Luxor, Sunday evening

Another in my irregular series of postings from Egypt… Continuing where I left off a couple of days ago. I’ll stitch it all together on my return.

A wonderful barbeque lunch on the sun deck, with enough of a breeze to keep us cool under the awning. Then back to work. Every the taskmaster, Fadel was not content to have his charges sitting around warming their backsides while we waited for the Isna lock, so he had laid on a bus to take us on ahead to Luxor to visit two temples there, then bring us back down to Isna in time to hop on board and sail back up (I should say, down) to Luxor. Quite a trick!

A pleasant bus ride, though. With water provided. We drove through the town of Isna, with a glimpse of its dusty back streets crowded with small shops, laundry lines, donkey carts, and rusty vehicles of all kinds, then over the old lock and the river, driving up the east bank past the pale gold range of mountains beyond which, Fadel assured us, lay the Red Sea. Interesting driving, which seemed to involve charging ahead, no matter what might be coming in the opposite direction, trusting to luck we’d make it in time to duck back in front of whatever was blocking our way.

First stop, the Temples of Karnak, an incredible 120-acre complex of temples covering a multi-century period. Others—including the 19th century French Gustave Flaubert—have described it far better than I could ever hope to: at the center, a forest of massive columns topped with lotus and payrus motifs, reminding us of Fadel’s description of the Egyptian temple as an abyss, in which we are suppsed to feel the weight, the darkness, and the chaos of the wordly experience as though lost in some vast terrarium tank. Magnificent obelisks, too, some fallen, some still jutting into a horizon jagged with the outline of endless piles of ruins and the still symmetrical outlines of massive entry pylons. And a double row of sphinxes in varying states of preservation—apparently just a small part of a long avenue that leads, mostly underground through the present city of Luxor, from Karnak to the Luxor Temple—which is still used in rituals to this day. Here and there, too, throughout, remarkable remnant patches of startling color suggest how magnificent these places must have been in their original state.

A stop for a brief break beside the sacred lake and then, for me, the highlight of this particular site: a tiny temple, way off to one side, devoted to the god Ptah and his consort Sekmet with, inside, three sanctuary chambers. Here, taking us in one small group at a time, Fadel closed the doors to allow us to see the inner spaces as they were meant to be seen, with the gleam of light from one small ceiling opening. In the central sancturary, the full length statue, heaedless, of Ptah, revealed to a breathless hush. Quite beautiful…

But then, moving into the side chapel, we came upon the almost perfectly preserved, half life-sized figure of Sekmet, in black diorite, glowing with spectacular, powerfully spiritual energy. An incredible presence, radiating the serenity of timeless centuries. You could almost hear the inner gasp of awe from each of us there to witness this instant of the statue’s silent rebirth, in darkness, to this new coterie of worshippers. Certainly the most moving soectacle since our arrival. Thank you, Fadedl, for this privilege. For knowing enough to close the door for us.

Somewhat temple-weary, we allowed ourselves to be led on to the Luxor Temple, where we were greeted by the other end of the avenue of sphinxes, along with some wonderful monumental statues, including several of Rameses II, upright, calm, confident—a true kingly presence. Fadel was outraged, as were all of us, to find the set-up for some huge social reception in the main courtyard, tables with gaudy golden tablecloths, champagne glasses, chairs swathed in gold. We were given the assignment, each of us, to write a letter to the Minister of Culture protesting this abuse of the site.

Enough of ruins for one day. We set off back to the boat—an hour’s drive in the bus which necessitated the accompaniment of an armed police officer on board our bus. The requirement—fulfilled also on the outward journey—comes at the cost of a thousand Egyptian pounds to the police department, but supposedly assures our safe passage to our destination. In Luxor, thanks to some police screw-up, we waited patiently on board our bus for about twenty minutes while our escort took his time arriving, and we arrived back at the boat only at seven-thirty, late for dinner.

The evening was slated as “Egyptian evening” on board, and we were all suppoed to wear Egyptian dress. Ellie and I had bought some items along the way—Elie some scarves, and myself, this morning, particularly for this event, a white shirt embroidered with a cartouche, and a white turban. Many of our party showed up for our late dinner already dressed for the evening—quiite a spectacle in itself! Ellie and I chose to dress after dinner, ready for the evening’s festivities. We were all distracted, though, by our boat’s arrival at the lock, and most of us went up to the top deck to watch the process of raising two southbound boats thirty feet to our level, then dropping us the same thirty feet to continue north. By the time this business was all taken care of, most of us were more than ready for bed; and after a brief stop by the lounge to find not much action there, Ellie and I retired to our cabin for the night.


