Egypt: Day Sixteen, & Reflections

Mustafa Waziri

No need to get up early.  And I’m already packed.  My only obligation is to vacate the room by noon.  So a quiet breakfast is my immediate goal.
       I run into Jihan after breakfast and we talk a bit.  She’s a very interesting person.  I hope we can keep in touch now that she’s given me her e-mail address.

Zahi Hawass

       After that, time for myself.  It’s a nice, warm, sunny day... a lot warmer than it will be in Paris and way warmer than it will be in Michigan.  So I take my book out on my terrace and just enjoy.  The rest is interest-free.  Lunch outside.  A nap in the room of the Two Lindas.  The trip to the airport.  And then the lights of Egypt fading into the blackness outside the window of the jet taking me back to winter.
       It’s been an amazing trip.  I’ve seen things I’ve wanted to see since I was a child and touched monuments over 4,000 years old.  I’ve met with two of the world’s foremost Egyptologists - Zahi Hawass and Mustafa Waziri - as well as had tea and conversation with Jehan Sadat, the widow of the late President of Egypt.  What a wonderful two weeks it’s been!

Here a few Little Nuggets I gleaned throughout the trip.  It’s a hodge-podge.

Jehan Sadat

       I learned for example how the interiors of the temples were lit without depositing soot all over the walls, as happened later when the Coptic Christians hid from the Romans in some of the temples.  The answer?  Castor oil.  It makes no smoke.  And it’s a more pleasant use than having to swallow it.

Ahmed

       As we drove around the city and the countryside, I was struck by the number of buildings that are unfinished.  Pressed with questions, Ahmed explained that projects may lack money once they get started, but also that some buildings are constructed to be unfinished on purpose.  He explains that families buy a shell of a house, with no electricity and no plumbing.  They get someone to finish it for them.  But they often leave rebar sticking up stumps of columns, ready for the next story to go up.
       I learned that the Egyptians have their own version of La Turista.  It’s not Montezuma’s Revenge, but close: The Nile Revenge.  And they have their own little miracle pill to take care of it.  I get lucky and don’t catch it.

Horus

       I giggled at the name of that silly little Nubian stringed instrument a bit like the Japanese shamisen but less melodic.  It’s called a rababa, and that’s about as repetitive a name as the melodies played on it.  The bow is as big as the instrument and it looks more like someone’s trying to saw through it rather than scratch out a tune.  Which would probably be merciful because I don’t know what that string is made of (often there’s only one) but it really sounds like a cat being skinned.

     I’ve found some new favorites among the ancient gods and goddesses.  Still don’t care much for Anubis and his jackal head; mummification is just not my thing but it is his.  Also a bit gross is Khepri, who doesn’t have a head but rather a beetle in its place.  And the jury’s still out on Thoth, with his pointy ibis head.  I do like Ma’at though, the goddess who looks down from the lintel of tombs, her wings outstretched to welcome the dead seeking their way to the Afterlife.  And spite of her cow ears; Hathor seems like the kindly, motherly sort, but I may have been influenced by that attendant in the Valley of the Kings who smiled and called me Hathor; I hope that was a compliment!  And the crocodile-headed god Sobek is a hoot, especially as I once dated a guy named Sobeck.  Horus is still my favorite though.

       I’ve been very good and only bought a few things.  That is, if you except all those books.  There’s the woven bag to carry them in, of course and it was a bargain at $5.  And that little carved wooden hippopotamus that has to replace the Horus I couldn’t find anywhere.  And the white cotton tunic with the blue trim which might have been $10 and will be perfect for summer.  And the bracelet they said is turquoise but definitely can’t be for only $6 (100 Egyptian pounds) but I love the color (which is turquoise) and the gold veins in it.
       Which brings me to a word of advice for anyone traveling to Egypt:  take a whole lot of dollar bills.  A whole lot.  You’ll need one to pay for the toilet paper at most public toilets, especially outside of Cairo.  And for all those souvenirs the vendors are selling as your bus pulls into any monument at all.  That’s what they want.  Dollars.  You’ll help their economy.  And make them smile.
       And when Egyptians smile, their whole face smiles.  And lights up the room.

