's the end of the day, so even the most wonderful tomb can come off as a bit ho-hum.
During the tromp back to the bus, it starts to rain. Only Norma has dressed appropriately. The rest of us get wet.
The day ends with a special dinner arranged by our tour company. We dine at a a very ritzy looking club which had a magnificent view of the Cairo citadel. It recalls the glory days of old Cairo – high ceilings, wooden lattice, and fountain in the entrance way. A cool breeze sends us gently on our way back to the hotel.
Saqqara is the site of the oldest stone building in the world, Djoser's Step Pyramid. So here's the thing: The Supreme Council for Antiquities is in the process of adding new facing stones to the pyramid. And they've started on the south-east corner where one could previously clearly see that the pyramid started as a mastaba, then was added to a number of times to form the current structure. So now this is covered up with new facing blocks. It is a curious thing to do, but not unprecedented in the very long history of Egyptology. Even the ancient Egyptians occasionally went back and fixed up their old monuments (e.g. the pyramid of Wenis at Saqqara). But why do this work to the Step Pyramid? It's mysterious.
We had a chance to visit a couple of tombs near the Wenis causeway: Irukaptah and Neferhernptah. The tomb of Nyankhra, a doctor and rather important fellow judging from his titles, is nearby. The tomb is currently buried in sand, but a lintel is exposed with fine hieroglyphs.
We take lunch off-site at the Saqqara Palm Club – a buffet with BBQ under palm trees by a swimming pool. It's a relaxing meal with a good selection of dishes. The pumpkin-mango-apricot (?) dessert is a big hit with the foodies who try to suss out its ingredients with moderate success. (45 LE for the buffet, 5 LE for a bottle of water).
At the Pyramid of Teti, dark clouds blow in, and it starts to spit rain. We are also dogged by a large group of Korean tourists who move slowly in and out of tombs. We're exactly the same, but that doesn't make us any happier about it. Why are these other people here at all? Isn't this our site?
Tomb of Kagemeni – Lovely reliefs, some with colour. Karlene tells us about the scene which depicts a man force feeding a basengi. It's also been described as a man feeding a piglet, but if you know dogs, it's clearly a basengi.
Tomb of Ti – some excellent reliefs of boats, offerings, and (by now) the usual tomb stuff. It's the end of the day, so even the most wonderful tomb can come off as a bit ho-hum.
During the tromp back to the bus, it starts to rain. Only Norma has dressed appropriately. The rest of us get wet.
The day ends with a special dinner arranged by our tour company. We dine at a a very ritzy looking club which had a magnificent view of the Cairo citadel. It recalls the glory days of old Cairo – high ceilings, wooden lattice, and fountain in the entrance way. A cool breeze sends us gently on our way back to the hotel.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2008. Cairo
Editor's Note: The field reports from the last three days in Luxor, allegedly sent, were never received by the front office. The following text has been compiled from the original handwritten notes, and inferences drawn from a series of photographs, developed from a camera which had been couriered to us whole, the film still in-camera. We include this here to give a flavor of those final days.
Friday (January 15): Thebes
Tomb of Rekhmire (TT 100). Scenes of daily life, craftsmen. A woman seen from behind, looking back over her right shoulder. A tall sloped gallery ending with a false door and statue niche. A pair of guards each use a piece of cardboard covered in tin foil to reflect sunlight from one, to the the other, and then onto the images on the walls.
Tomb of Sennefer (TT 96). Grape vine ceilings. Great dead cows with eyes and lolling tongues. A chest shown to contain what look like pleated white kilts or striated angular mushrooms.
Valley of the Kings: Tuthmosis III, Montuhirkopshef, and Ramesses III (again). As the sun sets quickly, and for a last time, the cliffs glow gold against the azure sky. A bird of prey circles far, far above, so high as to be something separate from this world. (I am later told that a rat was spotted in one of the tombs, but my Valley of the Kings was magical.)
Saturday (January 16): "North! To Abydos, come on, the rush is on."
A count of the police checkpoints is made en route. It comes in around 45, but that includes barriers set up at intersections and railroad crossing which may be there simply to get people to slow down in a country where road signs are purely decorative. Still – counting checkpoints with armed policemen still gives you between 25 and 30. Once, when we had to show our papers, we were asked whether we had allowed any “strange men” onto the bus. I looked around and wondered: How strange do you mean?
Sunday (January 17): Gebel el Silsila, Edfu, and El Kab
Pray that you never go to an Ancient Egyptian quarry unless it's been out of business for at least 3000 years. If you had to work in one, you'd be entering a world of hurt that would last the rest of your brief life. At Gebel el Silsila, huge sandstone slabs were cut from the rock by hand, day in, and day out. January is a gentle month here for weather, but it is still hot and humid, and climbing the hills of loose stone is a challenge. Half an hour in, we were all covered in sweat. An hour in, and our faces had gone beyond pink. A man in a stylish business suit appears and accompanies us on our trek. He says nothing, but with every step, his jacket falls open, and the muzzle of a machine gun emerges.
We're reminded to drink water to ward off sunstroke. Some succumb anyway, and we leave them behind in the halfa grass as our guide leads us farther and farther upstream.
On the water: Crossing the Nile on a small transport, outboard engine coughing exhaust at us. We have trouble landing on the west bank because the water level is too low to allow us to reach the pier. The crew assemble a makeshift jetty using large rocks from the shore. We disembark like kings.
Temple of Horemheb. The guard eyes our passes with suspicion, and tries to delay us by inspecting and writing down the numbers on each of them. No one comes here, and our presence has given him a job to do. A book is opened. Numbers are copied into a ledger. The book is closed. Who knows when it will be open again, or whether it will ever be read.
Return trip is uneventful. After hours in the sun, the man in the suit still looks as if he had just stepped out of a Milan salon. He refuses to speak, or sweat, as if to make his point.
Monday (January 18): Transit.
It has rained in the night, heavily, and with thunder and lightning. Awake at 4:00 am, long before the muezzin calls the morning prayer as he has every day of our stay here. I consider phoning him now at this ungodly hour to return the favour, but reconsider after I contemplate the inevitable reprisals.
On the bus by 5:30. Flight from Luxor to Cairo. Arrive back at the Shepheard by noon. Am exhausted, but wired at the same time. Spent the afternoon reprising my role as a male escort and walk through Garden City with Karlene. We play spot-the-embassy and mostly relish being some place where no one is trying to sell us anything. The streets are narrow and twisty, but are lined with lovely big trees, and enormous old buildings which suggest the elegance of the city in its good old days. The streets are also lined with parked cars, some just inches away from the vehicles in front and behind, some parked sideways so their back tires are up on the sidewalk. On one street corner, an old man shows us the only path through an especially tight knot of cars. I thank him, giving him a friendly wave, and then he asks, “You Canadian?” I tell him yes. “Canada – good,” he replies. And then we're off again. How he managed to guess, I have no idea. It's like the guard at the Egyptian Museum who guessed that my father was Japanese just by looking at my face. And this is not a probability thing; I'm not hiding the wrong guesses from you. Somehow, they look, and they just know.
Evening: Most of the group go to Felfela for supper. I'm the only one who knows where the restaurant is, so lead those who want to walk through the underground walkways and up Talat Harb. The rest follow a few minutes later. The food is plentiful and very tasty – all Egyptian fare. Some excellent grape leaves, stuff vegetables, tahina, and a refreshing lemonade. Coming back we cross the busy roads around Tahrir Square like old Cairo hands. We don't get lost. We don't lose anyone. I feel like I'm starting to get this right.
Friday (January 15): Thebes
Tomb of Rekhmire (TT 100). Scenes of daily life, craftsmen. A woman seen from behind, looking back over her right shoulder. A tall sloped gallery ending with a false door and statue niche. A pair of guards each use a piece of cardboard covered in tin foil to reflect sunlight from one, to the the other, and then onto the images on the walls.
Tomb of Sennefer (TT 96). Grape vine ceilings. Great dead cows with eyes and lolling tongues. A chest shown to contain what look like pleated white kilts or striated angular mushrooms.
Valley of the Kings: Tuthmosis III, Montuhirkopshef, and Ramesses III (again). As the sun sets quickly, and for a last time, the cliffs glow gold against the azure sky. A bird of prey circles far, far above, so high as to be something separate from this world. (I am later told that a rat was spotted in one of the tombs, but my Valley of the Kings was magical.)
Saturday (January 16): "North! To Abydos, come on, the rush is on."
A count of the police checkpoints is made en route. It comes in around 45, but that includes barriers set up at intersections and railroad crossing which may be there simply to get people to slow down in a country where road signs are purely decorative. Still – counting checkpoints with armed policemen still gives you between 25 and 30. Once, when we had to show our papers, we were asked whether we had allowed any “strange men” onto the bus. I looked around and wondered: How strange do you mean?
Sunday (January 17): Gebel el Silsila, Edfu, and El Kab
Pray that you never go to an Ancient Egyptian quarry unless it's been out of business for at least 3000 years. If you had to work in one, you'd be entering a world of hurt that would last the rest of your brief life. At Gebel el Silsila, huge sandstone slabs were cut from the rock by hand, day in, and day out. January is a gentle month here for weather, but it is still hot and humid, and climbing the hills of loose stone is a challenge. Half an hour in, we were all covered in sweat. An hour in, and our faces had gone beyond pink. A man in a stylish business suit appears and accompanies us on our trek. He says nothing, but with every step, his jacket falls open, and the muzzle of a machine gun emerges.
We're reminded to drink water to ward off sunstroke. Some succumb anyway, and we leave them behind in the halfa grass as our guide leads us farther and farther upstream.
On the water: Crossing the Nile on a small transport, outboard engine coughing exhaust at us. We have trouble landing on the west bank because the water level is too low to allow us to reach the pier. The crew assemble a makeshift jetty using large rocks from the shore. We disembark like kings.
Temple of Horemheb. The guard eyes our passes with suspicion, and tries to delay us by inspecting and writing down the numbers on each of them. No one comes here, and our presence has given him a job to do. A book is opened. Numbers are copied into a ledger. The book is closed. Who knows when it will be open again, or whether it will ever be read.
