KARNAK TEMPLE

It was the hottest day yet, and we had to walk a long way to the front of Karnak Temple (it has an enormous open yard in front). The tail end of the Avenue of the Sphinxes sits at the front, a reminder of Karnak’s link to Luxor Temple. Everything in the temple is a reconstruction, so it was pretty easy to get around, what with the maps and diagrams on glass cases lining the hallways (courtesy of the French).

Karnak Temple houses the largest hypostyle hall in the world, and boy is it big. I sat at the base of a column to take notes, looking up at the stone screen erected during its use to let in some direct light. This space was dark when the temple had a roof, and I really can’t imagine how anyone wasn’t seriously creeped out by it. In the small Temple of Ptah a few meters away, a frightening statue of Sekmet sits in a dark room with recently-lit candles and incense at her feet.  On the walls and obelisks of Karnak are rich carvings, some of which are missing precious stone or gold inlays meant for their eyes, so they appear to stare at you.

I should say that I was only impressed by Karnak because it was big.  Big, really big, and creepy.

Karnak is by far the most tourist-filled place we’ve visited in Egypt, with no absence of poor taste on behalf of the female visitors. Would you ever wear booty shorts in a country where women without hijabs are seen as fair game for groping?

LUXOR TEMPLE

Luxor Temple, a satellite of Karnak, seems out of place amid the traffic and floating restaurants of the coast of the city. Like Kalabsha, the temple is not on a straight axis, but instead on the axis of an ancient processional route from Karnak Temple, where the Amun-Re statue would greet his wife, Mut.

The temple looks a lot like some of the other large ones we’ve seen, with the same tall rows of columns and H-shaped gate. For this reason, I will not describe the temple in detail. Instead, I will point out some of the unique aspects of the structure, which we certainly haven’t seen anywhere else.

The statues. Wow, the statues. Rows of them, built between columns, with heads the size of children. I was amazed at the sheer height of these pieces, some of which had their missing body parts placed at their feet. The bottoms of the statues were less weathered than the tops, probably because of the amount of time it took to cover the tops of the bodies. The place is huge, thanks in part to its years as a fortress. If you’ve been here (I’m assuming you have, Ellen), can you imagine a place like this covered entirely in dirt? What a project for archaeologists! Yeesh…

The contrast between building styles at Luxor Temple is apparent from every angle: the parts added by Amenhotep II are delicate, with attention to detail and inherent meaning. Rameses II’s additions, though, are just plain big.

At the entrance, an 11th-century mosque built on the mountain of dirt that used to cover the columns nearly to their tops seems a little out of place. It sports beautiful wooden inlays and bright blue paint from the 16th century, with tri-lobed arches and a round-crenelated border. It is built in the style of the Dragoman Mansion in Nicosia, Cyprus, where I gave a tour last summer as part of a course project. I love Ottoman architecture because it all feels like it belongs in a garden.

The Roman-era arch at the entrance to the sanctuary is done in the style of a Christian apse, with four emperors arranged much like saints would be in a church. This was a place of worship of the standard, a cult of sorts which seems to have either bitten off Christian art styles, or been the inspiration for them (ironically, since standard worship was used to weed out rebellious Christians).

The court where this arch is situated was constructed in the style of a basilica. On the far left, a brilliant team of Italian conservators left a corner half-cleaned. On the first layer are beautiful paintings of men from the time of Diocletian, with round faces and rosy cheeks. They look like Renaissance paintings, so life-like and soft. They sit on a thin layer of plaster which was laid directly on top of the original reliefs. The contrast between these images blew my mind!

The conservators left a clear line between the finished half and the part they haven’t cleaned yet, so everyone can see the difference a piece of rice paper covered in adhesive and a good brush make. They’ve also set up a lovely plaque showing the cleaning processes, which I think is a nice way to remind everyone that what they are seeing is there because of modern restoration technology. Conservators deserve a lot of credit. Darn, I miss Angela…

Anywho, cool things I learned today:

• Temples like this one were constructed using dirt fill as a platform; workers would add height to the platform to add stones to the upper layers of the structure, and then paint from the top down, removing platform layers as needed.
• Muslims used to celebrate a sort of Opet festival, where a sheik was transported instead of a cult statue.
• You can have a birth room if you don’t want a full Memisis.
• Sir John Gardner Wilkinson painted watercolors of this temple and other monuments in Egypt.
• Plans of the temples were often painted on their walls (we saw a faded one today).
• Gods have curved beards, kings have straight beards.
• The five elements of a person, according to the ancient Egyptians: soul, shadow, double, body and name.
• Akhenaten erased the “Amun-Re” glyphs from his father’s cartouches in the temple, even though Amun-Re and the sun disk are essentially the same deity.

