And, while the environment on the streets and around the major tourist sites can leave one longing for the tranquil, meditative charm of tourist Cairo, the history, from the fascistic, bombastic and grandiose through to delicate, optimistic paintings, is wonderful.

Here’s my ten favourites from our time in the city that Homer referred to as “hundred-gated Thebes”. I’d love to know yours.

1: Deir al-Medina

Tomb-robbing was a major issue throughout Egyptian history, so, when the New Kingdom pharaohs came to designing their tombs in the Valley of the Kings, they created an isolated village for the Valley workers, out in the desert, to prevent them and their families from sharing their secrets.

Now in Ancient Egypt, most buildings for daily life — as opposed to religious edifices and tombs — were built in mudbrick. So there are very few sites that give any indication at all as to how daily life was for ordinary people.

Deir al-Medina is about as close as it gets. These scribes, artists, artisans and masons were not, in fact, ordinary Egyptians. They were a unique, middle-class elite who led very special, and sequestered lives.

Seeing the houses they lived in, complete with bread ovens and cellars, along with the mini-pyramids that adorned their funeral chapels, is pretty special. And the paintings in their tombs are better than anything they produced for the pharaohs.

K.A. Kitchen’s classic work on Ramses II has incredible detail on the everyday lives of people in this village, up to and including which family lived in which house, and even – thanks to preserved texts — what some of them took for their packed lunches and fought about.

Like most sites around Luxor, Deir al-Medina is arguably too heavily restored, but the tomb of Inherka has the most beautiful paintings we’ve seen to date, with a wonderful, and very human vision, of the Egyptian afterlife.

Best of all? We had the site completely to ourselves.

2: The Ramesseum

Z tells me that if I quote Shelley’s Ozymandias at him one more time, he will do violence. But it is this temple, complete with the shattered remnant of a colossus, that inspired Shelley’s poem, although he never visited it.

Built by Ramses II, one of Ancient Egypt’s most prolific builders — the Greek Ozymandias was a corruption of his ruling name — the Ramesseum would have been at least as awe-inspiring as Abu Simbel in its day, but is now authentically ruined.

Like the monasteries of medieval Europe, Ancient Egyptian temples were landlords with vast endowments, collecting tithes from the local peasantry, while the pharaoh’s favourites became high priests and benefited from this wealth.

If Shelley’s not enough, one thing that makes the Ramesseum so special is that the ordinary working buildings that hugged the temple wall still remain. Wander the domed bakeries that produced industrial quantities of bread, explore the homes and tombs of workers after families were relocated from Deir al-Medina.

And, obviously, ignore the man who has a mummy to show you. It’s a cow bone.

3: Tombs of the Nobles

The area that comprises the Tombs of the Nobles holds more than 400 known tombs, although only a few are open and many areas are closed while archaeologists do their work.

We loved the tomb of Sennofer, once mayor of Thebes, with its dazzling, lifelike vines and grapes painted onto its jagged cave ceiling.

The tomb of Rekhmire, a provincial governor, is grander than many of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, and the scenes of exotic tribute coming in from Africa are amazing.

The astronomer/astrologer Nakht has beautiful scenes of daily life in his tomb. And all of these are far less busy than the ones in the Valley of the Kings.

4: Luxor Museum

After the sheer scope and scale of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, the Luxor Museum is wonderful.

A very few, extremely high quality exhibits, among them a gilded head of the cow goddess Hathor from Tutankhamun’s tomb, a beautiful walking sculpture of Tuthmosis III (pictured) and a head of Sensoret III displaying the saggy eyes and cares of ruling, are beautifully displayed against elegant dark backgrounds.

It’s easy to think of Ancient Egyptian art as flat and lifeless. This beautifully curated, pocket-sized museum will change that view for good.

Best of all? You can cover it in an hour or two, easily.

5: The Temple of Hatshepsut

A friend remarked that, “The problem with the temple of Hatshepsut is that it’s spent the last 30 years being rebuilt by Polish builders.” And, yep, the restoration is heavy-handed as hell.