Return trip is uneventful. After hours in the sun, the man in the suit still looks as if he had just stepped out of a Milan salon. He refuses to speak, or sweat, as if to make his point.
Monday (January 18): Transit.
It has rained in the night, heavily, and with thunder and lightning. Awake at 4:00 am, long before the muezzin calls the morning prayer as he has every day of our stay here. I consider phoning him now at this ungodly hour to return the favour, but reconsider after I contemplate the inevitable reprisals.
On the bus by 5:30. Flight from Luxor to Cairo. Arrive back at the Shepheard by noon. Am exhausted, but wired at the same time. Spent the afternoon reprising my role as a male escort and walk through Garden City with Karlene. We play spot-the-embassy and mostly relish being some place where no one is trying to sell us anything. The streets are narrow and twisty, but are lined with lovely big trees, and enormous old buildings which suggest the elegance of the city in its good old days. The streets are also lined with parked cars, some just inches away from the vehicles in front and behind, some parked sideways so their back tires are up on the sidewalk. On one street corner, an old man shows us the only path through an especially tight knot of cars. I thank him, giving him a friendly wave, and then he asks, “You Canadian?” I tell him yes. “Canada – good,” he replies. And then we're off again. How he managed to guess, I have no idea. It's like the guard at the Egyptian Museum who guessed that my father was Japanese just by looking at my face. And this is not a probability thing; I'm not hiding the wrong guesses from you. Somehow, they look, and they just know.
Evening: Most of the group go to Felfela for supper. I'm the only one who knows where the restaurant is, so lead those who want to walk through the underground walkways and up Talat Harb. The rest follow a few minutes later. The food is plentiful and very tasty – all Egyptian fare. Some excellent grape leaves, stuff vegetables, tahina, and a refreshing lemonade. Coming back we cross the busy roads around Tahrir Square like old Cairo hands. We don't get lost. We don't lose anyone. I feel like I'm starting to get this right.
Thursday, January 14, 2010. Luxor.
I woke up this morning at quarter after five to the call to prayer from at least one mosque. Possibly two. Possibly even more. On other trips here, I used to rouse myself early just the pleasure of hearing The Call, but this time, sleeping got priority. If only mosques had a snooze bar.
Today's agenda had only one thing on it: Karnak, the largest extant religious complex in the world.
A side note: one of the houses on the road closest to the Mut precinct was demolished this morning. As we watched. While the caterpillar doing the demolition occupied most of the street. I can only offer further praise to our driver who maneuvered our behemoth of a bus around the construction and on to the main Karnak entrance. Intellectually, I know driving is just a skill which can be learned, but to see it in action is a beautiful thing nonetheless.
A few words about Karnak. It's big. Really big. So incredibly mind-numbingly big (and so on). You could spend a week here and still not see everything. Let me illustrate by listing the things we visited:
1.The avenue of cryosphinxes
2.The pylon of Nectanebo I.
3.Hatshepsut's Red Chapel
4.The festival hall of Tuthmosis IV
5.The barque shrines of Senwosret I and Amenhotep I
6.The Seti I reliefs on the north side of the Hypostyle Hall
7.The Temple of Ptah
8.The chapel of Osiris Hekadjet
9.The block yard north of the temple of Khonsu
10.The temple of Khonsu
11.The festival temple of Amenhotep II
12.The 9th, 8th, and 7th pylons (in that order)
13.The temple of Ramesses III
14.The Hypostyle Hall of Seti I / Ramesses II
15.The obelisk of Hatshepsut
16.The barque shrine of Amun
Even though we were there all day, a few of us felt a bit rushed when it came time to scramble to the bus at 4:00. But it was good that we packed up when we did – by then our strength had left us. A day in the sun with nothing but temples within temples to explore. Wonderful.
And yet – some tours herd dozens of people in, take them to the hypostyle hall and the sacred lake, give them another 20 minutes to look at whatever they like, then hustle everyone out. I'm so glad I'm not doing that. Many people did though. I heard Russian and Japanese being spoken today, though there were probably others in the dozens of other tours.
Here are the notable things for the day:
1.A couple of years ago, the area between the temple and the Corniche was turned into an open plaza with a couple of palm trees and almost no shade (sound familiar?) It now sports an interpretive center a bit like the one in the Valley of the Kings, but the really cool thing is the model of Karnak inside it. It's absolutely wonderful, and lets you see where all the temples and pylons are in three dimensions.
2.There is new, excellent, signage along the main axis of the temple. Each board has photos and/or drawings of what's nearby (e.g. the Second Pylon, or The Wabet, or whatever), and each is in French, Arabic, and English.
3.A French team is currently working on the Temple of Ptah – cleaning and consolidating, by the looks of it. It's a small temple that's a bit out of the way, and any help they can give it is a good thing. Of the the team took a couple of minutes to show us around the back of the temple to show us the reliefs on the back wall. Another member of the team followed us around silently at a discrete distance.
4.Okashsa drew out attention to a number of reliefs in the Hypostyle Hall which had been obviously recut at some point. For the rest of the day, we were on the lookout for other examples.
5.The Khonsu temple is undergoing renovation. Some of the formerly treacherous flooring has been replaced by modern (level) stones that are in keeping of the style of the original blocks.
6.There is a lot of thorn grass out by the 7th 8th, and 9th pylons. If you wear sandals, you have to be really careful because the thorns will jab you repeatedly and enduringly.
7.Conversation on the bus this morning involved a lot of talk about the hotel bidets. Someone suggested that Karlene write a book about it. I provided the title: “Cairo by Night, Luxor Bidet”.
8.In the Ramesses III temple, the colossal statues on the south side of the first hall once wore the white crown of Upper Egypt (which is the south part of the country), while the statues on the north side wore the red crown of Lower Egypt (which is in the north). What's curious is that all of the southern statues have been decapitated just above the armpit, just like the statues in the first court of Medinet Habu (also Ramesses III). The north statues fared better and only have their faces missing. Why?
9.Question: How many pictures of obelisks does one really need? My answer: All of them. (This question might be rhetorical. Or a trick. I'm not sure.)
10.Kudos to Okasha for putting up with the group today – there was a tendency for people to scatter at the points where he wanted to point out some especially interesting thing. Unlike many, many other guides, Dr. Okasha El Daly actually has something good to say! We really are lucky to have him with us.
Today's agenda had only one thing on it: Karnak, the largest extant religious complex in the world.
A side note: one of the houses on the road closest to the Mut precinct was demolished this morning. As we watched. While the caterpillar doing the demolition occupied most of the street. I can only offer further praise to our driver who maneuvered our behemoth of a bus around the construction and on to the main Karnak entrance. Intellectually, I know driving is just a skill which can be learned, but to see it in action is a beautiful thing nonetheless.
A few words about Karnak. It's big. Really big. So incredibly mind-numbingly big (and so on). You could spend a week here and still not see everything. Let me illustrate by listing the things we visited:
1.The avenue of cryosphinxes
2.The pylon of Nectanebo I.
3.Hatshepsut's Red Chapel
4.The festival hall of Tuthmosis IV
5.The barque shrines of Senwosret I and Amenhotep I
6.The Seti I reliefs on the north side of the Hypostyle Hall
7.The Temple of Ptah
8.The chapel of Osiris Hekadjet
9.The block yard north of the temple of Khonsu
10.The temple of Khonsu
11.The festival temple of Amenhotep II
12.The 9th, 8th, and 7th pylons (in that order)
13.The temple of Ramesses III
14.The Hypostyle Hall of Seti I / Ramesses II
15.The obelisk of Hatshepsut
16.The barque shrine of Amun
Even though we were there all day, a few of us felt a bit rushed when it came time to scramble to the bus at 4:00. But it was good that we packed up when we did – by then our strength had left us. A day in the sun with nothing but temples within temples to explore. Wonderful.
And yet – some tours herd dozens of people in, take them to the hypostyle hall and the sacred lake, give them another 20 minutes to look at whatever they like, then hustle everyone out. I'm so glad I'm not doing that. Many people did though. I heard Russian and Japanese being spoken today, though there were probably others in the dozens of other tours.
Here are the notable things for the day:
1.A couple of years ago, the area between the temple and the Corniche was turned into an open plaza with a couple of palm trees and almost no shade (sound familiar?) It now sports an interpretive center a bit like the one in the Valley of the Kings, but the really cool thing is the model of Karnak inside it. It's absolutely wonderful, and lets you see where all the temples and pylons are in three dimensions.
2.There is new, excellent, signage along the main axis of the temple. Each board has photos and/or drawings of what's nearby (e.g. the Second Pylon, or The Wabet, or whatever), and each is in French, Arabic, and English.
3.A French team is currently working on the Temple of Ptah – cleaning and consolidating, by the looks of it. It's a small temple that's a bit out of the way, and any help they can give it is a good thing. Of the the team took a couple of minutes to show us around the back of the temple to show us the reliefs on the back wall. Another member of the team followed us around silently at a discrete distance.
4.Okashsa drew out attention to a number of reliefs in the Hypostyle Hall which had been obviously recut at some point. For the rest of the day, we were on the lookout for other examples.
5.The Khonsu temple is undergoing renovation. Some of the formerly treacherous flooring has been replaced by modern (level) stones that are in keeping of the style of the original blocks.
6.There is a lot of thorn grass out by the 7th 8th, and 9th pylons. If you wear sandals, you have to be really careful because the thorns will jab you repeatedly and enduringly.
7.Conversation on the bus this morning involved a lot of talk about the hotel bidets. Someone suggested that Karlene write a book about it. I provided the title: “Cairo by Night, Luxor Bidet”.
8.In the Ramesses III temple, the colossal statues on the south side of the first hall once wore the white crown of Upper Egypt (which is the south part of the country), while the statues on the north side wore the red crown of Lower Egypt (which is in the north). What's curious is that all of the southern statues have been decapitated just above the armpit, just like the statues in the first court of Medinet Habu (also Ramesses III). The north statues fared better and only have their faces missing. Why?
9.Question: How many pictures of obelisks does one really need? My answer: All of them. (This question might be rhetorical. Or a trick. I'm not sure.)
