Getting to know the people of Egypt is equally as magical as the ancient architecture and history. Wandering around the Nubian neighborhoods was a great way to observe the locals at work and at play. What follows is a portrait gallery of faces in their familiar places:
This man is paid to remove wrinkles. His cheeks are filled with water, which he sprays across a bolt of cotton fabric. Now he’s ready to run his foot across it with a scorching hot iron.
Finished products are then delivered to the fabric merchants, who specialize in either female or male colors.
The town tailor likely receives an order to design a proper galabeya…
or a pile of pillows and textile merchandise.
For pillows and mattresses that flatten or sag over time, it’s time to visit the wool fluffer, who will beat the filling until it’s been rejuvenated.
Busy mornings are usually followed by a bite to eat.
some shopping…
or a smoke.
It’s safe to say that locals feel more secure, when they’re protected by the guard on patrol,
or washed by the man who prepares your body for burial.
The school bus may not be yellow,
but it gets the kids to school on time…
where they are very receptive to strangers with cameras,
which is more than I can say when the tables are turned.
Tonight was cultural arts night aboard the Viking Ra, and all hands were decked out in their finest Egyptianized evening wear, in celebration of our host country.
It provided the perfect opportunity for women to shimmy in their cotton camel PJ pants, embroidered tunics, and spangled belly dance costumes,
while a few men rocked the casbah in their galabeyas (long shirts) and keffiyehs (square-shaped, cotton scarves).
Personally, my taste borders on Tommy Bahama does Margaritaville at REI, with little to no resemblance of anything Middle Eastern-related, so I reimagined a hand towel as a Nemes (royal headdress), and called it a night. Leah chose to ignore the fashion directive.
It was also a time for traditional Egyptian cuisine–served family style–followed by an hour of Sufi-themed music and dance.
With the riverboat tied up in Esna for the night, Viking passengers benefited from a wealth of local talent who came aboard to showcase their cultural arts–steeped in a medieval tradition of Islamic spiritualism that deals with purification of the inner self through a deep devotion and physical experience of God.
As enchanting as it was hypnotic, a member of the troupe performed the tanoura (Arabic for ‘skirt’), a trance dance not unlike the Turkish Whirling Dervishes, but with an Egyptian “spin.” Its origin dates to 13th century Egypt, when whirling in place became a means to reaching karma. The dancer spins anti-clockwise–which symbolizes Muslim pilgrimage around the Kaaba, while also preventing dizziness.
Our dancer wore a multi-layered tanoura of many colors (collectively weighing over 50 lbs.), as he performed his meditative ritual for over 15 minutes, dancing with trays, and scarves. Unbelievable!
Then the ship lights dimmed, and the tanoura turned psychedelic!
In ancient times, the Nile split the imperial city of Thebes in two parts:
On the east bank, a fertile garden where 80,000 Egyptians lived and worked, called “City of the Living;”
and along the west bank, Egyptian royalty huddled with their architects and priests to select the best nest for rest in “City of the Dead.”
Occasionally, it was a family affair, with namesake mummies networking in the same vicinity–no doubt, making it easier to pay respects on Pharaohs Day.
Unlike Giza, the only thing resembling a pyramid in the Valley of the Kings is Al Qurn, the highest peak in the Theban Hills at 420 meters.
Perhaps this gave the pharaohs some ancestral comfort, knowing their final journey to eternity had topographical similarities.
At last count, international expeditions have excavated 65 crypts concentrated within the Valley of the Kings and Queens, with only 11 tombs available for viewing.
But the most remarkable thing about this vast necropolis is what’s waiting to be discovered. Hardly a day goes by without hearing of a new discovery from the dozens of white “dig” tents that dot Luxor and Giza.
Easily, the most famous discovery came from British archaeologist, Howard Carter,
whose remarkable discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922 created a global sensation.
But seeing is believing.
Viewing the tomb requires a special ticket, and admission is limited.
Equally impressive is the remote Temple of Deir el-Bahri (KV22), anchored to the rockface below Al Qurn.
It was commissioned by Hatshepsut, who broke the aristocratic glass ceiling in 1480 BC by becoming Egypt’s first female pharaoh. Throughout her 22-year reign as king, she cross-dressed as a male, wearing a fake beard, a traditional headdress (nemes) with cobra, and a short kilt like her male predecessors.
While controversial as a female pharaoh, and all but erased by her successors, Hatshepsut’s place in history was secured as the only female interred in the Valley of Kings.
Nearby, the Valley of the Queens is only 2 km away by club cart conveyance,
where the shining star of the valley is Nefertari’s tomb.
Officials require a special admission ticket–that only allows 10 visitors at a time to roam through the chambers for only 10 minutes–upon theorizing that reduced traffic likely reduces environmental impact.
Nefertari was the first of Ramses’ II Great Royal Wives (6 in total). In fact, he was so smitten by Nefertari’s beauty, that he built her the grandest tomb on the block, and shared his glory side-by-side at Abu Simbal.
Besides her good looks, Nefertari earned her place at the palace table as the king’s court communicator. She was a writer, a strategist, and a skilled diplomat in support of her husband.
A long tunnel empties into an antechamber…
followed by a second staircase,
that leads to a burial chamber…
supported by elaborately painted columns,
with finely decorated funerary rooms at the wings,
featuring the sacred bull and seven celestial cows, who collectively represent the Goddess Hathor.