Egypt: Day Fifteen, Part Two

The next stop is the Roman Amphitheater at Kom el-Dikka, the only one in Egypt.  And again, it was discovered by accident, while moving sand to build a government building.  Archeological digs on the amphitheater have been carried out since 1960 by a joint Egyptian-Polish team.  With tall apartment buildings looming over it on all sides, it looks a bit incongruous.  I try to picture what Alexandria must have been then, during the first few centuries A.D. when it was functioning, and what plays were put on here before 600 spectators.  The white marble it’s made of apparently came across the Mediterranean from Europe (maybe from Carrara, north of Rome?).  There seems to have once been a ceiling over the seating, and the columns were added later but cracked and fell in an earthquake in the 6th c A.D.

       Next to the amphitheater is the Villa of the Birds, whose name came from its mosaic floors with bird motifs.  Visibly the home of someone wealthy from the time of  Hadrian (117–138 A.D.), digs have determined it was redecorated at least four times and ultimately destroyed by fire in the 3rd century A.D.  Once the soot from the fire was removed, the floor mosaics were found to portray quail, pigeons, parrots, peacocks and water hens, as well as other mosaic floors with a panther and a flower design known as a rosette.
  The amphitheater lies at the end of a street of shops and other buildings whose foundations and partial walls still remain.  Richer people built in stone, the common man used red clay bricks.  And statues from elsewhere were repurposed.  There was once a library where you could get books to read while you relaxed in the Roman baths, both hot and cold.
  On the opposite side, on higher ground, stand statues and stelae that have been recovered and put on exhibit here.  Some of them had been tossed in the Mediterranean, which is high in salt content, and so they had to be soaked at length in a freshwater bath to remove the harmful salt particles.  One such is the Obelisk of Seti I from the 13th century BCE, a sphinx with the head of a human or the god Seth.  It gives a good idea of what the face of the enigmatic Sphinx at Giza may have looked like once.

Already lunchtime, and we leave ancient Alexandria behind for the Corniche of Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet.  It may well not have changed much since the days of World War I.
  We stop at the Tikka Grill right on the water, where we enjoy both some lovely grilled fish - a welcome change from chicken - and a view out over the whole expanse of Alexandria’s Bay.
Stomachs full, our bus driver Mahmout (yet another version of Mohammed) drives us out to the point of the harbor, where the famous Pharos lighthouse, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, used to tower some 500 feet high.  Built in 290 B.C., and withstanding a tsunami in 365 A.D., it finally succumbed in 1303 A.D. to a major earthquake.

Fort Quatibay

  What stones didn’t fall into the sea were used to build the Citadel of Qaitbay that now stands on the site.  Although the Crusades were over, the Egyptian sultan needed a fortress against the Turks.  The Ottomans eventually defeated Egypt anyway, and they used both this citadel and the one we saw in Cairo, the Citadel of Saladin.  Later on, the French Expedition to Egypt captured it, not because of any fault in the building, but rather in its troops.  After being neglected, it was restored as the 20th century opened and after the Revolution of 1952 the Egyptian Naval troops turned it into a Maritime Museum.
The view out over the Mediterranean is beautiful, and attracts tourists and young lovers alike, as well as families out for a walk.  There are also buggy rides to be had, and the horses look cared for and well-fed, feed-bag as proof, plus spare fodder in the front of the buggy.  That includes the bay gelding that I just have to stop to pat, whose name, the proud driver tells me, is Jimmy.

Mahmout strolls our bus back down the point and along the Corniche all the way to the opposite point, which will be our last stop of the day.
  What I learned of Alexandria back in grade school can be summarized in two words:  lighthouse and library.  As we’ve seen, the lighthouse is gone but here we are at the new Library of Alexandria.  The ancient one had pretty much a copy of all the world’s knowledge at that time:  scrolls, papyri, books.  The scribes were kept busy translating works from other countries, and any book that arrived in the port on a ship was taken to the library to be copied, the original remaining the property of the library and the copy given to the book’s rightful owner, which is a pretty drastic way to build up a library.  It was eventually burned to the ground, some say by Caesar in 48 BCE, some when Emperor Aurelian took the city around 275 A.D.  And then there was the Muslim takeover in 642 A.D.  Whichever it was, it was the first documented and most catastrophic loss of public knowledge the world has ever known.