10.Kudos to Okasha for putting up with the group today – there was a tendency for people to scatter at the points where he wanted to point out some especially interesting thing. Unlike many, many other guides, Dr. Okasha El Daly actually has something good to say! We really are lucky to have him with us.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010. Luxor.
The Morning:
Deir el Medina: Tombs of Sennedjem (TT 1), Inherkha (TT 355), Pashedu (TT 3). Tombs of the Nobles: Roy and Shuroy.
Lunch:
Back to the Hapy Habu. The construction in front of the restaurant is picking up pace. There is no longer room for the bus to park out front, so our driver gets us close, and we walk the remaining distance. Out driver is the finest I have ever seen, by the way. He navigates our enormous sight-seeing bus thorough narrow streets with the most expert aplomb. And he can do it in reverse too. Astounding.
The Afternoon:
One more visit to the Valley of the Kings. We start with the tomb of Ay in the Western Valley. The decoration is very good, and largely complete. There was a recent issue of KMT that contained an article describing it, but being there works a lot better. A quick swivel of your head and you can see what's where and how it all fits together. It's worth climbing the 145 stairs to see it. And the Western Valley is splendid in its silence. You can simply stand there, yellow-pink rock sloping away on either side, and, if you are still, you can hear – nothing.
In the main valley, I dragged some of the Texans into the tomb of Ramesses I. It's small, and there are a bunch of stairs to climb down, but the colour is vibrant, and the damage is minimal. The last time I was in it, two years ago, I think it must have been just recently restored, because it was immaculate. This year, there has been a buildup of fine dust on the walls from a fan which blows from an unfinished storage room into the main chamber. Still – the reliefs of the King, the gods, and the great bulls (they're not cows; count the tails) blow me away
Next tomb: Ramesses 9. This was the last tomb made here, and the people who made it probably knew it because it's got it all – all the best books, all the best artwork. We spent some time in the burial chamber at the back of the tomb looking at the two depictions of Nut, back to back, and painted on the uneven ceiling. Gayle explained the events depicted on the side to the reis, who seemed very interested and appreciative. Then, for a special treat, we stayed in the chamber while the reis went back to the mouth of the tomb and turned off the lights. Everything was dark for the moments our eyes took to adjust to the gloom, but gradually, we could see light entering from the valley which lit the two paintings on the very back of the tomb. This was in the late afternoon, around 4:30; earlier in the day when the sun hits the valley directly, it would have been even brighter. I wonder if this made it possible to work on the tomb by natural light alone rather than relying on oil lamps.
Last Tomb: Ramesses 3. This is a very long tomb with splendid painted reliefs with lots of colour showing guardians of the underworld and the King. The burial chamber is in poor condition due to earthquakes (I think). Most of the decoration has come off the walls, leaving raw and uneven limestone. Still, it's an astounding effort you might expect from the King who had Medinet Habu built.
The Evening: Dinner with Maureen in the hotel's Italian restaurant. I had the manicotti which was almost, but not quite completely unlike manicotti. It was, however, bubbling hot and filled with spinach and tomatoes. Just what I needed. While we were there, a boisterous group of Egyptian businessmen in dark suits came in, partook of the buffet, and then abruptly left, their cell phones ringing throughout. Maureen and I dine languidly (if that's a word), and then I retired to do laundry.
Faves of the Day:
1.In the tomb of Shuroy: Just to the left as you go in, the tomb decoration is only sketched out in red paint. It isn't finished. There is a figure of an underworld guardian with the head of a hare and the body of a man; it's holding a knife. Wonderful.
2.The astronomical ceiling in the tomb of Ramesses 9. I just like astronomical ceilings – the navy blue background, figures representing the hours of the night drawn in yellow-gold. It has the same mystique for me as old European star charts with elaborate Greek gods shown scattered in the sky.
3.Paul's summary comment on Sennedjem's tomb: “Nice work.”
Commentary:
Something happened this morning at Deir el-Medina which set the tone for the day. A few of us crazies kept the others waiting as we explored The Pit behind the Ptolemaic temple. We were shooting pictures fast and furiously of anything even faintly interesting. (Egyptofile's maxim: if you don't know what you're looking at, take a picture and figure it out later.) As we hustled back to the bus, Michael asked me if I was an Egyptologist. What a kind thing to ask. I replied that I wrote software for a living. “Oh. So you've got memory.” Well, no, I thought. At 43, I barely have any memory left at all. Mostly I forget things as quickly as possible, sometimes sooner. In fact, to live a stateless life, being in the present, in the moment, is something I aspire to. But how to put that all into words in response to his question?
And then I understood that he was referring to the memory card in my digital camera.
Some people (e.g. Gayle) are good at communicating. She's a master. It seems effortless for her. Me – I start every conversation with the same lurch as a kid who's been caught picking his nose in class. Words spill out of my mouth, and all the wrong words, and in the wrong order and it's terribly uncool, but that's the way it is. And so, I spent the rest of the day feeling gawky and gangly, faintly foolish and uncool. I'm not complaining or anything; I'm living the dream here, but it's left me a bit subdued.
As I write this, it's 10:58. So much for turning in early.
Deir el Medina: Tombs of Sennedjem (TT 1), Inherkha (TT 355), Pashedu (TT 3). Tombs of the Nobles: Roy and Shuroy.
Lunch:
Back to the Hapy Habu. The construction in front of the restaurant is picking up pace. There is no longer room for the bus to park out front, so our driver gets us close, and we walk the remaining distance. Out driver is the finest I have ever seen, by the way. He navigates our enormous sight-seeing bus thorough narrow streets with the most expert aplomb. And he can do it in reverse too. Astounding.
The Afternoon:
One more visit to the Valley of the Kings. We start with the tomb of Ay in the Western Valley. The decoration is very good, and largely complete. There was a recent issue of KMT that contained an article describing it, but being there works a lot better. A quick swivel of your head and you can see what's where and how it all fits together. It's worth climbing the 145 stairs to see it. And the Western Valley is splendid in its silence. You can simply stand there, yellow-pink rock sloping away on either side, and, if you are still, you can hear – nothing.
In the main valley, I dragged some of the Texans into the tomb of Ramesses I. It's small, and there are a bunch of stairs to climb down, but the colour is vibrant, and the damage is minimal. The last time I was in it, two years ago, I think it must have been just recently restored, because it was immaculate. This year, there has been a buildup of fine dust on the walls from a fan which blows from an unfinished storage room into the main chamber. Still – the reliefs of the King, the gods, and the great bulls (they're not cows; count the tails) blow me away
Next tomb: Ramesses 9. This was the last tomb made here, and the people who made it probably knew it because it's got it all – all the best books, all the best artwork. We spent some time in the burial chamber at the back of the tomb looking at the two depictions of Nut, back to back, and painted on the uneven ceiling. Gayle explained the events depicted on the side to the reis, who seemed very interested and appreciative. Then, for a special treat, we stayed in the chamber while the reis went back to the mouth of the tomb and turned off the lights. Everything was dark for the moments our eyes took to adjust to the gloom, but gradually, we could see light entering from the valley which lit the two paintings on the very back of the tomb. This was in the late afternoon, around 4:30; earlier in the day when the sun hits the valley directly, it would have been even brighter. I wonder if this made it possible to work on the tomb by natural light alone rather than relying on oil lamps.
Last Tomb: Ramesses 3. This is a very long tomb with splendid painted reliefs with lots of colour showing guardians of the underworld and the King. The burial chamber is in poor condition due to earthquakes (I think). Most of the decoration has come off the walls, leaving raw and uneven limestone. Still, it's an astounding effort you might expect from the King who had Medinet Habu built.
The Evening: Dinner with Maureen in the hotel's Italian restaurant. I had the manicotti which was almost, but not quite completely unlike manicotti. It was, however, bubbling hot and filled with spinach and tomatoes. Just what I needed. While we were there, a boisterous group of Egyptian businessmen in dark suits came in, partook of the buffet, and then abruptly left, their cell phones ringing throughout. Maureen and I dine languidly (if that's a word), and then I retired to do laundry.
Faves of the Day:
1.In the tomb of Shuroy: Just to the left as you go in, the tomb decoration is only sketched out in red paint. It isn't finished. There is a figure of an underworld guardian with the head of a hare and the body of a man; it's holding a knife. Wonderful.
2.The astronomical ceiling in the tomb of Ramesses 9. I just like astronomical ceilings – the navy blue background, figures representing the hours of the night drawn in yellow-gold. It has the same mystique for me as old European star charts with elaborate Greek gods shown scattered in the sky.
3.Paul's summary comment on Sennedjem's tomb: “Nice work.”
Commentary:
Something happened this morning at Deir el-Medina which set the tone for the day. A few of us crazies kept the others waiting as we explored The Pit behind the Ptolemaic temple. We were shooting pictures fast and furiously of anything even faintly interesting. (Egyptofile's maxim: if you don't know what you're looking at, take a picture and figure it out later.) As we hustled back to the bus, Michael asked me if I was an Egyptologist. What a kind thing to ask. I replied that I wrote software for a living. “Oh. So you've got memory.” Well, no, I thought. At 43, I barely have any memory left at all. Mostly I forget things as quickly as possible, sometimes sooner. In fact, to live a stateless life, being in the present, in the moment, is something I aspire to. But how to put that all into words in response to his question?
And then I understood that he was referring to the memory card in my digital camera.
Some people (e.g. Gayle) are good at communicating. She's a master. It seems effortless for her. Me – I start every conversation with the same lurch as a kid who's been caught picking his nose in class. Words spill out of my mouth, and all the wrong words, and in the wrong order and it's terribly uncool, but that's the way it is. And so, I spent the rest of the day feeling gawky and gangly, faintly foolish and uncool. I'm not complaining or anything; I'm living the dream here, but it's left me a bit subdued.
As I write this, it's 10:58. So much for turning in early.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010. Luxor.
I'm sleeping in later and later now, so to make the 7:00 bus call, I'm eating breakfast somewhat faster. Less witty conversation, and more shoveling, that's my plan.