Given today’s global issues of gender identity, glass ceiling theory, propaganda, and branding, it might be wise to take a papyrus out of ancient Egypt’s playbook for the benefit of clarity.
If temples had beauty pageants, then Dendera’s Temple of Hathor would surely win. Only an hour’s float downriver from Luxor, Dendera Temple shines like a polished gemstone on the Nile for all of Hathor’s devotees.
Regarded as the “Mistress of the Vagina,” Hathor exemplified ancient Egyptian femininity as the goddess of love, beauty, music, dancing, fertility, and pleasure…and its all on display at her temple.
From a distance, it’s an unassuming temple,
obscured by a surrounding wall of mudbrick rubble with a golden glow.
However, it stands wonderfully intact for a structure built 2000 years ago, albeit atop the remains of another sanctuary that predates its commission by 2250 years.
While Temples of Karnak and Luxor were built to worship Amun-Ra–the alpha-male of all New Kingdom deities, who brought sun, light, and daily creation to the world–their energy is very androcentric.
Whereas, the Temple of Dendera exudes a powerful yet feminine charm,
evidenced by the 18 four-sided capitals of Hathor–with her cow-eared likeness–supporting the Hypostyle Hall.
Unfortunately, all carvings of Hathor were deliberately defaced by Christian iconoclasts who sheltered within its walls.
Their open fires lined the chamber surfaces with centuries of soot–obscuring the bas-relief paintings–
until a delegation of French archaeologists recently restored the artwork to its original colors.
Hathor’s temple was most likely commissioned during the second rule of Ptolemy XII in 54 BC until his death in 51 BC, and overseen by his successor daughter, Queen Cleopatra VII and her son King Caesarion until her suicide in 30 BC. They are both enshrined on the temple’s outer rear wall.
Romans embellished the temple compound by constructing the Gate of Domitian and Trajan in lieu of a traditional Egyptian pylon,
but stayed true to the Greco-Egyptian design by invoking Nekhbet (vulture goddess and protector of Upper Egypt and its rulers) beneath the lintel.
and beyond the temple columns.
Emperor Trajan also completed a Roman Kiosk in the forecourt.
There’s a wealth of illustrations and hieroglyphic stories throughout Hathor’s temple…
However, the real beauty can be found in the artistic renderings of astrological symbols painted across the Hypostyle Hall, where Goddess Nut ordains the passage of time in a celestial barge.
The masterpiece of the temple is surely the circular zodiac chart of the ancient sky that’s located on the ceiling at the entrance to the Chapel of Osiris–
accessed via a processional staircase that leads to the temple’s rooftop.
Amid controversy, the original engraving was blasted from the ceiling in 1821, and stolen away to France, where it currently hangs in the Louvre Museum in Paris.
Alas, a replica hangs in the chapel.
Which begs the question: Was it guilt and reparations that brought the French back to Dendera to supervise the restoration?
Our wake-up call was 4 AM, and the last thing on my mind was a boxed breakfast to go. I also decided to pass on coffee, thinking I couldn’t risk the chance of floating over the Valley of Kings in a wicker basket (invented by the Egyptians 5000 years ago) and needing to puke or pee.
Meanwhile, Leah had prepared for flight with Dramamine as her go-to prophylactic.
This was not our first ballooning adventure. A few years ago, Leah and I got to float over the Okavango Delta at sunrise with a pilot and 4 others (see Botswana by Balloon). But this time around, we’d be floating over the Valley of Kings, and it got my adrenalin pumping.
The desert air was cool, and the winds were calm–the perfect forecast. We arrived by boat to the east bank of the Nile,
and boarded a sprinter van that dropped us at a vast open field where teams of wranglers were already preparing for launch.
We were given our balloon assignment, and climbed aboard with 25 other “ballunatics.” After a safety drill of “hunker down and brace,” we were ready for lift off.
We felt so small standing under a canopy of hot air and rainbow-colored nylon fabric…
rising 60 feet above us–
not unlike the early morning visitors who had come to gaze at the gargantuan relics of Amenhotep III at his nearby necropolis.
In time, we were joined by so many other aeronauts gliding along the thermals,
that it seemed like heavier traffic in the sky…
than on earth.
Our birds eye perspective brought us closer to the Theban Mountains,
with views of Medinet Habu,
the verdant fields of sugarcane,
and a volume of unfinished housing–a deliberate work-in-progress ploy by locals to avoid paying property tax on completed homes.
But mostly, flying high prepared us for the forthcoming sunrise…
that blossomed before our eyes.
A sight to behold!
Forty-five minutes of fly-time flew by, until it was time for our descent…
at which point the wranglers took over.
Just watching them wrestling with the deflated balloon and lines gave me an appetite.
Breakfast never tasted so good, although the requisite champagne that usually accompanies one’s flight certificate was absent.
Perhaps, the authorities reasoned that our afternoon visit to Dendera Temple in Qena would be best experienced sober.
November, 2021 was a cause for celebration in Luxor, as the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities marked the formal reopening of the Avenue of Sphinxes with a parade attended by Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, president of Egypt.
The 1.7 mile boulevard connecting the temples between Karnak and Luxor once boasted 1200 sphinxes. They were buried for centuries under several meters of sand, but are now revealed after 70 years of intermittent excavation and restoration.
Initiated by Amenhotep III and completed during the reign of Nectanebo I around 2,400 years ago, the impressive series of unearthed statues can be categorized into two shapes:
the first being a body of a lion with a ram’s head;
and the second and most reoccurring shape portrays a lion’s body supporting a human’s head.
