Tradition meets Evolution

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I Volunteer As Tribute?

If I had two words to describe the capital city of Egypt, it’d be “Organized Mess,” with a heavy emphasis on mess.

Cairo is loud. It’s dusty. It smells like fried liver, car exhaust, and old books. There’s a honk every second, traffic laws are definitely just suggestions, and crossing the street is an extreme sport that requires prayer, agility, and a “may the odds be ever in your favor” attitude.

This is not the Cairo of postcards with camels and pyramids. No — that’s Giza. This is Cairo, where millennia of history sit layered beneath crumbling balconies, where Coptic crosses and minarets share skyline space, and where you can have a heart-to-heart with your Uber driver about life, love, and geopolitics before your second coffee.

And my first stop? Naturally — where all the mummies are.

National Museum of Egyptian Civilization

Let’s get one thing straight: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC) is clean, modern, and brimming with ‘life’. All pun intended. After all, this is where they’ve relocated 20 royal mummies — 18 kings and 2 queens, spanning from the 17th to the 20th dynasties — into one building during a fancy parade aptly named ‘The Pharaohs’ Golden Parade’ in April 2021.

Entering the Mummies Hall honestly feels like descending into a very fancy, very air-conditioned underworld.

The lighting is low, the temperature perfectly controlled, and the energy? Strangely reverent. Each glass coffin houses a king or queen, and beside them, a plaque tells you how long they ruled, what they were buried with, and — occasionally — how they died. No gold, no grandeur here. Just sun-leathered faces, preserved after thousands of years, each one whispering a quiet testament to mortality and memory.

Standing in front of Ramses II or Hatshepsut, I couldn’t help but think, “So this is the person who moved mountains — and now they fit in a climate-controlled box with a barcode.” It’s humbling, a little sad, and kind of beautiful in a morbid way.

Do take note, though: while photography is permitted everywhere else in the museum, it is strictly forbidden in the Mummies Hall. I can’t emphasize this enough. I watched security yeet an entire family out — not just from the room, but the entire premises — for attempting a selfie with a royal, human-shaped bundle of linen. Consider yourself warned… lest your 500 EGP ticket go to waste

The main floor of the museum is wonderfully organized — it literally comes full circle, I might even say. It tells the story of Egyptian civilization as a continuous journey — from prehistoric stone tools to the rise and fall of ancient dynasties, its Greek and Roman periods, Islamic art, and Coptic icons. Egypt isn’t just Pharaonic — it’s layered. And NMEC does a brilliant job of reminding you of that.

Cairo Citadel

High above the city, where the haze (or smog) lifts just enough to catch your breath, the Cairo Citadel watches over everything like an old general who’s seen too many wars but still stands tall. Built in the 12th century by Saladin to keep out the Crusaders, it still holds its ground with grit and grace.

The climb up is steep — physically and historically. But once you’re inside, and 450 EGP lighter, the chaos of downtown Cairo fades. The air is a bit cooler, the pace slows, and for a moment, you’re suspended between centuries. Stone walls stretch in every direction, courtyards echo under your feet, and every tower carries that familiar scent of dust and diesel — the iconic Chanel No. 5 of Cairo.

The centerpiece, of course, is the Mosque of Muhammad Ali. This isn’t just a mosque — it’s a power play in marble. Think: giant Ottoman domes, towering minarets, and interiors dripping in chandeliers and carved alabaster. It feels more like a palace for God than a place of prayer. Stand beneath that immense dome, and your voice comes back to you in ghostly whispers. It’s a space built to make we mortals feel small.

On the terrace, Cairo stretches below like a mirage made of stone and smog. You can see everything: the pyramids in the hazy west, the endless skyline of satellite dishes and minarets, and the pulse of a city that never, ever sleeps. It’s the kind of view that makes you shut up for a second and just look. Big plus is the number of kitten and puppies in the area too.

You don’t leave the Citadel refreshed. You leave it breathless (literally) . And slightly sunburned.

The OG Egyptian Museum

The Egyptian Museum in Tahrir is like a cabinet of curiosities — chipped, chaotic, and absolutely jam-packed.