It's another day on the West Bank. We start at Malkata, the palace of Amenhotep III and his queen, Tiye. It's out behind Medinet Habu, and there really isn't much left of it except the lower two or three layers of mud brick. They're surprised to see us there; tourists seldom visit, maybe because the way the bus lurches fore and aft as it navigates the rolling dirt road. We're there only for a few minutes, enough time to get a sense of the size of the site. As we leave, a hot air balloon sets settles through the dry air, scouting for a place to land.
The next stop was Medinet Habu, but first, a bit of unfinished business from the last trip in 2008. To the west of Malkata is the Muhareb Monastery. A friend of mine back home has Egyptian roots, and the same name as the monastery. I was here in 2008, but didn't get a chance to take any pictures of the place. This time, I shot the building from the road and its road sign, just in case there was any doubt.
On to Medinet Habu, the most colourful temple I've been to, as measured subjectively, and ignoring the temple of Ramesses II at Abydos which is smaller and less complete. You could argue with me, I suppose, but I just like Medinet Habu better. Here's what I looked at: the Migdol, the temple of Amenirdis, the first pylon, the north exterior wall, the west exterior wall, Butehamun's house. (Butehamun was an official who carried out the order to strip the royal burials in the Valley of the Kings in order to finance a war. The remains of his house are within the temple enclosure; you can visit it today – just look for four scalloped columns near the temenos wall.) What else? The south exterior wall, the royal palace, the first court, the second court, the sanctuary with its side rooms, then back out of the temple. Finally: the Graeco-Roman gateways near the site entrance. Clear sunny skies gave us wonderful light for seeing the reliefs and inscriptions. Gayle, Hiram, and I happily snapped scads of pictures before joining the rest of the group who had already retired to the Hapy Habu for lunch.
The Hapy Habu is on a small street that runs by Medinet Habu. This week, construction crews are tearing up the road with heavy diesel-breathing excavators. As a result, our lunch is marked with the nearby sound of construction except when they pause for midday prayers. Today, they serve pigeon to some of the group. I stick with the vegetarian fare: moussaka, hummus, something that looked like tadziki with dill (but wasn't), white beans, and rice. Bananas and oranges for dessert. We got the feeling that the staff is happy for the repeat business.
The pace is starting to wear on some of the group, so instead of returning to the Valley of the Kings, we opt for the less strenuous Valley of the Queens instead. It's still hot, but at least there is somewhat less climbing involved. We see three tombs: Titi, Kha-em-waset, and Seth-her-kopesh-ef. They are in pretty good shape, and feature figures from the Books of the Dead – typically with human bodies and animal heads, usually carrying a knife in each hand. Cool stuff.
Gayle skipped a tomb or two to investigate the cleft of the valley to search for a reported pool of water that is always wet. Usually, the guards keep you from going back there, but today Okashsa reported it was OK. I wasn't with her, but she reports that there is no such pool of water, though there are two walls made of stones and boulders – purpose unknown.
A note to fellow travelers: you cannot bring cameras into the Valley of the Queens or the Valley of the Kings any more. Whatever.
It's another day on the West Bank. We start at Malkata, the palace of Amenhotep III and his queen, Tiye. It's out behind Medinet Habu, and there really isn't much left of it except the lower two or three layers of mud brick. They're surprised to see us there; tourists seldom visit, maybe because the way the bus lurches fore and aft as it navigates the rolling dirt road. We're there only for a few minutes, enough time to get a sense of the size of the site. As we leave, a hot air balloon sets settles through the dry air, scouting for a place to land.
The next stop was Medinet Habu, but first, a bit of unfinished business from the last trip in 2008. To the west of Malkata is the Muhareb Monastery. A friend of mine back home has Egyptian roots, and the same name as the monastery. I was here in 2008, but didn't get a chance to take any pictures of the place. This time, I shot the building from the road and its road sign, just in case there was any doubt.
On to Medinet Habu, the most colourful temple I've been to, as measured subjectively, and ignoring the temple of Ramesses II at Abydos which is smaller and less complete. You could argue with me, I suppose, but I just like Medinet Habu better. Here's what I looked at: the Migdol, the temple of Amenirdis, the first pylon, the north exterior wall, the west exterior wall, Butehamun's house. (Butehamun was an official who carried out the order to strip the royal burials in the Valley of the Kings in order to finance a war. The remains of his house are within the temple enclosure; you can visit it today – just look for four scalloped columns near the temenos wall.) What else? The south exterior wall, the royal palace, the first court, the second court, the sanctuary with its side rooms, then back out of the temple. Finally: the Graeco-Roman gateways near the site entrance. Clear sunny skies gave us wonderful light for seeing the reliefs and inscriptions. Gayle, Hiram, and I happily snapped scads of pictures before joining the rest of the group who had already retired to the Hapy Habu for lunch.
The Hapy Habu is on a small street that runs by Medinet Habu. This week, construction crews are tearing up the road with heavy diesel-breathing excavators. As a result, our lunch is marked with the nearby sound of construction except when they pause for midday prayers. Today, they serve pigeon to some of the group. I stick with the vegetarian fare: moussaka, hummus, something that looked like tadziki with dill (but wasn't), white beans, and rice. Bananas and oranges for dessert. We got the feeling that the staff is happy for the repeat business.
The pace is starting to wear on some of the group, so instead of returning to the Valley of the Kings, we opt for the less strenuous Valley of the Queens instead. It's still hot, but at least there is somewhat less climbing involved. We see three tombs: Titi, Kha-em-waset, and Seth-her-kopesh-ef. They are in pretty good shape, and feature figures from the Books of the Dead – typically with human bodies and animal heads, usually carrying a knife in each hand. Cool stuff.
Gayle skipped a tomb or two to investigate the cleft of the valley to search for a reported pool of water that is always wet. Usually, the guards keep you from going back there, but today Okashsa reported it was OK. I wasn't with her, but she reports that there is no such pool of water, though there are two walls made of stones and boulders – purpose unknown.
A note to fellow travelers: you cannot bring cameras into the Valley of the Queens or the Valley of the Kings any more. Whatever.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010. 5:45 pm. Luxor
The second day of touring on the West Bank at Luxor. On the bus by 7:00 – tombs of the Nobles. Ramose (TT 55), Khaemhet (TT57), Benia called Pahekamen, Mena (TT 69), and Nakht (TT 52). Ended the morning with a visit to a saff tomb high atop the hills. It is now largely undecorated except for fragments of coloured ceiling plaster which bears a checkerboard pattern.
In the tomb of Ramose, Sandy and I notice a relief of Akhenaten where a vulture is depicted behind the seated king, but not behind his head as in the Old Kingdom statue of Khafre, but rather on the seat itself. It's spreading its protective wings around Akhenaten's waist and behind. Huh.
Gurna has changed a lot in recent years. Most of the houses have been demolished, leaving only a handful of alabaster shops. What hasn't changed was the number of young girls selling dolls for $1 USD and the persistence of local salesmen who want you to buy their small statues. Their stories range from “my grandfather found this” to “I made this” depending on the audience. For some reason, they pick up on the fact that I don't want to buy anything and mostly leave me alone. But... anyone who had obviously bought something got their full attention. One guy with aviator sunglasses stuck with us the whole day, offering this and that whenever we weren't actually in a tomb. A fair bit of shopping was done, and I think they made out OK.
Lunch at the Happy Habu. Baba ganoush, fried eggplant, deep fried cauliflower, deep fried eggplant, stewed okra, stewed potatos with tomatoes. Quick visit to a bookshop on the same block, right next to the entrance to Medinet Habu. Was tempted by a new AUC book on ancient Egyptian art, but restrain myself.
Afternoon: Ramesseum. The day is bright and hot (32C) – a far cry from the last couple of times I have been here. We arrived around 1:45 and stayed for an hour and a half. We toured the court and hypostyle hall and the back rooms, ending with the storage magazines outside the temple. This was my first time to the magazines, which are made of black mud brick. There is a columned access way which runs the length of one of the storage magazines; we theorize this was where the food was dispensed, its grandeur designed to impress upon people that it's pharaoh who's feeding you.
On the way out, we got a really good look at the first pylon. The sun is in position to give us good raking light so we can clearly see the inscriptions and reliefs (many of which depict Ramesses II in his chariot, or simply larger-that-life.) On my previous visit, it was overcast, and the pylon was mostly a wash of tope.
By the end, we're all pretty bagged from all the climbing and walking.
Tonight: Luxor Temple. Meet at 7:00 pm in the hotel lobby. I will probably go, but I'm seriously in need of rather a lot of sleep tonight.
Later: We did indeed go to the temple and closed it down. Okashsa (UCL professor and our local guide) took us through the temple and really managed to make sense of most of it for us. Fabulous. But it's on-the-bus at 7:00, so I've got to sleep now, and repeatedly. To be continued.
PostScript: To those who have left comments, many thanks. Despite being in one of the most fabulous places in the world, and despite being in very good company, it's still nice to hear from the people back home. I will try to do something about replying to your questions in an upcoming post.
In the tomb of Ramose, Sandy and I notice a relief of Akhenaten where a vulture is depicted behind the seated king, but not behind his head as in the Old Kingdom statue of Khafre, but rather on the seat itself. It's spreading its protective wings around Akhenaten's waist and behind. Huh.
Gurna has changed a lot in recent years. Most of the houses have been demolished, leaving only a handful of alabaster shops. What hasn't changed was the number of young girls selling dolls for $1 USD and the persistence of local salesmen who want you to buy their small statues. Their stories range from “my grandfather found this” to “I made this” depending on the audience. For some reason, they pick up on the fact that I don't want to buy anything and mostly leave me alone. But... anyone who had obviously bought something got their full attention. One guy with aviator sunglasses stuck with us the whole day, offering this and that whenever we weren't actually in a tomb. A fair bit of shopping was done, and I think they made out OK.
Lunch at the Happy Habu. Baba ganoush, fried eggplant, deep fried cauliflower, deep fried eggplant, stewed okra, stewed potatos with tomatoes. Quick visit to a bookshop on the same block, right next to the entrance to Medinet Habu. Was tempted by a new AUC book on ancient Egyptian art, but restrain myself.