Our daytime excursion to Karnak Temple was followed by an evening tour of Luxor Temple.
Although the entrance to the gate was originally flanked by twin obelisks, the right obelisk was gifted to France by Muhammad Ali Pasha, Ottoman ruler of Egypt in the early 19th century (see Walking Like an Egyptian), and now adorns the Place de la Concorde in Paris.
Several rulers contributed to the Temple of Luxor over the ages.
Although the temple was started by Amenhotep II in 1400 BC, Ramses II appropriated the first pylon with placement of a pair of black granite colossi of his likeness seated on a throne…
that depicted the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt.
Beyond the pylon, Ramses II also chose to enshrine 17 of his sons within a courtyard surrounded by double rows of columns capped with lotus-bud capitals. He fathered a minimum of 111 sons and 67 daughters.
The Courtyard of Ramses II flows into the Colonnade of Amenhotep III, dominated by seven pairs of 52 foot (16m) open-flower papyrus columns, which still support their huge architrave blocks.
The decoration of the Colonnade of Amenhotep III was largely undertaken by Tutankhamun, who is featured beside his Great Royal Wife, Queen Ankhesenamun, daughter of King Akhenaten and Queen Nefertiti.
Beyond the Colonnade, the Great Sun Court of Amenhotep III showcases the remains of a peristyle court with a double row of sixty columns with papyrus bundle capitals on three sides. They represent the best preserved and most elegant columns in the temple.
While Luxor Temple was conceived to celebrate the Theban trinity of Amun-Ra, married to God Mut, and son, God Khonsu, the religious focus of the adjacent chapels evolved over time from polytheism to Coptic Christianity during Roman rule, until the Muslim conquest of Egypt in the 7th century.
Thus, the Fatimid Caliphate inaugurated the Mosque of Abu El Hagag in 1286 atop the temple ruins and rubble, repurposing columns and stones to create a strange amalgam of Islamic civilization and ancient Egyptian civilization.
Ironically, the Opet Festival–originating during the 18th dynasty of the New Kingdom, and celebrated to promote the fertility of Amun-Ra and the Pharaoh–has now become an annual event.
Following a 3400-year old ritual, a royal procession parades from Karnak Temple to Luxor Temple along the Avenue of Sphinxes accompanying a statue of Amun-Ra within a barque of gold that rests on the shoulders of priests.
The news is enough to make Ramses II stand up and take notice.
After 3 days in Cairo, Leah and I were on the move!
We boarded a chartered prop jet with our fellow river cruisers and flew to Luxor,
to greet the Viking Ra–currently tied up alongside the Nile’s east bank. Ra was to be our floating hotel through the following week.
After attending an obligatory safety briefing aboard Ra,
we were soon exploring Luxor and it’s ancient counterpart, Thebes–home to kings and queens from the Middle Kingdom (c. 2000–1700 BC) through the Ptolemaic Kingdom (305–30 BC)–spanning 15 centuries of rule, until Egypt surrendered to the Romans.
Our tour of Luxor began with a visit to the Karnak Temple Complex, encompassing 247 acres, and considered the largest religious structure ever built.
Ram-headed sphinxes (called criosphinx) adorn both sides of the avenue leading to the unfinished, first pylon to honor Amun-Ra, Egypt’s most powerful god and Thebe’s patron deity of the Great Temple of Karnak.
The criosphinxes continue inside the Ethiopian Courtyard (IX Dynasty)–each one cradling an erect statue of Ramses II (c. 1279-1213 BC) between its forelegs.
It flanks the entrance to the temple of Ramses III.
The most impressive feature of the temple of Amun-Ra is the Great Hypostyle Hall, a forest of 134 sandstone columns centered by 12 colossal columns soaring 69 feet,
which supports the remains of a stone roof enclosed by massive walls,
and features intricately carved relief sculptures and hieroglyphs of religious and historical significance…
to honor each of the 30 kings who once ruled the imperial city.
After 3300 years, the site remains substantially intact, yet benefits from painstaking restoration.
After listening to commentary from our onboard Egyptologist, Leah and I strolled the grounds of the ancient temple trying to imagine the enormity of its scope:
while realizing that 3 other sections–the Precinct of Mut, the Precinct of Montu, and the Temple of Amenhotep IV–are also part of Karnak, and still under excavation and reconstruction.
I’ve dreamt of visiting the Great Pyramids nearly all of my adult life, and now, as I gaze through the window of our Viking coach, I catch my first glimpse of these ancient wonders rising beyond a construction zone. Somehow, I can’t escape the notion that these ancient Wonders of the World are part of a half-baked theme park, given their scale and juxtaposition.
We entered the vast necropolis of Saqqara, which served as the ancient cemetery of Memphis,
featuring the Pyramid of Djoser (frequently called the Step Pyramid), considered the world’s oldest known stone structure, constructed c. 2670–2650 BC. This 6-tier, 4-sided edifice rises 205 ft (62.5m).
That’s where I met Abdul the Bedouin, regarded by locals as the honorary mayor of Saqqara.
What luck! Seeing Abdul broadly smiling against this epic backdrop, I knew this was an irresistible photo op… and he knew it too–for he was adding instant authenticity to my visual narrative.
Not long after pressing the shutter release, Abdul eagerly approached me and offered to have Leah take our picture together, but not until I was properly costumed.
But don’t be fooled! Despite his diminutive stature, this mild-mannered goat herder with Clark Kent glasses had a secret power. Abdul the Bedouin could hypnotize me into giving him money in exchange for wearing his shemagh.