  From the world’s oldest library to the world’s newest, the ultra-modern glass-and-steel structure we visit is built very near the location of the ancient one.  Its collection is trilingual - Arabic, English and French - with the French National Library having donated half a million volumes to start it rolling.  With shelf space for 8 million volumes, there’s still room to expand.  And anyone can consult it via internet (www.bibalex.eg/en/default).
  There’s plenty of desk space for consulting books and other documents.  There are six specialized libraries, including one for rare books and another for the blind.  The complex also includes four museums: antiquities, manuscripts, history of science and the Sadat collection of the late president’s personal belongings.  Plus a planetarium.  It’s really quite impressive.

But the day is getting late, and some of us have flights out of Cairo tonight (not me).  So with sirens blaring, our police escort (which we’ve had since entering the city) accompanies us to the highway, and we’re homeward bound.  Although they leave us there, Jihan is under orders to phone them every hour to report on our progress.  As I said, safety is taken very seriously in this country which is so dependent on tourist dollars.
  Halfway back, the sky starts to clear as the climate of the Mediterranean gives way to that of the desert.  We pull into Mena House after dark.  Our sniffer dog is rousted to inspect the bus and we all head off to our separate rooms, to change for dinner or to pick up our suitcases for the airport drive.
       I dine with the two Lindas and then it's off to my room for my last night in an Egyptian bed.

Egypt: Day Fifteen, Part One

It’s going to be a long bus ride to Alexandria - 150 miles, or about three hours - and so an early wake-up call.  This time the remnants of both tour groups - Ramses and Horus - will be together on the same bus.  I dub us Ramus, a new Egyptian god, the god of tour groups.  Our guide will be Jihan, as on the first day’s trip to Meidum and Hawarra.  I’ll miss Ahmed and his humor, but Jihan is very sweet and extremely knowledgeable.

At breakfast with Julie and Larry, I learn the Arabic word for the hibiscus tea juice I’ve been enjoying in the morning instead of orange or pineapple:  karkade.  (Recipe: 1 cup dried hibiscus flowers to 10 cups boiling water - Boil 2-3 minutes, let cool, add ½ cup sugar, stir well - Be careful, this juice stains indelibly!)



  We leave Giza by the Desert Road, in fact the only major direct road from Cairo to Alexandria.  And this time there’s no police escort.  We start out in Cairo in the sun but the farther north we go, the nearer to the Mediterranean we get, the thicker the clouds grow.  This is the first non-sun I’ve seen in two weeks.  As the hours pass and the miles roll by, conversations fade and heads nod, row by row, until all but a few are sleeping.

Along this divided highway there are some pedestrian overpasses, which is a good idea from the lack of self-preservation Egyptian pedestrians seem to have.  It’s strange to see no donkey carts, no people waiting on the side of the road for a microtaxi.  What we do see is a lot of almost chimney-like structures, painted colors with twigs sticking out of them horizontally.  They turn out to be dovecotes and many, many farms have at least one.  There are also farms with long stretches of plastic tunnels for growing produce all year around.
  The Nile River flows into the Mediterranean about 20 miles east of Alexandria.  So as we reach Greater Alexandria, the marshes start.  And the factories:  Coke, Pepsi, refineries, textile mills, pharmaceuticals plants...  And warehouses, because this is a seaport.  This is where business happens, in this city facing Europe.  Except for the minarets, we could be in the industrial outskirts of a French city.
  Initially Alexandria was built on just one island across from a village.  Alexander the Great drew up plans to link them and create a city to bear his name.  When he died, Ptolemy finished the project.  The library and university date from about 230 BCE.  Given that it was not an Egyptian city really, Egyptians were treated as third class citizens.  Above them were the Greeks and the top class was reserved for royalty.

