Red Pyramid

Posted on January 8, 2015 by Paula Terrey

15 March 2000 (afternoon, continued)

Red Pyramid as seen from the Bent Pyramid, Dashur

Next we go to the North Pyramid, also known as the Red Pyramid because of its rose-tinged limestone core blocks. Built from bottom to top at a consistent 43 degree angle, it is Egypt’s first “true” pyramid. The casing stones were looted in antiquity by Cairo builders, but remnants show they were smooth, white limestone.

Red Pyramid entrance

Scholars have long scratched their heads over the Red Pyramid because, like Meidum and the Bent Pyramid, it’s attributed to Sneferu, a man who apparently collected pyramids the way some people collect spoons.

Down into the Red Pyramid, Dashur

We can go inside the Red Pyramid: the entrance is about halfway up the sloping north face. We get to it via stairs, then descend through a steep, long, and beautifully even granite-lined passage to a place where things level out briefly before emerging into a splendid corbelled chamber.

Tidy burial chamber corbelling, Red Pyramid, Dashur

Built less than 60 years after Djoser’s Step Pyramid, the interior stone alignments and surfaces of the Red Pyramid reflect the remarkable advances in precision since even Meidum, where the entry passage was roughly cut in spite of being an “official” entrance and not a robber’s tunnel.

Red Pyramid burial chamber wall and hacked-away floor, Dashur

From the first corbelled chamber we go through a short corridor to a second corbelled space, then up a wooden staircase to a third corbelled room, presumably the burial chamber. Most of the floor is simply gone — quarried away by tomb robbers. The one good aspect of this tragedy is a chance to see some of the core blocks, so we stand on a wooden platform at one side and look down into the hole. The air is so thick and salty it’s like breathing brine.

Next stop is the “Nile School for Countryside Carpets.” A few children are sitting at looms in the downstairs weaving room, demonstrating how they knot the rugs, and one girl in particular is as cute and bright as a sparrow. She’s wearing a long skirt paired with a sweater, her dark, wavy hair braided in a tight pigtail down her back. Her thin little face breaks into a dazzling smile as she shows us what she can do, her fingers plucking the warp so fast they’re a blur.

Looking down at one end of our ridiculous rug.

Upstairs in the showroom they ply us with free Cokes and we somehow end up purchasing a 7 x 11 foot knotted camel-hair carpet in teal, red, pink, beige, blue, brown, yellow and at least half-a-dozen other colors that match nothing in our home. We’ll have it shipped.

On the ride back to Mena House we pass a volleyball game where, for lack of poles, men are cheerfully holding up the net for their friends. At various intersections, guards with rifles and machine guns leaning casually from the windows of limestone towers.

Tonight we’ll have dinner at the hotel, do a bit of laundry, and re-pack. Tomorrow will be a full day, starting with the Giza Plateau and ending with our flight to Luxor.

Khan al-Khalili

Posted on December 11, 2014 by Paula Terrey

14 March 2000 (evening)

After the Egyptian Museum we get back on the bus and drive through Tahrir Square on our way to the Khan al-Khalili bazaar or souk. At the Khan al-Khalili we are free to wander for an hour and then we’ll meet at the Naguib Mahfouz Restaurant for dinner.

One of the many beautiful “gates” in the souk

Stacked cardboard boxes overflowing with plastic sandals, toy cars, hair ribbons, and baby clothes. Rug menders. Bolts of cloth. A man balancing a massive tray of bread on his head as he walks. Another man balancing beach balls held together by nets. Minarets poking above roof tops.

The narrow alleys of the souk smell like cat piss, cigarettes and perfume. Scrawny cats are everywhere: prowling, fighting, dashing underfoot. Budgies in cages chatter overhead. Merchants stand in the doors of their shops, urging us to examine their alabaster chess sets, “faience” scarabs, toy leather camels, silver jewelry, pyramid lamps, and bubbly jewel-colored blown glass vases.

The narrow alleys of the souk

Men sit at tiny tables in front of shops, drinking tea and smoking water pipes. We pass a brazier of glowing coals, a cart with smoky roasted sweet potatoes, and another cart, elaborately sculpted, with glass panels on the side displaying nuts and toasted melon seeds.

