Temples, Columns, and Obelisks

The next day, as the ship is not sailing until the evening, we visit Luxor and Karnak temples, two huge constructions of pylons, columns, obelisks, statues, columns, shrines, and columns. Did I mention columns? 

The temples are grandiose and stunningly breathtaking, while the profusion of columns bestows an incredible sense of depth, making the buildings seem to go on forever. 

Hieroglyphic inscriptions abound on the columns, walls, statues, lintels, obelisks, and even on the underside of stone beams, high above our heads. The hieroglyphs are accompanied by images of the gods, pharaohs, and decorations of lotus and papyrus flowers. In ancient times, these engravings were painted in vivid colours, some of which can still be faintly seen on areas hidden from direct sunlight. 

Columns and hieroglyphs everywhere

Luxor temple, dedicated to the god Amun, his wife Mut, and their son Khonsu, was built by several pharaohs in succession. Started by Amenhotep III, added on by Tutankhamun and Horemheb, it was completed by Ramses II who added a second pylon (a monumental gateway) and a colonnade hall as well as numerous statues of himself. 

 Even though Ramses largely expanded the temple, he had his name carved on almost everything, even the parts of the temple built before his time, making it look like he did the whole shebang when he really didn’t. You could call it reverse forgery in a way with Ramses putting his name on stuff that’s not his, instead of building stuff and putting someone else’s name on it, someone who’s famous. Well, all right, Ramses is kind of famous, but you get the picture.

Being in Luxor temple is emotionally moving, knowing that the Greats of ancient Egypt have been here, touched what I now touch, saw what I now see, and walked where I now crutch.

Karnak temple evokes the same feelings. It was also built by several kings, including Seti I (Ramses II’s daddy), Ramses himself, Tuthmoses III, and Queen/King Hatshepsut. Now, she was a cool chick. The daughter of Tuthmoses I, she married her half-brother Tuthmoses II (yuck, ick, bleh!). When her husband died, his son—by another wife—was only a child, and therefore, was too young to rule. The plan was for Hatshepsut to take the role of regent, ruling for young Tuthmoses III until he came of age. 

That wasn’t enough for Hatshepsut. She liked the power of being in charge and was good at it. She took over the throne, crowned herself as the new pharaoh, and ruled magnificently for over twenty years. She even had herself depicted as a man wearing the kilt and beard of kingship. I guess that would make her Tuthmoses’s aunt/uncle/stepmom/stepdad.

During her reign, Hatshepsut had many obelisks erected. One, at Karnak temple, still stands. When Tuthmoses III finally became king after the death of Hatshepsut, he wasn’t too thrilled with his late stepmother/aunt/uncle/whatever since she had usurped his throne. So, he decided to get rid of her obelisk. But instead of demolishing it, he had walls built around it to hide it. 

This strategy makes absolutely no sense to me, but Yasmin provides an explanation. Demolishing the obelisk would have cost too much money. Building walls to shield it from view was more economical. Is that so? My impression of Tuthmoses shifts from that of a temperamental mighty warrior—he has been referred to as the Napoleon of ancient Egypt—to that of a resentful penny-pinching pharaoh, not above throwing a tantrum or two. Indeed, after Hatshepsut’s death, he went so far as having her mortuary temple defaced, most of her statues smashed, and all inscriptions and images of her removed from the walls by literally hacking away the carvings. Yikes! Temper, temper. Now, if this had been Ramses, he would just have removed Hatshepsut’s name from the monuments and temples, and then simply added his own. No fuss, no muss, case closed. 

I guess there’s a kind of poetic justice after all because as far as the Karnak temple obelisks are concerned, it’s obvious which one is the best. The base of Hatshepsut’s obelisk is still partially surrounded by walls, but you can see the top half of it quite well. It’s beautiful, standing straight and strong; thank goodness for Tuthmoses’s stinginess, otherwise it would have been lost. Compare that to the other nearby obelisk—erected by either Tuthmoses I or III, depending on which book you read—with its rough uneven edges and crooked tip. Yup, Hatshepsut gets the gold medal; Tuthmoses-of-undetermined-number gets the papier-mâché medal.

 

Hatshepsut's obelisk on the left, Tuthmoses's on the right. The winner is obvious.

If you think that I have a soft spot for this queen turned king, you are correct. I like the woman. She had guts, brains, and determination. 

In antiquity, an avenue of ram-headed sphinxes, each the size of a motorcycle, linked Luxor and Karnak temples, spanning a distance of almost two miles. Parts of this avenue are still relatively intact while the rest lays buried beneath the sands of Luxor. I try to imagine what this may have looked like during pharaonic time, to envision the hundreds—maybe even thousands—of almost identical sphinxes, spaced about five or six feet apart and lining both sides of the avenue. It’s almost beyond comprehension. Taking it all in, the size and majesty of the temple complexes is staggering. It makes one fully appreciate the ingenuity, determination, and skill of the ancient Egyptians.

After this wonderful jaunt through the temples, we travel to the papyrus factory where they demonstrate the art of making this ancient form of paper. The process starts by taking the stems of the papyrus plant, slicing them lengthwise into strips, laying the strips vertically and horizontally in layers, and putting them in a press for several days. The result is a very strong and sturdy, yet flexible, material.

It always amazes me how people invent things. Whoever thought this up in the first place? Obviously, it was someone with a lot of time on their hands. But then, they didn’t have the modern distractions of TV, computers, or cell phones. Or maybe they were actually trying to invent something else altogether, like the first ever set of placemats, or a new fabric for a dress to be worn at the pharaoh’s swanky soiree. Imagine the ancient tailor consulting with his client, “My dear Nofret, you don’t want to wear cotton again; it’s so Old Kingdom. Try this new fabric made with all natural fibres. You’ll look divine!” 

“Nakhtmet, I hope this new fabric of yours will make me look slimmer. With all the food the servants pile on my plate, I fear I have put on some weight. Even when I ask for only one honey cake, they bring me three.” 

See? See? I knew it! The Egyptian Food Principle was happening even then. I wholly sympathize with Nofret. 

Mankind may have missed out on a new fabric, but with the invention of papyrus, the world has gained a wealth of information. The ancient Egyptians recorded everything, from household accounts to sacred rites. From the hundreds of written manuscripts and texts that have survived through the ages, we can piece together the lives of people who lived thousands of years ago. Well, those who can read the manuscripts, that is.

This brings me to the subject of hieroglyphs. As I have always been fascinated with ancient Egypt, I thought, how cool would it be to sit in a tomb and read a wall? So, years ago, I decided to study hieroglyphs. How difficult could it be, right? They’re pictures after all. If the picture is that of an owl, they’re talking about owls. It’s logical. I couldn’t be more wrong.