Quote of the day, from Page, on my obsessive-compulsive cleanliness: “Yeah, you’d like the ancient Egyptian priests. They bathed two or three times a day.”

KOM OMBO, EDFU AND THE LUXOR MUSEUM

We left Aswan at 7:30 this morning and joined a caravan to Luxor. Along the way we stopped at Kom Ombo, a massive sanctuary to Sobek and Horus the Elder (Haroeris), and Edfu, a temple to Horus.

Worship at Kom Ombo is interesting in that it is divided evenly between two gods in a show of unity; though there is only one altar in the center of the complex, every other aspect of the site is divided equally in two. There is symmetry in the pillars with their symbolic reliefs (and even the other god makes an appearance in the imagery on one god’s side), the capitals, the doorways and the scenes at the back of the sanctuary, where the common people would come to see Haroeris and Sobek sharing the wealth peacefully.

On the way to Kom Ombo, William told us that Ptolemy VIII is depicted with two women in the reliefs: Cleopatra II (“the sister”) and Cleopatra III (“the daughter,” though she was his neice). The reason for this is a family feud which led both women to be married to Ptolemy VIII at the same time. I was excited to see this, and was not disappointed: in the reliefs they are identical—you can only tell them apart by their cartouches. Family feud!

We were rushed through the temple at the mercy of our caravan, but I did manage to take some nice photographs of the gigantic inscribed column bases and rectangular stone panels which span across the ceiling with large open spaces between them (sort of like our roof on the second floor of the house in Dakhleh, with low reliefs of the winged sun disk, and much higher up).

The temple was symmetrical to a T, with the exception of a small room on the right of the structure (facing the front of the pylon). In the room were two crocodile mummies in glass cases, unwrapped and covered in a thick grey dust. I found this strange because it was a clear place of devotion to Sobek, but had no equal on the other side of the temple for Haroeris. I guess it’s possible that another structure did exist at one time, or that mummified animals for Haroeris were located in the same place where these mummies were found (since the crocodiles were likely found in a cache elsewhere on site and put in the room for consolidation purposes).

We had time for some small talk while waiting for other groups to clear out (including several groups of Japanese tourists–I listened to a talk in Japanese!), so Asharaff explained a little bit about the king’s life during the New Kingdom period, which was essentially dominated by rituals. I never really thought about the king’s obligations, only his wealth; it seems he would have been in a constant state of performance, always concerned with the upkeep of his image. Poor guy!

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Edfu temple was the site of the ceremonial meeting of the statues Hathor (of Dendera) and Horus (of Edfu). The place is essentially one huge insult to Seth: it’s like saying, “I’m married, look at my beautiful wife (with whom the Greeks associated Aphrodite)… I have a beautiful temple, and there are pictures of you as a hippo being slaughtered on the walls. Ha, ha.”

I saw a lot of similarities between the temple at Edfu and others we’ve seen. For one, the H-shaped gate is nearly identical to the one we saw at Philae. Secondly, the inner hall at Edfu looks like the main hall in the temple to Rameses at Abu Simbel. There are traces of oil on the sides of the doors at Edfu, which points to the same practices as carried out at Kalabsha, Philae and Beit el-Wali.

We weren’t as rushed leaving Edfu, but we were pestered by merchants whose shops were conveniently placed between the parking lot and the temple. Jolly good marketing, I say!

End note: the cartouches with missing names were pretty funny.

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The most exciting thing about today’s travels? The Luxor Museum actually labeled its pieces!

The Museum is very neatly organized, with long ramps and even spaces between artifacts. My favorite part was the set of domestic items, including a bed and several sets of shoes. I was a little disappointed with the restoration of some of the larger pieces, though; the conservation boards explaining the processes undertaken were a nice touch, but the actual work left a visible trail of plaster. It seemed like the work wasn’t very precise, which might be explained by the age of the conservation campaigns. The point of conservation is to change the object as little as possible while protecting it against potential damage, all the while repairing the piece without leaving a trace of one’s work. Who knows what happened here…

Anyway, different subject.

I really like Luxor. When I first spoke to my parents after leaving the Oasis I told them that they’d love Aswan because it’s on the water and has some lovely hotels. I also told them it was my favorite place in Egypt so far, but I hadn’t yet seen this beautiful city.

I think the most charming thing about the city is how close the monumental ancient sites are to upscale hotels, modest markets and rows of boats on the water. It’s really very picturesque. Not too noisy, with cleaner air than in Cairo. Tres magnifique.

