It’s a pervasive part of daily life in Egypt. Baksheesh. Tipping. Westerners are generally amazed at how extensive it is. Tipping is expected for any service or favor performed, no matter how small, for tourists and locals alike. Money changing hands seems as natural as a handshake. In fact, that’s how it’s sometimes given, from the palm of one person’s hand into another’s.
Tips mean a great deal to the average Egyptian whose income in 2015 was 28 percent likely to be below the poverty line and rose to 32.5% in 2018. To add insult to injury, Egypt had a hefty annual inflation rate of 10% or more for years, peaking at 28% in 1989, which increased the ranks of the poor. In 2016, when the IMF made it a pre-condition for getting a bailout of $12 billion, the exchange rate of the Egyptian pound was floated. The pound promptly lost half its value, which was disastrous for an economy that depends on imports. Traditional subsidies on food, fuel and utilities were also cut. Poverty is getting worse, not better.
With a situation this bleak, is it any wonder that anyone would rub two fingers and thumb together or ask for baksheesh outright? This happened to me with a guard at a pyramid site, airport luggage handler, alabaster shop employee, attendant at a temple entrance, the list goes on. If it weren’t for our tour guide who offered to collect a lump sum from each of us and take care of tipping on our behalf, all of us would have had to deal with it ourselves.
Before the trip, my wife and I collected as many $1 bills as possible, taking the advice of previous travelers who on the internet said Egyptians would be ‘happy’ to accept foreign cash as eagerly as their own. Well, maybe. I found out more than once that Egyptian banks don’t do locals any favors by refusing to exchange $1 bills for pounds or piastres. One family in Abusir asked if someone on our tour could swap five ones for a five dollar bill for this reason.
To me as an American, an Egyptian pound (£E), which might be given to a toilet attendant, is equal to about $.06, or 6 cents. Most tips are in the £E 5-10 range (32-63 cents). These amounts aren’t much at all. So, it seems appropriate that I, as an American (for instance), be magnanimous to those far less fortunate.
And I was willing—sort of. Why the hesitation?
It was a headache getting my hands on small bills. The problem is this. When I made an ATM cash withdrawal, it would be for a few thousand pounds, which would first be dispensed in £E 100 notes. Compared to typical tips, £E 100 is quite a large amount, which brings up the problem of making change. (Rather than repeating how hard this is, I refer you to a similar post here.) Even when exchanging one of these at the hotel bank, I got back a fifty, two twenties and a ten. In this respect, the infrastructure doesn’t support tourists and indirectly the people who rely on baksheesh. Egypt is not alone in this. I found the same problem in Morocco and I suspect it’s true in many other places of the world.
For the average Egyptian, everyday commerce is conducted in transactions much less than £E 100. There seems to be a scarcity of small bills in Egypt, or maybe it’s more that tourists like me can’t get our hands on them. It’s likely that locals hang on to them dearly so they can function in the informal cash economy.
I don’t know what the solution is for anyone who wants to travel to Egypt. Not everyone will have a tour guide like ours to help ease the frustration. Am I discouraging travelers from visiting Egypt? Definitely not. Baksheesh is a minor and unexpectedly persistent cultural phenomenon that needs to be acknowledged and accepted. Egypt is a wonderful place and sadly a visit, for now, will have to wait until COVID-19 subsides, insha’allah.
Calling a woman a cow nowadays is asking for trouble, but the Egyptians of yore depicted Hathor as a cow, a woman with cow’s horns or woman with cow’s ears. She was one of Egypt’s most important deities, a primordial goddess, daughter of Ra and Nut, goddess of joy, female love, sex, destruction and rebirth, just some of her many aspects. She was so venerated that a cult developed around her in Dendera where a temple complex was dedicated to her.
The Temple of Hathor was the most beautiful I visited in Egypt. It helped that it’s one of the best preserved, boasting paints that are still vivid because of meticulous restoration. The temple also impressed me with gorgeous wall carvings and the Great Hypostyle Hall.
Construction of the temple began in the Ptolemaic period (Ptolemy XII and Cleopatra) and ended with additions made by Roman emperor Tiberius.
Aside from its beauty, the temple has other remarkable features.