It’s an old colonial relic with the vibe of a university archive — Tuition: 450 EGP — that somehow ended up housing some of the world’s greatest treasures. It smells like dust, papyrus, and powdered history. No fancy cases, no climate control — just open glass boxes filled with solid gold and enough ancient statuary to outfit a small kingdom

I came for Tutankhamun’s treasures before they’re permanently relocated to the Grand Egyptian Museum (GEM), and yes — they still take your breath away. That iconic golden mask? Smaller than you’d expect, but no less jaw-dropping. The craftsmanship, the detail, the luxury for a king who died barely out of puberty — it’s indulgence on a cosmic scale.

The room is also absolutely packed — personal space is not a thing here. But that doesn’t stop eagle-eyed security from snatching phones and cameras mid-air or peaking out from a sneaky pocket shot, screaming “NO PHOTO” at the top of their lungs or in your face. Yep, photography is prohibited in this room too. But there are some treasures outside the room that you can take photos of.

But honestly, the charm of this museum isn’t just in the blockbuster items. It’s in the way things are piled, sometimes literally, corner to corner — massive sarcophagi leaning casually next to dismembered statues. Every possible surface is stuffed with fragments of ancient history. You feel like you’ve stumbled into a pharaoh’s attic. I even overheard a guide admit that GEM was built because they’d literally run out of space here. And looking at it, I believe it.

Prince Mohamed Ali Palace

A bit off the main tourist grid is Prince Mohamed Ali Palace in Manial — and let me tell you, this place is an architectural fever dream.

The prince clearly said yes to everything. Moorish ceilings, Persian mosaics, Ottoman arches, Andalusian courtyards, Rococo flourishes — all somehow stitched together in the most flamboyantly harmonious way possible. Every room feels like it was designed by someone deeply in love with beauty itself.

There’s a softness here, a stillness, that makes it feel less like a royal residence and more like a waking dream. The private mosque is intimate and jewel-like, while the reception halls flirt shamelessly with excess.

Compared to the grand, heavy weight of the Pharaonic sites, this was a breath of fresh tilework. A prince building his own lush green paradise on the Nile — less about power, more about poetic aestheticism.

Also, barely any crowds. A true Cairo rarity for only 180 EGP.

Grand Egyptian Museum

When I visited GEM, it was still in its pre-opening phase. While many main halls were open, I sadly missed the two major attractions: the complete Tutankhamun collection (to be displayed all together for the first time, only a few were on display in the Egyptian Museum in Tahrir), and the Solar Boat of Khufu, which was also relocated here. I’m still incredibly salty about it. But I guess that’s what future trips are for.

The museum itself is massive — it feels like it should have its own weather system. Positioned within sight of the pyramids, GEM is built to be the final word in Egyptology. Not just a museum, but a statement. A very expensive, $1 billion statement. And a hefty 1270 EGP entry ticket.

Walk in and the first thing you see is the colossal statue of Ramses II — the same one that used to stand in Ramses Square like a traffic cone for the gods. Now, it stands tall in a space that finally does it justice. And the main galleries are impeccably organized chronologically, from Prehistoric to the Greco-Roman period, and thematically, delving into society, kingship and beliefs.

What the Louvre is to France, GEM is meant to be for Egypt: not just a showcase of what was, but a symbol of what’s to come. It’s ambitious, modern, and long overdue.

It’s fairly easy to buy Grand Egyptian Museum tickets online, through their official website. Sometimes this website has glitches or issues, though, so you can always buy tickets in-person at the ticket office (with a Visa or Mastercard only – cash a no no).

Sensory Overload

Cairo can be overwhelming for first-time visitors — it definitely was for me. It’s a sensory assault, a whirlwind of emotions, and every pitstop on my itinerary felt like a breath of fresh air from the chaos of the city. But it was nothing — and everything — I imagined it to be.

Next stop? Let’s just say… the shadow of the pyramids is starting to feel a little closer.

Pilgrimage of Stars and Death

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Prophecies In The Stars

Ahhhh, the Temple of Hathor — if there’s any temple that feels like it stepped straight out of a Tomb Raider fantasy (and then some), this is it. Crawling into crypts through holes in the walls, climbing the ritualistic steps of ancient priests, encountering strange, futuristic hieroglyphs, and being watched by many, many feline guardians… if there’s one reason I’d brave the EgyptAir fiasco again, this would be high on the list.