He wrapped his arm across my shoulder. “Habibi, you’re going to make me very happy,” he whispered as Leah was composing the shot of us. “After all, I have five children to feed.”
Egypt is a poor country. Wages in Giza average between $500 and $750 per month.
Yet, as a Saqqara personality, Abdul was very good at his job–equal parts ham and shmaltz. And he managed to squeeze me for 5 bucks.
Leah and I resumed our tour of the Saqqara necropolis,
at the site of King Teti’s pyramid.
We followed a dark shaft down a narrow passage…
into the belly of his burial chamber, replete with impressive and very rare pyramid texts traced to c. 2300 BC.
This led to an antechamber lined with relief engravings that showcased the preparations made by Teti’s royal staff in anticipation of his journey to eternity,
after having traveled beyond the alabaster alter to the kingdom of the dead.
Our next stop was the Great Pyramid of Khufu, the largest of the “big three,” standing 481 ft. and constructed c. 2570 BC. And what a site to behold!
Venders were omnipresent, with pop-up stalls surrounding the pyramid’s perimeter.
That’s where we met Mohammed and his camel. While chatting us up, he snatched my cellphone and insisted on taking our picture.
I paid Mohammed a $5 ransom for my cellphone ($1 for each of his 5 children), however, he expressed his disappointment knowing there’d be no camel ride, but only because another vendor was promised Viking’s business:
We ended our visit to Giza with a brief jaunt to the Sphinx…
with still enough time for one last parlor trick before boarding the bus.
In a document dating back to 1434, traces of Dresden’s StriezelmarktChristmas Market’s existence were found. Additionally, the Turks tell us that the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul has been around since 1455.
Although proponents of both regions claim title to the oldest market (souk) in the world, 100 million Egyptians would beg to differ, because deep in the midst of historic, Islamic Cairo, stands the beating heart of city commerce–a pulsing and twisting labyrinth of passages that is Khan el Khalili–the world’s oldest continuously operating market since 1382.
Passengers of Viking Ra who elected to crowd surf through the Khan el Khalili, got a glimpse of life as it once was during the Mamluk dynasty (from 1250 until 1517), when self-pronounced sultans occupied Egypt after driving out the Crusaders. The souk was built atop the mausoleum of the Fatimid Caliphate, which founded Cairo as its imperial city in the 10th century.
Once divided into distinct districts serving merchants trading copperware, gold accessories, and spices, the souk now balances its variety with every imaginable trinket and souvenir sold among competing vendors standing just a breath away from each other, forming an almost impenetrable wall of sounds, sights and smells…
across alleyways that could barely accommodate our bus.
We disembarked from the bus and melted into a crowd of families strolling past aggressive venders hawking endless supplies of camel pants, pashminas, and pyramid paper weights to tourists,
with a variety of daily-living goods for locals.
For the informed collector, haggling generally starts at 40% off the suggested price, and somehow balances out in the negotiation.
Hungry? No problem! How about a sweet potato…
or fresh baked pita?
Our group enjoyed restaurant dining above the fray,
which was a pleasant respite from the tumult below us.
Leah and I arrived at the Egyptian Museum to dig a little deeper into some of the earliest and most significant discoveries of ancient Egypt.
Of course, we would have preferred touring the Great Egyptian Museum (G.E.M.), but the many delays since construction began (2012)–complicated by supply chain dynamics and coronavirus has pushed the official opening to sometime in 2023, optimistically.
However, when the museum eventually opens, it will be the world’s largest archaeological museum, housing 100,000 artifacts from hundreds of tombs and temples, and the entirety of the Tutankhamun collection.
But for now, we must adjust our expectations by visiting the fabulous Egyptian Museum instead, where a smattering of the riches belonging to Tutankhamun’s tomb have been on view:
including his incomparable solid gold mask,
Photo credit, Egypt Museum
and triple coffins staged within his sarcophagus–yet unfortunately, all without the possibility of photography once we entered the special exhibition room.
There were, however a few items from Tutankhamun’s tomb displayed in the general exhibition hall that were equally as impressive, including:
Anubis the jackal, who guards the cryptAlabaster canopic jars which held vital organs
A gilded throne beside an inlaid and painted ceremonial chair.
There were so many more treasures to appreciate beyond the towering entrance and throughout the wings of the cavernous exhibition hall.
From the moment we entered the building, we were confronted by a stone Colossus of King Merneptah, successor to Ramses the Great.
Along our stroll, we stopped to appreciate a 2-foot palette of some of the earliest hieroglyphics ever found.
This palette, with reliefs on both sides, commemorates the victories of King Narmer, who came from the south of Egypt to invade the Delta in about 3000 BC. It represents the most important evidence that the first political unification in the history of mankind occurred in Egypt. The two faces of the artifact are topped by the name of Narmer inscribed inside the Serekh, or rectangular frame. In hieroglyphic signs, the chisel reads mr and the catfish reads naar.
The upper section of the back side shows the king wearing the Red Crown of Lower Egypt, followed by his sandals bearer and preceded by his vizier and four standard bearers. Next comes a scene depicting the corpses of 10 beheaded men. In the middle section, two men are holding two felines with extremely long necks representing the people of the North and South under the control of the king and his men. The lower section shows a bull, representing the king attacking the walls of a northern city.