Add to this the fact that the temple of Hatshepsut (Deir al-Bahri) is up there with the Valley of the Kings for tour groups and touts and the interior does not overwhelm, many might choose, if short on time, to give this one a miss and look at a picture instead.

But I have a bit of an obsession with Hatshepsut, the gender-bending “drag king” who was one of very few female pharaohs, and a master of the sort of Game of Thrones manoeuvring in which the pharaohs led the world, so a trip to this enormous building, straight out of Triumph of the Will, was a bit of a pilgrimage.

Daughter of Tuthmosis I, Hatshepsut ruled as queen with her brother-husband, Tuthmosis II, then, when he died, usurped the kingship from his 6-year-old son to rule as pharaoh. She had herself portrayed wearing a beard and without breasts, and went to great lengths to build an obelisk bigger than her father’s, while presenting herself as his direct heir.

After she died — no one knows how — the throne did not pass to her daughter. Instead, her stepson/nephew ruled as Tuthmosis III and did his level best to wipe out not only her name but her face from every single building she had commissioned.

The carvings of the peaceful trade mission she sent to the African kingdom of Punt, are interesting, as is spotting where Tuthmosis’ artists have painted his face over hers.

6: Karnak Temple

An enormous temple complex, built by accretion over more than a thousand years, Karnak is dedicated to Amun, the warrior god and local deity that the Theban kings fused with the sun god Ra.

Despite the gauntlet of hassle, Karnak remains incredibly atmospheric. And walking from the town centre along the Avenue of Sphinxes that once led 3km to Luxor Temple, and will again once excavation is complete, gives a real sense of the scale of this endeavour.

Some highlights? The avenue of enormous, slabby fortress-style pylons, ceremonial gates built by kings over more than a thousand years; the gigantic hypostyle hall, with its 134 thousand-tonne columns; Hatshepsut’s obelisk, defaced by Tuthmosis III, with carvings explaining how proud she is to have achieved this as a woman; the sacred lake for ritual washing; and some beautifully coloured paintings from the time of Alexander the Great.

7: Valley of the Kings

The dramatic, sculpted valley where many kings and nobles of the New Kingdom were buried, among them Tutankhamun, is a Luxor must-visit. (And the excellent Theban Mapping Project has a complete overview, with video tours.)

But, as with other high-profile sites at Luxor, many of the best tombs are closed — to see the gorgeous tomb of Ramses II’s lead wife, Nefertari, in the Valley of the Queens, for example, groups need to front up thousands of dollars for special permits.

Further, since most of the open tombs have been glazed to preserve the paintings, the imposing entrances and passageways can feel a little like a corridor with a coach party in it.

We decided to eschew the tomb of Tutankhamun, because there is nothing in it, the art is unfinished and to pay an extra £16 to stand in a small tomb with a lot of tourists just to say we’d been didn’t seem worthwhile. But out of the ones we saw, the absolute standout was the enormous tomb of Tawosret, with a vaulted chamber with gorgeous gilded paintings of the sky goddess Nut.

Incredibly atmospheric, and we had it to ourselves.

I don’t think one can really visit Luxor and miss the Valley of the Kings, but the tombs of the Nobles and the artists are artistically much more rewarding, as, for that matter, are some of the Old Kingdom tombs at Sakkara, near Cairo.

8: Medinat Habu

Built by a later Ramses, Ramses III, as a temple for Amun, the temple of Medinat Habu is fronted by a unique two-storey “Syrian gate”, although there is a pylon to go through first.

Many of its pillars and several smaller sanctuaries retain their bright colours, giving an idea of how very, very ghetto-fabulous the original would have looked.

The format of pylons, courts, colonnades and side chapels is fairly typical, but there are the remains of a small palace beside the temple, where a few members of the royal family could rest and sleep during major ceremonies.

As almost nothing remains of the pharaohs’ elaborate mudbrick palaces and opulent gardens, this palace alone would make Medinat Habu is really special. With a zen little cafe opposite, and only a few very desultory guides on site, it is an absolutely perfect place for a wander.