Afternoon: Ramesseum. The day is bright and hot (32C) – a far cry from the last couple of times I have been here. We arrived around 1:45 and stayed for an hour and a half. We toured the court and hypostyle hall and the back rooms, ending with the storage magazines outside the temple. This was my first time to the magazines, which are made of black mud brick. There is a columned access way which runs the length of one of the storage magazines; we theorize this was where the food was dispensed, its grandeur designed to impress upon people that it's pharaoh who's feeding you.
On the way out, we got a really good look at the first pylon. The sun is in position to give us good raking light so we can clearly see the inscriptions and reliefs (many of which depict Ramesses II in his chariot, or simply larger-that-life.) On my previous visit, it was overcast, and the pylon was mostly a wash of tope.
By the end, we're all pretty bagged from all the climbing and walking.
Tonight: Luxor Temple. Meet at 7:00 pm in the hotel lobby. I will probably go, but I'm seriously in need of rather a lot of sleep tonight.
Later: We did indeed go to the temple and closed it down. Okashsa (UCL professor and our local guide) took us through the temple and really managed to make sense of most of it for us. Fabulous. But it's on-the-bus at 7:00, so I've got to sleep now, and repeatedly. To be continued.
PostScript: To those who have left comments, many thanks. Despite being in one of the most fabulous places in the world, and despite being in very good company, it's still nice to hear from the people back home. I will try to do something about replying to your questions in an upcoming post.
Sunday, January 10, 2009. Luxor
I have been on holidays now since December 23. I have long since lost track of what day it is.
Day: Visit to the Valley of the Kings. Tombs of Ramesses VI, Tawosret / Sethnakht, Seti II, and Siptah. It is no longer possible to bring cameras into the valley, so (for once) I just gawked and tried to take it all in. The Valley was hot and very sunny. In fact, it was a bit like walking through one of those tanning reflectors some people use to ensure an even browning on the neck and face. Maureen spotted me some much needed sunblock. She really is prepared for just about anything.
Best summary comment came from Paul. On the way out of Ramesses VI, he said, “Nice place” with a gentle southern drawl. I couldn't put it better myself.
An unanswered question: In Ramesses VI's tomb, the vultures on the ceiling fly out. In the other tombs, they flew in. Why? It turns out that Sandy is a big fan of vultures, so now I mention them to her when I see a really interesting one.
Night: I did laundry in the sink and wrote captions for the pictures I shot. Gayle, Maureen and I visited the Luxor Museum where we got a chance to meet with one of its administrators who wanted to copy down the particulars of our archaeological passes. The curator's office is right next to the W.C. I wonder if that's significant. The nice thing was that one of their staff is visiting Toronto at the end of the month in conjunction with the ongoing King Tut show at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Gayle left her contact information and offered to give a tour of the ROM. All is well; we exit to the museum galleries.
I visited with the mummy of Ramesses I for more than a couple of minutes. He spent many years in Niagara Falls (Canada), and that makes him one of us. We have met a number of times now – once in Atlanta, twice in Luxor, and maybe once in Cairo, though I'm no longer certain whether that was really me or someone else. I'm faintly worried that I'm doing this more and more often – taking someone else's experiences and telling them as if they were mine. I met Buzz Aldrin a couple of years ago, so it's only a matter of time before I start telling people about my trip to the moon.
Also visited the small wax statue of Ramesses IX / XI. I have a picture of it in my study, and I must look at it at least once a day. It was good to see it in the round again, though I tried to find the exact view from the picture, but failed. There were two small wax boxes found in the same tomb with four baboons sitting on the corners and what look like the icon for “flames” coming from the four sides of the lids. I had completely forgotten about these.
Day: Visit to the Valley of the Kings. Tombs of Ramesses VI, Tawosret / Sethnakht, Seti II, and Siptah. It is no longer possible to bring cameras into the valley, so (for once) I just gawked and tried to take it all in. The Valley was hot and very sunny. In fact, it was a bit like walking through one of those tanning reflectors some people use to ensure an even browning on the neck and face. Maureen spotted me some much needed sunblock. She really is prepared for just about anything.
Best summary comment came from Paul. On the way out of Ramesses VI, he said, “Nice place” with a gentle southern drawl. I couldn't put it better myself.
An unanswered question: In Ramesses VI's tomb, the vultures on the ceiling fly out. In the other tombs, they flew in. Why? It turns out that Sandy is a big fan of vultures, so now I mention them to her when I see a really interesting one.
Night: I did laundry in the sink and wrote captions for the pictures I shot. Gayle, Maureen and I visited the Luxor Museum where we got a chance to meet with one of its administrators who wanted to copy down the particulars of our archaeological passes. The curator's office is right next to the W.C. I wonder if that's significant. The nice thing was that one of their staff is visiting Toronto at the end of the month in conjunction with the ongoing King Tut show at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Gayle left her contact information and offered to give a tour of the ROM. All is well; we exit to the museum galleries.
I visited with the mummy of Ramesses I for more than a couple of minutes. He spent many years in Niagara Falls (Canada), and that makes him one of us. We have met a number of times now – once in Atlanta, twice in Luxor, and maybe once in Cairo, though I'm no longer certain whether that was really me or someone else. I'm faintly worried that I'm doing this more and more often – taking someone else's experiences and telling them as if they were mine. I met Buzz Aldrin a couple of years ago, so it's only a matter of time before I start telling people about my trip to the moon.
Also visited the small wax statue of Ramesses IX / XI. I have a picture of it in my study, and I must look at it at least once a day. It was good to see it in the round again, though I tried to find the exact view from the picture, but failed. There were two small wax boxes found in the same tomb with four baboons sitting on the corners and what look like the icon for “flames” coming from the four sides of the lids. I had completely forgotten about these.
Saturday, January 9, 2010. Luxor
This morning, we left Shepheards Hotel in Cairo for the Mercure in Luxor. Actually, it's not called the Mercure any more, but I doubt you care. It's a nice enough hotel, centrally located on the Corniche, almost opposite the Mummification Museum with the Luxor Museum to the north and Luxor Temple to the south. If you're lucky, your room may have a view of Hatshepsut's temple of Deir el Bahri across the river on the West Bank. If you're not, you can still watch the ongoing excavation of the Avenue of Sphinxes that runs between Luxor and Karnak Temples. My room has a balcony which looks west to the soft pink Theban hills.
We arrived amid a certain amount of consternation from some of the Texas people. Apparently, this was not the hotel they had explicitly and repeatedly asked to stay at. There is another Mercure down the Corniche, which is closer to shops, restaurants, and Luxor Temple. Apparently, it has rooms that look down onto Luxor Temple. Ooh! That would be very nice. But we're here, and the hotel is perfectly decent, and besides, there's nothing to be done about it. I did a cursory amount of unpacking since we'll be here for about a week. I flipped on the TV and found “Gladiator” starting (in English with Arabic subtitles). Maximus was just sold to the gladiator school when we lost power. It stayed out for over half and hour, so I decided to take walk instead. It's about only a ten minute walk to Luxor Temple where I tried to figure out the best times to take pictures so the sun's rays would pick out the reliefs and inscriptions. Carrying on, I hit up Gaddis Bookshop (my favourite in all of Egypt, I think) where they were also watching “Gladiator”. By then, he was back in Rome, fighting other gladiators. You've got to give the people what they've come for.
Along the way, it became clear why we were not staying at the other Mercure which has views of Luxor Temple. It's been demolished. In fact, a lot of things have been demolished. The Mina Palace hotel (The Insider and I stayed there in 2000) has also been knocked down, as have a lot of other buildings along the Corniche. And the grass and trees that used to be a quiet park to the west of the Temple has been replaced by a tiled public plaza, sadly lacking any shade at all. When I walked through it, it was empty. That could be because the new entrance to the Temple is immediately adjacent (on the east side). The old entrance was from the west, which was not ideal either because it required buses to stop on the Corniche (a two lane road), forcing other traffic to deke around them into the oncoming lane. It's all part of the Luxor Master Plan to redevelop the area between Luxor and Karnak Temples, an effort to better accommodate the growing number of tourists. It's progress, I guess, but the change makes me feel tired and old.
I passed the Temple, and found a small shop to buy water. Gummy eyes and a low-grade headache are my body's way of telling me that I'm not getting enough to drink. I get 3 L which should do for a while. I hope. Squinting out of a pulsing head is no way to see Egypt.
Sandy spotted me wandering into the hotel restaurant and invited me to join her and Rick for supper (they had just ordered). As I sat down, I mentioned that I had been there for lunch as well. Sandy asked if I could recommend anything, and told her that I thought the Italian Omelet was vile. “That's what I just ordered,” she said. Oops. Several minutes of fancy weasel words fall out of my mouth in an effort to downplay my remarks, which had been mainly played for laughs. “Maybe it just wasn't what I had been hoping for,” I concluded said, lamely. “What were you hoping for?” she asked. I have no answer for this. The food comes, and we go on to talk about other things.
We arrived amid a certain amount of consternation from some of the Texas people. Apparently, this was not the hotel they had explicitly and repeatedly asked to stay at. There is another Mercure down the Corniche, which is closer to shops, restaurants, and Luxor Temple. Apparently, it has rooms that look down onto Luxor Temple. Ooh! That would be very nice. But we're here, and the hotel is perfectly decent, and besides, there's nothing to be done about it. I did a cursory amount of unpacking since we'll be here for about a week. I flipped on the TV and found “Gladiator” starting (in English with Arabic subtitles). Maximus was just sold to the gladiator school when we lost power. It stayed out for over half and hour, so I decided to take walk instead. It's about only a ten minute walk to Luxor Temple where I tried to figure out the best times to take pictures so the sun's rays would pick out the reliefs and inscriptions. Carrying on, I hit up Gaddis Bookshop (my favourite in all of Egypt, I think) where they were also watching “Gladiator”. By then, he was back in Rome, fighting other gladiators. You've got to give the people what they've come for.