Saturday, April 02, 2005


Another long day ahead of us. After breakfast, we picked up a box lunch and headed for our bus, ready to join the convoy of vehicles, with police escort, on the three hour journey to Abydos. It seems like a good moment to talk about the ubiquitous security already noted several times along the way. Last night, for example, we noticed a good number of road blocks and security checkpoints manned either by the military or by heavily armed police. Today, aside from the police vehicles traveling with the convoy, we pass armed guards—some uniformed, some not—at intervals on either side all along the way. Just now, as I type aboard the bus, we’re passing a separation of the ways, with two parts of the convoy headed off in different directions, and our own part headed on toward Abydos, and we have been stopped at a military checkpoint to allow a guard to board. Such is the official Egyptian concern for the tourist industry—or possibly for their unemployment numbers, who knows? In any event, the presence of armed protectors is omnipresent, ever vigilant.

With a long journey ahead of us, Fadel has been giving us some of the geopolitical background about Egypt, particularly its place in the context of the Middle East today. He spoke eloquently about the centrality of the Israeli-Palestinian situation to the wider issue of peace in the region, and told us something about Mubarek’s recent announcement of forthcoming contested elections. There is concern, he said, that the elections be democratic, but that criteria be established to avoid the possibility of too powerful an influence by religious factions. Asked how great an influence that might be, he responded tartly that is was no greater than the political-religious influence in the United States. Touche!

I don’t remember whether I mentioned, Bush, that Mubarek has his portrait posted almost everywhere, looking paternal, authoritative, benign—not quite so ubiquitous, perhaps, as the portraits and statues favored by more disctatorial tyrants, but enough to remind us all who’s in charge hereabouts, and a handy device, I’m sure, for the forthcoming election. I don’t suppose it’s something we’re ready for in the US, but you have a good thing going already with your propaganda machine. We’ve talked about this before.

No matter, Craig Smith took the bus microphone when Fadel was done, and offered us number three in his lecture series—this time, concentrating on the more technical aspects: the choice of site for the availability of materials and access, as well as for the bedrock foundation and the proximity to the Nile (the course of the river ran closer, it seems, in 2550 BC—a mere four thousand five hundred years ago), Interesting to hear things from the point of view of a large construction project: the need for access roads, quarries, storage facilities, a harbor… all needing long forethought and preparation, We learned, too, about the building process, including the installation of huge, 10 – 15 ton chunks of rock, which Craig believes could only have been achieved with the use of ramps. Some discussion, too, of the inner chambers, and the need for those materials (granite beams, the huge sarcophagus) fairly early in the building process, since the King’s Chamber was at about the 55th of 210 courses of stone. Altogether, another very useful introduction to the pyramids. Looking forward to the next installment.

We arrived at Abydos without incident—thanks, surely, to our valiant guards—according to legend, the burial place of the head of the god Osiris, after his dismemberment by his brother Seth into 14 pieces, the center of the Osirian cult, and a place of pilgrimage by the faithful even today. Behind the main temple, Fadel led us down by special permission into the depths of what he described as the oldest building in the world, where the head was supposed to have been buried. Deep green channels of water with catfish swimming close to the surface—marred only by the trash left there by contemporary tourists. Simple post and lintel construction, but with such massive structural elements that we marvelled at the ability of those very ancient people, ten thousand years ago, to construct such a colossal project so well that much of it survives intact to this day. In the main temple, the familiar drama of the battle between the higher and the lower self is rep-enacted in beautifully preserved reliefs, with significant areas of paintwork still intact. Our last visit of the day was Dendara, the temple of Hathor, goddess of love, as well as of music and the arts. A beautiful, colonnaded courtyard, each column dominated by the graceful head of Hathor. Some of these faces are beginning to become familiar.

Back to the boat in time for a stroll down the Luxor “Corniche”—the main road leading alongside the river, a stop at the bank, and a visit to the Luxor Museum, home of some truly stunning objects, most notably some wonderfully well-preserved statues found in a buried cache beneath the main courtyard of the Luxor Temple; an elegant chariot taken from King Tut’s tomb; and two superb mummies, resting in state in darkened rooms. What would the original owners of these human remains have thought, I paised to wonder yet again, to find their bodies on view to thousands of daily visitors so many centuries later.