Carved door: Naguib Mahfouz Restaurant

The door of the Naguib Mahfouz Restaurant is honey-colored wood, carved in an intricate pattern. I try to determine if this is the coffee shop where Naguib Mahfouz does his writing, but no one seems to know. Long strings of blue and silver beads hang like a curtain in the window. The floor is a star pattern in marble. The vaulted ceiling is patterned with geometric shapes pressed deeply into the plaster and painted green, orange, brick, umber, and blue, creating a tapestry tent illusion. The walls are wood paneling accented with mashrabiya, mirrors, and prints of Old Cairo. Our table has an etched tin top.

Bill does the ordering. We have an appetizer of salty pickled carrots, baby onions, and hot peppers followed by pita bread and crackers with yogurt sauce, hummus, and tahini. Next comes Egyptian lentil soup and then a main course of eggplant, okra, and meat casseroles in curry and tomato sauces, spooned over plates of rice. We have no room for our bread pudding dessert but eat it anyway.

Mosques with minarets lit from below. Flashing neon lights. Streets packed with evening shoppers. The dome of the opera house, washed in light. Goats penned outside a shop. Rebar bristling from roofs like chin hairs in need of plucking. A truck smashed into a guard rail and abandoned.

Merchant and his souvenir shop

Back near our bus a thin, curly-headed girl, maybe five years old and wearing a pink flannel nightgown that’s been through too many washings, is selling packets of Kleenex. There’s a mosque nearby. Its doors are open and men are hurriedly kicking off their shoes and going inside to pray. The rear door of a public bus opens and people leap on, even though the bus is moving and already jammed to capacity.

On the way back to the hotel Moustafa tells us the average income for an Egyptian hotel worker is 2400 pounds per year. By contrast, farmers earn about 900 pounds per year — roughly $300 US. The “middle class” in Cairo have an income of about $10,000 US per year. Moustafa has completed a four-year course in Egyptology and Tourism. Bill employs four guides and they’ve all done the four-year course.

Evening shoppers in the Khan al-Khalili

Islamic Cairo

Posted on December 4, 2014 by Paula Terrey

14 March 2000 (morning, continued)

Muhammad Ali Mosque

Back on the bus, we drive to the Muhammad Ali Mosque, which is located within the Citadel, the massive stone-walled fortress built upon a hill near the limestone cliffs of Tura. (If my guide-book is correct, the hill upon which the Citadel sits is actually a spur detached from the surrounding Moqattam hills by quarrying.) As we drive we get another good view of an Islamic cemetery and further explanation of burial customs. The little house-like crypts on the graves are a specific Egyptian tradition: Arab cemeteries in other parts of the world have simple markers. Modern Egyptian families will take a picnic to the cemetery and spend the day, then break the dishes they used and leave them behind to keep the spirits from hitchhiking home.

Little boys walking arm in arm. A woman with a baby riding on her shoulder. Cloth banners with elaborate designs in red, blue and green in front of the oldest mosque in Cairo. A naked toddler in the doorway of his home, clutching a bundle of twigs. “Cairoland” amusement park.

The Muhammad Ali Mosque is encased in alabaster and is called, no surprise, “the Alabaster Mosque.” Directly across from it is the green-domed Al-Nasir Muhammad Mosque, built by the sultan who annexed the Sudan.

We enter the courtyard of the Alabaster Mosque and immediately remove our shoes. Moustafa shows us the correct way to carry them: soles together so the bottoms won’t touch the floor of the mosque when we set them down. We stop at the fountain where the faithful wash before prayers, then go inside and sit on the carpeted floor awhile before wandering around. Muhammad Ali is actually at rest here, in a sarcophagus behind a corner iron grille enclosure.

Cairo skyline from the Citadel

After exploring the mosque we step onto the terrace overlooking Cairo. Clouds from the north are mixing with smog below us but the view is terrific anyway. The buildings of Cairo are an almost uniform brown, but an occasional white or ochre structure stands out. Minarets punctuate the skyline and traffic snakes along the highway. In the distance, high-rise apartments crowd the banks of the Nile.

Goats in a yard as we look down from the Citadel

Al-Rifa’i Mosque as seen from the Citadel

Chattering school kids on a tour of the mosque approach us, wanting to practice their English. They say “hello” and I reply “salaam,” which sends them into gales of laughter.