The temple’s dedication to Hathor is obvious just by looking up. Her image as a female goddess with cow’s ears appears throughout the temple, most conspicuously as capitals on its 24 columns (see above). Her face is on all four sides, gazing out at the cardinal points of the universe. Who defaced all 96 of her faces?
The temple has two distinctive zodiacs, one of which may be the oldest in the world. It’s known as the Dendera Zodiac. Visitors casually walking through the temple will never find it. Our tour group was led up a stairwell to the temple roof. No one else was up there except guards. On the ceiling of a chapel dedicated to Osiris is the zodiac, the only one shaped like a circle in Egyptian art. I couldn’t make out details at first because it was covered in black soot. With some effort, the figures representing the constellations gradually became more distinct. The planisphere corresponds to the modern zodiac although some constellations have Egyptian forms.
The Dendera Zodiac isn’t without controversy. In 1820, the original was removed and taken away to France where it is now displayed in the Louvre. The one in Dendera is a plaster replica. While the zodiac’s removal may have been legal and sanctioned by Egyptian authorities at the time, there is a bigger moral issue of its return, just as the bust of Nefertiti should be by the Neues Museum (Berlin).
The other zodiac, in the common rectangular form, appears on the ceiling of the main hall. I had to squint to see the figures because the architrave on which they’re carved is over 50ft (15m) above the floor.
Show Me Your True Colors
The colors in the main hall are gorgeous, as if they defied the ravages of time. There’s a reason. Like the Dendera Zodiac now, the ceiling and walls used to be covered in soot from centuries of burning fires inside. But after meticulous cleaning efforts, much of the original vibrancy of the colors has been beautifully restored.
So why hasn’t the Dendera Zodiac been restored? My guess is because it’s a replica, waiting for its replacement with the real one that France needs to return.
Shedding Light on a Mystery
Depending on one’s inclinations, the biggest attraction might be the controversial panels of figures that appear to be holding what some claim are giant ‘light bulbs,’ complete with ‘filaments’ (snake forms) and ‘cords.’ Aha! These guys had electricity, right? Hold on. Archaeologists counter that the ‘bulbs’ represent the creation of the universe emerging from lotus flowers, which are symbols of death and rebirth, the ‘cords’ are their stems and the snake, another symbol of rebirth. These depictions are found in two places, in the main temple area and in an underground crypt. They don’t appear anywhere else in Egyptian art.
I recently read a book by Christopher Dunn. Highly experienced in engineering and precision machining, he makes some intriguing revelations about Hathor’s temple. After analyzing carefully calibrated photographs, he concluded that the builders manufactured the Hathor column capitals with such exactness that today they can only be made with advanced machining tools. The capitals include not only Hathor’s head but two cornices and sistrum, a rattling musical instrument associated with her. The complex transitions from one kind of surface to another amazed him.
Dunn also discovered that the columns in the Great Hypostyle Hall (including projections of some critical points on the capitals) are lined up or perpendicular to each other. He took a digital image of four columns with camera on tripod aimed straight up, making sure that the center of the image coincided with the geometric center of the columns in order to avoid angular distortion. Reference lines were rendered using computer-aided design (CAD) software on a computer. These lines were drawn along cornice edges and through certain intersections of Hathor’s head and cornice. Each capital indicates that there is precise alignment with respect to the others and that it appears to be a copy of the others.
This is sophistication a visitor will never see. One would think that something less than perfect would hardly be noticeable; the overall effect of the temple would still be incredible. So I wondered, why the exacting standards? Do other Egyptian temples show this kind of care and building prowess? I wouldn’t at all be surprised.
To walk through the Temple of Hathor is an exquisite experience. Its lofty architecture, detailed carvings, celestial allusions—and colors—affected me like no other temple. That the designers applied an esoteric craft in its design and construction makes the temple all the more wondrous.
I gawked at the Valley Temple of Khafre in Giza and the Osireion in Abydos. Though they are in Egypt, they reminded me of monuments I saw in Peru, halfway round the world. Cyclopean blocks of unadorned stone were cut and tightly fitted to one another. Their colossal sizes hint at a sophisticated civilization that knew how to manipulate gargantuan stones in ways that defy explanation.