We had enough energy for dinner, but passed on the belly-dancing show that was to follow. Worn out from the long day, and anticipating a 5AM wake-up call for a 6AM departure in the morning for the West Bank of the Nile.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

A somewhat sleepy gathering at breakfast time, but everyone awake enough to climb aboard the bus at 6AM, travelling to the West Bank of the Nile in the hope of reaching the Valley of the Kings before the crowds.

Some hope! After a brief stop at the colossal Memnon statues, two towering figures standing along in the green fields, we found the parking lot already filled with buses by the time of our arrival, and we joined the tram to the site with mutterings about Disneyland. Still, on Fadel’s wise and experienced recommendation, Ellie and I started up the mountainside with a small group of our fellow travellers, and found a burial site that was beyond the reach of the majority of tourists. Tutmosis II had found an isolated location, far from the crowd of tombs below, and his architect had designed this wonderful tomb for him—sparsely decorated, but with exquisite taste, and beautifully proportioned. Not only halfway up the mountain, but also set down deep inside it, a long descent through cool corridors into the innermost chamber.

Fadel had also recommened two more popluar tombs, and we chose Rameses VI, braving the long line to get past the entrance, and slow—but spectacular progress down the long corridor that led to the Knig’s Chamber. Every square inch of the walls and ceiling leading down were decorated with painted reliefs and hieroglyphs, the most elaborate and the best preserved we have yet seen. The chamber itself, with its shattered sarcophagus, was huge, and again every surface filled with carvings and paintings. The ceiling, in particular, with its double image of Nut, was spectacular beyond belief. By comparison, Rameses IV, a few tombs down the road, was something of an anticlimax.

They sure took their journey into the afterlife seriously, these ancient Egyptians. The ritual of preparation for death and burial was clearly no small matter—the work of a lifetime and, in the case of the pharaohs, of many thousands of skilled artisans, architects, and administrative viziers. Our next stop brought us to the Tombs of the Nobles, and again on Fadel’s excellent recommendation, we chose the two highest ones—the first belonging to Sennefer, a chief gardener, whose tomb, though far less grand than those of the pharaohs, was a spectacle in its own right: the walls were decorated with family events and scenes of home life (in effect, some truly lovely, stylized still lifes). The rough-hewn ceiling, in particular, depicted a winding grape-vine interspersed with a starry sky and some colorful geometric patterning. My particular favorites among the wall paintings was an exquisitely painted hawk and a pair of dogs. As usual, we played tag with the guard, who wanted baksheesh for forbidden photographing privileges.

Hope ahead, while we’re still in tombland, to the city of the workers, to the tomb that an artisan had apparaently built for himself in the side of the cliff—an indication that it was not only royalty and nobles who prepared with such care and reverence for the afterlife, but the ordinary people, too. Sennutem, at least, had done himself proud, with a modest, still beautifully decorated home for his remains, including the boats needed by all mortals to make the crossing. The city itself, where up to 150 workers’ families lived at any one time, whilst the workers themselves made the daily trek across the mountains to the Valley of the Kings, is a huge complex of small dwellings, the skeleton of a place which once must have bustled with the activities of daily life. It’s here, Fadel told us, that much of the logistical information about the building of the great tombs was unearthed, along with fascinating about the lives of those who lived here.

How differently we deal with the reality of death in our society today. For the most part struggling with denial, we dread its arrival to such an extent that we often neglect all preparations, and dispose of our remains as quickly and cleanly as possible. Forest Lawn, with its bland, antiseptic statuary and decorations, seems the best that we can do. We make little ceremony of it, unlike these ancients, the majority of whose stories rehearse its details, and whose gods are omnipresent to reenact its mysteries.

Three other stops for the day. One, before lunch, at the magnificent temple of Hatshepsut, the female pharaoh, built in three terraces at the foot of the mountain, glowing in the sunlight, a symmetrical marvel that attracts the eye from far away; lunch at the restaurant where Howard Carter and numerous others of the famous archeologists would eat—a “modest” meal, Fadel had assured us, of moussaka and perhaps a little cheese, but which came as a feast of moussaka and humus, followed by rice, a tasty eggplant casserole, chicken, and excellent sun-baked bread; and finally, the Temple of Rameses, home of the original Ozymandias, where the fallen statue still lies under the hot sun. Our friend the English professor, Betsy, recited the famous poem from memory while we stood around and gaped: “My name is Ozymandian, King of Kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.”

Too much remains unsaid in this brief summary of a remarkable adventure into the heart of Egypt’s stunning antiquities. But enough writing for one day. I’m exhausted.