Our first stop in Alexandria is at the catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa, which date from the 2nd to the 4th century A.D.   It was lost for many, many centuries and then, as in so many cases of ancient ruins in Egypt, rediscovered when a donkey fell into the entry shaft around 1900.  Access is down a circular staircase around a central shaft used to lower bodies down to their tomb.  There are three levels, the lowest one now under water, and horizontal corridors radiate out from the circular stairway.
  The catacombs had three sections:  two for royal tombs and one for “visitors”.  Purification was carried out on-site, along with mummification under the auspices of Anubis (seen on some of the wall paintings).  No bodies were found because of the water and ambient humidity here on the coast, unlike inland in the desert climate.  Some bones found turned out to be of horses.  The artwork is a blend of Egyptian, Greek and Roman styles.
  Probably a private burial site initially, it became a public cemetery at some point.  Perhaps that private tomb was Tigran’s, also found while digging foundations for a modern-day building.  The artwork isn’t the greatest, with Horus looking more like a pigeon than a falcon and the jackals on either side resembling dogs expecting a treat..
  Scattered outside the property are hundreds of stone pieces of monuments, along with some sarcophagi.  They’re all numbered and just waiting for space in a museum.

We drive through the narrow streets of Alexandria, which, like Cairo, could use a clean-up... and probably for the same reasons.  A few images will stick in my mind.  The lady totally covered in a black burka, her glasses perched somehow on something, as if glued on, and defying gravity.  Shops selling used tires piled one atop the other.  The many chop shops where you can find any part of any car you want.  But especially everyone waving at our bus and smiling.

Egypt: Day Fourteen, Part Two

After this exploration of how religions coexist in this largely Muslim country, our bus wends its way through Cairo traffic, past shops, garbage and people sleeping rough, to a square that borders on the Khan El-Khalili Bazaar.  Adjacent on the square is the Al-Hussein Mosque, which is where Ahmed goes, while we shop, to catch up on some of the prayers he probably missed because of us heathen tourists.  He told us during the Q&A on the boat that he manages somehow to fit his prayers in during the day.  Which is amazing, given our schedule.  (His last name is Hussein, as is the other guide-Egyptologist, Jihan.  I guess that may be Egypt’s version of Smith or Jones.)
       We all head into the bowels of the bazaar.  Dawn and I decide to split off from the group and wander on our own for the hour-and-a-bit we’re given.
       Khan El-Khalili is a warren of criss-crossed lanes with shops on either side.  Most are open-air but some are arcades with offices or residences overhead.  I’m not looking for anything in particular, but I spot some small mirrors that would look good in my apartment in Montmartre, by the door to reflect sunlight into a sometimes dark interior, especially in winter.  There are none the size - and price - I want in the first shop, but nearer to the end of our bazaar-cruising, I do find one made out of wood that’s perfect in size.  Dawn and I also stop by a spices store to enjoy all the colors and aromas.  There’s every kind of spice you’ve ever known and a few you haven’t, all in barrels or baskets.

       A strange thing happens in one of the streets bordering the bazaar.  Shopkeepers call out to us, as we are visibly tourists.  And then, for no apparent reason, one of them calls out to me in French.  About five minutes later a second shopkeeper does the same.  To this day, I have no idea why they picked me out as being French, but as it happened twice, they must have been basing it on something.  I guess that will remain one of Life’s Little Mysteries.
       Dawn and I walk back and forth in these lanes for the full hour.  And then we need to find our meeting point, which we think is in opposite directions.  As it all looks alike up to a certain point, there's a moment of apprehension, but finally we wind up on the square again and our blood pressure returns to normal.
       As our bus creeps down a crowded street, there’s a shout and the bus comes to a sudden halt.  I see people running toward it, and the security guard jumps out through the door in a flash.  Sitting on the opposite side of the action, I have no idea what’s going on.  It turns out that a boy in an adult-sized wheelchair propelled himself against the bus.  It was probably a ploy to extract money from the bus driver.  When he saw our security guard, he evidently thought better of it because he’s run away, unharmed and suddenly not in need of the wheelchair.  A miracle!  Must have been all those churches.