9: Luxor Temple by Night

By about 9.30pm most tourists have finished eating, the touts have finished work and ordinary Egyptians are thinking about dinner, transforming Luxor from tourist hell into a fairly normal Egyptian city.

This, or later, is the absolutely perfect time to take a walk beside Luxor Temple, its enormous columns illuminated, with a cool breeze off the Nile, with nary a felucca captain in sight.

10: Aboudy Bookshop

With sofas to lounge on and blissful A/C, plus an absolutely excellent selection of books on Egypt in general and Luxor in particular, second-hand and new fiction, guidebooks and maps, we spent several happy hours in this spacious, gorgeous bookstore. It’s just off Sharia Khalid ibn-Al Walid, close to the Steigenberger Hotel, and a little oasis of calm.

This is, as ever, a highly subjective take on Luxor. One trained architect has a different selection of picks.

Have you been to Luxor? What were your favourites?

The post The Luxor Top Ten appeared first on EscapeArtistes.

For you are all, every one of you, men.

Here are a few things I do not want.

• A camel ride
• A donkey ride
• A horse and carriage ride
• A taxi
• A boat ride

I ESPECIALLY do not want to buy a boat ride masquerading as a public ferry, or a horse and carriage ride that takes me to every commission-paying shop in the souk.

Should I require transportation, I will break step, look around and hail the relevant vehicle. Should I require a boat, I will go to the waterfront, inspect some boats, and open negotiations.

Furthermore, I do not want to buy:

• Papyrus – banana leaf or genuine
• Alabaster – wax and stone chip or genuine
• Pyramids – plastic or otherwise
• Scarabs – of any kind
• Headscarves
• Postcards
• Jewellery
• Perfume
• Kohl
• Plastic Tutankhamun masks
• Antiques — even genuine ones!
• Fake Marlboros
• Tour tickets

Since in Egypt as elsewhere career professionals have other things to do than hang around outside tourist attractions claiming they are shut, I will switch off when you claim to be:

• An Egyptologist
• A museum worker
• A teacher
• A lawyer
• A doctor

I will wait politely until you propose a trip to the government bazaar, or perhaps an antique shop, and then exit the conversation promptly.

If, and only if, you are school-aged, I will give you a pen or a pencil. I will not give you money or sweets.

Why? Because I am a bitch.

And because sweets are bad for your teeth, and begging is bad for your future.

Because I am not stupid, I will not:

• Change your “euro coins”, lavishly admixed with Egyptian pounds, into euro notes.
• Or, for that matter, Egyptian notes. Sorry!
• Or English ones!
• Mistake a 50 piastre note for a 50 pound note, which has 100 times its value
• Take change without checking it
• Allow you to identify the correct note for what I am purchasing in my wallet
• Establish a price for anything in pounds without establishing whether the pounds are Egyptian or English

In fact, if you make change for a note larger than 50 Egyptian pounds without performing the local equivalent of the death aria from Tosca, I will become instantly suspicious of you.

Nor will I:

• Believe you when you say you can get me into tourist sites for free.
• Accept your assertion that my hotel is no longer open.
• Believe you when you say anything has moved.

Further, I will not enter your shop to:

• Transcribe the yellowed address with which you have been pestering tourists for the last decade
• Write a text message to your Italian girlfriend
• Get your business card. I have been trying to lose you for the last three blocks. I DO NOT WANT TO STAY IN TOUCH.
• Drink tea
• Enjoy “traditional Egyptian hospitality”
• Or “just look around”

Nor, for that matter, will I be patronising your restaurant.

“WHY WHY WHY lady?” you say?

BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO BUY ANYTHING.

Well, actually I do.

I would like to buy some cigarettes, some water, a soft drink and some flip-flops.

I have found a nice supermarket which, after brief and civil initial negotiation, allows me to buy commodities at a tourist tax only 10p or so above the Egyptian price, without hassle, and with no touts. Therefore I will be patronising them.

He is a nice man. He is helpful.

Whereas you, the gentleman who bodychecked me out of the road and into his pavement kiosk with “Best price!”, are not.