Along the way, it became clear why we were not staying at the other Mercure which has views of Luxor Temple. It's been demolished. In fact, a lot of things have been demolished. The Mina Palace hotel (The Insider and I stayed there in 2000) has also been knocked down, as have a lot of other buildings along the Corniche. And the grass and trees that used to be a quiet park to the west of the Temple has been replaced by a tiled public plaza, sadly lacking any shade at all. When I walked through it, it was empty. That could be because the new entrance to the Temple is immediately adjacent (on the east side). The old entrance was from the west, which was not ideal either because it required buses to stop on the Corniche (a two lane road), forcing other traffic to deke around them into the oncoming lane. It's all part of the Luxor Master Plan to redevelop the area between Luxor and Karnak Temples, an effort to better accommodate the growing number of tourists. It's progress, I guess, but the change makes me feel tired and old.
I passed the Temple, and found a small shop to buy water. Gummy eyes and a low-grade headache are my body's way of telling me that I'm not getting enough to drink. I get 3 L which should do for a while. I hope. Squinting out of a pulsing head is no way to see Egypt.
Sandy spotted me wandering into the hotel restaurant and invited me to join her and Rick for supper (they had just ordered). As I sat down, I mentioned that I had been there for lunch as well. Sandy asked if I could recommend anything, and told her that I thought the Italian Omelet was vile. “That's what I just ordered,” she said. Oops. Several minutes of fancy weasel words fall out of my mouth in an effort to downplay my remarks, which had been mainly played for laughs. “Maybe it just wasn't what I had been hoping for,” I concluded said, lamely. “What were you hoping for?” she asked. I have no answer for this. The food comes, and we go on to talk about other things.
Friday, January 8, 2010. Cairo
I spent a good part of yesterday at the Egyptian Museum (again). You could describe the place in term that would be meaningful to an architect, or to a museologist, but this seems folly. The Egyptian Museum is a place which evokes so many feelings and sensations that any sort of objective description would simply miss the point of going there. Think back to a childhood visit to your grandparent's house. Remember the way it smelled, the way there was always something going on (even if you were just an observer). The inflection of voices, now passed from this world, just memory.
Now you're ready to hear my description.
The sun is hot and bright outside. Going inside is like passing into the cool of a sea-side cave.
Every sound echos: footfalls, a chair scraping against the hard floor tiles, tour groups – the leader speaking English, French, Italian; a mildly attentive crowd looking vaguely in the same direction, and always some young smart-ass making a joke about what he thinks some ancient hieroglyphs really say.
Sunlight streams in from a cupola high over the rotunda . Beams of light move slowly around the coffin gallery as the day wears on, giving one coffin a taste of day for a few minutes before moving on to another.
Sometimes there is so little light you can barely see what you're looking at. There is glancing light from a window at the end of the hall, but it's not enough to read the glyphs on a the stone before you. Instead it makes the block look wet. There is no information label.
There is an information label. But for something else.
There is an information label. But after all this, do you believe it?
Leaving the museum is like opening an oven door to check on a pan of baking, only brighter. Much brighter.
Why do guards smoke underneath no-smoking signs? Why are people touching the statues? Why do they get their pictures taken with them? Why are all those people huddled together in the garden near the museum entrance? What are they waiting for? What will any of these people remember of this day when they get back home?
Post Script: Cool things noted this time:
1.A coffin with a purple background. You never see that.
2.A white limestone statue of a man and his wife, maybe 50 cm tall. The man is seated while his wife stands. She is taller than he is. You never see that either.
3.A pair of Old Kingdom terracotta lion-headed deities, each about 70 cm tall. The lower jaw of one statue is slightly damaged, revealing teeth behind its closed muzzle. If it had not been broken, you would ever know they were there.
4.At the back of one of Tutankhamun's really big shrines, you could see a depiction of a heavenly cow with people suckling from its udder. With all the sunshine outside, enough seeps into the museum so you can make this out.
5.Visiting Amenhotep I in the royal mummy room. His mummy is still wrapped, but has glass (or stone) eyes on the wrappings. He is covered with garlands of flower petals that remind me uncomfortably of razor wire.
6.First visit to the other royal mummy room. It's located at the end of the coffin wing, and is currently home to Ramesses IV, V, and VI plus some high ranking women.
Now you're ready to hear my description.
The sun is hot and bright outside. Going inside is like passing into the cool of a sea-side cave.
Every sound echos: footfalls, a chair scraping against the hard floor tiles, tour groups – the leader speaking English, French, Italian; a mildly attentive crowd looking vaguely in the same direction, and always some young smart-ass making a joke about what he thinks some ancient hieroglyphs really say.
Sunlight streams in from a cupola high over the rotunda . Beams of light move slowly around the coffin gallery as the day wears on, giving one coffin a taste of day for a few minutes before moving on to another.
Sometimes there is so little light you can barely see what you're looking at. There is glancing light from a window at the end of the hall, but it's not enough to read the glyphs on a the stone before you. Instead it makes the block look wet. There is no information label.
There is an information label. But for something else.
There is an information label. But after all this, do you believe it?
Leaving the museum is like opening an oven door to check on a pan of baking, only brighter. Much brighter.
Why do guards smoke underneath no-smoking signs? Why are people touching the statues? Why do they get their pictures taken with them? Why are all those people huddled together in the garden near the museum entrance? What are they waiting for? What will any of these people remember of this day when they get back home?
Post Script: Cool things noted this time:
1.A coffin with a purple background. You never see that.
2.A white limestone statue of a man and his wife, maybe 50 cm tall. The man is seated while his wife stands. She is taller than he is. You never see that either.
3.A pair of Old Kingdom terracotta lion-headed deities, each about 70 cm tall. The lower jaw of one statue is slightly damaged, revealing teeth behind its closed muzzle. If it had not been broken, you would ever know they were there.
4.At the back of one of Tutankhamun's really big shrines, you could see a depiction of a heavenly cow with people suckling from its udder. With all the sunshine outside, enough seeps into the museum so you can make this out.
5.Visiting Amenhotep I in the royal mummy room. His mummy is still wrapped, but has glass (or stone) eyes on the wrappings. He is covered with garlands of flower petals that remind me uncomfortably of razor wire.
6.First visit to the other royal mummy room. It's located at the end of the coffin wing, and is currently home to Ramesses IV, V, and VI plus some high ranking women.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Friends, New and Old
Thursday, January 7. Cairo.
Getting over jet lag is never easy, and sometimes the best thing to do is to get out, do some walking, let your eyes see the sun, and hope it will be all right in the morning. And so that was the plan for today.
Maureen and I took a stroll through downtown Cairo, visiting some favorite places that The Insider and I explored on our sojourn to the city in 2000. We started at Tahrir Square (home of the Egyptian Museum), and went north-west along Champollion. This shady street was known to us as “automotive alley” because of the great collection of auto repair shops. I doubt a lot of tourists bother with it, so the atmosphere is relaxed and the locals were content to mostly ignore two foreigners out for a stroll. We found my favourite kosherie shop (still there, still very minimalist and friendly) and cats galore – sunning themselves under parked cars and finding what food wherever they can.
Turning west on 26th of July Street (Sitta w'Ashrin Yulyu), we found “The American Cafe” where, ten years ago, I had possibly the best Turkish coffee in my life. Still there, unchanged. Another right-hand turn put us onto Tal'at Harb, a busy street full of clothing stores and the Metro Cinema which is showing “Dragged Back to Hell” as well as a number of other less lurid features. (Ten years ago, it was playing “Mission Impossible” and sported a poster of Tom Cruise which was one or two storeys high.)
This is the point where Maureen and I started to make a lot of Egyptian friends. At one street corner, an old man introduced himself as a retired engineer who was in the city on holidays. “You know the Blue Mosque?” he asked. It's just down this street! You have to see it! We had time to kill, so we made the two block detour to a small mosque which turned out to be the burial place of a Islamic saint (or something), and then “Please let me give you my business card. It's in my son's shop across the street. Please come in, I am offering hospitality.”
“How are we going to get out of this?” Maureen asked me quietly. Easy. We said no in the nicest way we could, that we couldn't visit his shop at this very moment, but that he had been very kind to show us to the mosque, and that we really should be on our way now. “If you wait here, may I give you my card? Two minutes.” Sure. He disappears for no more than two minutes, produces a card for his son's shop, then sends us on our way with a handshake. No problem, right?
Cue our next Egyptian friend. A man who had been cleaning the sidewalk in front of the mosque taps me on the arm, and then launches into a good minute of very energetic but slurred speech in a language I don't recognize. I catch the word “demain” (“tomorrow” in French), but not “bokra” (the Arabic equivalent.) I make an apologetic shrug and try to make it clear that I don't understand a word of what he said. He smiled a bit, took a breath, and then went through the same harangue, word for word. If I had to guess, I'd say the sense of it was: “You foreigners always say that you'll come back tomorrow but you never do. What's wrong with you people? That man was just trying to show you some hospitality and you threw it back in his face!” But as I said, I have no idea what he was really saying, so it could have been “The nerve of that guy! Trying to hustle you into his shop in front of a holy mosque. He tried the same thing yesterday, and he'll do it again tomorrow.” Whatever his meaning, he eventually gave up with me and went back to his cleaning.
Cue our next Egyptian friend, a young man in his early 20s who had watched our exchange with some amusement. “He's not right in his head,” he said, adding that we shouldn't worry about it. He asks us where we're from, and tells us that he's a recent graduate from university who has been studying commercial art. I asked him what the job market was like in Cairo, and he said it wasn't bad but that he wanted to leave the country and work in Europe because the pay was better. More conversation ensued where he talked about the obligatory military service in Egypt, and how going to university could cut a year from the time you had to spend in the army. Eventually it was time for us to move on, but at that moment, he offered to take us to his brother's shop which was just nearby. (We didn't go.)
I have no real point in recounting these chance meetings, other than to illustrate the skill by which people direct people to favored stores, or to show how strongly retailing is represented as an occupation in the extended families of Cairo. Take your pick, or be like one of the cats and sun yourself under a car fender.
For the weather-obsessed Canadians in the audience, the temperature here is mid 20s with moderate humidity – it's the warmest I have experienced in Cairo in January. On the last four trips, Cairo in January was so rainy and cold that gloves and a scarf were a must. Instead, it's like May in southern Ontario, and I for one will take it.
In the afternoon, Gayle handed out our archeological passes. These are the things that allow us to get into museums and archaeological sites with a merry wave. Each pass has a passport photo on it, so we all look like humorless thugs, but as I meet more and more of the people in our group, I realize this is pretty far from the truth. They're all quite lively and jolly despite having just traveled 7 or 8 time zones to get here.