ABU SIMBEL AND SAINT SIMEON MONASTERY

We awoke this morning at 3am and piled into the van to join a convoy to Abu Simbel. As it was not one of the attractions on our itinerary, only Asharaff accompanied the student group on the trip. The caravan was composed of hundreds of cars and vans; I didn’t see this for myself because I was fast asleep until we arrived (nor did I see the sunrise we all anticipated when we hopped in the van). When one first arrives at Abu Simbel and looks at the back of the man-made mountains created for the restored monuments, it can be slightly underwhelming. But once you’ve turned the corner on the trail towards the temple to Rameses the Great, you can justify the long journey from Aswan.

The façade of the temple to Rameses II (who fancied himself a god) is, I realized, perhaps one of the most reused and recognizable images representing Egypt in modern times. A striking set of four enormous seated figures guards the door, while inside is a long hall lined with 20-foot-high gods and goddesses. The walls are adorned with famous carvings of Rameses smiting Assyrians and Nubians, as well as offering items to gods. The sanctuary is different from those we have seen because of the level of preservation it boasts: the cult statues (all four of them, seated in a row) still remain.

The neighboring temple to Nefertari, a favorite among Rameses’ wives, is equally as impressive in its wall carvings; however, I found the façade and columned hall to be rather plain in comparison with the king’s temple.

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With William and Monika in tow, we headed to the Monastery of Saint Simeon, built around the 4th-century settlement of Anba Hatra, an early monastic figure. My first thought was finally, I get to see something new (new as in post-Pharonic)! I really love churches, so this was a treat for me.

The monastic tradition at this site lasted from the 6th through the 14th centuries, when the Coptic community declined in size (unlike the Delta, which converted to Islam during the 9th century). During its time it was a social center in addition to serving religious purposes.

At first glance, the monastery looks like nothing more than a group of abandoned structures, the stone foundations of which are yellow with age. Inside, however, one can find evidence of recent restoration work with the unique architecture on each of the monastery’s two natural hill terraces. On the ground floor are dwellings for pilgrims, who would stay at the monastery to pray or heal from sickness. The church is also on the ground floor—I spotted the remnants of several stages of building (apparently, it began with the caves of hermit settlers and grew to a full basicilica-style building, modified from its original shape to accommodate domed roofs made of wood during the 13th century).

The dome supports, in the corners of the structure, frame small rounded niches closer to the ground. Faded paint is set atop a light plaster, the whole of which is surrounded by a dark brown plaster applied by conservators. The earliest paintings were supposedly from the 6th and 7th centuries, but what remains today dates approximately to the 13th century. It is obvious from the condition of the paint that the art was allowed to decay for some time, as the bottom of an image of Christ in Majesty seems the only part preserved well enough to be treated with chemicals for preservation. In the corners, small supporting domes are painted in bold blues and purples. Beneath Christ in Majesty are the 24 elders of the apocalypse, all defaced.

There are no roofs on either of the floors of the structure today. As a result, it feels very open and airy, almost like a courtyard or a peristyle hall. The walls are crumbling, but I could still make out the angled windows (angled for protection, like those on medieval fortresses). I walked from the sanctuary to a small, oddly-shaped room with sloping sides, the apparent cave of Anba Hatra. The ceiling of this room is remarkably well-preserved, with beautiful red and yellow geometric patterns and some paintings of saints. Someone saw one with a square halo, and William said that he thought square halos were for worthy people living at the time of the painting’s execution.

It is easy to forget that the monastery has a second floor, since it’s essentially outside on the ground floor. We made our way up to the second level for a little while, where I noticed clay pipes (much like qanats) snaking around the corners and ending in large basins. In the refectory, several large, round stone benches mark the ground. A strange stone structure, possibly an oven but with unnecessary detail-work if so, sits in the center of the room next to the refectory. On our way out, we passed by a row of very thin vaulted rooms, likely a stable.

I must admit that this is not how I pictured an Egyptian monastery. Judging by what I had seen in Cyprus from the 7th century, I was expecting a much more ornate and delicately-built structure. But what gives Saint Simeon’s its charm is how it literally arose out of the rock face—a job well done, I would say, for a group of hermits living in a period of strife.

PHILAE, NEW KALABSHA, BEIT EL-WALI, KERTESY TEMPLE AND THE NUBIA MUSEUM

This morning we were introduced to the sights in Aswan with a visit to Philae Island. Nick presented on the island, telling us that what we were seeing was not in fact the original: when the Aswan Dam was built, the real island was flooded; New Philae is located on Agilkea Island (formerly a raised area of land, converted into an island during the reconstruction project from 1972 to 1980). Though the buildings were placed in essentially the same layout on the new island, viewers today miss a great deal because the paint was washed off the walls of the temples there as a result of the movement of the water.

Despite this fact, Philae looks marvelous with its backdrop of sea and grasses. The main temple on the island is a temple to Isis, which was in use until about 530 CE. It looks more or less like two large stone forms of the letter H (each one part of a pronaos, or gate), connected by columned halls. The first building was donated by Psamtik II of the 26th dynasty, probably during a campaign against the Kushites (as I did my first presentation on the Third Intermediate Period, I know that Egypt was fighting off southern invaders at this time).