Here’s where the prevailing thinking seems unbelievable, if not ridiculous. Stones of gigantic size were said to have been quarried, dragged or ferried over great distances, lifted into place and fitted with precision by sheer force of muscle, hammer, pounding stone and copper chisel. In places like Peru, where mountains and valleys present seemingly insurmountable obstacles, this explanation severely stretches credibility. Was there instead a method of transportation and masonry that we haven’t yet discovered or identified? In our scientific and rational age, we tend to think of human engineering achievements relative to a progressive timeline, from the use of simple tools (Neolithic Age) to today’s advanced industrial technology. Surely, the ancients didn’t have the wherewithal to use anything but rope, brute force and crude tools to build their magnificent edifices, did they?
And yet, we can’t prove, let alone reproduce, how some of the greatest ancient monuments of the world were built.
The Valley Temple and Osireion are such enigmas. They don’t look anything like other Egyptian temples that are colonnaded and embellished with beautiful art and hieroglyphs. Rather they have the starkness and aura of great age.
Valley Temple of Khafre
The Valley Temple sits virtually at the feet of the Sphinx. We almost didn’t have time to see it after a full day of taking in the Sphinx, Great Pyramid and Solar Boat Museum. With the second pyramid and the Great Sphinx, it forms a complex whose construction is attributed to King Khafre (4th dynasty). The sole evidence given to Khafre’s connection is the famous statue of him, now at the Cairo Museum, that was found buried in the Valley Temple. (That the statue was beautifully carved from diorite, a very hard igneous rock with a Mohs scale of around 7, is wondrous in itself.)
This is hardly proof, as some point out, only that the statue was found there. A New Kingdom stone slab called the Inventory Stela (factually disputed by some), found in Giza and dating to the 26th dynasty (roughly 2,000 years after Khafre), claims the Sphinx and Valley Temple were built before Khufu, Khafre’s father. If true, the temple’s construction could conceivably be pushed back to pre-dynastic times, or at least the Early Dynastic Period.
Whatever the uncertainty regarding dates, the physical facts are quite amazing. There are two layers of stone construction, granite and limestone. Hundreds of megalithic limestone blocks form a surrounding wall. Some weigh 200 tons and some were lifted as much as 40ft up the temple’s eastern side. Hinting at possible long-term damage from former, heavy pre-dynastic rains, much like the weathering around the Sphinx and its enclosure, the limestone had been extremely eroded before granite casing stones were attached to the softer rock. Incredibly, they were cut (or manipulated?) to conform to the underlying limestones’ erosional patterns, all their peaks and troughs, to become the temple’s inner and outer walls. How was this adaptation ever done? No one can convince me it was by hammer and copper chisel. The technique is quite similar to shaping casing stones over the Great Pyramid’s irregular limestone core blocks.
In addition to the retaining walls, there are two rows of gigantic, parallel granite posts that are topped with equally gigantic lintels.
The workmanship on the granite walls is exquisite, fitting tightly together with seams scarcely able to admit a needle point.
Other incredible features of some stones are their irregular shapes. Some are trapezoidal, others have notches, yet others curve around corners at right angles.
What could possibly be the reason for fashioning stones with odd dimensions? Some suggest it was for earthquake-proofing. It surely wasn’t for simplicity.
When the Temple of Seti I in Abydos was being planned in New Kingdom times, the builders discovered a sunken monument buried in sand, now called the Osireion. How long it had been there was anybody’s guess. In 1902, it was unearthed 50ft below ground by Egyptologists William Flinders Petrie and Margaret Murray. By the looks of it, the monument wasn’t built during Seti’s time, yet he incorporated it into the design. Seti built his temple in an entirely different style, classically Egyptian.
The Osireion has a stylistic similarity to Khafre’s Valley Temple, not only because of the massive stonework but its design of two parallel rows of pillars flanking a central courtyard. It also is the monument that at its base, depending on the Nile water table, may sit in greenish water, which many of us have seen in pictures (also see below). There is likewise evidence that the floor of the Valley Temple saw water. Today, the Osireion looks like an open-air structure. Incredibly it used to be roofed over by two rows of equally thick stone slabs, before they collapsed or were destroyed by a natural catastrophe.
