Abydos
Along the Road in Convoy
(Please note - pages are image heavy and may take some time to load.) Getting around on your own in Egypt is not easy. Ever since the nasty accident in 1997 at Deir el-Bahari, when tourists were shot, the egyptian authorities have stiffened security. You see armed tourist police everywhere you go, many places are closed to visitors, all official buildings have a metal detector which people have to walk through. Of course when it beeps, only Egyptians themselves are checked - tourists can pass unquestioned.
To get to Abydos and Dendera requires you to go with the daily convoy which starts out from Luxor at 8 oīclock in the morning. This goes even if you are travelling by your own rented car and guide. No one is allowed to go there alone. There are several checkpoints along the way, where the driver has to tell the police and guards how many, what nationality and where they are going. Strangely enough, on the way home, all these checkpoints were withdrawn one by one, and our driver ccould race at will back to Luxor.
Left: Waiting for takeoff.
Anyway, at half past seven, a long row of mini-buses and a few buses, were gathered in a side-street of Luxor. On the strike of eight, they all started out, led by a car loaded with uniformed and armed policemen. There were several police cars here and there along the convoy as well as at the end. With high speed we left Luxor, at one point we could glimpse the excavations which will reconstruct the Processional route between Karnak (Ipet-Isut) and Luxor temple (Ipet-Resut), and in the distance the First Pylon of Karnak is visible.
Right: Big black macho jeep the leader of the convoy.
The convoy goes north along a canal, on which other side are farmersī houses. With some exceptions, they look unbelievably poor, these houses, everything is horribly dirty and dilapidated. Little children in dirty, tattered clothes wave at the passing cars, donkeys and water buffaloes graze on narrow strips of grass between the canal and the houses, geese or chicken wander about in small courtyards where the fence is made of reed, in fact, the scene looks very much like it must have done in the ancient days. But the poorest shack seems to have a satellite dish mounted on its roof. Or is it that what looks like poverty to us, is something quite different to them? After a while you get used to the way things look. You donīt react as much but shrug your shoulders to the differences between there and here, if you even take notice at all. And that is scary. In places just outside Luxor flowers have been planted along the road, probably to lessen the schock for tourists at the sight. It doesnīt help much however, in places the dump heaps are as high as the houses. They consist partly of sand, earth and mud which results from the cleaning out of the canal but they are also littered with all kinds of rubbish. For a European itīs unbelievable how anyone can live in these surroundings. At each village we pass there is a checkpoint. The caravan slows dwon, the driver rolls down his window and an armed police in uniform sticks his head into our car. Our driver says each time someting which sounds like: "Nin svezi al Dendara - Insh Allah!" Insh-Allah,there is something to that. After a few stops we realize that the reason to our driverīs actually steering up alongside of the car in front of us is that his brakes donīt take very well. If he didnīt do this manoever, we would barge right into the car in front of us. Insh-Allah indeed.
There is something else going on at these checkpoints. In all the places we see how men in galabayas stand around the uniformed police, trying to look inconspicious. At first I thought they were only making smalltalk with the policeguys, but Lasse said to watch them closer. They all had a gunpipe sticking up by the neck of that galabaya. Our guide explained to us that these are the local police as opposed to the tourist police. They are very effective at the checkpoints as they know everyone in the village and surroundings, so they have a good control ov the cominigs and goings in the area.
Along the way we pass road signs, sometimes with both Arabic and Western text, sometimes only in Arabic. A few of the names are familiar, like Naq Hammadi, Qus, Sohaq. Qus is where the road going to Wadi Hammamat branches off, however, all we saw was a clutter of houses and these women, all dressed in black. One certainly wonders as to the reason for this gathering: It takes an hour to reach Qena, and then two more hours on miserable roads through small villages where children beg for candy or pens if the cars stop, before we arrive at Abydos. I think itīs remarkable this, that small kids everywhere wave at cars as they pass through the vilages. I donīt think itīs because they expect to get candies or money etc, for the cars donīt stop, they just swoosn on through. but the kiddies stand there, they run alongside the cars for a little way and they wave. If the car stop, and if they meet you outside of it, they will certainly ask for a pen or some sweets. At the Ramesseum, several kids were trying to sell simple necklaces made of pearlss for a pound each. I didnīt buy any, which I regret today. What is one pound for me? Nothing! Those kids were from Qurna. But back to Abydos. Just before we arrive at the modern village of Abydos, we pass the local pottery. This can be nothing but the same sight as threethousand years ago, down to the form of those big post you can see in the topmost heap. The bottom is formed in a conical shape, to be easy to steady by sticking it into the sand. After two and a half hoursī jumpy journey we arrive at Abydos. Had it been any normal day, we wouwld be dieiing for some lunch by now, but there is no time for anything like that. A quick bite on a fruit bar and a sip out of our Baraka bottles will have to do. For over there, the characteristic facade of the temple of Seti I comes into view. The photos from the temple of Seti I are here.
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Dirt heaps, probably from clearing of the canal. 
