What’s New in Ancient Egypt? A Journey Back After Twenty Years

More than four thousand years may have passed since the pyramids were built. But that’s not to say there’s nothing new in ancient Egypt. In fact, the country has a new surprise up her sleeve. And it is well worth the wait.

Time in Ancient Egypt

Twenty-four hours is a long time in politics, and indeed with gastroenteritis, where a night spent doubled over beneath the stars gives a new perspective to the desire for immortal longings. 

That took place on an island in the Nile on my very first trip to Egypt, nearly twenty four years ago. It was an unfortunate part of a sun-scorched pilgrimage to see the wonders of the ancient world, from the pyramids of Giza to the arresting Abu Simbel. It also revealed the twists and turns of fate since the chivalry shown on the night in question by my boyfriend at the time played a large part in him becoming my husband. We turn platinum later this year.

But whether measured in years or hours, such time seems a speck when travelling in this part of the world. The Valley of the Kings, where Howard Carter found Tutankhamun, built its tombs in around 1500 BC. The sphinx in 2500 BC. And the pyramid at Saqqara clocks in at around 4600 years old. 

Want to know more about visiting Egypt? Read about the Viking Nile river cruise I took here.

Disclosure: for this latest trip to Egypt, I travelled as a guest of Viking River Cruises. As ever, as always, I kept the right to write what I like. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Stories Behind the Stone

They are phenomenal works of architecture and art, revealing powerful stories of the ambition, frailties and desires of the human race. They also demonstrate some of the world’s best engineering. 

For the pyramids are not just mounds of stone. They contain intricate passageways that travel right to the heart of the structure, without, somehow, causing the threat of collapse. Over 2.3 million stone slabs were assembled, each weighing between two and fifteen tonnes, before the invention of the wheel and before horses arrived in Egypt. The corners align perfectly with the cardinal points of the compass. 

In Abu Simbel, Ramses II decreed that a temple be hewn into the face of the rock to instill fear in those approaching from the south from modern day Sudan. Four towering statues loom overhead, a grown man barely reaching their ankles.

These guard the entrance to a temple of Russian doll segments, each lined with hieroglyphics and shadows, growing smaller and smaller until deep in the heart of the rock, you find four life size statues in stone. This includes Ramses II, pharaoh of the time. Sunlight only reaches his face twice a year: on his birthday and on the day of his coronation. 

These dates are not six months apart. 

What underlines this even more is that in the 1960s, UNESCO teams relocated this stonework to protect it from the floods. In doing so, with all the technology at their disposal, they introduced an astrological error. 

We still cannot, it would seem, match the engineering brilliance of ancient Egypt. 

Is It Worth Going Back to Egypt?

So, what is the point in going back? With the whole world to explore, what more is there to see or say about a pile of old stones?

I’m teasing, of course. Such study of “old stones” could take a lifetime: intricate, sweet sketches on honeyed stone revealing bloodthirsty gods. Decoding cartouches for names like Alexander the Great, Caesar, Cleopatra, and Tutankhamun. 

My journey this time, with a guide by my side and a brand new adult’s worth of life experience, gave me a completely different perspective.

Since my first visit, friends have died. My dad lies in hospital, fighting to stay alive. The concepts behind preparing for the afterlife and honouring your father ring differently this time. So, too, since the birth of my daughter, do the gods of fertility and the biography of Cleopatra.

I’ve even changed my last name, itself an intriguing emotion in the Valley of the Kings.

But it’s not just me who has changed. Egypt has as well.  

And not only in the little things, like the paved walkways and electric buggies at Hatshepsut’s temple; a move that morphs back breaking pilgrimages into comfortable afternoons and opens access beyond the young, fit and able.

Time Changes Everything

It’s not just in the development of tourism, for want of a better word. When I visited before, the focus was simply the temples. Now, there are light shows at the sphinx and hot air balloons fill the skies at dawn in Luxor. The bartering to get around is replaced by Uber, there are apps for everything, and I’m regularly approached by Egyptians asking for a selfie.

We find such changes the world over.

But in Egypt, it’s the ancient world itself that’s new.

The empty plinths at Luxor temple are empty no more: the statues have been found, Vegas style, buried in shallow graves in the desert. Ramses II has been restored.

But in Cairo, or to be more precise, Giza, is the greatest of them all. The brand new, shiny, colossal and unashamedly named Great Egyptian Museum. 

Or as locals call it, the GEM.

What’s The Fuss About the GEM?

By the time I found myself walking along the long stretch of concrete that leads to the entrance, I was in danger of being underwhelmed. From cosy London corners to the steps of Cairo’s citadel, I’d heard whispers about the greatness of the “Jewel In Cairo’s Crown.”

The hype was immense.

The previous museum on Tahir Square, the Egyptian Museum Cairo, had the air of an eccentric Victorian collector. Incredible treasures tucked into wood-framed glass cases with hand scrawled notes. You half expected Paddington Bear and Hugh Bonneville to appear at any moment.

The GEM, meanwhile, carried the promise, no hype, of modernity. 

And to begin with, hype did seem to be all that it was. There are no swirls of the Guggenheim, no sudden glass pyramid of the Louvre. Just a clean enough, nice enough, paved walkway with multiple parking spaces for coaches , plus orderly ticket queues and security checks. 

Architecture To Die For

As I walked through the triangular door, my impressions started shifting.

The triangles are pleasing. The lighting soothes the eye. Multimedia exhibits bring hieroglyphics to life and I’m told that the gift shop transforms the experience of shopping in Egypt (itself, a story for another time.)

But there are two key places where the brilliance of this project really sinks in. 

One, our friend from earlier, Ramses II. His statue stands in pride of place within the entrance atrium, overlooking a triangular, black infinity pool. 

In the ceiling, it appears as though a panel is already missing. But this is no mistake. 

Just twice a year, sunlight reaches the face of the statue through this panel. On the day of his birthday and then his coronation. Exactly.

Climbing the Pyramid

Beyond that, a series of escalators escort visitors through four granite stages, each with softly lit details.

The stages symbolise four things: pharaohs, religion, the afterlife. And then nothing. The final level is empty.

I stand for a moment, blinking. For a civilisation devoted to the idea of life after death, why the anticlimax?

My eyes adjust to the light. A crowd is forming in this layer of nothing, a blur of silhouettes.

My eyes adjust again. And then I see. 

It’s not nothing. It’s a window. To the pyramids in the sand. 

And with that, the architects have pulled off a magic trick.

It is ancient Egypt, made new.

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