Located in Dendera, about 60 km from Luxor, the Temple of Hathor is the main temple of the Dendera Temple Complex. Hathor, goddess of love, beauty, music, fertility, and motherhood, had this as her principal cult center.

Construction began in the late Ptolemaic period under Ptolemy XII (Cleopatra’s father) and continued under Roman emperors like Augustus and Tiberius.

Tickets are available online for 300 EGP, but I’d again recommend buying them in person — you can’t purchase the Dendera panorama and crypts tickets online. They’re 100 EGP each and very much worth it.

Upon arrival, you’ll walk through what was once a garden in the open forecourt (or pronaos) just in front of the temple. It served as a transitional space between the outer world and the sacred interior. Archaeological evidence suggests that sacred trees — possibly sycamores or date palms — were once present here, both being sacred to Hathor.

It was also one of the first times I saw actual greenery still growing at a site like this. It genuinely brings life back into the space.

The Ceiling That Holds the Stars

As you enter the massive hypostyle hall, each 24 ornate columns is topped with a capital featuring the face of Hathor, you’d naturally look up onto the famous decorated ceiling with the astronomical scenes carved upon its surfaces, including a zodiac—a rare example of Greco-Roman and Egyptian fusion in art and cosmology.

I went accompanied this time, with as you guessed it, my guide booked with GYG, and he gave me some wonderful insight about the zodiacs in the hall.

The ceiling is divided into seven long registers, each filled with intricately painted scenes that map the heavens, depict the solar cycle, and convey complex mythological cosmology. It’s one of the few ancient Egyptian ceilings to retain so much original color — vibrant, surreal, almost dreamlike.

The ceiling features star charts, planets, and constellations portrayed as gods in boats or animals, aligned with Egyptian beliefs. After much squinting and a mini quiz from my guide, I finally spotted my zodiac. You’d think two fishes would be easier to spot, ainnit?

There are a couple of routes to explore the temple from the main hall, but my guide immediately steered us toward the crypts — with a trail of temple cats following our steps — giving me a quick rundown of what was to come.

Into the Crypts We Go

There are around 12 known crypts or treasure caches at Dendera, though only two or three are open to the public. These tight, narrow chambers were originally accessible only to priests, designed to store sacred items like ritual instruments, cult statues, precious metals, and astrological devices — none of which survive today. My guide suggests they were likely “legally looted” and repurposed for ritual use elsewhere.

During my visit, only two crypts were open. And yes, I wasn’t joking — you’ll be crawling into literal holes in the walls. One crypt entrance is perched high up a wall, while the other begins as a small hole in the ground, followed by a second one and a short, steep staircase. Prepare to get on your hands and knees, dusty and squeeze a bit.

The most famous is the so-called “Dendera Light” crypt — named after a stone relief that resembles a light bulb. Egyptologists (and my guide) interpret it symbolically: Harsomtus (a form of Horus), in the form of a snake, emerging from a lotus flower.

The second crypt? Honestly, I remember little of what my guide said about it. He mentioned something about a procession, and that it was a recently reopened chamber, so there’s scarce info online. But it did scare the bejeezus out of me — crawling through a shaft only to be met with the faded stare of an ancient goddess is a jump-scare I didn’t expect.

Crypts done and literally dusted, we ascended to the roof chapels. Here’s how you know you have a great guide — I was so engrossed, I forgot to take photos. I still beat myself up over it. But let me paint a picture… or you could just Google “Melted Stairs Dendera.”

Sacred Ascent and Decent

Two staircases sit on opposite sides of the temple, built in a spiral (or helical?) pattern. One was for ascending to the roof chapels, the other for descent — designed to mirror ceremonial processions. The “melted” one (ascending) has a gentler incline, allowing priests to carry Hathor’s cult statue during festivals like New Year’s.