For some reason, visitors are no longer allowed to get close to the Osireion. Our tour group had to be content with gazing at it from an overlook. It’s roped off for now, unfortunate for those of us who want a closer look.
As far as is known, these two structures are the only ones in Egypt built in this massive post-and-lintel style.
Both monuments reminded me of stonework I saw in Peru, if not in the details. While the Egyptians favored horizontal lines, Peruvian courses of equally massive stone were often laid non-linearly yet with the same, exacting tolerances. Echoes of a common stone-working technology seem to reverberate across the ocean.
What the Nub is Going On?
The image below shows casing stones at the entrance to Menkaure’s pyramid in Giza, the smallest of the three. (Unfortunately, our tour group didn’t have the opportunity to visit it.) The stones have different characteristics than the casing stones used on the other two Giza pyramids, namely, their surfaces are not flat and knob-like appendages (nubs) protrude along the bottoms of many.
One wall of the Osireion shows the same kind of nubs.
What’s intriguing is that this same stone feature is found abundantly in Peru.
No one has been able to figure out what those nubs were used for. They randomly appear along the bottom edges of some (not all) stones, which means they weren’t used for lifting or any other utilitarian purpose. It’s safe to say they weren’t decorative and it would shock me if the masons went to the trouble of purposely carving them that way. Could they be the by-product of an undiscovered process?
What’s intriguing is that nubs like these also appear on stone in India, China, Japan, Syria, Turkey and elsewhere, including Micronesia. Likewise, ancient megalithic construction, analogous to the Valley Temple and Osireion, shows up across the globe, the most humongous being in Lebanon.
Am I missing something, or was there a global phenomenon going on, a worldwide architectural convention? A common, megalithic stone-shaping (and transportation) technology was being practiced all over the world that has been lost to us long ago. Our current global, cross-pollinating culture was not the first in human history, it seems.
Because rocks don’t lend themselves to carbon-dating, we don’t know for sure when the Valley Temple and Osireion were built. They look (and likely are) contemporaneous. But from plentiful circumstantial evidence (from the fields of geology, astronomy, geometry, written and oral history, lichenometry, masonry), the ancients had a level of sophisticated knowledge and technologies for which we give them little credit.
The grounds of the Temple of Karnak in Luxor are so big that it can easily surround the great cathedrals of Europe: Notre Dame, St. Peter’s, Milan and more. Started in the Middle Kingdom and added to over a period of 2,000 years into Ptolemaic times by thirty pharaohs, it is a complex conglomeration of smaller temples, hypostyles, courts, chapel, pylons, storerooms and living quarters. It even contains a lake.
With this kind of cornucopia, it isn’t surprising that it’s the most visited site in Egypt second only to the Giza pyramids. In its day, it would’ve looked splendid, judging by its colossal scale and whispers of color that still remain. Now, the patina of old age hints at an ancient civilization long gone.
At 50,000 sq ft/4,650 sq m, the Hypostyle Hall is the largest religious building in the world. The largest of its 134 columns is 79ft/24m high with diameters of 10ft/3m, dwarfing mere humans who walk among them. It isn’t an experience easily forgotten.
I ignored it in Egypt for the first few days, not so much that I don’t like falafel (I do), but I can get it in Seattle where I live. How many ways can it be made, I figured.
That’s before I knew there was a distinctive Egyptian version. How is it different? Instead of chick peas, it’s made from fava beans. They take on a nice shade of green from any number of herbs that can be mixed with the batter, like parsley, cilantro, leek, dill.
The first sample I had was just down the street from the hotel where I was staying in Giza, a restaurant called Felfela, where our tour guide Waleed ordered a plateful. He told us the restaurant is known for its ta’ameya, which is what the falafel is called.
The best I’ve ever had without question. Why? Favas don’t absorb as much oil as chick peas do, according to Waleed, making for crispier exteriors. Because they’re not as mealy as garbanzos, the texture is a tad chewier. In addition, the falafels tend to be flatter than the spherical shape made throughout the Middle East.
On our third day on tour, while visiting the pyramids of Saqqara, we stopped in the town of Dashur where Waleed got everyone a falafel sandwich from a local stand. It was lightly dressed (if at all) and packed with fresh vegetables, falafel and roasted eggplant. Simple but delicious.
