We returned to Cairo, ending our official G Adventures tour. Now, we were on our own. Our plan was to go see some of the older pyramids and tombs that tell of the lessons learned during construction and also visit what was once the original Memphis.
Tour of Bent Pyramid
In Dahshur, we visited the Bent Pyramid and were the only people there. Astonishing to walk up to that massive structure with no one else in sight. Just the sound of the wind and our footsteps in the sandy gravel. We walked all the way around the large pyramid, observing the angles.
This one had been started at a steep 54 degree angle in the 2600s BC, but it is believed that an earthquake toppled a nearby pyramid…and lesson learned. Halfway up, these designers changed the angle to a more gentle 43 degrees and continued to build. This gives the pyramid it’s name, the “Bent Pyramid”. The outer limestone casing is still somewhat intact. With no one there, we lingered. Gazing west to the Sahara and wandering around the edges of the pyramid to see it from varying distances and angles. It could have been 2020 or 1020 or 1020 BC.
The angle was going to be much steeper. But an earthquake tumbled other structures, and the builders adjusted to a more gentle incline half way up. The Bent Pyramid, Dahshur, Egypt.The Bent Pyramid, Dahshur, Egypt.Panorama of the Bent Pyramid. Dahshur, Egypt.
Tour of Red Pyramid
This pyramid looked imposing from a distance. It is red and smooth. Began around 2590 BC, it is believed to be the first smooth-sided pyramid. And it is big–in fact it is the 3rd largest pyramid behind the two big ones in Giza. This one used to be covered in a polished white limestone, which they say was taken for buildings in Cairo.
There were many steps up to the entrance, and once again we marveled at the lack of crowds. As we stopped to catch our breath on the way up to the doorway, we looked out over the plain and could see an older couple beginning the climb down below. Next, we went 145 steps down into the tomb. We were the only ones in there. We looked up at the perfectly stacked stones, considered how far into the ancient pyramid we were, and boom. Anxiety. We scurried up 145 steps lickety-split. Fresh air never felt so good. The older couple sat at the entrance, preparing themselves to go in after the exertion of getting to the top. They asked questions about what they’d see and waved bye as they began their 145 step descent.
The Red Pyramid in Dahshur, Egypt.Look closely for the entrance to the Red Pyramid, midway up up up. Dahshur, Egypt.Steps up to the Red Pyramid entrance.That’s Bryan, climbing out of the Red Pyramid…hastily.Carol exiting the Red Pyramid, Dahshur, Egypt.
Tour of the Step Pyramid
Next we visited the Step Pyramid in Djoser. This is the oldest known stone monument, began around 2650 BC. This complex had more visitors, but still much lighter than in Giza. The skies were perfect, but the sandy wind made for a bleak feeling as we walked around.
First was an walled entry facade, then a walkway flanked by giant columns, which at last, opened onto a view of the pyramid. This one is smaller. It has 6 tiers and though there are chambers inside, the structure has been closed for ~18 years because of earthquake damage. It is believed the pyramid will reopen to receive guests in March.
The Step Pyramid in Saqqara, Egypt.The Step Pyramid walkway. Saqqara, Egypt.A horse at the Step Pyramid in Saqqara, Egypt.Panorama of the Step Pyramid of Djoser, Egypt.
Check out this link to see a fascinating and interactive diagram comparing all the Pyramids in the world today
Tombs of Saqqara
We had a brief stop in Memphis to see the giant Ramesses statue, an alabaster Sphinx, and a few salvaged building remnants. We were more interested in the hungry dogs roaming the area. Why don’t people care for the animals? It sickens me to see these sweet faces on skeletal bodies just hoping a tourist will give them a cracker or a crumb. Of course, we emptied our bags of any snacks for the pups. It wasn’t enough to go around. Poor souls.
Next, we spent some time wandering around the tombs. I was mad at humans. Walking around these tombs, remembering the dead and what’s left behind, gave me a strange melancholy. We are nothing. Never will be. We take nothing with us but our soul. We may leave behind giant pyramids, a tomb carved with reliefs of the things we loved in life, or only our bones and the bones of the animals we ate.
I’d later learn that in area near here they recently uncovered a tomb with 8 million dog mummies. WTF? Ancient Egypt or modern places, humans disappoint me. I don’t understand people and I guess I never will.
Climbing down into the tombs at Saqqara, Egypt.Ancient word bubbles in hieroglyphics at a tomb in Saqqara, Egypt.Reliefs detail how men got the oxen to follow them across the river…snatch a calf and worried family follows. 🙁Kohl black dogs in the tombs in Saqqara Egypt.In a tomb there is much to read. Saqqara, Egypt.
Saying Goodbye
We rode back to Cairo along a channel for the Nile. The fertile fields of the Nile Valley as green as green could be. Fields and fields along the way. And trash piled into the irrigation channels. Life goes on and on and on here.
Our flight to Heathrow left Cairo just after dawn on January 25, the anniversary of their 2011 revolution. From the plane window, I could see the brown land below, and the patches of green lining the Nile. Same as it was in the times of the Pharaohs, or the dictators. Goodbye Egypt.
The fertile fields of the Nile Valley.Along the green Nile Valley. Egypt.Leaving Cairo, bound for London’s Heathrow.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
That last morning in charming Alexandria, I sat at the tram station, camera in one hand and a sweet tea with milk in the other. I like this city: the colors, the mood, the food, the sea air, the breezes, the old buildings, and the fantastic old trams. It was alive and vibrant, yet old and historical. Today we were returning to Cairo via El Alamein and Wadi el Natrun–a cemetery and a monastery–places with very different moods than beautiful Alexandria.
El Alamein
Along the Mediterranean Coast line, we passed decadent homes and hotels, perched there in the fringes of the desert by the sea. We were headed for El Alamein, a memorial cemetery that commemorates the 11,866 Commonwealth force soldiers who died during World War II. The place is peaceful and stark there at the edge of the Sahara–surrounded by warm walls to keep the desert sands at bay. Names and names and names are engraved in the warm walls and arches. They are so very far from home.
El Alamein War Cemetery, WWII memorial, Egypt.The peaceful and beautiful graves at El Alamein War Cemetery, WWII memorial, Egypt.Still in formation, still serving, still miles and miles from home. Graves at El Alamein War Cemetery, WWII memorial, Egypt.J. Brett. Dead at 21 and buried a long way from Kilkenny Ireland. El Alamein War Cemetery, WWII memorial, Egypt.Names of the dead in an arch at El Alamein War Cemetery, WWII memorial, Egypt.
Wadi el Natrun
After a quiet, contemplative hour at the cemetery, we got back on the bus and headed southeast.
Our next stop was at the Coptic Orthodox Church’s Monastery of Saint Bishoy in the Wadi el Natrun valley. Founded in the 4th century, it is today a large parcel of land containing five churches, the Well of the 49 Martyrs, plus poultry, cattle breeding and dairy facilities, retreat houses, a papal residence, reception areas, an auditorium, and conference rooms.
A Coptic monk gave us a tour and explained that the rolled-up cloth in the chapel contained the uncorrupted body of St. Bishoy. The story goes that once, an old monk asked Bishoy to help him climb a mountain, so Bishoy carried the old man on his shoulders up to the top. Turns out, the old monk was Jesus, who then told Bishoy that, for his love and kindness, his body would never corrupt.