On our way to the Egyptian Museum we pass an ancient aqueduct along the edge of the City of the Dead. Street level has crept up through the years so that only the top third or so of the arches is still visible, right at sidewalk level. In the caves formed by the arches mounds of flowers are stored under tarps, staying cool. Women sit on the ground in front of the flowers, bundling bunches. A man is washing his taxi next to a pile of rubble on the street.

We drive through part of Garden City – one way traffic here – and pass the American Embassy, which is the largest foreign embassy in Egypt. There are 30,000 United States diplomats living in Egypt, mostly in the Maadi district. We pass the British Embassy too. It has a wrought iron fence and guards at a gate with bars that raise and lower. The American University in Cairo is reportedly right behind the American Embassy but we can’t see it.

We park and eat lunch first. Some of our group opt for the Nile Hilton, which is just down the street, but Chaz and I head for a Shawarma stand cater-corner to the museum. Shawarma is made from chicken, beef, or lamb cooked on a gyros-type spit. They cut off bits of the pre-cooked meat, fry it on a griddle with diced tomatoes, onions, and parsley, and stuff it into pita bread. Delicious!

Coptic Cairo

Posted on November 30, 2014 by Paula Terrey

14 March 2000 (morning)

We start with breakfast in the Khan al-Khalili restaurant at Mena House and are on the bus by 8:00. The plan is to see Coptic and Islamic sites this morning, the Egyptian Museum this afternoon, and the Khan al-Khalili bazaar tonight.

It’s a hazy day. The median strip of the highway is sand and rubble and the Nile looks small and crowded, cruise boats stacked along its bank. There are fields on islands in the middle of the river.

Moustafa lectures as we go. The most expensive apartments in Cairo overlook the Nile. Maadi is the name of the American district. The Arabic word for Egypt is Misr. Of the 65 million people in Egypt, 15% are Christian. St. Mark brought the gospel to Egypt in A.D. 60.

We pass the Tura limestone quarries, source of the Fourth Dynasty pyramid casing stones. Hundreds of statues, garden ornaments, architectural ornaments, and bags of cement line the roadside in front of each establishment. Freshly worked limestone is as white as snow.

Our bus driver is a whiz. He somehow negotiates the narrow Old Cairo streets and we park near the “M” subway station. The subway is relatively new to Cairo and Moustafa tells us it’s helping ease the traffic nightmare. We’ll have to take his word for it.

Coptic Cairo: brickwork of the Roman fort

We walk through a door in the walls of the so-called “Babylon Fortress” (Roman) and down a narrow alley, irregular limestone cobbles under foot.

First stop is Ben Ezra Synagogue, the oldest synagogue in Egypt. There’s a sacred well next to the synagogue that’s thought to mark the spot where pharaoh’s wife/daughter plucked Moses from the Nile.

Columns in the synagogue are painted faux marble, the walls are lined with bookcases, and high overhead the windows are stained glass. The pulpit stands smack in the middle of the room. The oldest Torah in existence, written on sheepskin, was discovered in the upstairs library.

Next we retrace our steps a short distance to the Coptic church of St. Sergius. It’s famous because, among other things, one of the interior pillars has a carved cross decoration that dripped blood in 1967 and didn’t stop until prayers were said over it. A piece of protective plastic covers the dark stains and people have written notes, presumably prayers, on scraps of paper and tucked them around the edges.

There’s an underground crypt/sanctuary but it’s filled with water due to the general rise in the water table. Tradition holds that the church was built on the site where the holy family stayed while in exile. In keeping with this theme the church also has “escaping shafts,” used by the congregants during the Roman era for obvious reasons. The ceiling beams are deeply curved, like the inverted hull of a boat, to represent Noah’s ark. A flock of noisy sparrows lives up there.

The “Hanging Church” under restoration

The pulpit is marble and there’s lovely wooden marquetry everywhere, but the painting of Mary and Jesus at the front of the sanctuary is a modern work on velvet and the floor is covered with old carpet. We’re told an interesting bit of trivia: the word Coptic comes from the ancient Egyptian “House of Ptah” – “Ka-a-Ptah.”

Next we go to Al-Muallaka, the “Church of the Virgin” or “The Hanging Church,” so-called because it’s suspended between the towers of the old Roman fort. It’s under restoration so things are torn up, but there’s still plenty to see. Every surface is either painted, carved, or inlaid with mother of pearl. It, too, has an “ark” ceiling, an intricately carved marble pulpit, and escaping shafts.