The Serekh is flanked by two female heads having the ears and horns of a cow, which could be the first representation of the goddess Hathor. The scene on the front shows the king, followed by his sandals bearer and wearing the White Crown of Upper Egypt, smiting a helpless foe from the North. The falcon Horus of Upper Egypt stands upon a bunch of papyrus plants holding a northern prisoner. The lower register, or scene, depicts two other northern enemies running away from the king. Inscribed upon their heads are hieroglyphic signs indicating their names or those of their localities.
We stood in awe of the oldest known life-size statue found in Egypt.
It depicts King Djoser of the Third Dynasty seated on his throne and enveloped in a jubilee cloak. The statue was entirely coated with white plaster and painted. The deep-set eyes were once inlaid. The king has a ceremonial false beard and wears a black wig topped by the royal Nemes headdress. The front side of the pedestal is inscribed with hieroglyphic text, indicating the name and epitaphs of King Nethery-khet of Upper and Lower Egypt.
Next, we got acquainted with an exquisite 4600-year old polished, gneiss statue of King Khafra, builder of the second largest pyramid in Giza.
It was found in a pit in the antechamber of his Valley Temple in Giza. The king is seated on a throne flanked by lion heads. The two sides of the throne are decorated with the Sema-Tawy, symbol of the unity of Upper and Lower Egypt. Khafra wears the nemes headdress, surmounted by the uraeus, or royal cobra. He wears the royal pleated kilt. Attached to his chin is an artificial ceremonial sacred beard. He is protected by the god Horus, represented as a falcon, perched at the back of his neck.
Nearby was a triptych of King Khafra’s neighbor, King Menkaure.
King Menkaure built the third and smallest of the Great Pyramids of Giza. The triad of Menkaure was intended to represent him with the personification of the nomes, in the presence of gods, especially Hathor. The king wished to enjoy resurrection and fertility from Hathor and endless offerings from the nomes. He is represented here in an idealistic form between Hathor, with her horned sun disk crown, and a figure of the personification of the nome of Diospolis Parva.
Sheikh el-Balad, Arabic title for the chief of the village, was the name given to this remarkable wooden statue discovered by the workmen of Auguste Mariette, the French archaeologist, because it resembled their own village chief.
The statue depicts Ka-aper, the chief lector priest, in charge of reciting prayers for the deceased in temples and funerary chapels. It is one of the masterpieces of the private statuary of the Old Kingdom.
The arms were separately modeled and attached to the body, a technique frequently used in wooden statuary. A wooden cane supported the left arm, made out of two pieces of wood joined together. The eyes are inlaid; the rim is made out of copper and the white is of opaque quartz, while the cornea is made out of rock crystal.
Also of interest is a small stone carving of Seneb, an Egyptian dwarf who was the chief of all the palace dwarfs, and charged with the care of the royal wardrobe.
He is seated on a rectangular seat together with his wife, Senetites, and his children stand before him. He has short black hair and wears a short white kilt. His wife rests her right hand on her husband’s shoulder and her left hand on his left arm in an affectionate pose.
Senetites, who held the titles of Priestess of Hathor and Neith, wears a black wig that reaches down to her shoulders and a long white tunic. The artist rendered her face with a smile to show the woman’s satisfaction at being depicted with her husband and children.
The son and daughter are shown standing in front of their father in the place where the legs should be. Here, the Egyptian artist succeeded in creating a balanced composition for the figures of the family.
Protected in a nearby glass box was another painted couple. Rahotep might have been a son of King Senefru and thus, a brother of King Khufu. He held the titles of High Priest of Ra at Heliopolis, General of the Army, and Chief of Constructions.
He is seen here wearing a short kilt, short hair, a fine mustache, a heart-shaped amulet around his neck, and inlaid eyes. Rahotep’s wife, Nofret, is described as “the one acquainted to the king.” She is seen wearing a shoulder-length wig, decorated with a floral diadem and a broad collar. Her natural hair can be seen under the wig.
We recognize the distinction in the skin coloring of the two statues: reddish brown for the man and cream wash for the woman. This was an artistic convention followed throughout ancient Egyptian history. The colors are well preserved and the faces have realistic expressions.
However, Queen Hatshepsut was a rare exception. She’s regarded as the most successful woman ever to rule Egypt as Pharaoh (18th Dynasty), and considered an equal among all kings. Hence, her skin color is always portrayed as reddish brown.
Advancing to the mummy exhibition, we were treated to the gilded plaster, funerary masks of Thuya and Yuya.
Yuya was the father of Queen Tiye, wife of King Amenhotep III, and husband of Thuya. Yuya came from the town of Akhmim, where he probably held estates, and where he was a priest of the Egyptian god Min, the chief god of the area, while Thuya held important religious titles, in addition to the title of the Royal Mother of the Great Wife of the King.
As part of the royal family, they were attributed royal burial rites and mummified, guaranteeing them an extraordinary eternity as museum masterpieces.
Leah and I later visited Yuya’s son-in-law, King Amenhotep III, and his daughter, Queen Tiye to share a moment of eternity inside his sarcophagus, under their protective gaze.
But remembering our plan for a night out at the market, we had to put our hereafter on hold.
When Leah and I disembarked from our Northern Lights cruise aboard the Viking Star on February 4, 2020, the entire cruise industry was sinking from the spread of COVID-19. And the travel industry was unable to forecast with any assurance whether or when it would be safe to cruise again. Nonetheless, Leah and I reserved passage on Viking’s Nile River cruise (risk free) 2 years ago, and patiently waited for the coronavirus tide to wane.