Saint Bishoy was also said to have been visited by Jesus at this monastery. When the monks learned that Jesus was coming, they gathered to see him. But earlier, an old man had asked these monks for help, and they ignored him. When Saint Bishoy saw the old man, he helped him and washed the old man’s feet. Once again, turns out that the old man was Jesus.
Unconditional kindness bestowed upon strangers. Seems like we still struggle with the concept in these times too.
The guide monk asked us to promise…”one minute in the morning for god”. I made the promise. I think of it as daily moments for unconditional kindness. That is god.
Worshipper among icons at the Wadi Natrun monastery, Egypt.In the El Beheira Desert is a monastery called Wadi el Natrun with the relics and uncorrupted body of St Bishoy. The monks wrapped him only when his body began to show wear-and-tear from people taking selfies with him (!).Icons at the Wadi el Natrun monastery, Egypt.Storage room / museum at Wadi el Natrun monastery, Egypt.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
We left Hurghada via EgyptAir early one morning. The TSA man was not amused with my slow fingers opening the suitcase lock. “One hour!” he barked, thumping his watch. “Now, sir! You exaggerate…it’s not been an hour. Don’t be dramatic, it’s barely 3:30 a.m., I’ve got old eyes, it’s low light in here, and I haven’t had coffee.” He blustered on, and then barely glanced once opened.
Our 5 a.m flight landed in Cairo 50 minutes later. We piled into a bus about the time the sun was rising. The pyramids shimmered in the distance as we drove out of Cairo in light morning traffic. Our “security escort” settled in for a long nap on this 3-hour drive to Alexandria. Grassy islands in the delta bayou of Egypt’s Nile and pigeon cote towers dotted the landscape.
“Pearl of the Mediterranean”
Legendary Alexandria…imagined by Alexander the Great in the 300s BC, a featured character in the Caesar-Marc Antony-Cleopatra love triangle in the 50-30s BC, home to a Wonder of the Ancient World (the Lighthouse) and the first Library, ravaged by earthquakes and tsunamis, and rebuilt in a grand style in the 19th and early 20th centuries. The city buzzes with a cosmopolitan air and a sea breeze.
Our Egyptian guide says that Alexandrians are “tougher” (“the women will hit you if you get out of line”) and their traffic makes even the chaos of Cairo streets seem tame. That last part, I know to be true.
Of all that history, it was the gorgeous but rundown Belle Epoque buildings with Islamic features, sitting along a malecón corniche to the Mediterranean Sea, and the colorful trams ding-dinging their way down grassy tracks that made me fall fast for Alexandria.
Trams and Belle Epoque buildings in charming Alexandria, “the pearl of the Mediterranean”.The grassy tram line cuts through Alexandria.Green tram in Alexandria Egypt.
A special room
We broke into groups of 3 to go up to our hotel on the 11th floor of Alexandria’s main street. The ancient elevator held 3–or a skinny group of 4. Once in, you close the door behind you, shut the gate and only then pushed the button. Floors pass and air rushes by as the elevator ropes pull and drop through the shaft.
Lucky us, we got a big room with a bigger bathroom, and a giant balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. What a view up there. What wind out there!
Alexandria overlooks the Mediterranean. This view is looking towards the Citadel (and Crete about 400 miles away).Our balcony at the Egypt Hotel in Alexandria overlooked the Mediterranean.Egypt Hotel Reception. Alexandria.Our old-fashioned elevator at the Egypt Hotel in Alexandria.View from our 11th floor room overlooking the Mediterranean. January winds are cold, and there is no heat in the room.View of the Al Qaaed Ibrahim Basha Mosque and Mediterranean from Egypt Hotel, Alexandria.
The Essence of Travel is…
What is it about a boiled egg, steaming hot tea, and the sounds of a strange city at breakfast? About that first glimpse out the window on the first morning in an old world city? What is it about eating street food while walking? What is it that wraps around me in old cities like this? That pulls me in, rattles me to a quiver, and lights a mood that is the very essence of travel? I wish I knew. I’d do that drug every single day.
Delicious falafel wrap from Gad. Tasty parsley greens, tomato, mayo-like sauce and cucumber…eaten as we walked to the Alexandria Library.El Saidy Pastry Shop. Hectic and hopping just after reopening following the evening prayer break. Alexandria, EgyptA pistachio delight from El Saidy Alexandria EgyptEgyptian breakfast of steaming tea, bread, and a boiled egg.
Around today’s Old World Alexandria: Trams and Trianon
The trams had my attention from the moment I saw them. Red ones, green ones, yellow ones, blue ones. They ran on grassy tracks, and passed close-enough-to-touch right by our bus window, men hanging out the doors. They made a sound, of shuttling and whirring. I stopped and stared–transfixed–whenever one passed. One morning, I went out early to photograph at the station before meeting Bryan in Trianon, an old world cafe featuring colorful murals, elegant woodwork, and delicious teas, coffees, and cakes.
Old world scenes in Alexandria Egypt.Early morning walk in Alexandria, Egypt.Blue trams at the El Raml station in Alexandria, Egypt.I could sit here all day, watching the trams come and go at the El Raml tram station in Alexandria, Egypt.Details of a mural in Trianon, an old world cafe near the tram station in the heart of Alexandria.Surrounded by art nouveau murals and dark woodwork, the Trianon cafe is a charming place to get dessert with tea or coffee.
Around Ancient Alexandria: Library and the Lighthouse
There once was a Lighthouse –a 300+ feet high Lighthouse– where the Citadel now stands. And across the bay, a Library housed 40,000+ scrolls. That was around 200 BC. Today a new library, designed to look like eyes, holds 8 million volumes.
There’s been a library near this site since ~300 BC. The Bibliotheca Alexandria houses 8 million books these days. Library of Alexandria, EgyptInside the Library of Alexandria. The windows are said to be eyes, with hints of blue and green. Alexandria, Egypt.Some of our group walking in the Citadel. Rock-star like…This is said to be the spot where the Great Lighthouse of Alexandria once stood. Palm at the Citadel Alexandria, Egypt.A gorgeous day to walk around the Citadel in Alexandria, Egypt…there on the edges of the Mediterranean.
Living alongside the Antiquities
We took a day to visit museums and Pompey’s Pillar. Lovely day walking under a blue sky. The surrounding homes get a daily look at these ancient places. Time compresses and stretches.
Our days in Alexandria had sun and cold wind. We used all the blankets and listened as the shutters banged through the night. We ate well, and snacked on pistachio yummies with hot tea. Alexandria–you are a different Egypt and I’m smitten!
Apartments overlook the fluffy, grassy ruins around Pompey’s Pillar. Alexandria, Egypt.Laundry, curtains, and quiet spaces overlook Pompey’s Pillar in Alexandria, Egypt.Pompey’s Pillar is surrounded by a neighborhood of highrises. Alexandria, Egypt.Fascinated with the gray building of windows, and the green tufts of grass in the ruins. Pompey’s Pillar, Alexandria EgyptA sphinx and Pompey’s Pillar, Alexandria EgyptA sphinx guards Pompey’s Pillar, Alexandria, Egypt.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
We’ve been to the Red Sea before, the Jordan side in Aqaba. On that trip, I longed to see the Sinai desert in Egypt. Twelve years later, and I still long to see the Sinai. But here we are in Hurghada, Egypt, a beach resort town known for diving and coral reefs. A day vacation from a vacation.