“Ark” ceiling and icons in the Hanging Church

A bit of symbolism is pointed out to us: the pulpit is decorated on the side with a cross carved inside a circle.

Cross within an Egyptian “shen” sign?

The circle is the ancient Egyptian sign meaning “forever,” therefore the cross within the circle means, “the cross will live forever.” Another interesting tidbit: regular priests in the Coptic Church must be married, but the Coptic Pope cannot be married, so popes come up through the monastic ranks.

Altarpiece of the Hanging Church

Saqqara

Posted on November 27, 2014 by Paula Terrey

13 March 2000 (afternoon & evening)

We leave the Memphis open air museum and stop at the Saqqara Palm Club for a buffet lunch of chicken, rice, tahini, and several other dishes. After that it’s a short distance to the Step Pyramid.

Djoser’s 3rd Dynasty step pyramid, Saqqara

The French archaeologist Jean-Philippe Lauer (pronounced “Lew-aire”) devoted more than thirty years to reconstructing the enclosure wall and subsidiary structures of the pyramid complex. The guards at the enclosure entrance wear black woolen uniforms, boots, berets, and machine guns.

Djoser pyramid complex, entrance colonnade. The stone columns have been carved to resemble bundled reeds.

We circumnavigate the pyramid and stop to examine the serdab, where the famous statue of Djoser was discovered in situ. It’s now one of the crown jewels of the Egyptian Museum, but a passable replica is in place here. We go by the entrance to the substructure and I’m itching to take a peek but it’s not open to the public.

It’s impossible to feel lonely at the Step Pyramid. We’re accompanied every step of the way by donkey boys shouting, “Taxi! Egyptian Cadillac! Taxi! Egyptian Cadillac!”

After the Step Pyramid we walk to the tomb of the “two brothers,” royal manicurists Niankhkhnum and Khnumhotep. Then we walk past the 5th Dynasty pyramid of Unas and down his causeway. The causeway covering has been partially reconstructed. There are stars on the ceiling and some of the blue paint still shows.

Next we visit the 6th Dynasty Pyramid of Teti. This is the second pyramid to have “pyramid texts” (Unas was first) and we can go inside. Access to the burial chamber is via a quasi ladder/staircase made from metal rails fastened to boards that cover the steeply sloping surface of the passage. Teti’s sarcophagus is still in place (minus Teti of course) and it’s HUGE, much taller than I am and even taller than Chaz at 6’8″. A corner of the lid is gone, presumably the work of tomb robbers.

From there we go to the tomb of Mereruka. Mereruka was Vizier (Prime Minister) under Teti and a statue of him is still in situ. Then it’s the tomb of Ptahhotep with its raised relief scenes of daily life: acrobats, winemaking, a lion attacking a cow, and a gazelle nursing.

The highway between Saqqara and Giza is two lanes. It’s up on a levy so we look down from our bus onto fields, plant nurseries, and canals. People from Cairo have summer homes out here; one house has a huge satellite dish on top.

“Thirst is an ancient feeling”

A billboard with the slogan, “Drink Coca Cola – Thirst is an Ancient Feeling.” A Volkswagen bug packed with sheep. Donkeys braying. Little kids running. Narrow paths among the palms and weeds. Mud brick huts with thatched roofs. A house smothered in a painted design of vines and leaves. Crude wooden ladders to roof tops. Green shutters. Blue shutters. Thick orange dust on my boots.

It’s late afternoon when we return to the hotel and Chaz wants to rest. I’m too wound up so decide to walk to one of the papyrus “museums.” Getting there, however, proves to be easier said than done. There are no traffic lights and no crosswalks. The papyrus museum I selected from the bus is closed but a helpful gentleman suggests another place across the street and demonstrates the correct method for dealing with the murderous traffic. Simply step into the path of speeding cars and trucks, hold up your hand, smile, and hope they’ll stop for you.

Hand-painted papyri for sale at the “Sobek Papyrus Institute”

The Sobek Papyrus Institute has a colorful tent-like awning and a basement gallery. When I walk in I wonder if they’re really open because the lights are out but they promptly turn them on for me. It turns out this is typical – it saves on electricity.

Back at Mena House I retrieve Chaz. We go to dinner at a hotel restaurant called The Greenery and call it a night by 8:30.