As always, nothing is without symbolism. The rising staircase represents the sun’s ascent and rebirth; the descending staircase symbolizes its descent into the underworld. Echoes of Nut’s myth — swallowing and birthing the sun — mirror this duality. East vs. West. Life vs. death. Earth vs. sky. Oxygen vs. my diminishing leg strength.

Balance and duality — cornerstones of Egyptian cosmology.

The walls of the ascending staircase are beautifully carved with reliefs of priests, musicians, and standard bearers in procession, giving us rare insight into ancient ritual movement and ceremony, and also really immerses you into the experience, as if you are reliving the procession of the priests themselves.

At Dendera, this is one of the rare instances where access to the roof is granted to visitors, with a ticket of course, and there you can find the Roof Chapel, during key festivals, the statue of Hathor would be taken from the inner sanctuary and processed up one staircase, where she could be symbolically reunited with the sun god at said Roof Chapel.

Most importantly, the Zodiac Room is up here.

The Zodiac Debacle

The original Dendera Zodiac, a bas-relief ceiling panel, was carved in the 1st century BCE during Ptolemy XII’s reign. It shows a celestial map: the 12 Greco-Roman zodiac signs, Egyptian gods as planets, Nut, solar boats, and lunar cycles, all arranged in a circular rotation around the celestial north pole.

This is where the real drama is, and boi do i love some drama.

I first saw the original Zodiac in the Louvre years ago. Naturally, I came to see the “other side of the story.” as naturally the narrative that was at the Louvre, well, is typical of for most items that were ‘collected’.

In 1820–1821, French engineer Jean-Baptiste Lelorrain, under the patronage of Sebastián Louis Saulnier, oversaw the extraction of the Zodiac ceiling from the rooftop chapel of the Temple of Hathor. The Zodiac was cut out of the sandstone ceiling using saws and explosives — a highly invasive method that left visible scars on the original site, that you can actually see on site.

The removed artifact was shipped to France and ‘acquired’ by King Louis XVIII, who donated it to the Louvre Museum, where it sits in a secluded corner on display in Room 325 of the Sully Building. But here’s a link to their online archive.

Needless to say, Egypt wasn’t pleased. The act was viewed even then by some as controversial, especially by Egyptian scholars and early nationalists who considered it a theft. And in recent decades, Egypt has made formal and informal calls for the return of the Dendera Zodiac as part of its broader campaign to reclaim key antiquities held abroad, along with the Rosetta Stone from the British Museum, and the Bust of Nefertiti from the Neues Museum, Berlin.

France, like many European institutions, maintains that these artifacts were legally acquired under the laws of the time and is preserved and displayed responsibly.

Only time will tell if Egypt will get these artifacts back.

Personal opinion? Ethically, yeah they should go back. It belongs to Egypt — it’s their cultural legacy. Realistically? I’m torn. The disparity in funding and preservation standards makes me question whether repatriation is always the best route.

I shan’t elaborate further as this could end up a very long conversation, but if you’d like to know about more about my thoughts, let me know in the comments below, otherwise, let’s get back on topic.

Back on the rooftop in the Zodiac room, where this very same heated conversation took place between me and my guide, we descended the western stairs to the rear of the temple.

Cleopatra and Caesarion

On the rear wall of the temple, this is where the best-preserved depiction of Cleopatra and Caesarion still remains, showing them making offerings to the gods. This remains the clearest visual confirmation of her reign as pharaoh in the traditional Egyptian style, and is one of the most remarkable and rare full depictions of the queen in an Egyptian temple.

This is significant as it is the only known temple relief showing Cleopatra and Caesarion together in such traditional style. It is one of the last monumental representations before Egypt fell to Rome following Cleopatra’s death.

It stands as a testament to Cleopatra’s political genius: adept at speaking to multiple audiences, Egyptian priests, Roman leaders, and her own people through sacred art and architecture. By associating herself with the goddess Hathor, Cleopatra was aligning her rule with a powerful mother-goddess figure: nurturing, regal, and cosmic. The inclusion of Caesarion in the same scene was politically potent, It emphasized her dynastic legitimacy as a descendant of the Ptolemies.

It visually declared Caesarion as heir to both Julius Caesar and the Egyptian throne. But alas, we all know how that story came to an end.