Sure, it’s always nice to spend a day on a beach in the sun listening to the lapping waves. But here we were –at a beach in ancient Egypt, with the Sahara desert and her strange beauty nearby, the Suez Canal not far, and the Sinai across the water. What I would give for another week, another month, wandering in those exotic places. One day.
My stomach recovering, I enjoyed the slow day staring out to sea. I was delighted with the Egyptian mojitos, second only to the ones in Cuba. I waded, found a piece of beach glass and a lovely bit of shell. The wind tangled my hair. I dozed in a sunny chair by the water, listening to the voices of the many Germans or Austrians (or other?) tourists.
View of the Red Sea from the dining room of the Elysees Hotel in Hurghada.At the Elysees Hotel Red Sea beach in Hurghada, EgyptAt the beach of the Elysees Hotel in Hurghada.The calm blue waters of the Red Sea. Hurghada, Egypt. Hard to imagine the great Sahara desert is minutes away.Egyptian mojito #1 at the Red Sea…with the yellow paper straw. Cold, without ice. Yum.Egyptian mojito #2 with snacks. Sugar cane is a standard Egyptian crop, mint and lemons too. 🙂A little cloud over the blue Red Sea.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
Egypt is confusing. The Nile runs north, so up (going North on the map) is down (sailing with the river’s current). Upper Egypt is down South. Lower Egypt is up North.
A satellite image of Egypt clearly shows the Nile valley flowing all the way through the country until it empties into the Mediterranean. Orange fills the map–the Sahara, the world’s biggest desert. And the Nile, the world’s longest river, is a green stem cutting through Egypt. At the top, the fertile delta fans out like a papyrus leaf.
The Nile (and her two major tributaries the White Nile and Blue Nile) stretches 4,130 miles through eleven African countries: Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Kenya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, South Sudan, Sudan, and Egypt. And the Nile shows up in the Bible as the setting for Moses, Joseph, plagues, and the exodus. To touch the water of the Nile is to touch ancient history and the African lands so far away.
A felucca on the Nile. Felucca sails are designed for sailing against, and with, the wind.
The Felucca
Old etchings and photos of the Nile almost always show the little sailboats with the large triangular sails…feluccas. A boat seemingly from another era, ancient times.
We boarded a felucca in Aswan for a day of sailing the Nile. We’d also spend the night on “The Jewel of the Nile”. Our small boat held 8 passengers and 2 crew. A platform of colorful kilim bed cushions filled the platform and our suitcases were filed under. A tarp overhead made it impossible to stand up (good idea to stay seated anyway), and it shielded us from the hot Egyptian sun. Shoes off and into a plastic laundry basket, our important items placed down the center line of the boat, and we pushed off.
Today’s feluccas have folding masts so they can duck under bridges over the Nile. This is the New Aswan City Bridge.
Sailing on the Nile: Life in another time
I was ready for the quiet. Observing life on the green banks. Birds, horses, cows, kids, farms…does life along the Nile look much the same now as it did 3,000 years ago? The river is wide and clean. Slow moving.
Cows cool off in the Nile River.A felucca passes on the Nile.
A breeze. The sun. The smell of water. Distant sounds of people and animals along the banks. And some restless and bored people on board who chattered and stayed on their phones for much of the ride.
We stopped for lunch and some swam. A sandy beach, a stray dog. I watched a man so very carefully spreading a towel on the beach and displaying his jewelry and Egyptian knick-knacks for sale. Back on the boat, we settled in again… this time with the quiet. Writing, sketching, napping, watching life go by. Absorbing the time.
Pulling in the sailboat to dock along the banks of the Nile River.We stopped sailing for lunch and swimming. This little one came to our boat and accepted Oreo snacks.Tea for two on the felucca….sailing quietly down the Nile.
Docked for the Night
The sunset. Golden. After, the Nile horizon turned soft pink and periwinkle. At last, the stars. Black night, dark water, lights on the opposite shore. Large boats–floating hotels–cruised by.
We docked, alongside a couple of other feluccas of tourists and a “service boat” where we would dine and could shower. I took my journal and headed for a quiet space. The sails on the felucca pulled against their ties, like horses against their reins, bucking in the waves.
The slow day had left me restless instead of calm, irritated with the young and the loud, dismayed at aging–at “progress”–in general. I sat with my journal contemplating my frustrations. I wanted to absorb the antiquity, life as its always been on the river, to slow it down to catch it, to feel it.
Bryan came to rescue me from my sad melancholy. My big sweet hero. He brought a bottle of water and a deck of cards for scoreless cribbage. We sat chatting and staring out at the water. A memory that will be time immortal.
By far, the best strawberries I have ever had. Sweet, tart, juicy, fresh…perfect in every way. On the Nile River, EgyptUs on the Nile River.
Sleeping on the Nile
Cold night, hard pillows, the occasional splash of fish, buzzing bugs, a barking dog, voices on the bank, and finally snoring on the boat. I awoke in the pitch-black morning and sat looking at the stars and the moon.
Eventually, the smell of coffee, rallied me up and over to the service boat. Dawn was coming. I stood with my coffee and watched the sailors prepare the boats. We would leave the felucca this morning, and they’d return to Aswan.
Earth as Designed, or Progress?
There is an eternity to the Nile, the waters push onto the banks, nourishing the valley, and helping to produce food for millions. But now, the dam at Aswan and the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the Blue Nile. What happens to this fertile valley when countries upstream build dams and fill reservoirs? What happens to the world when we progress to fighting for nourishing water, for more and more electricity, for flood control?
The River Nile –pink and periwinkle– just after sunset.Tucking in the sails for the night.Felucca sailboat bedding. The suitcases all went under the bedding platform.Feluccas at sunrise on the Nile River.Sunrise on the Nile. Preparing the felucca sails.
The Sun and Moon over Kom Ombo
Kom Ombo is about 35 miles “below Aswan” (North of). We’d sailed most of that distance, and now we drove to the Temple of Kom Ombo. It was still early morning–the light soft and warm, and the moon still shining down on us. Humming REM, “Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp…yeah yeah yeah yeah. Moses went walking with his staff of wood…yeah yeah yeah yeah…Andy did you hear about this one…If you believe, they put a man on the moon…” 🙂
Kom Ombo temple was built ~100-200 BC. It is a symmetrical double design to accommodate two gods and thought to be the first place efficiently designed for multiple gods. Worshippers chose which door to enter to convene with their god.
“If you believe, they put a man on the moon…” Kom Ombo column with bas reliefs. Egypt.Kom Ombo bas reliefs and the key of life.
Duality…Sobek & Horus
The southeastern half of the temple was dedicated to the crocodile god Sobek, god of the Nile, fertility, and creator of the world. Sobek is represented as the aggressive crocodile, which once populated the banks of the Nile. He is also considered a protective and nurturing healer for Egypt–like the mummified crocodiles who have been found with baby crocodiles in their mouths and on their backs; crocodiles diligently care for their young often transporting offspring in this manner.