Back at Mena House, we all gather together for one last meal in the big banquet room.  I must say there are some tearful good-byes.  Some of us have grown close over the past two weeks, and chances are we may well never meet again... with one or two exceptions.  At least a list of e-mail addresses is passed out so we can keep in touch.  I’m sure there’ll be exchanges of photos and memories over the coming months.
       A good number of my fellow travelers head to the airport tonight.  Others are leaving in the morning.  I and a few others have chosen to add on a day in Alexandria tomorrow.  So it’s to bed with me because... well, yet another early wake-up call.

Egypt: Day Fourteen, Part One

Our flight is at 5:50 am.  By 7:00 we’re back in Cairo and on our way to Mena House.
       One thing I’ll be asked a lot when telling people about this Egypt trip is “Was it safe?”  The answer would have to be “Hell yes!”  Everywhere we went, there was a discreetly armed guard among our staff.  Opening up the way for the bus was often a police car, which would change every time you went over the border into a new governate (like a county).  And there are a lot of police around the monuments, as well as at the airport.  Not to mention the highway checkpoints with the chicanes, and the Zodiac with its police crew escorting our boat for part of the way...

     At the Cairo Airport, we have an airport security guard.  He goes with us until the exit of the airport perimeter.  As we drive into town, I spot guards atop the walls around the military academy as well as other government buildings.  Elsewhere I don’t see a lot of police.
     Today is Friday - the Sabbath in Islam - so there’s less traffic.  For instance the 10 minutes it takes us to clear the airport zone usually takes 60 to 90 minutes, according to Ahmed.  We zip through Heliopolis, the rich suburb where the President has his palace.  Ahmed points out a large private park that belonged to the Aga Khan; he opened it to the public for a mere 10 or 15 Egyptian pounds, which is under $1.  As it’s Friday, there’s a huge market being held in the cemetery, which is a vast part of Cairo.  We zip across Roda Island in the Nile River; Roda means paradise and that’s the way people feel about this little haven.  After that, we’re back in Giza.
       When we reach Mena House, the faithful German shepherd - one of several, I’m told - is taken out of his doghouse to sniff our car.  As it’s a bit nippy, he has on a coat, and on the coat is an escutcheon indicating he’s a service dog.  It rained in Cairo for two days while we were upriver.  And it rained hard, with thunder and lightning.  As it rarely rains, the drainage system is poor and there are puddles all over.  And mud.  But at least we missed out on it.  Walking around in the pouring rain when all you want to do is admire pyramids...  We were lucky.

Al Hussein Mosque

Many in our group are flying out tonight, after our festive dinner.  Or early tomorrow.  Some gluttons for punishment have signed up for an excursion today.  I know I’ll probably never be in Egypt again, so I’ve decided to go on the tour of the bazaar in Old Cairo.
     On the way to the bazaar, we walk down countless narrow streets of shops, including a bookshop that looks just chock full of old books that are calling to me.  But our goal in this part of Old Cairo is to explore other facets of Egypt’s multi-religion culture.

The Hanging Church

       First we visit a historic Coptic church built over a gatehouse to an old Roman fortress - thus its name:  The Hanging Church.  When considering Christians in Egypt, it should be remembered that the Holy Family fled here to escape Herod.  According to what I’m told, Jesus lived here, in this area, from the age of 2 to 6.  The Hanging Church hasn’t been around quite that long, only for 1700 years.  It’s built of wood and stone, in the shape of an ark.  Its sober brick interior contrasts with ornate woodwork that’s very Moorish in its style:   openwork cut into the precious woods.

       A few short blocks away stands the Ben Ezra Synagogue, built where Baby Moses is supposed to have been found when the Nile was high and the pharaoh’s palace was nearby.  Just as we go to enter, the call to prayer rings out from a minaret close by.  The irony is not lost on me.  This synagogue was once a Coptic church, but it was damaged in an earthquake and only the Jews were interested in buying it... and for a huge price.  Richly decorated inside, there’s a balcony which is for women, a bit of sex discrimination that seems the rule of thumb here in Egypt. 

St. Sergius & St. Bacchus Church

       The third place of religion is St. Sergius and St. Bacchus Church aka Abu Serga.  Named after two Christian soldiers who were martyred in Syria by a Roman emperor   Again there’s a direct link to Christ.  It’s said to have been built on the spot the Holy Family - Joseph, Mary and the infant Jesus - reached at the end of their long journey into Egypt.  And although the church was built in the 4th century, underneath it is a crypt where they are said to have rested.