For us, however, the story continues — next stop: The Temple of Seti I at Abydos.

From Hathor to Osiris

Located in Abydos, the Temple of Seti I was dedicated primarily to Osiris, the god of the afterlife, and was intended as a sacred center for funerary worship, divine kingship, and eternal remembrance.

But what’s unique about this temple is that while it is dedicated primarily to Osiris, it contains seven shrines, each dedicated to a major deity: Osiris, Isis, Horus, Amun, Re-Horakhty, Ptah, and Seti I himself. The temple’s design is unique as well with its unusual L-shaped layout.

The reliefs inside are some of the most exquisite in all of Egypt, deeply carved and finely detailed, showcasing the peak of New Kingdom craftsmanship. The dimensionality is astonishing: individual plaits in garments, the translucent quality of fabric, and the almost 3D placement of ceremonial implements are unlike anything I’ve seen in other temples.

The temple also houses the Abydos King List, a chronological list of 76 pharaohs from Narmer to Seti I, a goldmine for Egyptologists — and a hotbed for controversy.

A Tale in Reliefs

Built during the reign of Seti I and completed by his son Ramesses II, the temple was a pilgrimage site for ancient Egyptians seeking closeness to Osiris. And because it was completed by two kings, you can see the artistic differences particularly in the first and second hypostyle hall.

Seti I’s reliefs at Abydos are among the most beautifully executed in all of Egypt. Figures are finely proportioned, naturalistic, and softly modeled with elegant lines and subtle expressions. Reliefs in Seti’s portion of the temple — especially in the seven chapels and first hypostyle hall — show exceptional detail, symmetry, and precision. Even the inscriptions are neatly rendered and consistent.

Ramesses II’s additions — particularly in the outer courtyards and second hypostyle hall — display a heavier hand. Figures are more rigid, muscular, and square, with less subtle modeling. While still religious in nature, Ramesses’ scenes shift toward royal glorification, including larger-than-life depictions of the pharaoh smiting enemies, dominating ritual scenes, and asserting his divine legitimacy.

This contrast between Seti I and Ramesses II offers a rare look at evolving royal priorities:

Seti focused on religious legacy and sacred beauty.

Ramesses focused on monumental legacy and royal propaganda.

The fact that both styles coexist in the same temple makes Abydos a living textbook of artistic and ideological evolution within a single dynasty.

Secret Rites and Silent Chambers

Abydos was also believed to be Osiris’ mythic burial site, making it incredibly sacred. Behind the temple lies the Osireion, a symbolic tomb to Osiris with massive granite blocks and a central island-like sarcophagus chamber.

It represents the mound of creation emerging from the primordial waters of chaos — Nun. Rituals of rebirth likely took place here. My guide even claims that on rare occasions, he’s seen modern-day Osirian priests performing rites nearby.

Access is not granted to the public… officially. But, as my guide cryptically said, “everything can be done — for the right price.”

King List Debacle

Now, about that King List…

Carved in two horizontal rows, it starts with Narmer and ends with Ramesses I. Seti and Ramesses are shown offering to their predecessors. It’s a rare native chronology — most others come from Greek historians like Manetho.

So why the controversy?

Several pharaohs were deliberately excluded, particularly those considered heretical, illegitimate, or politically inconvenient, such as Hatshepsut (a female pharaoh), Akhenaten (the “heretic” king who introduced monotheism), Smenkhkare, Tutankhamun, and Ay — all linked to the Amarna Period and its religious reforms.

This deliberate omission reflects a politically curated version of history, aimed at erasing rulers who were seen as ‘threats’ to Ma’at (cosmic order), legitimizing Seti I’s rule by aligning him with a sanitized, idealized lineage.

So yes, even Hatshepsut — successful, wise, female — got booted.

What better example of: “History is written by the victors.”

Forgotten Temples, Unforgettable Stories

All in all, the Temple of Hathor in Dendera and Temple of Seti I in Abydos are two absolutely essential day-trip destinations from either Luxor or Cairo. Both are severely underrated, yet bursting with historical depth and cultural insight.

With the sun setting, it was time to move on to my next destination: Cairo — where something massive awaits in the shadows.