Meanwhile, the northwestern part of the temple was dedicated to the falcon-headed god, Horus the Elder, god of the sky and protector of the king. It is said that the sun is his right eye and the moon his left, and that they traverse the sky when he, as a falcon, flies. The moon is dimmer because his left eye was plucked out in a battle with Seth, god of chaos and the desert. Power-hungry humans tied their lineage to Horus, as explanation and justification for pharaonic power as a divine right. Horus has a dying-and-rising story too…but let’s not go there today.
These two, Sobek and Horus, represented duality…both universal and local stories, spiritual and material. Two priesthoods likely shared the space. Worshippers chose the door they entered based on their need at the time.
The Writing on the Wall
The hieroglyphics… you could spend days reading them all, like books written on a wall. Thousands of illustrations…whales, jackals, incense, medical tools, ankhs, flowers, women giving birth (!), a calendar. It is said that women came here for fertility and contraception, and for predicting the sex of their child. Urinate on barley & wheat…if the barley grows, it’s a boy. If the wheat, it’s a girl. One recipe noted the mix of sour milk or honey plus a mystery ingredient to prevent pregnancy.
I wish I could read all the hieroglyphics at Kom Ombo…there are thousands of fascinating bits. I love this whale.Sherif explains this hieroglyphic calendar. Egyptians invented the calendar: a year of 12 months, each month had 30 days, in three 10-day weeks.There are many medical related hieroglyphics at Kom Ombo. This one showed birthing chairs (left) and childbirth (right).
Hijinks
Kings and Pharaohs also came to one of the two black stone altars to request help from the gods. In a hidden wall beside and below the altars, the priests could secretly listen to the king’s private request of his god. The priest then quietly entered the stone chamber hidden beside the altar–which served as an echo or amplification closet–and spoke as god to advise the king/pharaoh. In this way, priests ruled the kings. Once again, religion and politics traveled hand-in-hand. Nothing is really new, is it? Religion is too often political. Up is down.
Our guide, Sherif at one of the black stone altars where pharaohs came to seek advice from their gods.
Progress?
The temple has been shaken by earthquakes, its columns and stones salvaged by builders for other temples, and its artwork desecrated by Christians despising and fearing others’ gods. Today, its antiquity is protected. And today, little birds nest in the walls, in the deeply carved hieroglyphics or where chunks have fallen out. I love that.
After our walk through the temple, we lingered. Thank goodness. We sat and enjoyed this soft, slow morning. Music, tea, coffee, and shisha. And the happy little birds, birds singing and us smiling.
Lamps under a straw roof. Having coffee after walking through Kom Ombo early one morning.The boys enjoying shisha at Kom Ombo.
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If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
Setting sail and saying goodbye to the sweet dog who loves Oreos.
It was still night at the Happi Hotel in Aswan when we took coffee, and picked up breakfast/lunch boxes with boiled eggs and snacks. On the way out of Aswan, we stopped for our “co-pilot”–more like a bus/road marshall or security officer–as we were headed into a border area considered risky for tourists. Some slept on the bus as we waited in a line of traffic to cross the old dam. More night. Finally, red highlighted the horizon. It took over three hours driving through the desert to reach this place called Abu Simbel, just 12 miles from Sudan.
Mythic in Scale
Abu Simbel is mythic in every way. For it’s sheer scale and construction–monumental seated statues carved straight back into a mountain along the banks of the Nile. Ramesses II ordered the building of his temple in the 1260s BC to warn, impress, and awe anyone entering Egypt via the Nile. One can only imagine the fear and wonder sailors felt when they first saw it from the river.
Abu Simbel, UNESCO World Heritage Site. Built in the 1260s BC to impress upon anyone sailing down the Nile that they were entering the land of the Pharaohs, and moved in the 1960s to prevent submersion in Lake Nasser. The temple’s doorway leads to a chamber with more Ramesses II statues and alcoves filled with bas relief stories of epic battles. In the back is a final chamber, with 3 gods and god-wanna-be, Ramesses II. Two days each year, the first rays of sun reach into this chamber and shine upon 3 of the inner statues. The 4th god, Ptah of the underworld, prefers the darkness.
Mythic for the Ancient Architects’ Precision
Mythic for how the ancient architects figured out a precise solar alignment so that the first rays of the sun reached all the way into the inner chamber on two days each year (February 22 and October 22–said to be Ramesses II’s birthday and coronation date).
In the first chamber, statues of Ramesses II line the way to the inner chamber. Bas reliefs in the alcoves behind tell the stories of battles won.This is Abu Simbel’s inner-most chamber. On February 22 and October 22, the first rays of the sun shine through the doorway into this space, lighting the faces of 3 of the 4 figures here. Ptah, the god of the underworld–faceless on the left, never gets the sunbeams. The dates have changed now because of the temple’s relocation: some say it is on/around the 23rd-24th of February and October now.
1800s graffiti. The temples had been forgotten until rediscovery around 1813. They were first photographed around 1854, when a dune spilled over the top of the temple’s mountain, and sand filled the entryway. The sand enabled early exploring vandals to etch their names high on the legs of the 66 foot tall statues.The face of Ramesses II. The far left one. Ramesses II (aka Ramesses the Great) lived to be 96. It is said that he had more than 200 wives and concubines, and 96 children. His name and accomplishments are carved all over Egypt, and most every ancient site mentions Ramesses the Great. So long was his reign, and so prolific was his ego, that there was panic that the world would end when he died.
Abu Simbel Moves
And finally, Abu Simbel is mythic because the entire temple was MOVED in an engineering miracle in the 1960s to avoid being submerged by the Aswan Dam’s Lake Nasser. Impressive photos of cranes lifting away the statues in pieces, of a magic mountain built with similar chambers– 213 feet up and 656 feet back from the water. A feat as audacious as Ramesses II’s building of the temple in the first place. What must have the locals felt when witnessing the disassembly and movement of so ancient a monument?
A face of Ramesses II. One on the right. Note the lines where the engineers cut the face for moving, and the old graffiti carved high on his chest.Abu Simbel: The two Ramesses II on the left. Ramesses II #2 lost his upper body to an earthquake believed to have happened not long after construction. During the monument’s move in the 1960s, because the fallen face had eroded, engineers decided to leave the broken piece in the exact same position at his feet in the new location.Abu Simbel: The two Ramesses II on the right. Tucked in between Ramesses’ legs are smaller statues of his favorite wife, his mom, and some of his 96 kids.
Second Temple for Nefertari
Did I mention there are TWO temples? Just to the right of Ramesses II’s temple to himself is a smaller temple to his favorite wife, Nefertari. Its sanctuary, also carved into the mountain, is filled with bas reliefs of the king and queen making offerings. This temple is one of very few in Egyptian art where the statues of the king and his queen are carved in equal size.
The smaller temple to the right of Ramesses II’s monument to himself, is a temple for his wife, Nefertari. Temples cut into the mountains and cut from them 3,220 years later, to be moved up-and-over into newly created “mountains”.Us at Abu Simbel, just in front of the fallen top half of Ramesses II statue #2.Old film shot with a Holga at Abu Simbel. The film has been through one too many X-ray machines.
Thank you for reading
If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
From a moving train, an overnight trip heading south to Upper Egypt:
We left Cairo at night. Boarded, found our cabin (car 11, bunks 7/8), and settled in. The swinging – swaying motion of the train, a glass of red Omar Khayyam Bobal 2016 “vin d’Egypte” and I was comfortably numb in my little bunk. Wound up and tucked in happiness at the very thought of being on a train, moving up the Nile Valley, at night, many many miles from home.