Passes in hand, we walked over to the Egyptian Museum. I showed Paul around the building (he's one of the newbies to Egypt); that's about all you can do in two hours. Tomorrow we'll go back and do things carefully. There's a special exhibit celebrating Hungarian Egyptology which is small, but well-lit and very good.
But here's the real scoop: The Nile Hilton has been bought and renamed the “Nile Hotel” and its adjoining mall has been demolished. That includes the bookstore and souvenir shops next to the hotel itself as well as the part with the drug store, scarf shop, the internet cafe, and the food court. Not the food court too! The best place in all of Egypt to get a Thai green curry with chicken! A convenient and calm haven for weary museum goers! Gone! Woe! (and I mean it). Even the bookstore on the corner right outside the museum is now just memory (or rather, rubble.) It's there in my mind's eye, on a movie clip I shot two years ago there, and in a few snapshots of me and my mother in the basement food court, each of us grinning, showing off our meals to the camera.
The news is so grievous I don't want to write any more.
Getting over jet lag is never easy, and sometimes the best thing to do is to get out, do some walking, let your eyes see the sun, and hope it will be all right in the morning. And so that was the plan for today.
Maureen and I took a stroll through downtown Cairo, visiting some favorite places that The Insider and I explored on our sojourn to the city in 2000. We started at Tahrir Square (home of the Egyptian Museum), and went north-west along Champollion. This shady street was known to us as “automotive alley” because of the great collection of auto repair shops. I doubt a lot of tourists bother with it, so the atmosphere is relaxed and the locals were content to mostly ignore two foreigners out for a stroll. We found my favourite kosherie shop (still there, still very minimalist and friendly) and cats galore – sunning themselves under parked cars and finding what food wherever they can.
Turning west on 26th of July Street (Sitta w'Ashrin Yulyu), we found “The American Cafe” where, ten years ago, I had possibly the best Turkish coffee in my life. Still there, unchanged. Another right-hand turn put us onto Tal'at Harb, a busy street full of clothing stores and the Metro Cinema which is showing “Dragged Back to Hell” as well as a number of other less lurid features. (Ten years ago, it was playing “Mission Impossible” and sported a poster of Tom Cruise which was one or two storeys high.)
This is the point where Maureen and I started to make a lot of Egyptian friends. At one street corner, an old man introduced himself as a retired engineer who was in the city on holidays. “You know the Blue Mosque?” he asked. It's just down this street! You have to see it! We had time to kill, so we made the two block detour to a small mosque which turned out to be the burial place of a Islamic saint (or something), and then “Please let me give you my business card. It's in my son's shop across the street. Please come in, I am offering hospitality.”
“How are we going to get out of this?” Maureen asked me quietly. Easy. We said no in the nicest way we could, that we couldn't visit his shop at this very moment, but that he had been very kind to show us to the mosque, and that we really should be on our way now. “If you wait here, may I give you my card? Two minutes.” Sure. He disappears for no more than two minutes, produces a card for his son's shop, then sends us on our way with a handshake. No problem, right?
Cue our next Egyptian friend. A man who had been cleaning the sidewalk in front of the mosque taps me on the arm, and then launches into a good minute of very energetic but slurred speech in a language I don't recognize. I catch the word “demain” (“tomorrow” in French), but not “bokra” (the Arabic equivalent.) I make an apologetic shrug and try to make it clear that I don't understand a word of what he said. He smiled a bit, took a breath, and then went through the same harangue, word for word. If I had to guess, I'd say the sense of it was: “You foreigners always say that you'll come back tomorrow but you never do. What's wrong with you people? That man was just trying to show you some hospitality and you threw it back in his face!” But as I said, I have no idea what he was really saying, so it could have been “The nerve of that guy! Trying to hustle you into his shop in front of a holy mosque. He tried the same thing yesterday, and he'll do it again tomorrow.” Whatever his meaning, he eventually gave up with me and went back to his cleaning.
Cue our next Egyptian friend, a young man in his early 20s who had watched our exchange with some amusement. “He's not right in his head,” he said, adding that we shouldn't worry about it. He asks us where we're from, and tells us that he's a recent graduate from university who has been studying commercial art. I asked him what the job market was like in Cairo, and he said it wasn't bad but that he wanted to leave the country and work in Europe because the pay was better. More conversation ensued where he talked about the obligatory military service in Egypt, and how going to university could cut a year from the time you had to spend in the army. Eventually it was time for us to move on, but at that moment, he offered to take us to his brother's shop which was just nearby. (We didn't go.)
I have no real point in recounting these chance meetings, other than to illustrate the skill by which people direct people to favored stores, or to show how strongly retailing is represented as an occupation in the extended families of Cairo. Take your pick, or be like one of the cats and sun yourself under a car fender.
For the weather-obsessed Canadians in the audience, the temperature here is mid 20s with moderate humidity – it's the warmest I have experienced in Cairo in January. On the last four trips, Cairo in January was so rainy and cold that gloves and a scarf were a must. Instead, it's like May in southern Ontario, and I for one will take it.
In the afternoon, Gayle handed out our archeological passes. These are the things that allow us to get into museums and archaeological sites with a merry wave. Each pass has a passport photo on it, so we all look like humorless thugs, but as I meet more and more of the people in our group, I realize this is pretty far from the truth. They're all quite lively and jolly despite having just traveled 7 or 8 time zones to get here.
Passes in hand, we walked over to the Egyptian Museum. I showed Paul around the building (he's one of the newbies to Egypt); that's about all you can do in two hours. Tomorrow we'll go back and do things carefully. There's a special exhibit celebrating Hungarian Egyptology which is small, but well-lit and very good.
But here's the real scoop: The Nile Hilton has been bought and renamed the “Nile Hotel” and its adjoining mall has been demolished. That includes the bookstore and souvenir shops next to the hotel itself as well as the part with the drug store, scarf shop, the internet cafe, and the food court. Not the food court too! The best place in all of Egypt to get a Thai green curry with chicken! A convenient and calm haven for weary museum goers! Gone! Woe! (and I mean it). Even the bookstore on the corner right outside the museum is now just memory (or rather, rubble.) It's there in my mind's eye, on a movie clip I shot two years ago there, and in a few snapshots of me and my mother in the basement food court, each of us grinning, showing off our meals to the camera.
The news is so grievous I don't want to write any more.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
January 6, 2010: Airports and Arrival
When traveling spans time zones, there is a tendency for the days and the airports to blend into one another. If you asked me whether Valerie dropped me off at the Toronto airport today or yesterday, I'd be hard pressed to give you the right answer. But that's how this story started – at Pearson Airport Terminal 3, around 3:00 in the afternoon. Start your clocks, gentlemen. First up, security, security, and more security. Ever since September 2001, flying has become exquisitely bothersome due to all the checks and restrictions. No liquids on board. Show open your laptop. Show us your camera. Where's your passport? I showed it four times before boarding my flight to Paris (Charles de Gaulle) You'd think three times would have been enough, but I guess the attempted attack over Christmas has people on edge, especially when traveling to the US.
We – being Gayle, Maureen, and myself – traveled together on Air France, a very pleasant airline which deserves a couple of words. We flew a newish AirBus which had on-demand movies in our seat backs; that might not sound like a big deal but it's about a billion times better than having TV sets mounted under the luggage bins. Watched “Night at the Museum 2” during supper, then spent the next 4 hours trying to get some sleep, all the while shifting my legs to so they wouldn't jam againt the seat in front of me. Mostly slept in 5 minute bursts. Poor.
Arrived at Charles de Gallle in Paris for a five hour layover in a largely zombified state. I guess a sleepless night helps you appreciate small pleasures like sitting in a chair that isn't vibrating, so camping out in an airport cafe for an hour or two was about all we could handle. I went up to the counter, and asked for “un caffe et un pain au chocolate” in my best grade 13 French. “Black?” They were not fooled. I thought the sounds were coming out pretty good, but not good enough. The bill came to 5.50 €, or just under $10 Canadian. As I was handing over the money, I thought back to the lunch I bought at Tim Horton's in Waterloo for about $6.50 the day before. Oh well. There is no economy when you're on vacation, and besides, in France you don't buy coffee so much as you rent space at a table.
Charles de Gaulle airport has the look of being recently built, or perhaps just recently refurbished. Everything is clean, and everything is well-lit. The ceilings are finished in what appears to be real live (dead) wood. I had to check this out for myself by tapping a support column with the same finish. I was expecting busted knuckles from concrete, but got the hollow thunk of wood instead. To do that for an entire airport terminal takes a LOT of wood. It's a bit like building a road out of wooden planks, which, of course, was done at one point in history, when trees grew so thick they darkened the land that the bison herds weren't already occupying.
The next 4.5 hour flight from Paris to Cairo passed uneventfully. There was more in-flight meals, and “Harry Potter: The Half Blood Prince” to watch. Landing in Cairo, we were met with mild dry air and the now familiar pleasant smell of the city – a mixture of car exhaust and wood smoke. A bus took us from the runway to the terminal where an enormous surprise awaited us: Cairo airport, once quite nasty, is really nice now. Really nice. Only two years ago, there was construction everywhere, but the airport still had a late 70's feel to it – lots of fluorescent and yellow sodium lights, dingy floors that had been rinsed many times but never cleaned, baggage carousels which lurched and squealed and maybe even delivered your bags. But now... wow. It's all bright, and clean, and very modern with restaurants you might actually want to eat in, and an attached mall, and space to move in. I really can't say enough about it. Cairo airport has been transformed from something nasty into... well, into any other world-class airport. Astounding.
Checked into the Shepheard Hotel by 9:30 pm local time. Had a cup of tea in the Danish Cafe amidst Christmas decorations (it's the start of Coptic Christmas today). Some of the Texans (who make up the bulk of the tour group) walked by the Cafe and said hello. A number of people arrived yesterday, and still more will show up tomorrow.
I have no plans for tomorrow, other than getting outside and doing a bit of walking. It's the best thing to reset my body's clock.