You might remember me.

I’m the one who said: “Best price? That needs to be Egyptian price. 14.”

Now, I don’t normally get hung up on pennies. I know I’m wealthy compared to you. And so I’m happy to pay one Egyptian pound as a tourist tax. This is standard.

Still, if you are going to bodycheck me into your kiosk with “best price!” you need, as I explained at the time, to deliver that. Not charge me 50% over the local rate and 33% over basic tourist rate.

Because that, as we say in England – where we DO NOT, for the record, say “lubblay jubblay!”, or even “lovely jubbly!” – is taking the PISS.

In fact, “English?! Lubblay jubblay!” is up there with “you have beautiful eyes” and “you look like Princess Diana!” on the list of phrases I REALLY, REALLY NEVER WANT TO HEAR AGAIN.

But, back to flip-flops.

I believe that there are streets downtown where I can buy such luxuries unassailed by “helpers” in search of a commission, and, for that matter, walk for maybe as much as a minute unmolested.

Perhaps even two minutes. Or maybe as much as five.

“Where am I going?” you ask.

I am going for a WALK. I am having a look at stuff. I am going to the shop. I am going to my hotel. I am going to the temple. I am going to a restaurant. I am going to meet a friend.

Where I am going is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS and I do not need your help.

You see, I have a map.

I checked the map before I left the hotel, to avoid the kind of unwise pause which will bring a barrage of helpers on me like the time the chap left the lights on in 28 Days Later.

Should I require directions, which I don’t, I will ask a woman. A nice, normal woman, with her kids, and perhaps her husband. Or even the husband.

A nice, normal person. Of whom there are SO MANY in Egypt, and of whom I meet so very few.

Or possibly a police officer, given he, with the stars, will not require bakhsheesh.

Now, I fully appreciate that you live in a desperately poor country, with soaring unemployment and a tanking economy, and I represent riches beyond your wildest dreams.

I appreciate that tourist numbers in Luxor are down 75% – though has it ever occurred to you that the unrelenting hassle may have something to do with this?

Further, I understand that, despite my efforts to adopt a dress code that suits your cultural standards, even in temperatures well above 100F, despite the fact that I am walking with my young son, because of the colour of my skin (and the behaviour of some of my Western sisters), you consider me a whore.

I don’t like this. Few women would. But I do understand the hows and whys.

And, mercifully, I know that you are not the real Egypt.

But none of this, gentlemen, makes your behaviour any easier to deal with.

Much as I try to maintain a sense of humour, which I use routinely when negotiating with men whose services I wish to purchase – Sales Tip 101: These are not the men who bodycheck me, get right in my face and yell at me! – I find you, collectively, wearing in the extreme.

A few of you have asked why I am afraid. Some of you have correctly identified the relevant emotion as anger, which, much as I try not to display it, does occasionally slip out.

“What is your problem, lady?”

“Why you no want my carriage?”

“Why you afraid? You think I am terrorist?”

Let me try and explain to you, again, WHY, WHY, WHY I DO NOT WANT YOUR CARRIAGE.

You see, sir, here’s the thing. I walked for 40 minutes through Luxor today. To keep my son and myself amused through the constant onslaught of attempted petty fraud and hassle, we kept a running tally.

You were, as I explained to you, the 21st of 23 horse and carriage men to approach us over those 40 minutes.

My son and I differ as to whether it was 14 or 16 men who approached us offering boats – my fault, I know, for having the temerity to walk along the Nile – and either 7 or 9 men offering us taxis.

I would like to have kept a physical tally, but unfortunately this would have involved breaking step and then we really would have lost count.

We agree, however, that there were 10 men inviting us into shops.

That is, averaged over the course of 40 minutes, approximately one approach from one of you every 40 seconds.

I am pleased to report that, thanks to wardrobe efforts which leave me hot and sweaty, only three gentlemen made audible, English comments on my appearance.

Although, as I endeavoured to explain to you, sir, the man who appeared from a baying mob of horse and carriage vendors to request a kiss, IN FRONT OF MY YOUNG SON, “If you said that to an Egyptian woman, she would slap your face.”