Awake to a tiny bit of light, the Nile glistening. The Nile! The valley is never more than 13-miles wide–a green strip in the middle of the largest desert on earth.
As the sun rose, how verdant green the valley appeared. Palm trees abundant like Cuba. Scarecrows in fields wore sheet dresses over sticks. Small boats paddled along the Nile, the Sahara just steps away.
The windows are double-paned with blinds in-between. They clamor as we pass junctions. My window was dirty, but it cast a fitting strangeness over the scenery. Diffusing the light, blurring the edges.
Breakfast arrives at our door. A tray with tea in a little blue cup, a boiled egg, some bread. Simple. Welcome. And made delicious by the environment.
A white dog lays in a patch of white in a green field. Donkey carts and their white-gowned men wait to pass the tracks. The sun rises. This part of the trip will soon be over and I want more of it. Maybe an eternity of it. Maybe the afterlife is an never-ending ride through the world–to see its beauty, its ugliness, and all the things between.
Boarding the night train from Cairo to Aswan in Upper Egypt.
Welcome to Aswan, Upper Egypt
I’m happy when we check in to the Happi Hotel in Aswan. A man greeted us in the lobby with a white metal tray full of little tulip shaped glasses filled with a deep red Hibiscus tea. Delightful.
Hibiscus flower leaves for sale at the market in Aswan.A refreshing cool and sweet red hibiscus tea served to us when we entered the Happy Hotel in Aswan, Egypt.
Up in our room, we overlook a little market. A mosque calls to prayer. And then, what are they doing down there? There are bamboo cages of pigeons. Pigeons fly down from the buildings to have a look and grab a bite of the treats the women throw down. They are captured. I watched in horror and disgust as she wrings one’s neck. He writhes for a moment–the wings fighting for flight. And then she begins plucking his feathers out. He’s grilled. This happens a hundred times a day. The birds come to stillness. Why don’t the caged pigeons warn them? They too are wrung, plucked, and grilled before nightfall. The market closes and empties. And pigeons still coo from buildings around. I want to shout at her–and the people who eat animals. I want to tell the pigeons to fly far away from here. Escape. Instead, I cry.
Opposites…Nile & Sahara
After breakfast overlooking the Nile, we embark on a cruise on the Happy Day boat.
There’s a Nilometer! Farmers built steps down to the river 5,000 years ago to try and predict the Nile’s rise and fall…would there be feast or famine? A Nilometer as described by Mark Twain in the 1860s: its “business is to mark the rise of the river and prophesy whether it will reach only 32 feet and produce a famine, or whether it will properly flood the land at 40 and produce plenty, or whether it will rise to 43 and bring death and destruction to flocks and crops.”
Bulrushes and long-legged birds! Trying to picture a baby Moses in a basket floating among the reeds.
The cataracts! A shallow spot of the Nile, broken by large boulders. There were six cataracts along the Nile between Aswan Egypt and Khartoum Sudan. One is submerged now because of the Aswan Dam.
The Old Cataract Hotel where Agatha Christie dreamed up “Death on the Nile”. Built in 1899 for tourists, it reeks of old worldliness. And sand dunes right down to the water’s edge.
Our breakfast table, overlooking the mighty Nile. Aswan, EgyptThe banks of the Nile and the edges of the Sahara. Aswan, EgyptThe Sahara desert comes to the banks of the Nile. Aswan, in Upper Egypt.
To Elephantine Island
In the late afternoon, we disembark on Elephantine Island, one of 10 remaining Nubian villages.
Nubians are a group of people living in Northern Sudan / Upper Egypt. There once were 22 villages in Egypt, but 12 were flooded with the building of the Aswan Dam in the 1960s. Our guide told us that given a choice to be Sudanese or Egyptian, the Nubians chose Egyptian.
Tasty and filling dinner of rice, and cast-iron pots of potatoes and peppers, and carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes. And delicious Hibiscus tea 🙂
At the quiet place on Elephantine Island where we had a home-cooked meal.A modern take on the Egyptian woman, found on Elephantine Island, Aswan Egypt.A cat passes through an alley on Elephantine Island near Aswan, Egypt.Veggies and beans, a Nubian Egyptian cast-iron pot meal.Another vegetable dish in tomato sauce, Nubian cuisine.Hibiscus tea. Yum.
Walking back to the Nile in the pitch black night. Burning trash. Sounds of birds flying free. Soft voices in the narrow alleys. Singing…from a mosque? Cats cats cats. Boys on bikes. Then the eternity of the Nile. The lights of Aswan glowing across from us. Another place–of colorful narrow alleys and quiet life–where I’d like to spend more time.
Thank you for reading
If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
It is said it was built before the wheel. When Moses was found in the bulrushes of the Nile, these pyramids were already 1,000 years old. The Great Pyramid (or Cheops Pyramid), tomb of Pharaoh Khufu, was built 2584–2561 BC and is the only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still standing. At 481 feet high, the Great Pyramid of Giza was the tallest man-made structure in the world for 3,800 years.
Also in the same 13-acre complex are two other great pyramids–Khufu’s son Khafre and grandson Menkaure, plus numerous smaller pyramids, and the Sphinx. They sit in Giza, on the outskirts of Cairo, west of the Nile, and at the eastern edge of the Sahara desert.
At a distance, the Giza Pyramids. Cairo, EgyptFrom the bus window, a horse and buggy pass the Great Pyramid.A stray dog waiting for anyone in the Great Pyramid’s parking lot to acknowledge his hunger. Why do animals suffer so?
Gateways to the Afterlife
The tombs were built west of their civilization, nearer to the mysteries of the setting sun. People believed that the pyramids were gateways or staircases to the afterlife. And the dead kings and pharaohs had their tombs stocked with earthly things they might need in the next life. Of course, over these last 4,500 years, people have raided and stolen whatever was once there. Either that, or the dead did indeed take their stuff with them.
Looking up at the Great Pyramid. People stand near the entrance. The building blocks are “as high as a dinner table” said Mark Twain. Yes, indeed.Inside the Great Pyramid. Hot, close, strangely humid amid all those stones. Up, up, up.
Click HERE to see a cross-section diagram of the inside of the Great Pyramid.
To see a diagram of how tall the Great Pyramid is compared to other travel icons, click here.
And for an interesting circa 1912 visual comparison of the Great Pyramid’s height to the length of the Titanic, click here.
The Great Pyramid of Khufu in the foreground, and his son Khafre’s Pyramid behind. Khafre’s pyramid is 9 feet shorter, but sits on higher ground giving it the appearance of being bigger than his dad’s pyramid. It is the only one with some of its limestone casing still intact near the top.Bryan and Carol on the side of the Great Pyramid.Near the corner of the Great Pyramid. All the hustle goes on up front where tourists enter.The three pyramids align precisely along their southeast corners. Despite centuries of speculations, calculations, and wonderment, no one knows to what they are aligned…could it be Orion’s Belt? the stars at equinox? the ancient city of Heliopolis? ruins in South America? the alien spaceship runway?