At the first pylon, the figures on the left side are completely defaced, though not using the ordinary scrape-it-off method: instead, they are riddled with pock-marks, which sort of makes them all look like they have leprosy. I have to say that this was quite funny, since the figures on the right side of the pylon were not defaced (they were probably behind a later dwelling or other structure, hidden from view)—it looked like the lepers were being separated from the healthy by a gate!

These gates are much larger and more elaborate than those we saw in Kharga Oasis: each pronaos in the Isis temple is composed of one of the simple, rectangular ones we saw at Hibis and Douche, flanked by two enormous stylized triangles. Over the years, additions and modifications have been made so that the structure we saw today is a mix of architecture until the time of Hadrian. Chunks of stone are missing here and there, but the temple is generally in very good shape.

Columns with alternating species of flowers, each topped with Hathor’s head, line the halls in neat rows as they once did. Where sections of stone architecture are missing, plaster or concrete replicas fill in the blank space without decoration, so as not to take attention away from the original structure. Modern restoration efforts include the placement of wooden screens on the tops of some of the rooms, presumably to simulate their original roofs. I don’t know how much this actually does for the structure, but it’s a nice change from the open halls.

The sheer number of reliefs and glyphs in this temple is absolutely mind-boggling when compared to what we’ve seen until now. The size of the structure alone is daunting for someone coming from the Oasis, and the shock is magnified when one takes a look at the artwork covering every inch of stone (it’s really amazing how they never missed a spot).

One of the most interesting things I learned at Philae was actually not about anything specific to the island; instead, it was Asharaff’s side-note that the reliefs of gods on sanctuary walls face out towards the door, as if looking at the visitor from the inside, and reliefs of kings face inward, as if to greet the gods head-on. I guess I never realized how logical the placement of glyphs and figures on the walls of these temples are; then again, I should have realized because of the attention to detail and wealth of symbolism demonstrated within them.

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It’s important to remember that Kalabsha, like Philae, is not in its original location (and was shifted originally off the straight axis in accordance with an sacred route across the water). It’s about 50km away from where it once stood, though I certainly wouldn’t have known the difference if Asharaff hadn’t told me; it’s essential to keep this in mind, though, because it is a testament to the magic of conservation and restoration.

What I enjoyed most about the site were its minute quirks:

• Would-be stone monsters, in the form of unfinished l-shaped blocks jutting out at the top of a wall, are a nice reminder that this structure is man-made, and by people who were subject to time and financial constraints in the same way artists are today.
• The knees on the gods and goddesses are heavily stylized, with strange snake-like curves.
• Greek graffiti, including an order by a 3rd-century governor to remove all pigs from the sanctuary, marks each stage in time when the temple was in use.
• Slivers of stone are missing in several places, likely carved by worshipers who believed in the healing powers of the temple structure; the deeply-cut eyes of gods are missing their precious inlays.
• Crosses dot the unfinished blocks behind the temple.
• Blocks with straight outlines but roughly-hewn centers are a relic of relief-carving practices, which (we can infer from the stones here) involved carving sharp edges and sinking the artwork into the stone once it was securely in place, and on a rough, raised surface.

I think the most interesting elements of this temple were actually not part of its original structure; instead, I found the Greek declaration of faith, painted in red inside the sun disk on the pylon, and a carving of Silco (a Christian Nubian king, on horseback being handed what looks like a martyr’s crown) to be the most thought-provoking. I am interested in the way later peoples saw these structures, since we today have varying opinions and imagine the way the temples used to be with the bias of our cultural backgrounds.

With regards to its original composition, since Nubian, Ptolemaic and Roman styles of carving (based on the shapes of bodies) can be seen at Kalabsha, the following question must be asked: did Augustus build the temple, or did he simply restore it?

Before we left, a large stone cistern with a hole large enough for an average person to squeeze through made for a nice photo-op with Nick and Page.

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A little blurb about the rest:

 

Beit el-Wali provided us with the first example of well-preserved wall-relief paint outside of the Oasis. Unfortunately, this does not apply to the ceiling (I imagine it would be very nice, were the paint not destroyed). What was fascinating were the columns: they looked Doric, which of course could not be; instead, William called them “proto-Doric”—were Doric columns a rip-off of an Egyptian style?

As we passed the small temple of Kertesy on our way back to the bus, we walked past a row of large stones with petroglyphs on them. It was nice to see something from a drastically different period of time after all of those huge pillars and pylons!

The Nubia Museum was an exercise in confusing tourists. Nothing was labeled (well, if a piece was labeled, then it was a simple label with no context)! There was a Chinese bronze on display…