A day at the Pyramids

23.04.2011

I decided to hire Hamada and a driver for the Pyramid trip. For 60 quid I had a knowledgeable guide, a car, entrance to three Pyramid sites and lunch. The journey to Giza started at 7.30 am when we set off on the familiar roll of the dice which is driving in Egypt. They drive on the right here. Sometimes, however, some people drive on the left instead. It certainly makes for a more interesting ride. The driver called it “freedom” which I suppose it is in a way.

From the highway, you catch glimpses in between high-rise flats of these strange yet familiar shapes poking out of the desert. When up close, their size is simply staggering. Heaven only knows what ordinary Egyptians, or later Greeks and Romans, made of them. The largest – the Great Pyramid of Khufu built in 2600 BC– is 146m high. It was built for the Pharoah Cheops, whose son built another Pyramid – by tradition, a smaller one out of respect for his father – right next to his father’s. Cunningly, though, he had it built on a plateau so that it appears bigger than his old man’s. Most if the stone is local, but the granite was from 800km south (Upper Egypt), so thousands of tonnes of the stuff were transported all this distance. And this was before the invention of the wheel, according to Hamada. The Pyramids now have a jagged edge (one block on another) but originally would have had a casing which made the whole building perfectly smooth. A little of this casing is left on the smallest of the 3 Pyramids at Giza.

The site itself was wondrously quiet. Since tourism is down massively after the January 25^th revolution, I was luckily to walk around Giza with not more than a few dozen other people on a site of several square kilometres on the edge of the desert. This really is a perfect time to come to Egypt – and it’s not even unbearably hot yet.

A little down from the plateau the Pyramids sit on is the Sphinx. Much smaller than the Pyramids – and smaller than I had imagined – it is nevertheless utterly beguiling. I don’t know the actual dimensions, but I’d say the whole thing is about the size of a couple of large houses. It was carved out of one huge piece of limestone left over from the building of the Pyramids. Hamada said that some people believe that Napoleon shot the nose off with a canon, but presumably this is a myth. Descriptions of the Sphinx must exist from before Napoleon, so it’s the sort of thing that could be easily checked. He hadn’t bothered, though, and I doubt I will either.

We then got back in the deathmobile to another Pyramid site Sakkara, which is visible from Giza. This journey gave me my first sight of green for some time. Both Cairo and the desert are beigey-brown in colour so the beautiful, lush Nile basin was a happy relief. A couple of hundred metres either side of the river are planted with alfalfa, maize, date palms and other crops and serve as a remarkable contrast with the vast desert which is most of Egypt.  I found it amazing that at a certain point the desert simply ends abruptly and thriving vegetation begins.

Here we visited a burial chamber of a princess where you can still see quite clearly the 4500 year old hieroglyphics showing details of everyday life and the objects she wanted to take with her. Red, made, from ochre, was the most enduring of the colours, but green and blue from copper can still be made out. Apparently, they used a type of egg-wash varnish to preserve the colours, although I don’t imagine they thought they would last this long. There are scenes of scribes writing on papyrus, people fishing, slaughtering animals and even pictures of crocodiles and hippos which, since the building of the Aswan dam in the 1960s, no longer live on the Nile.

As I walked around these Pyramids and burial chambers, I could scarcely believe I was almost the only person there. The lack of tourists made it all the more special. As if any more proof of the decline in tourism were needed, at lunch I was the only person in a lovely restaurant which could have had a couple of hundred guests. Hamada wouldn’t eat with me, so I sat on my own amongst the bougainvillea (pink, purple, white and even orange) and enjoyed the oasis-like verdant lushness around me.

The third Pyramid site we visited was Dahshur. These are earlier, smaller efforts which didn’t have the ornate hieroglyphics seen in later examples. Most exciting of all, though, is that I actually went inside this one. There are limestone steps up going up the side to a height of about 30 metres. Then a square hole, one metre by one metre, brings you into a sloped passageway which you clamber down for about 50 metres. There are wooden banisters to hold onto and rails on the floor every foot or so to stop you plunging to the bottom in one go, but nevertheless getting yourself down is more difficult than it sounds. (Had there been any around, this might have been an ideal place to escape from fat American tourists.)  Once you reach the end of the tunnel you reach a burial chamber several stories high. This room didn’t actually house the main treasure; it was built as a decoy for tomb robbers. The real tomb was next door. The door, however, was 20m up a sheer limestone wall which would have posed seriously difficulties to any robbers. Happily, however, for visitors they had built a wooden staircase which gets you up into the real tomb. Although there was nothing left to see as such – any artefacts had been sent to the Egyptian museum – simply being inside a Pyramid was enough of an experience. Getting out again was harden than on the way down and, with my thigh and arse muscles aching like hell,  I could barely walk for a couple of days afterwards, but it was well worth it.

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 Conversation between me and a random stranger who came up to talk to me today.

Man: “Welcome to Asia!”

 

Me: “This is Africa, surely?”

Man: “Mm, yes. But also Asia!”

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First day in Egypt

22.04.2011

I thought my trip might end almost before it had begun in the taxi ride from the airport into Cairo. They have no lanes, they don’t indicate and almost every car has been bashed at some point. The cars also have to swerve to avoid the pedestrians who, in the absence of any designated crossings, walk into the road in front of the traffic as if daring it to stop. Generally, the cars will either slow down or simply move into the next imaginary lane in front of another car which then follows suit and so on. Crossing the street is an art, best done by following the locals. I think I am learning how to walk like an Egyptian.