The Pyramids, the Camels and the Sahara
When I should have been admiring the ancient pyramids right in front of me, when I should have been marveling that I had just exited a 4,500-year-old tomb, I instead became obsessed with the circus of tourists, the camels eating lunch, and the endless horizon of the Sahara.
Stretching for another 2,700 miles west, the Sahara is the largest desert in the world. A world foreign and dangerous. How long until one saw nothing but sand and mirages in all directions, until a living being dehydrated like a raisin? The camels–who most certainly knew the answer–sat with their legs tucked under, munching on their greens.
Camels break for lunch. The Sahara stretches for another 2,700 miles behind.A camel has lunch in the Sahara near Giza’s pyramids.
Please, please, don’t ride the camels
Sadly, the camels are there for the typical tourist photo opportunity. Repeatedly, big and small paid good money for fifteen-minute rides. I groaned to see the camels bellow when their knobby knees unfolded slowly with the burden of two large humans weighing them down. It made my knees hurt to watch.
Minutes later, I laughed when one camel got away from his keeper–don’t worry, he was riderless. He ran like a little kid around and around his kneeling herd of friends, making a giggle sound and eliciting excited giggles from his compadres. It was a game to him.
But not to the human boss-man herdmeister, who eventually grabbed the prankster’s reins. I yelled at the idiot man who used a stick to beat the camel’s front knee caps until he knelt down. What absolute assholes humans can be.
Please, please, don’t ride the camels. Yeah, I know…it’s income for the poor human. But seriously, why do obese tourists need to ride on a long-suffering camel who has had his knees beaten for horsing around? Makes me sick. Full disclosure, I rode a camel once, for a full day in Jordan’s Wadi Rum. Her name was Lulu and she was with her family. The bedouin scratched her ears and neck, cooed to her, and laughed at her 5-year-old antics. They loved her, I’m sure. Nevertheless, I’ll never ride an animal again. It’s beneath their dignity.
Camels break for lunch. The Sahara stretches for another 2,700 miles behind.A camel has lunch in the Sahara near Giza’s pyramids.Ah, …to have been an early explorer. Hills near the Pyramids. Giza, Cairo, Egypt.
Mark Twain and The Sphinx
The Sphinx was buried in sand up to her neck in the 1860s when Mark Twain met her and gushed in The Innocents Abroad:
“After years of waiting, it was before me at last. The great face was so sad, so earnest, so longing, so patient. There was a dignity not of earth in its mien, and in its countenance a benignity such as never anything human wore. It was stone, but it seemed sentient. If ever image of stone thought, it was thinking.
It was looking toward the verge of landscape, yet looking at nothing–nothing but distance and vacancy. It was looking over and beyond everything of the present and far into the past. It was gazing out over the ocean of Time…It was thinking of the wars of departed ages; of the empires it had seen created and destroyed; of the nations whose birth it had witnessed; whose progress it had watched, whose annihilation it had noted; of the joy and sorrow, the life and death, the grandeur and decay, of 5,000 slow revolving years…
It was MEMORY–RETROSPECTION–wrought into visible, tangible form.”
Lady or Lion?
Now, the Sphinx’s body and paws are uncovered, bolstered with new bricks, and she is cordoned off from touchy tourists. Surely, she is stunned by the silliness of human attention. Today, she gazes out at a sea of folding chairs positioned in neat rows for the nightly light show/concert. Far beneath her ancient dignity. Maybe she enjoys the concerts, the spotlights, the audience. Maybe she was lonely out there, relegated to watching Cairo from a distance–albeit a lessening distance as civilization creeps closer.
And yes, my dear Mr. Twain, I feel confident she is a she.
“The Sphinx is grand in its loneliness; it is imposing in its magnitude; it is impressive in the mystery that hangs over its story. And there is that in the overshadowing majesty of this eternal figure of stone, with its accusing memory of the deeds of all ages, which reveals to one something of what he shall feel when he shall stand at last in the awful presence of God.” Mark Twain,1867.
Thank you for reading
If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
I write too much. It’s too much to read, even for me sometimes. Who cares? What–if anything I create–will last so long? And does it even matter if I leave a trace on earth?
So I’ll write just the words I wrote at the time–things to remember, to bring back the sounds, smells, and atmosphere of the moment. From this cool morning in January 2020 in Cairowalking through Islamic and Coptic Cairo.
Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun, Mosque of the Citadel
“Shoes off please”, as we walked into the open air mosque. Shade. Intense quiet inside these walls. Sunbeams by the mihrab. East goes the qibla.
Cold stones and still-dewey rugs. A momentary smell near the middle, something dead? Sounds of sweeping, sweeping, sweeping. A breeze. Lanterns swaying on long chains. Imagine them candlelit! The corinthian columns…so many, all different. Salvaged from other churches, other mosques, other forgotten or fallen-out-of-favor buildings. One column with a sundial–now in the wrong place to work. This one with crosses, also useless in a mosque. Some white marble columns, some red granite, a few of black stone. These ancient columns from the Pharaohs, the Byzantines, the Copts. How did the architects in 1300 figure out how many bricks to use to even out the different heights and level the ceiling, the arches?
Out onto the patio. On a clear day, we’d have seen the Pyramids for the first time. Today, we gazed into the distance, and saw only haze. A sandy smog blowing in from the Sahara. We looked out over the Cairo neighborhood. Down there was the Madrassa, and the mosque where the Shah of Iran is interred. The stone floor of the Citadel patio–two overlapping squares form an 8-pointed Islamic star. A manicured tree keeps watch at the precipice. Sunshine, and the faint sounds of Cairo’s traffic below.
The mosque of Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun. The columns are each unique–salvaged from other buildings when the mosque was constructed in the early 1300s.Outside the Mosque of the Citadel, aka the Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun mosque, the Islamic 8-point Rub el Hizb or al-Quds star, is in the floor design. Cairo, Egypt.Minaret and hand-painted lantern at Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun.Manicured tree at Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun mosque. Cairo, Egypt.
The Alabaster Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha
A mosque made of alabaster? Can it be true? Imagined silky cold white, translucent, glowing. Didn’t imagine the Sahara’s sand.
The outer courtyard of the Alabaster Mosque aka the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha.Sahara sand coats the alabaster of the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha.Light at the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha, The Alabaster Mosque. I tried to imagine the birdsong from 1867, the fluttering wings, and the light.The ghosts…great delicate and dusty chandeliers at the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha, aka The Alabaster Mosque.
Oh my. The many minarets. And then inside the great hall…the chandeliers! Oh my at the chandeliers. Ghost like in their dusty elegance. I remembered the words of Mark Twain on his visit to Cairo in 1867:
“the little birds have built their nests in the globes of the great chandeliers that hang in the mosque, and how they fill the whole place with their music and are not afraid of anybody because their audacity is pardoned, their rights are respected, and nobody is allowed to interfere with them, even though the mosque be thus doomed to go unlighted.”
Oh to hear bird songs here. Is this the same dust that Twain saw? Many visitors sat on the floor–I wished to linger too, maybe for hours. I wished to sit…no, lay on the floor and stare up at that ceiling, at those chandeliers. Hours, yes.
Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan
Red carpet entry into a vast courtyard. Four nooks representing the four sects of Islam–presumably where each sect sat for learning their spin on the scriptures. The floors, the light, the ablution fountain, and the unbelievable height of the arches, and length of the lantern chains. What scale!