The Egyptian diet also includes ful medames (mudammas) which my Giza hotel served every morning. Their version was more smashed than usual, looking more like Mexican refried beans. Condiments on the side included minced red onion, lemon, salt, ground cumin and ground chiles. I had them every morning until I noticed their effects later in the day. Still, if there weren’t friends around me, I wouldn’t have worried so much about what the future held (or couldn’t hold).
I like vegetables with meals. Egypt didn’t disappoint. Every lunch and dinner included many salads and vegetable side dishes that I’m not entirely sure were Egyptian. But many were. Vegetarians need not worry in Egypt.
Eggplant dishes are bountiful in Egypt. Every meal at hotels and on the Nile river cruisers served them in one form or another. The most abundant is baba ghanoush, smashed roasted and charred eggplant mixed with spices.
A dish similar to dolmas is called mahshi, eggplant or zucchini stuffed with rice, herbs and spices.
We loaded onto the bus after visiting the Cairo Museum all morning, ready for lunch. “Americans love McDonald’s, Egyptians love koshary,” Waleed told the group, as he distributed takeaway containers from a renowned place specializing in it (Abou Tarek in Cairo). Koshary is a savory, filling carb-loaded dish: rice, lentils, chick peas, fried onions, spaghetti-like noodles cooked in two ways, topped with a chunky tomato sauce.
A few places served kofta, a dish popular throughout the Levant, minced meat (beef, lamb, chicken) with spices, formed into cigar shapes around skewers and grilled.
While in Egypt, I knew I had to try pigeon, which as a delicacy is not nearly as popular here in the U.S. The flesh is reminiscent of dark chicken meat and is decidedly fattier like duck. The squab is typically stuffed with rice (or freekeh).
Egyptian pita, called eish (aish) baladi, was served at almost every meal.
No account of my culinary foraging in Egypt would be complete without mentioning Turkish coffee flavored with cardamom. It’s a beverage to be savored by itself (or dessert). Powdery fine ground coffee, sugar (optional) and water are heated in a small pot (cezve) and poured unfiltered into demitasse cups. You take a small sip at a time and leave the coffee sludge at the bottom. The cardamom gives it an exotic taste, which I much prefer to cinnamon (which I find too ‘sweet’). Sometimes ground ginger and nutmeg are added. At home, I’ve adapted it to my electric coffee machine. I’ve grown quite fond of the brewed coffee but complain that the grounds will become quickly depleted because the process requires quite a bit more grounds than usual to highlight the cardamom flavor.
Recently, the Seattle area’s only Egyptian restaurant opened. My wife and I have yet to try it. But no matter how good, the food won’t be as unforgettable as when we ate it at communal tables, in Egypt, with our newly made touring friends with whom we shared this culinary adventure.
Outside my hotel window was the Pyramid of Khafre. In between was the hotel swimming pool, highway, trailers and a swath of the Sahara Desert. Khafre was only a mile away, as the crow flies, yet it was obvious that you couldn’t make a beeline to get there. There would be an obstacle course to get close to what ancient Egyptians left for posterity on the Giza Plateau. In the thousands of years since, over 20 million people in metro Cairo, along with traffic gridlock, choking air pollution and urban sprawl, have encroached on the monuments.
I’ve wanted to visit Egypt for a long time. I wondered if I ever would.
Then my wife and I were here. If that sounds sudden, it was. Only in November, the chance to go on a tour came up, organized by Travel the Unknown. Having enough reward miles for airfare made the decision easier. The holidays of November, December and January kept my wife and me busy and little time to think about pyramids, temples and the Nile. We only had the rest of January to get ready, physically and mentally. In early February, we’d be off and running. Never before have we made a decision to go far away so quickly. It would be our second trip to Africa in two years.
Our plane landed in Cairo Airport at almost midnight. We were ever so grateful the local tour company (Lady Egypt) representative whisked us through the airport and got us to the Giza hotel in an hour, much faster than if we’d arrived in midday during Cairo’s legendary traffic jams.
We would have almost a full day to recover from the flight before meeting the rest of the tour group and our hosts.
