As a child, I devoured books and documentaries about ancient Egypt. There is a rich culture of art, religion and writing in Egypt that surpasses other ancient civilizations. Thanks to the arid landscape and the culture’s desire to preserve for eternity, there is a treasure trove of information available to study. It has been a privilege to witness the pyramids and temples of ancient Egypt.
First Contact
“It’s all fake.”
“It’s a hologram.”
Galen and I stared at the horizon. Something about the hazy sky gives a flat appearance to the massive structures in Giza. Even though I knew that they were literally on the edge of the city, it still surprised me any time the car turned and before us would be the imposing point of a pyramid. Unreal.
Even more unreal was actually touching the 4650 year old stone (give or take some years). To imagine the hands that cut and dragged the massive rock – the individual lives they lived, and how different life was for them. Whenever we look closely at such grand creations, creations created so perfectly, people cannot help but shrug their shoulders and claim, “it must have been aliens”. I can see why people think this. The precision of cuts, the mathematics to create the structures, the mechanics to move and pile the stone; it is hard to think of a culture 4650 years ago having the ability to create such things. I reached out again and again, touching my hand to history as we waited in line to enter the Pyramid of Cheops/Khufu.
Into the Belly of the Beast
Ducking down, the air immediately grew warm and stale and the light began to fade. We entered the pyramid via an entrance dug by explorers (rather than the true entrance which is incredibly long and winding). The tunnel continued to narrow and we began to climb. A ramp, steep like a ladder and barely wide enough for those coming down to pass by those coming up. Any time someone came, I had to paste myself to the edge as they passed. This is particularly difficult since you are doubled over. A line of butts in a hot stifling climb. Eventually the path joined the true entrance and the ceiling soared, but so did the humidity. I was slick with sweat and the accumulated exhalations of thousands. My head swam as the air grew thick. Once more we were forced down (this time to a crawl) and then we were there.
Buried in Stone and History
We were at the center of the pyramid and the austere burial chamber. I expected the walls to be covered with images and hieroglyphics, but they were smooth. A plain room and a single stone burial casket. All the material treasures have been removed, but there is still something to be gained through the sweaty journey. Just knowing that you are at the center of a pyramid, the place where a great pharaoh was buried is moving. I closed my eyes and imagined the bustle of people building, preparing, and then the final entombment of the pharaoh. A quick photo and we did our best to hurry out. We stepped out of the door to the edge of the stones and reveled in the open air. Wind whipped at our clothes and stirred the sands. Like the breath of gods.
Innundation of Hieroglyphics
I may have felt the lack of hieroglyphics while at the Great Pyramids of Giza, but there was no lack as we continued our journey. When Galen and I talked about what we were most excited to see while in Egypt, it was no specific place for me. What I wanted to see was hieroglyphs in situ. I wanted to see the actual carvings of words placed on tomb and temple walls exactly where they were meant to be.
Philae Temple
I will always remember my first time. We got on a small boat and slowly approached the island where the Philae Temple now stands. It is one of many temples that had to be relocated after the building of dams on the Nile river. The island it once stood on is below the water just beside it. Arriving by boat was a definite help in increasing the mystique of the island. From the moment I saw the columns, I was smiling. With no barriers, I could almost transport myself back in time. I could not help but reach out and run a finger along the hieroglyphs. One of the oldest forms of writing beneath my hands.
That wasn’t the end either. The next discovery to blow my mind was the level of preservation of some of the tombs. This is particularly evident in the Valley of the Kings. The tombs here are buried underground, protected from the wind and sand outside. I am aware that most statues and temples of antiquity were a riot of colour. It is hard to imagine them as anything more than natural stone though. Entering the tombs of the Valley of the Kings, shows you them in all their coloured glory. Some were so perfect, they could have been painted last year. This added somewhat to me and Galen’s joke that it is all fake. “There is no great culture preserved over thousands of years, it’s all a well-orchestrated hoax.” Because how could these paintings and carvings be so perfect after so long?
A Standard to Measure
To have a childhood dream realized is something to cherish. Honestly, I do not know why I waited so long to come here. It has been everything that I expected and wanted, and then more. I feel sorry for all the amazing things I have yet to see in the world. How will they ever measure up to the grand sublimity of ancient Egypt?