The red carpet walkway of Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Cairo, Egypt. Built during the Black Plague in 1356-63.Looking back at the entry into the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Such incredible scale is lost in a photo.The quiet courtyard of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.The ablutions fountain and decorative floor of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.This is one of the largest arches in a mosque that non-Muslim people can visit. Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.Hand-painted lanterns drip down long chains from staggering arches in the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.The scale of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan is stunning.
Intermission
Lunch at Aikhan Cafe = soft gooey rice with a ramekin of stewed eggplants and peppers. Tea, tahini, babaganoush, pickled veggies and a pita. Filling, light, and wholesome. Next up, Coptic Cairo.
The Hanging Church
Coptic Christians represent about 10-15% of Egypt. The hanging church hangs over a former fortress. Mosaics line the courtyard entry–telling the story of Simon the Tanner and moving a mountain. Inside it’s cozy, close together pews. The vaulted ceiling frees the eyes upward, built to resemble Noah’s ark. The pulpit’s 15 columns–1 for Jesus leads the way, 14 others follow. One each per disciple, plus two followers who were not titled “disciples”. A black column for Judas, and grey ones for Doubting Thomas, and followers Mark and Luke.
Candles danced before St. Luke’s “Mona Lisa” painting, now an icon, respected, visited. I lit a candle there…for hope, for grace, for art that survives so long. I tried reading the notes and prayers left in a glass box by St. George’s icon. I studied the 40 faces of martyred nuns in another painted icon. A column here is said to weep and have images of Mary materialize. Fish are carved into the wooden pews. Incense burns. And that ark ceiling lifts the eyes up. Are we gathered two-by-two?
A mosaic in the courtyard of the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt.A mosaic in the courtyard of the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt.Wood detail in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary).Icon in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary).St. Luke’s Mona Lisa icon at the Hanging Church in Cairo, Egypt.Columns of the Hanging Church’s pulpit, representing Christ’s disciplesSubmit your prayers and suggestions at this icon in the Hanging Church.Columns of the Hanging Church’s pulpit, representing Christ, plus 12 disciples and two followers. Judas has a black column, Doubting Thomas, Mark and Luke have grey ones.
St Sergius & St Bacchus Church
“The first church”, a nave in the basement of St Sergius and St Bacchus Church in Coptic Cairo, Egypt.Ancient texts. St Sergius & St Bacchus Church. Cairo, EgyptCoptic cross wrist tattoo, Egypt. Coptic Christian children receive a wrist tattoo around the age of four. It is between the size of a dime and a nickel.
Jewish Cairo? “No Jews are left in Egypt”, says our guide.
No photos are allowed in Ben Ezra Synagogue. But what beautiful moments sitting and sketching the windows, shaped like the ten commandment tablets (as if I know the shape) with old glass of warped clear, blue, and yellow. Intricate alabaster, mother of pearl, and carved woodwork filled the center of the main room. Many religious texts survived because they were hidden and preserved here. Throughout history, what is saved and what is destroyed? What is lost and what is found? And what paths have we set out on as a result of these edits?
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
We booked Egypt in the summer, when things were happy and light. In the fall, things dimmed. I caught a cold in September, and coughed viciously into November. A heavy snow fell in early October. How odd it looked, the still green leaves collapsing into the snow. The holidays came and went. And suddenly, it was Egypt time. We should have been elated. But Trump started saber rattling, taunting Iran. Would there be a war? Would we be targets in Egypt? Was it safe? Things felt ominous, imminent. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon; ill winds stirred. I reckoned it was a cocktail of worry for my parents, for us in our old age, for the environment, for the world consciousness.
Waiting for the el the night we left, we debated whether or not to even go to O’Hare. Walking onto the plane, we considered a different final destination–maybe Paris, or maybe just stay in London. We stood in the Harry Potter shop at Heathrow examining the wands and joking how it felt like the death eaters were hovering. We needed a Patronus charm to protect us. But, we said the important things on calls home, and got on the overnight plane to Cairo.
We landed at the empty Cairo airport at 3:25 a.m., Egypt time, on January 9. It would be a day of rest after 20+ hours of travel and many days of worry.
After a nap, we headed to the banks of the Nile on our first walkabout. The life-sustaining, illustrious NILE. The longest river in the world! The storied River Nile–market of nations, where a touch of a staff turned the river to blood, where 14 cows walked forth–seven fat and seven gaunt–predicting feast and famine years, where Moses was pulled from the bulrushes. The NILE…IMAGINE!
The River Nile
Yet, I did not imagine the traffic, the pollution, the haze from the Sahara’s sand, the congestion and chaos of a 3,000-year-old city inhabited by 17 million people. It is said that “he who has not seen Cairo has not seen the world.” That magical sentiment missed me. Cairo is like every other big city. Cars. Trash. People. Fast food. Desperate stray animals. Noise. Pollution. Crime. Concrete high rises shade the beautiful old buildings with turn-of-the-century craftsmanship.
We crossed 4 “lanes” of traffic along the corniche and a sidewalk chalked with 100 years of dust, to stand at the river’s concrete barriers. Trash collected beneath trees and bushes all the way down the bank to the brown water. We walked up the chipped concrete steps of the October 6 Bridge –an overpass highway built in a massive circle around the city–above the narrow streets and alleys that for eons defined the madness and majesty of old Cairo. And there, we could see an expanse of the river, the notorious, nourishing Nile. I felt sorry for her. Dammed, tamed–ORDINARY. I had expected something grand and profound–like I’d felt at the Ganges. This could have been Tennessee’s Cumberland River.
The 4,132-mile River Nile as it flows around Gezira island in Cairo, as seen from the October 6 Bridge.
Expectations and Reality
We made our way back to the cafe next door to the hotel. Middle Eastern techno music tingled our table as I watched an Egyptian girl nurse a hot tea, read her book, and smoke sweet-smelling shisha. Christmas decorations still lit the front of the cafe. I took hot tea with mint and lentil soup, warm and comforting in its foreignness.
Months before leaving, I’d absorbed the 1860s Cairo of Twain, the 1900s Cairo of Mahfouz, and the 1920s Cairo of Carter. Magnificent tales of early eras. I’d expected to see the Nile of the Pharaohs. Of course, those days are gone. The world IS Babel–more homogenous, more McDonald’d every day. Fading away are the days of “exotic” travel–where the imagination’s romantic notions aren’t interrupted by “progress”. It occurred to me that weird night, that perhaps I’m best left to the type of traveling done in an armchair, time traveling of sorts.
But, here we are. In the real life Cairo. Time to dust off, adjust my attitude to the “see” position, and carry on.