Fortunately, Egypt had been less affected than many surrounding North African countries, so we waived our cancellation guarantee 3 months ago, and finally embarked on our eagerly-anticipated journey.
After 2 airport layovers–with extended delays between 2 sunsets–we touched down in Cairo to experience what we hoped would be a trip of a lifetime. We also elected to tack on a 4-day extension to Jordan to experience the “Rose City” built into the pink sandstone cliffs of Petra. And we would finish our Middle Eastern adventure with 9 days in Israel on our own.
We also chose to travel with Viking for their immersive programming, delivered by two resident Egyptologists, Khadiga and Youmna, who offered comprehensive commentary every step of the way.
After a night of well-deserved sleep at the Sheraton Cairo Hotel and Casino, we awoke at 6 AM to the muezzin’s prerecorded call to morning prayer,
and began our tour with an excursion to Cairo’s Citadel of Saladin, the largest citadel in the Islamic world opened in 1176,
for magnificent views of the entire city–a massive sprawl sheltering nearly 22 million people within its metro borders, with what also seems as many stray cats and dogs–
and access to the Mosque of Mohammed Ali Pasha, also known as the “Alabaster Mosque” built in 1848, with twin minarets reaching a height of 84 meters, the highest in all of Egypt.
The prayer hall inside can accommodate 10,000 worshippers under a large central dome surrounded by four semi-domes,
supporting a massive crystal chandelier that has recently been repaired after a 3-year restoration project by Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities.
Across the marble tiles to the east is an adorned, gilded pulpit of carved wood for the chief Iman.
Within the center of the mosque’s massive courtyard of 47 arched doorways finished with 45 domes stands an elaborate alabaster fountain for requisite ablutions.
The copper-clad clock tower rising above the courtyard in the center of the south façade was a gift from Louis Philippe, the King of France in exchange for one of two ancient obelisks discovered at the Temple of Luxor that still stands in the Places de la Concorde in Paris.
Unfortunately, it was a bad trade for the Egyptians, as the mechanical clock is only accurate twice a day since never working properly after installation.
After roaming the courtyard,
it was time for our next excursion to the Egyptian Museum, where we motored by bus through the busy streets and circles of Cairo, while managing to avoid hundreds of pedestrians who habitually cross the roads in all directions, without any regard for traffic or life itself.
To date, my blog has been about chronicling my travel adventures, with occasional lapses into cultural insight and political satire…from my perspective, of course.
Equally as important, this blog has been a repository for thousands of photos I’ve taken along the way, helping me identify and memorialize hundreds of destinations I’ve visited during the past six years, and perhaps, transcending the ubiquitous and banal:
whether animal;
mineral;
or vegetable snapshot!
I admit to taking my fair share of goofy personal photos, and occasionally posting them from time to time (see “Looking Back in Pictures”). But for the most part, Streaming Thru America has been my “show and tell” outlet for timestamping my wanderlust…
until now!
What follows is this summer’s shameful display of selfies and portraits of familiar faces from faraway places.
And there are instances and circumstances when the background becomes the most important element in the picture:
Finally, there are occasions when I get to strut across nature’s catwalk, and Leah is mostly there to capture the moment:
This blog was never intended as a vanity project, and I was never under any illusion that posting my travel adventures would ever turn me into a world-wide influencer. But at the very least, there are precious moments when I get to star in my own production.
It took a few days of walking, cycling, and driving around Montréal before Leah and I found our bearings from atop Mont Royal.
We roamed the rues and parcs of the city in search of historic, cultural, and architectural significance–with an emphasis on good food…and we found it in many of the neighborhoods we visited.
Nouilles de Lan Zhou – Noodle Shop
We followed in the steps of 6 million annual tourists who stroll, bike, blade and run between Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel (1771),
and the Sailors’ Memorial Clock (1922) at the Vieux-Port de Montréal (Old Port).
We shared a laugh after spotting yet another monster-sized Ferris wheel on the pier, but La Grande Roue de Montréal, erected in 2017 to celebrate Montréal’s 350th anniversary is one of several family attractions that appeal to tourists near and far.
In 1642, New France took root on the banks of the Saint Lawrence River, where French traders and the Crown established a fort (Ville-Marie) in support of a flourishing fur trade. Roman Catholic missionaries followed, intending to establish a North American parish that could convert the Iroquois to Christianity, and build a cathedral that was worthy of a New World capital.
Notre-Dame Basilica was designed by James O’Donnell in a Gothic Revival style, and built behind the original parish church.
Robert Auchmuty Sproule (1799-1845)
The sanctuary was completed in 1830,
and the towers followed in 1841 and 1843.
The interior’s intricate stone and wood carvings were completed in 1879.
The pipe organ dates to 1891. It comprises four keyboards, 92 stops, 7000 individual pipes and a pedal board.
Arson destroyed the more intimate Sacre-Coeur Chapel in 1978, but it was rebuilt from original drawings, and finished with an immense bronze altarpiece by Quebec sculptor Charles Daudelin.
It’s a 5-minute Metro ride from downtown to Parc Jean-Drapeau, an island park surrounded by the Saint Lawrence River. Half the park is natural (Saint Helen’s Island) and the other half is artificial (Ile de Notre Dame), conceived with rock excavated from Montréal’s Metro tunnels.