By the clock, it's midnight in Cairo, but only 5:00 pm in Waterloo. Inside, I have no idea what time it feels like, but I think a shower is calling my name.
[An administrative note: Anyone can now leave comments on this blog even if you don't have a Google account.]
We – being Gayle, Maureen, and myself – traveled together on Air France, a very pleasant airline which deserves a couple of words. We flew a newish AirBus which had on-demand movies in our seat backs; that might not sound like a big deal but it's about a billion times better than having TV sets mounted under the luggage bins. Watched “Night at the Museum 2” during supper, then spent the next 4 hours trying to get some sleep, all the while shifting my legs to so they wouldn't jam againt the seat in front of me. Mostly slept in 5 minute bursts. Poor.
Arrived at Charles de Gallle in Paris for a five hour layover in a largely zombified state. I guess a sleepless night helps you appreciate small pleasures like sitting in a chair that isn't vibrating, so camping out in an airport cafe for an hour or two was about all we could handle. I went up to the counter, and asked for “un caffe et un pain au chocolate” in my best grade 13 French. “Black?” They were not fooled. I thought the sounds were coming out pretty good, but not good enough. The bill came to 5.50 €, or just under $10 Canadian. As I was handing over the money, I thought back to the lunch I bought at Tim Horton's in Waterloo for about $6.50 the day before. Oh well. There is no economy when you're on vacation, and besides, in France you don't buy coffee so much as you rent space at a table.
Charles de Gaulle airport has the look of being recently built, or perhaps just recently refurbished. Everything is clean, and everything is well-lit. The ceilings are finished in what appears to be real live (dead) wood. I had to check this out for myself by tapping a support column with the same finish. I was expecting busted knuckles from concrete, but got the hollow thunk of wood instead. To do that for an entire airport terminal takes a LOT of wood. It's a bit like building a road out of wooden planks, which, of course, was done at one point in history, when trees grew so thick they darkened the land that the bison herds weren't already occupying.
The next 4.5 hour flight from Paris to Cairo passed uneventfully. There was more in-flight meals, and “Harry Potter: The Half Blood Prince” to watch. Landing in Cairo, we were met with mild dry air and the now familiar pleasant smell of the city – a mixture of car exhaust and wood smoke. A bus took us from the runway to the terminal where an enormous surprise awaited us: Cairo airport, once quite nasty, is really nice now. Really nice. Only two years ago, there was construction everywhere, but the airport still had a late 70's feel to it – lots of fluorescent and yellow sodium lights, dingy floors that had been rinsed many times but never cleaned, baggage carousels which lurched and squealed and maybe even delivered your bags. But now... wow. It's all bright, and clean, and very modern with restaurants you might actually want to eat in, and an attached mall, and space to move in. I really can't say enough about it. Cairo airport has been transformed from something nasty into... well, into any other world-class airport. Astounding.
Checked into the Shepheard Hotel by 9:30 pm local time. Had a cup of tea in the Danish Cafe amidst Christmas decorations (it's the start of Coptic Christmas today). Some of the Texans (who make up the bulk of the tour group) walked by the Cafe and said hello. A number of people arrived yesterday, and still more will show up tomorrow.
I have no plans for tomorrow, other than getting outside and doing a bit of walking. It's the best thing to reset my body's clock.
By the clock, it's midnight in Cairo, but only 5:00 pm in Waterloo. Inside, I have no idea what time it feels like, but I think a shower is calling my name.
[An administrative note: Anyone can now leave comments on this blog even if you don't have a Google account.]
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Departure
I am probably the poorest traveler you know. I fret and I worry. I pack and repack my bag with useless things that I don't need. Fortunately, my professional life requires a fair bit of performance, and so, if you're not looking, you'll just see a calm, serene person going about his business, rather than a slowly unwinding ball of string.
This morning was a day of lasts. Last sleep in my own bed (until I return). Last assertively hot shower. (I describe it this way because I have no recollection of ever getting more than a tepid shower in Egypt.) Last time to do a number of things -- feeding the cat, taking out the trash, grocery shopping. I'm at the moment of transition between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Soon, I'll leave for the airport, show my passport, and if all goes well, board a plane to Paris and then Cairo. You don't do that every day, do you?
I've been planning this trip since late summer now, though it's one I've done before, a number of times. Four times, actually. Why a fifth? Almost everyone has asked me this question, and I have a number of stock answers built up now.
Answer #1: "I'm hoping to get it right this time."
For this to make sense, I have to tell you about my first trip in 2000 with my pal, The Insider. We set out, just the two of us, to Cairo and Luxor for two and a half weeks. Neither of us had been there before, though The Insider had been to Sinai, and we had both been to Israel, so we had some inkling into the ways of the Middle East. But nothing really prepares you for the culture shock of going from Canada, where everything is easy, to Cairo, where everything is different. Not necessarily better or worse, just different. Here's an example. In downtown Toronto, if you saw a dimly lit back alley, would you go down it at 11:30 pm? Maybe, but probably not. Years of living there and hearing about people getting robbed every day make you wary. In downtown Luxor, that same back alley might be harboring mothers and their young children out grocery shopping, rather than thieves and villains. This kind of experience really makes it clear that we are tuned to the society we live in, and that if you are dropped somewhere radically different, you're just as ignorant as a 5 year old. The Insider and I had meant to stay for two and a half weeks, but we bailed and came home early, tired and punchy from the work of having to relearn what's normal, and tired of being asked to buy postcards and trinkets.
Answer #2: "I needed to give my life some structure."
I guess that's a mysterious thing to say, though it's closer to the truth than the previous answer. I'm 43 years old. I have a job which I'm reasonably good at. I am married, and together we dote on a 3 year old cat. There's nothing wrong with any of this, but when I was a teenager, that's all I aspired to. Or rather, that's all I knew I aspired to. Now I've done that, and I have to face the question: What next? What do I do with the rest of my life?
There are no easy answers. Mostly, I have no idea, though it does occur to me that I'm at a point where accumulating things is becoming less important, and that maybe it's time to start accumulating more wisdom and experience. Which sounds strange coming from a university grad. Wasn't school the place to gain wisdom? Well, no, and if you don't believe me, take a visit to your local community college or university, and eavesdrop on any conversation between two people in their late teens or early twenties. I guarantee you will come away with a heart full of sorrow for the youth of today. And if you think you weren't like that yourself at that age -- you're wrong. You were. But that's OK.
Making another trip to Egypt gave me a goal. A short term goal, to be sure, but it was enough. I took a 6 week course in Arabic -- enough to read a road sign -- and am determined to write and think more while on the road. I have seen a lot of the ancient temples and pyramids before, so maybe this time I'll be able to look at things with a different eye, one a little less frenzied with the spectacle. That's the goal, anyway.
One bit of business before I sign off: the trip I'm on is being organized by
Odyssey Adventures in Archaeology who very kindly let me join the tour at the last minute. I've been with them three times before, and if you're thinking of traveling yourself, do check them out.
That's it for now. My next post will be from Cairo.
This morning was a day of lasts. Last sleep in my own bed (until I return). Last assertively hot shower. (I describe it this way because I have no recollection of ever getting more than a tepid shower in Egypt.) Last time to do a number of things -- feeding the cat, taking out the trash, grocery shopping. I'm at the moment of transition between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Soon, I'll leave for the airport, show my passport, and if all goes well, board a plane to Paris and then Cairo. You don't do that every day, do you?
I've been planning this trip since late summer now, though it's one I've done before, a number of times. Four times, actually. Why a fifth? Almost everyone has asked me this question, and I have a number of stock answers built up now.
Answer #1: "I'm hoping to get it right this time."
For this to make sense, I have to tell you about my first trip in 2000 with my pal, The Insider. We set out, just the two of us, to Cairo and Luxor for two and a half weeks. Neither of us had been there before, though The Insider had been to Sinai, and we had both been to Israel, so we had some inkling into the ways of the Middle East. But nothing really prepares you for the culture shock of going from Canada, where everything is easy, to Cairo, where everything is different. Not necessarily better or worse, just different. Here's an example. In downtown Toronto, if you saw a dimly lit back alley, would you go down it at 11:30 pm? Maybe, but probably not. Years of living there and hearing about people getting robbed every day make you wary. In downtown Luxor, that same back alley might be harboring mothers and their young children out grocery shopping, rather than thieves and villains. This kind of experience really makes it clear that we are tuned to the society we live in, and that if you are dropped somewhere radically different, you're just as ignorant as a 5 year old. The Insider and I had meant to stay for two and a half weeks, but we bailed and came home early, tired and punchy from the work of having to relearn what's normal, and tired of being asked to buy postcards and trinkets.
Answer #2: "I needed to give my life some structure."
I guess that's a mysterious thing to say, though it's closer to the truth than the previous answer. I'm 43 years old. I have a job which I'm reasonably good at. I am married, and together we dote on a 3 year old cat. There's nothing wrong with any of this, but when I was a teenager, that's all I aspired to. Or rather, that's all I knew I aspired to. Now I've done that, and I have to face the question: What next? What do I do with the rest of my life?
There are no easy answers. Mostly, I have no idea, though it does occur to me that I'm at a point where accumulating things is becoming less important, and that maybe it's time to start accumulating more wisdom and experience. Which sounds strange coming from a university grad. Wasn't school the place to gain wisdom? Well, no, and if you don't believe me, take a visit to your local community college or university, and eavesdrop on any conversation between two people in their late teens or early twenties. I guarantee you will come away with a heart full of sorrow for the youth of today. And if you think you weren't like that yourself at that age -- you're wrong. You were. But that's OK.
Making another trip to Egypt gave me a goal. A short term goal, to be sure, but it was enough. I took a 6 week course in Arabic -- enough to read a road sign -- and am determined to write and think more while on the road. I have seen a lot of the ancient temples and pyramids before, so maybe this time I'll be able to look at things with a different eye, one a little less frenzied with the spectacle. That's the goal, anyway.
One bit of business before I sign off: the trip I'm on is being organized by
Odyssey Adventures in Archaeology who very kindly let me join the tour at the last minute. I've been with them three times before, and if you're thinking of traveling yourself, do check them out.
That's it for now. My next post will be from Cairo.
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