On the tour’s first official day, we had two unique experiences, which I’ll never forget. They were privately allotted times at the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid. You read that right, our group was the only one at these sites. These visits had to be done ‘off hours,’ the Sphinx before dawn, Khufu’s pyramid after official closing time (5pm). But what special opportunities they were!
The Great Sphinx
Hopping on the tour bus at 4am, we got to the Sphinx while still dark outside. It was chilly enough that we had to don jackets. In front of the paws, we listened to commentaries by the tour’s special guest (writer and researcher Andrew Collins) and Waleed Kamouna, our tour’s incomparable guide, and to walk around the monument thanks to mobile flashlights. Not many get this close to the Sphinx.
We would wait two hours before the sun would rise to light up the Sphinx. Now presumably Khafre’s face, it might’ve been re-carved in his time from the head of a lion (as some suggest). Around 10,500 BC, it would have looked directly to the west at the constellation Leo.
Is the Sphinx that old? Archaeology dates it to the time of Khafre (c. 2575–2465 BCE) who is associated with the closest pyramid and whose statue (now in the Cairo Museum) was unearthed from the nearby Valley Temple. Could it be much older? The weathering patterns on the enclosure wall and Sphinx suggested to some researchers that heavy rainfall, which Egypt hasn’t experienced since 3000 BC before desertifying, dates the monument’s construction to well before then because of the extent of erosion. (Due to an astronomical phenomenon known as precession, the house of Leo would not be due west of the Sphinx for another 26,000 years from 10,500 BC. Many ancient societies kept track of precessional cycles.)
Judging from the image at the top of this post, you’d think the Sphinx had very little sign of civilization around it. But you’d be wrong. By turning around to face west, you’d see the edge of Giza City. Cell phone towers poke up above the horizon. It was a regretful and dismaying sight. So was the litter. New construction is going on to this day, but city officials have established a buffer zone on the Giza plateau on which it’s forbidden to build.
After the Sphinx, we were treated to a grand view of all three pyramids from an observation point. The air was thick with haze and pollution and the parking lot full of hawkers that typically beset tourists at all popular stops.
The Great Pyramid (Pyramid of Khufu)
The Great Pyramid has captivated me for as long as I can remember. What started out as a youngster’s fascination with things ancient became a curiosity about the incredible feat of technology, craftsmanship and genius that it took to build it. It is rightfully one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the only one left standing. So it was a great privilege for me to be here.
To finally see the pyramid up close was humbling. It looks like a series of stacked and tapering stone rows, 210 courses in all, comprising 2.3 million stones at an average weight of 2.5 tons each, a tremendous feat of architectural engineering that may last for thousands more years.
The surface used to be encased in Tura limestone, which are long gone, removed over time for Cairo building projects. Though the Giza limestone core blocks have a rough appearance, incredibly the casing stones were fashioned on the underside (facing the core blocks) as inverted surfaces, however uneven, to match the contours of underlying core blocks and on the outside as flat diagonal surfaces. These stones gave the pyramid a smooth look. It’s said that the brilliant gleam (Tura limestone is white) could be seen from miles away.
Seeing the pyramid from the outside was incredible enough. More special still, our tour group had the inside of the Great Pyramid (Pyramid of Khufu) all to itself. Imagine, just the twelve of us.
After dinner, we arrived after public hours, security guards everywhere. There was a bit of ceremony when Andrew Collins was given the key to open the gate. From the entrance, we made our way down the Descending Passage, stooped over awkwardly to wiggle down a tunnel only 3.5ft (1m) high. Despite the Giza plateau’s arid climate, the breaths and sweat of earlier visitors made the passageway dank. We eventually reached the entrance to the Grand Gallery.
If it weren’t for artificial lighting, we would’ve been in total darkness. After the Descending Passage, the Grand Gallery soars by comparison. Modern additions make climbing easier. With bannisters and ridges on the wood floorboards, I felt like a kid again bounding up stairs (at my age, bounding no longer describes my movements). Looking up, I stared in awe at the high, narrow ceiling. My long-time wish to be in this gallery was being fulfilled. Why were these gigantic, corbelled rows of granite, some beams weighing 50 tons, finished so smoothly and elegantly if merely to support the massive weight above?