The park is a fitting tribute and memorial for its namesake, Jean Drapeau. As mayor of Montréal (1954-1957, 1960-1986), he was instrumental in bringing Expo67 to his city. Drapeau is also remembered for securing the 1976 Summer Olympics for Montréal, as well as successfully lobbying Major League Baseball for a major league franchise during its 1969 expansion (Kansas City Royals, Montreal Expos, San Diego Padres, and Seattle Pilots).
Few pavilions from Expo67 remain on the island. Notably, the French pavilion has been repurposed as Canada’s largest casino.
And the United States pavilion, featuring Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome has also been preserved, despite a fire in1976 that burned through the structure’s acrylic bubble, leaving only the steel trusses.
Fortunately, the exhibition space within the dome was spared, and has been transformed into an interactive museum named Biosphere, that tells the story of our environment through several rooms of multimedia presentations,
and a wraparound theater space.
But its the iconic geodesic dome that most visitors have come to experience. The New York Times picked the dome as one of “the 25 Most Significant Works of Postwar Architecture.”
Geometry majors may discover 32 triangles from the center of each vertex to the next vertex.
Montréal is also a culinary haven for foodies. We sampled wood-oven-baked bagels from St-Viateur, and smoked meat from Chez Schwartz in the Jewish Quarter. For dinner, Leah and I migrated to Chinatown to sample the fare with Jennifer, a dear friend in town for business.
We settled on a tasty meal of soup dumplings at Mai Xiang Yuan Dumpling, but wondered out loud about the long queue out the the door for Gol’s Lanzhou Noodle Shop.
We made a mental note and returned to Gol’s the following evening, only to find another long line of future diners waiting patiently. I spent my wait time studying the noodle maker through the window…
and tasted his skillset in my meal when we were finally seated and served a tureen-sized portion of steaming heaven.
Authentic Lanzhou braised beef and noodles
These were beef noodles to stand in line for, whenever I’m back in Montréal.
I treated myself to a bobsled ride at the Nordic and Sliding Center in Lake Placid for no particular reason, and it was amazing.
Yet the notion of barreling down Mt. Van Hoevenberg in a pocket rocket was never part of my original bucket list…although it should have been. So I added it, just so I could cross it off my list.
True, there’s another bobsled run in Park City, but I’m not schlepping to Utah for another sliding track if I’m already here. Besides, Olympic history was made at Lake Placid, when the Americans defeated the Soviets in the men’s hockey finale.
Leah had less than zero interest in joining me, so I was on my own. Unfortunately, she was nursing a bad lower back the past few days, and missing out on a world of world-class activities–
while I was anticipating the thrill of winding through a dozen curves in a rumbling sled, and wondering how I would capture it all without dropping my phone. Carpe diem, all the way!
I filled out a “hold harmless” waiver online; showed the attendant my drivers license (although I wasn’t driving); and booked a 1pm run-time for $125. I thought it a bit pricey for a 55 second experience, compared to the “value” of free-falling from an airplane (Free Fallin’ Off My Bucket List),
or riding Class 4 and 5 rapids on the New River (New River Gorge), but at least I’d have bragging rights among friends.
Leah was willing and able to join me on the Legacy Tour, where we previewed the Olympic Center’s newest facility–the first of its kind, indoor push-track for bobsled and skeleton in the United States–
where athletes can practice start gate techniques for skeletons, and bobsleds. But they’ll need to dress for winter, because it was like a mammoth refrigerator inside!
We warmed up while examining the 1980 track, which is built atop the 1932 track, which runs parallel to the Cliffside Coaster, North America’s longest coaster.
Next, we boarded a bus that drove us to the 1st of 4 start gates of the Combined Track, completed in 2000…
for a look at what $50K to $100K will buy these days.
Then we walked the upper course…
past Curve 1…
to Start Gate 3…
with a distant view of the Ski Jump Center.
I shared my downhill ride with an anonymous coed, who took the first position behind the driver. I squeezed in behind her, with my butt planted on a quilted foam pad. Definitely, not the best position for a bad back, so Leah was right to sit this one out. Instructions were simple: hold onto the inside bars with both hands.
“But how will I video this?” I asked.
The attendant picked his words carefully: “You didn’t hear this from me, but if you hold your phone near the edge of the sled and brace your arm against the roll bar, your phone should fall into the sled if it slips out-ta your hand.”
We got a push and we were ready to roll…
Mt Van Hoevenberg, Lake Placid–Aug 20 ’22
We posted a respectable 52.25 seconds over the 1500 meter run. Olympian athletes can reach speeds of 90mph barreling down the same course.
While not the fastest run at 48mph, it was quick enough to earn me a moment on the gold medal podium.
Île-Aux-Foins Park–Neguac, NBHopewell Rocks–Hopewell Cape, NB
and Prince Edward Island…
MacKenzies Brook–Cavendish Beach, PEIGreenwich Trailhead–Saint Peters Bay, PEI
in our Airstream Globetrotter,
Beach Rose RV Park–Salisbury, MA
with a stopover in Grand Falls, NB…
Grand Falls Gorge–Grand Falls, NBGrand Falls Gorge Trail–Grand Falls, NB
before following the St. Lawrence River from Quebec City…
Saint Lawrence River–Quebec City, QCMontmorency Falls–Quebec City, QC
to Montreal.
Mont Royal Park–Montreal, QCBiosphere, Parc Jean-Drapeau–Montreal, QC
Yet all the while, I’ve been reporting on our epic, 2-week adventure in Iceland. Needless to say, it’s been a bit disorienting with my body in Canada and my mind’s eye in Iceland.
