Edfu Temple and Kom Ombo

(If this post is new to you, so is the next one below it. I got sick and took a day off the Internet.)

Woke up coughing and it hurt. Damn. But I am not going down. This mornings agenda is Edfu Temple. Imagine a HUGE maze,with walls20 meters high (my guess) COVERED in hieroglyphics. What is sad to see, is that much of its defaced—chipped at by Christian monks who settled in the temples, detoured the idols and burned their wood, covering the walls in soot. Once civilizations disrespect for another's is painful to hear about.

The photos below are of Edfu Temple.











Then back to the boat for a 10:30 departure, again via convoy. This pace is perfect for the sick guy. I was able to rest before lunch at 1:00 (on deck today, which as fun). Then more resting on a deck chair and watching the sites go by until we dock at Kom Ombo. At Kom Ombo, we visit the Ptolemaic Temple of Kom Ombo at sunset. You cannot imagine greater magnificence. It is a special time of at, dusk, and to be in a temple full of art, in excellent condition, across the quay from where we are docked (along with, perhaps, another fifteen boats that are also fractionally full).

No tears. Am I jaded already; over exposed to Egyptian artifacts and design in the me way that you can see too much in one go when you visit the Louvre or The Met or the Ufizzi. But here is more to come, and in spite of our perception of the pyramids or the Sphinx as the iconic Egyptian monument, for everyone here it is Abu Simble. I am repeatedly told so, and I am flying to see the two sculptures on Friday.

There are things I could tell your that I have learned about all these sites, but have chosen not to. you can use Google to search any name I mention and learn more than I can write here. And I find I am not interested in history—the facts and the names of it. I'm not interested in dynasties, wars and politics. I like art and design and craft. Perhaps it is my mortal awareness that has me reacting deeply to the makers of he art— all of them including the laborers and craftsmen. It is human triumphant, celebratory achievement that is so overwhelming, seen so magnificently in our temples and cathedrals—my favorite things.

The photos below are of Kom Ombo.












The tourist professionals here operate with a surgical dispassion. They relate to me professionally. I am probably, English, Emco client, polite, quiet, tidy, a reader. Or maybe I'm voyage #X, sucker #Y, but when these people say something to me, I respond to a person. I'm not detached. I think, "Oh, this person is interested in me." I get flattered by their professional Internet. You could say I take their tactic personally. I have to learn to not do this, but it is hard we en you are kind of alone all the time.



I've come to think of Osama as a mosquito—he buzzes away about so many names of gods, people, dates and figures that not a thing sticks. It comes out rote. Im j use too meek or p olive or Canadian to say, "Osama, would you just shut up and let me look and think and consider...." He is doing what he has been trained to do, and they all have the same technique, which is hilarious, because I hear other guides doing as Osama does which is to talk a bit and end with a statement severed with passion. Then a question his posed, related to the last statement: "And why are these pillars topped this way only here and nowhere else in Egypt?" and then he answers the question. Without even giving you time to answer or guess.



I forgot to post this earlier. This is—was—the defense ministry. I saw it and Tahrir Square briefly as I left Cairo a few days ago.