First Impressions of Cairo
Christmas decorations on the streets of Cairo. Egypt is 85-90% Sunni Muslim and 10-15% Coptic Christian.Parking attendant “office”. Cairo, Egypt. In Chicago, we’d call this “dibs”.Bryan sampling the shisha in Cairo’s market, Egypt.Cairo balconies decorated with wallpaper, laundry, and satellite dishes. Apartment buildings are often left unfinished in order to expand if necessary. When children marry, parents can add units to the top for their growing families.Cairo: the city of a thousand minarets…and maybe a million satellite dishes. Hazy skies and a lone dog in the minaret’s speaker scaffolding.Signs of Cairo.Egypt time is best savored with hot mint tea and lingering in a seat with a view.Santana Hotel in Cairo, Egypt
A welcome taste of the past at the Egyptian Museum
I’d read that the Egyptian Museum was relocating. The grand old place was said to be in need of modern security, better lighting, some organization and labeling, and more space for her collections spanning thousands of years. The desert rose-colored building, opened in 1902, holds unmarked ancient relics in hundreds of original wooden curio cabinets, stacked and jammed into dimly-lit rooms. Sarcophagi and statues crowd into other rooms, lit by dusty sunbeams. The old museum is a treasure trove to wander through, and thousands more artifacts are said to remain packed away in basement rooms. I’d read that the fancy new museum was opening soon near the Giza Pyramids. When we discovered that the legendary old pink lady was still receiving guests, well…you can imagine what that meant to me and my romantic travel notions. It was like stepping back in time.
Sunbeams, statues, sarcophagi, and security lines at the old Egyptian MuseumThe Egyptian Museum is being packed up, like Indiana Jones’ house of treasures being prepped for a move.A copy of the Rosetta Stone. Written in 196 BC, and discovered in 1799 by Napoleon’s army, It was a decree, written in 3 languages: hieroglyphics, ancient Egyptian/Coptic, and ancient Greek. In 1803, Jean-François Champollion realized the cartouche for Ptolemy was outlined in all three scripts, thus breaking the code for how to read hieroglyphics. Currently, THE Rosetta Stone resides in the British Museum. Requests for repatriation to Egypt have been denied.At embalming, canopic jars individually stored the stomach, intestines, lungs, and liver. The heart was left in the body so it could be weighed against a feather. Lighter than the feather, the dead person became eternal. Heavier than the feather, and he/she would be fed to the monster.A stone sarcophagus at Egyptian Museum. In the 1850s, so many mummies were ousted from their tombs by grave robbers that the wrappings were sold for paper and the mummies were rumored to be burned as locomotive fuel.Egyptian moon goddess on the inside lid of the sarcophagusIn ancient statues, people are represented as Gods perfected. On the sarcophagus, truth is depicted.A golden nesting shrine from the tomb of King Tutankhamen, protected by four 3-4 feet tall goddesses.A room of wooden curio cabinets brimming with relics at the Egyptian MuseumAt the Egyptian Museum.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
Cedars, oaks, redwoods, sequoias, catalpas, sycamores, pines, firs, poplars, aspens, birches, willows…I love them all…each and every one. Giant old trees and ambitious saplings. Trees planted in front of a front door, and those standing guard at corners or lining the roads like sentinels. I love to see forests growing wild in interstate medians.
Tree branches. Film double exposure.
Favorites.
I greet favorite characters along my route, marveling as bright leaves unfold in Spring, then color and drop in Autumn, and admiring the trees’ bones in Winter. I wonder what the neighborhood trees talk about high above our houses, chatting in the breeze.
I’ve yet to see the Amazon rainforest. And it is increasingly likely I never will.
Missing trees.
The sound of a chainsaw makes me nervous and angry. The sight of branches and giant trunks split and piled high for the chipper makes me sick at my stomach. I imagine the pieces are still dying, the neighboring trees still whispering to the woodpile, saying goodbye.
Of course, I notice missing trees. Each time I pass, I remember and mourn the missing ones like friends, acknowledging the empty space in the ground, in the sky. I lost one this week. It’s a long story, for another time.
Ancient Bur Oak tree. There are four of these old oaks in one Chicago block. The trees were recently threatened by an elementary school expansion project. The neighborhood rallied to protect the trees. For now, they are safe. The annex builders did, however, destroy many younger trees in the easement in order to put up construction fences and to bring in heavy equipment.
I’ve just started reading a book called “The Last Forest” by London and Kelly. I’m already sad. For someone who cried through “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss and “Barkskins” by Proulx, this non-fiction book will be harder given the recent news of fires in the Amazon and Siberia. Already, I’m anxious.
Waste not, want not.
I wish to be part of a civilization that respects trees and the earth, that repurposes and reuses instead of wasting and throwing out the old in favor of “progress”. Resources are not infinite. Infinite growth of profit and population is not sustainable. We must stop. We must stop taking trees and forests from earth and the animals.
What will I do to save the world’s trees? Use less paper, buy products with less packaging, protect land when it is threatened by developers, and plant trees. What else can I do? What will you do?
The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.The last of the canopy. Leaves.
Thank you for reading
Photos in this post were taken with a film point-and-shoot camera on a sad day in 2012. The trees brought me indescribable comfort that day, and really…always. Select photos are available on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, tree-hugging, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
On a recent trip home to Nashville, we got up-and-out before dawn to cruise Nashville’s Lower Broad. I wanted to see the neon and what had become of my favorite old buildings along this four-block stretch that is the nation’s newest hotspot.
Looking down Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.The lights of Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.
Hub of Nashville
This stretch of Broadway, down by the Cumberland River docks, used to be all about the business of living. Throughout the 1800s, grand bank buildings, hardware stores, grocers, clothing shops, and warehouses went up on Broadway to serve the boomtown. Ornate churches, Union Station, and Hume-Fogg High School came up too. And in the Great Depression, Federal assistance programs built the Post Office. For many years, Broadway was a hub of Nashville.
Riverfront warehouse, built in the late1880s, home to Acme Feed & Seed. Nashville, Tennessee. Originally six stories, the American National Bank building (built in 1883) was demolished down to the facade in the 1970s. For years it was the Broadway Boot Company with a similar neon sign. Now it is the entry facade to a bar. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.
Then came music
The Grand Ole Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium in 1943. The country music radio shows still broadcast nationwide every Friday and Saturday on WSM 650. Lower Broadway filled with honky tonks. Tootsies Orchid Lounge harbored country music legends who’d just finished performing at the Ryman and slipped through the alley into the bar’s backdoor for a night cap. Record stores, boot companies, sequined clothing shops, poster printers, restaurants, and tourist trinket shops popped up in Lower Broad’s empty warehouses and shuttered bank buildings. Music-star wannabes wandered over from the Greyhound station with their guitars to busk and be discovered along the busy Lower Broad sidewalks.
Lawrence Record Shop sign. Nashville, Tennessee.Tootsies Orchid Lounge. Nashville, Tennessee.
Demise: Abandoned to “Urban Renewal”
In 1974, the Grand Ole Opry moved out of the Ryman and Lower Broad began her descent. A fight raged over whether to demolish the Ryman Auditorium. Adult bookstores, smoke shops, and liquor stores filled the growing number of abandoned buildings. Lower Broad became a dirty, dangerous place to be. I remember riding with my grandfather to pick up my aunt from work at the South Central Bell building around the corner on Second Avenue. The area was creepy, dark and cave-like between the big buildings. We’d wait with the doors locked and the windows barely cracked. I wish now that I’d asked him about his memories of the area and made some photographs. It’s just vague memories now.
In the 1990s, Lower Broad began to turn around. People began to recognize the value of the area’s history. Some buildings were saved. Many were not…destroyed in fires or “urban renewal” projects. Here’s hoping their pre-country-music neon histories are remembered.
My hometown. Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland and the Nashville, Tennessee skyline, 2019.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
