The Duty Free Duo at the Temple of Isis

Excerpt from Mark's travel journal: It's 6:30 am Monday morning, April 6, and I am writing this as I lay on the bed staring out the window of the train at the lovely countryside rolling by. Lush green palm trees abound, and the Nile gleams in the morning sun. Two men try to coax a pair of oxen in a field while overhead, a hot air balloon drifts over distant cliffs.

This compartment is ridiculously small and barely accommodates our luggage and us. I've never been on a sleeper train before though, and I'm rather impressed with how the chairs 'morphed' into beds and such.

Dinner was barely edible. I think they were breaded pork cutlets, but it was cold and ridiculously tough. Kathryn didn't eat hers so I stashed it and a biscuit for breakfast.

Last night while sitting in the train station, a couple walked up to me and said, “You work in the Vilseck Post Office, don't you?” When I stared flabbergasted they smiled and said, “Don't worry, we're customers.” What are the odds?

While standing on the platform, a prison train rolled slowly by, the cars blackened, the windows barred. Prisoners bellowed out of the windows or stretched forth their hands, laughing gleefully as startled passengers jumped.

Breakfast consisted of bread and jellies. Glad I saved that nasty meat for a little protein.

We bought a bottle of wine with dinner and tipped our steward about 5 pounds for bringing it. We also tipped him at breakfast for some juice that neither of us wanted. So I was rather surprised when he demanded more baksheesh as we departed. When I refused, he actually went and got Milad, who explained it was like a ‘thank you’ for service, like putting the beds up. I said I already gave him a big tip, but that was for something else, you see. Okay, nobody gets more than 1 pound at a shot now.

Oddly enough, when we were getting off the train, this guy presented us with a roll of toilet paper! I asked Milad about it, but he seemed greatly confused. Public toilets in Egypt don't provide toilet paper, so we decided he was actually being gracious. Still, its pretty damn funny!

We didn't sleep well, and haven't had a shower since yesterday morning, and being Egypt – it's HOT. The plan is to set up in our hotel, relax a bit, then head out to Philae island in the afternoon. But when we reached the hotel, the rooms were not ready. Our options were to change our itinerary and do the island tomorrow while taking the felluca ride today or leave for Philae immediately. Still chaffing from yesterday's visit to the pyramids, I wasn't willing to trust changing my itinerary. Hell, Indiana Jones goes whole adventures without a shower! Let's leave immediately!

Our first stop was the high dam, and while an important structure to the Egyptian people, as a tourist site it's pretty lame. I get the feeling that the Egyptian government requires tour companies to come here so they can collect ticket money from tourists. The thing was completed against all predictions in only two years, and they celebrate yearly with festivals and song. It also created the largest manmade lake in the world, and if you're lucky you might see a crocodile basking on its shore.

Now, the building of this dam flooded ancient Nubia, and many ancient sites vanished forever. But a few survived through the efforts of UNESCO, the Egyptian Government, and countries around the world. One of these is the Temple of Isis, moved stone by stone to Aglika Island which was relandscaped and renamed to match the original site, Philae Island. We arrive at a decrepit pier where Milad haggles for a boat to take us over to Philae Island. Operated by a Nubian peasant, we motor among islands of heaped stone, passing along the way the remaining peak of the Temple's original location.


We rounded a bend in the river and the temple loomed into view. The graceful columns of the Kiosk of Trajan stretched high into the sky, followed by the massive walls of the Temple itself. It is gorgeous!

It's hard to describe the feeling of leaping off a boat onto an island housing a ruined temple from a “lost” civilization. I've been reading tales of adventures like this my entire life, and now I am actually living it.


The Temple has been vandalized numerous times, most despicably by Coptic Christians in the 4th century. Considering the animal headed gods to be demons, they defaced most of the figures, hacked off every phallus symbol they could find, and carved their own crosses into the walls.
But they couldn't destroy the majesty of the place nor dampen the awe visitors have felt for ages.

Napoleon also vandalized the place, his men carving their names upon the walls, and even listing their various victories.


Milad kept up a running commentary around the site, proving once again his knowledge of his topic and his passion to share it. Of course, I can't remember much of it! ;^) But I did tape a lot. The basic gist of the story is - Osirus' brother, Set, being jealous of the both King's popularity and the love of the beautiful Isis, murdered his sibling and hacked his body into pieces, scattering the parts all across Egypt. Isis set off in search of her husband, collecting the mutilated parts, finding at last the heart on Philae Island. Here, she spread her wings above him, breathing life into Osirus again, and here she erected this temple in his honor.


Osirus lived long enough to sire a son, Horus who eventually made war against Set for his treachery. Osirus, being dead and all, reigned as King of the Underworld and judge of the dead. Isis enjoyed the longest and most wide-spread worship of any Egyptian deity, lasting long into the 5th century. Some scholars believe that early Christians created the cult of the Virgin Mary to supplant Isis among their new converts.

The large columned courtyard played host to the yearly celebrations commemorating Osirus' resurrection. Every inch of the temple is covered and images and hieroglyphics. Though the Christians and later Muslims hacked up many of the gods, their forms stand out in sharp relief, and there are simply too many to destroy them all.

The carvings mostly show the same stories – Kings making offerings to various gods, ships transferring Kings to heaven, etc. I am not entirely convinced that Egyptologist know the whole story. The Rosetta stone – which is in the Louvre in Paris, but which we saw a replica of in the Egyptian museum – contained the same paragraph written in 3 languages, one of which was hieroglyphics. Since the other two were somewhat know, this allowed scholars to begin to decipher the ancient pictorial writings. Still, some of the explanations make little sense to me, and I just get the feeling there is more yet waiting to be discovered.

Gods are often pictured with various heads. Milad explained this had to do with a certain aspect of the god, almost like an adjective.
For instance, a cow head represents mothering – i.e. the drinking of milk. So any goddess represented in a mothering state, may be featured with a cow's head.

After our tour, we poked around an our own for 45 minutes or so. Here's an excerpt from Kathryn's journal describing our adventures: Our guide left us so we began looking into every room because – we have to! We began at the structure built by Hadrian. Nearby a small off-limits temple affords a low stone with a Greco-Roman relief of Poseidon.
Milad is surprised to find that we went near this stonework. Hmpf! Are we simple American travelers who look at only what is shown us? Hah! Certainly, the second room floor that Mark found is on no tour! Of course, he must find a small passage that no one is in. Of course, we must go in. Of course, there is a hole in the ceiling. Of course Mark must hoist himself up into it. Of course he has a flashlight! Of course he discovers bats in it. Yes, of course I stay below, and of course I forget that we had to stoop to get into the passage, and of course I smash my head on the doorjamb!


Construction on the temple complex continued with many Kings and even Roman emperors adding their own touch over the centuries. I feel certain though, that Caesar, Anthony, and even Augustus, must have once stood where I am standing!