Today I visited the wonderful Egyptian museum. It is full of artefacts taken from the ancient sites of Egypt. There are five thousand-year old wooden statues of noblemen; enormous granite columns from The Valley of the Kings; hundreds of every day objects (many of which we still use, in a remarkably unchanged way, today); entire burial chambers inlaid with ‘magic’ hieroglyphs to help the dead on their way to the next life. The most extraordinary thing to see at the museum is the famous blue and gold death mask of Tutankhamun. Everyone has seen this image but to be standing right in front of it, with those piercing inlaid eyes staring back right at you, almost through you, is something else. The poor boy was only eighteen when he died, having reigned for just nine years, but if there is an afterlife, then bearing in mind the contents of the tomb which Carter found – so full of ornament and luxury – then Tutankhamun can’t be having a bad time of it in the next world.  

As well as a number of luxurious items buried to accompany the dead to the next world, also often included were statues of servants and scribes. Social mobility not apparently being of high value at the time, your role in this world was carried into the next, so a Pharoah or nobleman needed to be buried with his slaves in order to have someone to wait on him post mortem. It seems a little sad that all this wealth and finery was made not to be looked at or enjoyed, but to be buried away forever (or so they thought). Deferring happiness until after one’s death doesn’t seem to be very clever to me. We are told that ancient Egyptians believed in this afterlife and that they could take their earthly possessions with them – and I am sure most of them did believe this – but I wonder if there were some more sceptical types who thought the whole idea a load of old stuff and nonsense.

While most of the artefacts in the museum are from the highest of society, also preserved are everyday objects which seemed just as interesting to me. They had salt and pepper pots not unlike our own, and even recorder- or flute-like instruments. It seems these were popular in the Middle East and made their way from there to Europe over time. It is odd to think how far ahead the Egyptians were of us at this time and how little changed we are with many of these domestic, quotidian objects.

A remarkable number of people who are trying to sell you things have a brother who lives in London/York/Oxford. One chap told me had exhibited his (piss-poor) papyrus drawings in a gallery in Camden, which seemed unlikely. He wanted to give me one free, then suggested I might like to donate some money to his sister’s wedding which was happening the next day. I declined the offer. While apparently friendly and unthreatening, the people here are full of such ruses.

My guide for the day, Hamada, was not like that at all and spoke beautiful English (not to mention Dutch, Spanish and French, as well as Arabic). It would be possible, and somewhat enjoyable, to walk around the Egyptian museum without a guide, but it only really comes to life when you have it explained to you, unless you are knowledgeable yourself of course. I am not, so welcomed the history lesson. There were certain exhibits he wanted to show me particularly but was happy if I wandered off somewhere else and seemed capable of talking about any artefact there. He even gave me a potted chronological history of Egypt at my request. He started with the pharaohs and ended with the revolution of January this year. I have booked him to take me to the Pyramids and other sights tomorrow. I have seen the Pyramids twice already, infact. Once from the plane and from where I am sitting: from the terrace on the roof of the Hotel Osiris, through the haze and pollution and dust, I can just make out two triangular shapes far off in the distance.

The metro, which has women-only carriages (for reasons of safety, not religion, I was told), took us in a few stops to Old Cairo. This part of town predates the arrival of Islam and contains Christian churches and a Synagogue. Wandering through the network of passages you come across dozens of tiny churches with crosses made out of roses and photos of recently-deceased Christians, much as you see in Orthodox countries. These three religions have lived side by side for centuries with very little strife, or so I was told. 20% of Egyptians are Christian, with the majority Muslim population being moderate and secular in comparison with many other middle eastern countries. Here in Old Cairo there are Roman remains next to a Greek Orthodox church next to a mosque. Hamada reckons this is where Joseph and Mary came with baby Jesus having fled persecution in Jerusalem. My scripture knowledge is embarrassingly lacking (he seemed surprised I didn’t know much about it), but if it is written in the Bible and is actually true, then today I have followed in the footsteps of Jesus. More or less.

I stopped for some food around here and had my fill of mint tea and falafel. The place was not just dirty; it seemed that it had never occurred to them to clean it: it was really an extension of the filthy street. The man did kindly shake some Dettol over the toilet (which was literally in pissing distance of the kitchen) before I used it. Curiously, the guy gave me my food, which he had made with unwashed hands, and then washed his hands in front of me with much ceremony, to show me how much importance he attached to cleanliness. I appreciated the gesture.

Another taxi ride by a driver who had the usual casual attitude to the preservation of life took us to Islamic Cairo. This is the original walled city of Cairo dating back to medieval times. In it lives a maze of markets which have been the meeting place for tradesmen from all over the middle east selling their wares for centuries. There is the impressive Al Azhar mosque which was empty but must be incredible when full of men praying in the direction of Mekka. It seemed a good place for sleepy people to get a few minutes’ slumber in the shade. You wouldn’t be likely to go to sleep on a pew in a Church in England, but they are very relaxed about that sort of thing here, and it seems no bad thing.

Since the food hasn’t been up to much so far, I think I might treat myself to a more fancy place tonight. Tomorrow is an early start to head to the Pyramids. The call to prayer at 6 am will be my alarm clock.