I may, I confess, have raised my voice.

Still, at least today not one of you has grabbed at me, offered me cigarettes for sexual favours, masturbated at me or adjusted his genitals at me.

Further, as far as I registered, the only man who swore at me in Arabic did so while smiling and pretending to say something nice rather than as a blast of whispered filth while checking me up and down. A pleasant change for both me and my young son.

So, I guess, things are looking up.

Or something.

“Why you afraid, lady?”

Yes! You are all men. And I am a woman. My male escort is only 11, though more of a man than all of you already, but, yes, many of you are larger than both of us put together.

That does not make me AFRAID of you. I am not awed by your masculinity. I am not terrified by your male power. I am, frankly, f*cking pissed off.

One more time!

I am not AFRAID. I am ANGRY.

“Why you angry, lady? No hassle here!”

Now, I try not to get angry.

But when you get within a foot of my face, right into my personal space, and yell at me “No hassle!” I find it hard to immediately feel the humour in the paradox.

Further, when I see the sheer aggression some of you display to a passing foreign woman on the street, I dread to think how you behave to the wives and daughters you keep at home while you are out harassing strangers.

And, for that matter, your sons.

Grabbing my young son physically to drag him into your shop is NOT, actually, OK. Though I guess you don’t slap him around like you do the beggar children. Another plus!

Gentlemen! For you are all men!

Much of this stuff is, simply, not OK.

You have an ancient culture. You have an old and venerable religion, whose name means peace. Your capital was once one of the world’s great cities. Your landscape is awe-inspiring. You have four Nobel Prize Winners among your ranks.

I don’t expect you to live up to these exalted standards.

I don’t even expect you to be nice.

All I want is that you, please, please, please leave me the F*CK alone! For once.

And, yes, that means you too, “tour guides”.

Tour Guiding 101: The phrase “Dancing, cha cha cha!” does not illuminate my understanding of a tomb relief showing people dancing which I am already discussing with my son.

Even if you say it four or five times. ESPECIALLY if you say it four or five times.

Nor, for that matter, does pointing at headless statues with a cartouche round their hieroglyphs that shows they are pharaohs, and shouting the names of gods at random, help progress my understanding of a site.

“No guide! No money!”

You are no guide, that’s true. But you will want money.

I am more than happy paying an Egyptian pound to take a photo in the tomb. I am happy to pay an Egyptian pound for you to take my photo with my son.

In fact, I will pay an Egyptian pound to dispense with your services altogether.

I will, of course, tip you if you provide covers for my shoes in a mosque or a museum, and pay the requisite fee to use the toilet.

Should you unlock tomb doors for me, escort me up the minaret of a mosque or provide me with useful information, I will tip you higher. In fact, I have a special pocket in which I keep my tipping change and tipping notes.

I am also happy to give all and any of you cigarettes. Because you have a tough job and no education with which to do it.

But, here’s the thing!

Your random guiding interjections spoil my day.

Not as much as your toutly cousins, granted.

But I do not like you breathing down my neck. I do not like you shouting random names from history. I do not like you pointing at pictures when I am trying to look at something else.

And I especially do not like it when you grab me to escort me somewhere, because I know, that at your level of Egyptian society, you would never touch an unrelated woman in that way.

Dear touts! And guides!

In the words of Oasis, “There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how…”

But I think what I am trying to say, gentlemen, is that I like to look around at things, and walk around, and appreciate what’s around me, as I have done on six continents to date.

And, call me what you will – and I know you have and do! – you guys really are not helping!

Thanking you,

THE SWEATY SHOUTY LADY WITH THE SMALL BOY IN TOW
Currently hiding in her hotel

And, to my regular readers, thank you for listening! We’ve been doing some AMAZING things which make Egypt well worth the hassle, and I do appreciate I’ve been a bit ranty of late. But there’ll be more lovely stuff coming soon. I PROMISE!

The post An Open Letter To The Touts Of Egypt appeared first on EscapeArtistes.