New York to Cairo

Posted on November 20, 2014 by Paula Terrey

12 March 2000

The Great Pyramid from Mena House. The tower on the right is part of the hotel.

We are over the Mediterranean as I write this and the next land we see, forty-five minutes from now, will be Egypt. We’re late but it couldn’t be helped. Air Traffic Control put us in a holding pattern as we approached JFK. A fifteen minute delay became half-an-hour, then stretched to two hours with no explanation.

Because we were so late they wouldn’t let us leave the plane in New York. We stood and chatted with the woman behind us, whose name is Huda. She’s originally from the Sudan and was raised Muslim but now she lives in Santa Barbara and is a Native American Sundancer.

Chaz has had yet another mid-air pen disaster. There’s a splotch of ink on his passport control card and the tips of two fingers are black, but considering all the henna around here he looks quite fashionable.

At 7:10 pm we arrive at Cairo International Airport. The airport –- or at least this terminal of the airport –- isn’t nearly as large as I expected but there’s no doubt we’re in the right place. The ceiling panels are aluminum but the floor is granite and the square pillars are encased in alabaster. The Hadj is just starting so the place is packed with well wishers from the countryside, seeing their loved ones off on their great religious adventure.

Twelve of us are assembled and waiting for the Museum Tours representative, Khaled, to shepherd us onward. Khaled has thinning wavy hair, boundless energy, and a cell phone glued to his ear.

Once outside the airport we board a bus/van hybrid and are introduced to Moustafa, our guide for the duration of the trip. Moustafa is young, exuberant, friendly, and speaks English with a clear accent. He will be perfect.

The ride from the airport to our hotel is a blur of sights: cars and motorcycles driving without lights (why do they do that?!), trucks piled high with bulging sacks of grain, and cattle on the way to the butcher.

We pass a replica statue of Rameses II and then the City of the Dead, an Islamic cemetery that’s home to thousands of squatters. It’s sprawling and spooky, walled off from the main road but we can see down the narrow streets as we pass. Cooking fires flicker in front of darkened tomb doorways. Moustafa tells us the government can’t force people already living there to leave, however they offer interest-free loans and help getting apartments. There are 65 million people in Egypt, 18 million in Cairo.

At 8:30 pm we arrive at Mena House, an astonishing island of tranquility. We’re in room 163, ground level of the newest section of the hotel. Our room is furnished with two comfortable chairs, a low table, several lamps, an old-fashioned wardrobe, and an up-to-date looking television. The beds and windows are draped with tapestry-like material and the bathroom has a marble counter and floor. The tag on our room key is thick, heavy brass.

Flight to New York

Posted on November 14, 2014 by Paula Terrey

11 March 2000

Postcard purchased in Egypt by my great-grandmother, Blanche Brechbill, 1927

Airport security searched my husband’s tin of mints. It’s the sort of thing I’d normally obsess about, but there’s no time for that now because we’re already on our Egypt Air flight to Cairo via New York and there are too many other things to contemplate.

First thrill: we have a Coptic priest on board. He has a curly gray beard, long black robes that are full in the sleeve and edged at the cuffs with a wide band of red satin, and an expensive looking brown leather briefcase. His hat is made of three black silk donuts, stacked together and topped by an upside down red felt dish embroidered with a Coptic cross in gold thread.

Most of the female passengers are wearing scarves around their hair: chiffon in plain pastels, flower borders, or geometric designs. No full chador. Faces are exposed, skirts are ankle-length, and tops are form-fitting with long sleeves. The materials are strictly synthetic, almost polyester double-knit.

A couple of women near us are traveling with children (young children) and no visible husbands. The kids are in constant motion so an accurate head count is impossible, but my best guess is four or five per woman. One of the mamas has taken off her shoes and I can see henna tattoos wrapped around her ankle like a chain; the bottoms of her feet are hennaed too. She’s plump, with a smattering of freckles on light coffee skin and a dark scarf around her hair. Her oldest daughter can’t be more than eight or nine, yet she is fully in charge of the small fry. Eventually a couple of men, presumably the husbands, show up and spend a few minutes chatting with the women. The reason for their absence is now clear: they are seated in Business Class.

The gentleman behind us has removed his shoes, a toddler with a loaded diaper is dashing up and down the aisles, and in the restrooms Egypt Air has thoughtfully provided bottles of overpowering lemon cologne that our fellow travelers are using liberally.