Egypt: Day Thirteen, Part Two

Hatshepsut's Horus 

We walk back across the street to the boat and rest up a bit until our other trip later on in the day.  This time we’re going to the Valley of the Queens, just beyond the sugar cane fields.

There are 22 temples on the West Bank of the Nile and over 90 tombs here in this one valley, built between 1292 and 1015 BCE during the 19th and 20th dynasties.   There’s a village at the foot of the valley, and soaring above the tombs a triangular hill, like a pyramid itself, is Ghorna, the horn. 

       The Valley of the Queens is really a misnomer because it’s more nobles, officials and their families who are buried here.  At the dawn of the 20th century, Italian archaeologists lived here to excavate the many tombs.  And there are many because each hole is a tomb, with a shaft and at least one chamber, many never finished or decorated.  Now all the sand has been cleared away down to bedrock, so no more will be found.

  As in the Valley of the Kings, our pass lets us visit three tombs as well as Nefertari’s.
  The first that I choose is the tomb of Prince Kha-em-Waset, son of Ramses II.  In spite of his wealth, he came to an unfortunate end - his throat slit by his wife and one son.  On the walls is depicted another son who died young .  So we see the prince guiding the son through the underworld to introduce him to Osiris.  You can tell he was young because of the lock of hair on the side, which means he was under 12 years of age when he died.
  The second tomb is that of Queen Tyti, the wife of Ramses III, perhaps the last of the great pharaohs.  There’s a detail here that differs from other tombs, and that’s that the queen is portrayed as a young woman and then in middle age.  Among the divinities depicted are Ma-at, her wings outstretched and Thoth, the ibis-headed god of wisdom and writing.  In the burial chamber, instead of the stars standing out against a blue ceiling, the background is yellow.

  The third tomb is Prince Amen-Khopshef, son of Ramses III.  Just inside the entrance a “guide” calls me over to a recess carved in the corridor.  In it is a tiny mummy.  “6 months.  Not born”, he tells me.  A miscarriage.  Again I think of the grandson I never met who died almost at the same age, the one I thought of at the Cairo Mosque.  I turn away, but too late.  He’s already seen that I was starting to cry.  Not knowing what to do, he pats me on the back, which is amazing because I’m a woman and he doesn’t know me.  (On the way back out, I see him again, but he’s not showing this mummy to the ladies any more, at least not today.)  I find I’m starting to understand the meaning of the drawings more; for instance, a woman with her hands down and the signs for water turns out to be the goddess Nephthys, sister of Isis, pouring libations.  On the door to the sarcophagus chamber are two winged cobras, long and winding.  Far nicer is the image of man and woman holding hands, their fingers intertwined, his darker than hers.  It’s unusual.
  As I climb down some stairs, a guide holds out his hand and calls me Hathor.  I’m not really sure why.  Maybe because of my age, and the fact that I smile, he thinks I’m worthy of being the goddess of love, joy, music and maternity.  Or maybe he just says that to all the girls... although I’m the only one within earshot that he says it to.

Hathor drinking from pharaoh's hand

The last tomb I visit is that of Nefertari, which is 3300 years old but still has most of its original paint.  Nefertari was the most beloved wife of Ramses the Great, his first and most favored.  Married at 24, she was called “the most beautiful companion” and bore the pharaoh four daughters and two sons.  Like so many others, her tomb was pillaged.  Her mummy was never found.
  In the sarcophagus chamber it’s easy to pick out Osiris because he’s always green.  And of course there’s Anubis, with his jackal head, who’s responsible for mummification.  There are multiple Isises, Horuses and Hathors.  Again there are winged cobras guarding doorways as they guard the gates in the afterlife.  And the outspread feathered arms of Ma’at on the lintels between chambers.  There’s also a strange bald, naked man - the doorkeeper - brandishing two knives on the wall of the burial chamber. But a detail that strikes me is the way Nefertari’s clothing is often made to look transparent; you can see her arm or part of her leg “through” the fabric.
  Although the centuries haven’t been kind to this tomb, and patches of plaster have fallen to dust, marring the otherwise bright colors of the wall decoration, the magnificence of the woman in life is maintained in death.