The humidity was still high though not nearly as brutal as in summertime. We were moistened with sweat, some more than others, as we entered the King’s Chamber. The room is undecorated and stark. The walls and floor consist of massive, squarely cut granite blocks.
The room contains nothing more than a stone ‘sarcophagus’ along one end. Since no remains or lid were ever found, it’s probably better to use the term coffer. One corner is heavily damaged, likely not the work of vandals. In the dim lighting, it was hard to tell that it and the entire room is made of Aswan red granite, different from the limestone used almost everywhere else.
Shining a smart phone light into the interior, I was amazed to see what looked like machined surfaces and straight, perpendicular sides which clearly are not the product of hammer and copper chisel. Other visitors have reported noticing saw marks and drill holes. I cursed that I didn’t bring along a proper flashlight (and carpenter’s square?).
The other chambers were less dramatic. The smaller Queen’s Chamber only features a vaulted ceiling and a corbelled niche. The floor is rough. The room doesn’t have the cavernous, brooding feel of the King’s Chamber. There are also two small rectangular portals on the north and south walls that lead to upwardly angled ducts. These have been labeled ‘air shafts,’ thought originally to relieve chamber air pressure but in fact dead-end just short of the outside. Why do two similar shafts in the King’s Chamber exit the pyramid? For the sophisticated engineering and work to incorporate shafts in the pyramid’s design, I wondered what purpose they served. They’re said to “point” to certain stars (Beta of Ursa Minor, Sirius, Thuban, Orion’s belt) important to ancient Egyptians. Maybe there’s some cosmic symbolism at play here.
The strangest room of all was the Subterranean Chamber, bigger than the King’s Chamber. To get there, I had to go down backwards over 340ft (a continuation of the Descending Passage), longer than an American football field’s length. It’s mind-boggling that it was hacked out of the limestone bedrock approximately 100ft below ground.
Most of the chamber’s space is taken up by a back section divided by two strange fin-like rock structures. There is a pit in the floor near the entrance and a gated shaft on the south wall that extends for about 50ft before dead-ending.
This room is anomalous because the room is rough hewn unlike the pyramid’s other architectural features, giving the impression that it was never finished or was abandoned. This is hard to believe in light of the obvious fact that the entire pyramid was built according to some grand plan.
My lifelong wish to see the Giza Plateau’s wonders was fulfilled. It happened at the beginning of our trip. Would the rest of the tour be as thrilling?
Many of us ponder why the Great Pyramid was built. As pyramid-building goes, this is far and away the crowning achievement of the Egyptians, unlike any built before or since. There are several esoteric theories regarding its purpose, stimulated by the pyramid’s measurements that appear to encode the earth’s dimensions and solar year, and the arrangement of the three pyramids on the plateau that seems to place importance on the constellations Orion and (as Andrew Collins argues) Cygnus. Some have even ascribed a more practical purpose, a gigantic civil engineering project, such as a gigantic water pump or energy source, requiring the river Nile to power it.
Its construction wasn’t the mere stacking of blocks either because of the three chambers, passageways and shafts. Scientists have also discovered another large “void” above the King’s Chamber using a cosmic radiation measurement technique known as muography.
Was it built for religious reasons, that is, to help the pharoah’s journey to the heavens in the afterlife? The pyramid’s being Khufu’s tomb has never been proven. Because I don’t believe in the pyramid-as-tomb theory, it must have been built for a loftier purpose. Something this grand surely was meant to be more than a mortuary. What that purpose was, we may never know. It could very well be a combination of a symbolic pharaonic pathway to the Duat, an ingenious representation of the Earth in code, and a wondrous machine, nevertheless the highest achievement of the brilliant architect and genius Imhotep who designed it.
For me to be here on the Giza Plateau was not only a chance to see and be in awe of some of the world’s oldest monuments but again to question what we think we know about ancient civilizations. It happened for me in Peru and now, in Egypt.
Seti I may well be remembered for being the father of Rameses II, arguably the greatest Egyptian pharoah, but his temple in Abydos is considered one of the most beautiful, containing magnificent artwork and beautiful hypostyle halls.
The temple also has an enigmatic hieroglyphic panel that seems to depict objects that look like modern aircraft, one of which has been likened to a helicopter.