The crush of humanity

With my legendary luck, I arrive at Medinet Habu as five busloads of high school children, augmented by one each of German, French and British tourists, are spilling their contents at the entrance. It will be just peachy to try to see anything, let alone take photographs...

I take my time and wander off into the smaller adjacent temple of Amun, started around the time of Hatshepsut and Tuthmosis III, and added to through the Ptolemaic period. Interesting to see how the style evolves from New Kingdom to Late Period. Crews from the Chicago House are conducting conservation work there and a large part of the temple is cordoned off, which doesn't prevent two young pubescent women in their brightly colored scarves from going over the rope to take cellphone pictures of each other in provocative poses in front of the carved reliefs. The photos are probably already uploaded on their FaceBook pages. Speaking of which, as I brave the crush of humanity to enter the main temple, at least a dozen kids ask to be photographed with me. I have to wonder what they see in this middle-aged bearded foreigner...

My patience pays off, and after maybe 30 minutes a teacher blows a whistle to summon the kids back to the waiting buses. How far did they come from to spend such little time here? Cairo? Alexandria? I can't help but wonder what, if anything, they will retain of their visit. Just one more obligatory school trip perhaps.

The monumental fortified gate at the entrance of the precinct is unique in Pharaonic architecture. It is called a Migdol and is said to be inspired by fortifications in the Levant. It was the point of entry into a massive enclosure wall made of unfired mud brick. Within that enclosure is the aforementioned temple of Amun, the chapels of the Adoratrices of Amun, the memorial temple of Rameses III proper, its adjacent palace and a number of ancillary buildings, store rooms etc.

Most impressive to me is the perfect alignment -- en enfilade -- of the buildings. From the Migdol gate one can see all the way into the vanishing point of the Holy of Holies. Strangely enough it reminds me of Versailles or the Louvre seen from Les Tuileries in Paris. I guess royal architecture from all eras find their common ground in the grandiosity of their perspective.

The kids are gone and the tourists have splintered into smaller groups. I venture into the main temple, which is the most complete and well-preserved of all the memorial temples of the West Bank. Many column, wall and ceiling decorations retain much of their original color. Use of color was very symbolic in ancient Egypt. Skin color in particular. Men had reddish skin while women were represented with more of a golden tan. As far as the gods were concerned, however, skin tones ran the gamut. I already knew that Amun had blue skin (sky color), and Osiris was green (regeneration), but I am here surprised to see that the lioness-headed Sekhmet had the loveliest turquoise as a foundation.

There used to be an early Christian Church built into the second courtyard, of which no trace remains. One can infer its presence by the removal of the original Osirian pillars, and the strange square sockets carved at regular intervals into the architrave around the courtyard, presumably to hold supporting beams.

The palace intrigues me. Rather small and intimate one would think for such a great king, but one must remember that Pharaoh wouldn't hold court here, it was just a place to stay and rest while visiting for ceremonies and celebrations, or to survey the construction progress. The king's bathroom shows one of the earliest instances of a shower stall with indoor plumbing. Ah, luxury!