Then it’s time for the other site, besides Abu Simbel, that has always captivated me and has brought me to Egypt:  the Temple of Hatshepsut.
  She fascinates me because Egypt was a country of pharaohs, who were all men.  All except for her and two “illustrious unknowns” (as the French say) before her.  She reigned for about 22 years. And then pretty much there was nothing until Cleopatra fourteen centuries later.  In addition, Hatshepsut is generally regarded as one of the most successful pharaohs, male or female.  She restored the trade routes, making the country rich again.  She built innumerable monuments, including at Karnak, as well as her own mortuary temple, which is where we’re headed.  One Egyptologist called her “the first great woman in history of whom we are informed”.  She was the half sister of Thutmose II and co-regent with Thutmose III, her stepson and nephew.  (Ancient Egypt was an incestuous family business, but you can blame it all on the original god Osiris who married and had children (Horus) by his sister Isis.)  Then she got herself named king-queen, and thus pharaoh.  Hatshepsut, the Iron Lady of Ancient Egypt.
       Hatshepsut’s tomb is just behind the hill, in the Valley of the Kings.  Plans were to drill through the hill to link up this temple with her tomb, but that was never done.

  I’ve already seen the temple from the hot-air balloon.  But actually walking up the broad staircase is almost like a dream.  There are people around - mostly Egyptians, tourism being down greatly - but it doesn’t seem to matter.  I’m here.
  At the base of the stairway are statues of Horus, their eyes keeping watch.  Like Notre-Dame or the Cathedral of Chartres, the temple was once painted.  But like Notre-Dame or Chartres, I prefer just the stone.  There are only traces of color left on some columns and outer walls, but the colors are well preserved for their age in the colonnade where they’re more protected from erosion.  After all, this temple was built around 1470 BCE.
  The whole temple is so very different from anything else from Ancient Egypt.  It’s sober yet beautiful, simple but striking.  There’s a quiet purity about it.  Of the three different levels, the top one - rebuilt about ten years ago by a Polish expedition - is the most striking visually, when seen from afar, because of the tall statues backing onto the columns, pharaohs with their arms crossed on their chests. 
You have to get closer, into the colonnades, to get the full effect of this temple’s artwork.  Especially on the middle terrace, with its sanctuary (the only part built into the rock; the other two are free-standing).  The left side tells the story of Hatshepsut’s birth, the right the famed expedition to Punt.  All the walls are covered with carvings, and some of them are unlike all the others I’ve seen.  For instance, there’s Hathor in the form of a cow (at least I think it’s Hathor) with her tongue out, drinking something from the hand of the pharaoh (probably Hatshepsut, with her false pharaoh’s beard).  There’s a frieze of trees, mostly palms but also some deciduous-looking trees with branches unlike any I’ve seen in the parts of Egypt we’ve visited.  There are also rounded huts which look more like tropical Africa than Egypt.

     And then Ahmed points out a turtle, which lends a possible explanation.  There are no turtles in Egypt; only in the Red Sea.  But Hatshepsut is notorious for her expedition to Punt (either Ethiopia or Somalia) in 1480 BCE, which brought great riches of ivory, ebony and myrrh.  It’s reported that she sailed there herself.  So she would have seen turtles and other kinds of non-Egyptian trees.  And later I’ll find confirmation on the internet that this expedition to Punt is indeed recorded on her “memorial temple”.  So sometimes it’s interesting all you can learn from a simple turtle carving.
There are a few carvings where the face has been removed.  You can see the impacts of the hammer or rock used.  As there was some bad feeling towards Hatshepsut after her death - and even during her lifetime, cheeky broad that she was, trying to be a pharaoh! - and that the clothing looks more feminine than the usual leopard skin of other pharaohs, I take this to be Hatshepsut herself.  I know her successor defaced many of her likenesses.  I wish I could have seen the face.  At least I’ve seen what she had designed in her memory.