Dynjandi–Arnarfjörður, Iceland
And to further complicate the blog timeline, Leah and I recently bid ‘adieu‘ to Canada, without posting from our Canadian exploits.
Currently, we are spending the week in Lake Placid,
Lake Placid from Whiteface Mountain summit,–Wilmington, NYAuSable Chasm–Wilmington, NY
where once again, I find myself struggling to regain my geographical balance within the space-time continuum.
Which presents a new dilemma: do I recreate my travel chronology (starting with Acadia National Park) and continue reliving the past, or do I write about where I am, here and now?
I’ve given it lots of thought, and have come to the conclusion that writing about faraway places is far easier when I’m not so far away–in space and time.
Of course, I reserve the right to blog about past Canadian adventures, but only from a distance.
*All photography taken with my Samsung GS20 Plus 5G smartphone.
Today was departure day. While other travelers were hastily checking out of Grandi to meet their airport connections, Leah and I had other plans. We had purposely booked an evening flight to give us another day of touring, but nothing too rigorous. We jumped on the option of keeping the Land Cruiser, and driving ourselves to the airport, coupled with a visit to Blue Lagoon.
Photo Credit: Ragnar Th Sigurðsson/Arctic Images
After two weeks of circumnavigating the country/island for a total of 2020 miles, we were more than ready for a few hours of rest and relaxation before battling the airport madness.
We stopped briefly at a roadside turnoff in Reykjanes to explore our surroundings,
and spelunk a small crater from last year’s eruption.
However, as I write this, I regret missing the spectacle of Iceland’s August 3rd eruption and lava flow of Fagradalsfjall’s Geldingadalir volcano.
Nevertheless, because of the fissure’s volatility, the landscape is scarred and uninhabitable, yet eerily beautiful.
And because of Reykjanes’ geothermal properties, the Blue Lagoon has become legendary for the healing properties of its milky, mineral-rich waters.
Digression…
The social and political landscape of Iceland is an unusual paradox–progressive in some matters, while also Puritanical at times. For instance, currently 67% of women no longer consider marriage a precursor to children.
Nor is organized religion very popular these days. Although Iceland has adopted Lutheranism as its state religion, the majority of Icelanders identify as eitheratheist or non-religious.
Iceland is also a global leader in promoting and protecting gender rights and equality.
Which begs the question: How can a Penis Museum exist in the center of Reykjavik when Icelanders prohibit nudity at any and all pools, spas and beaches?
After arriving at Blue Lagoon registration,
we claimed our color-coded, “Comfort” bracelet, which entitled us to:
Entrance to the Blue Lagoon
Private locker
Silica mud mask
Use of towel
1st drink of our choice
We grabbed a towel on the way to our respective locker rooms–offering both public and private spaces for changing and showering. Once we located an available locker, we were directed to shower before entering the pool. Same-sex monitors were everywhere to assure compliance.
I met Leah outside the bathhouse with my towel and phone. The air temperature was 54oF and we were both shivering.
“What are you doing with your phone?” she asked.
“I need it to take pictures,” I answered.
“Don’t ya think you’re taking a big chance out there?” she continued.
“Probably,” I admitted, “but the water’s no deeper than 4.5 ft, so I’m not too worried. And NO splashing!”
“Okay, but just so you know–if you drop your phone, it’s gone forever. You’ll never find it in this,” she warned.
I gripped my phone with one hand and grabbed Leah’s hand with the other, and together we slipped into the warm, milky waters.
Ahhh!!
The water temperature felt like 90oF, but as we approached the bridge, rushes of hot water circulated around us with a thin mist hovering over the surface.
It’s hard to believe that Blue Lagoon was created by accident when engineers discharged geothermal plant condensate into a nearby lava field and expected the water to permeate the porous rock. But they didn’t consider that sedimentation would eventually clog the pores, and turn the fields into expansive reservoirs.
The lagoon didn’t seem overly crowded, but a lifeguard assured me that today was the busiest day since the pandemic recovery.
Although, the further we ventured, the fewer people we encountered.
until we reached the outer limits of the lagoon to enjoy a quiet moment by ourselves.
That’s when we realized that most of the crowd was either drinking around the bar,
or applying a silica mask doled out from the treatment kiosk. So we did both!
Unfortunately, our time in Iceland has come to a close.
We’ll resume our summer travels in Maine and Canada.
Till then, Kveðja Ísland! (Farewell Iceland!)
P.S. I didn’t sacrifice my phone to the Blue Lagoon.
Thanks to an earlier tour of The Cave Víðgelmir, Leah and I rolled into Reykjavik @ 4pm–an hour ahead of schedule–and it made all the difference. I immediately found a legit parking spot by the side of Grandi Center Hotel, and we quickly settled into our suite long enough to unzip and freshen up. Before long, we were out the door and heading for the harbor by foot.
As we were in a hurry to walk the 1 km, there was no time for snacks…although, passing by Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur was tempting…
This little stand has been serving “the best hot dogs in town” since 1937, hence the name translated; although, some fast-foodies claim they’re the best in the world. In fact, hot dogs are so pervasive throughout Iceland, they are jokingly referred to as Iceland’s national dish.
As much as I wanted a wiener, my mission to conduct hard research on “pizzles,” at the Icelandic Phallological Museum was time-sensitive; we only had an hour before closing.
The phallo-logic behind this museum is best expressed by Sigurður Hjartarson, the museum’s founder, who recently sat down with Felix Bazalgette, contributing writer for The Guardian.
In Sigurður’s words…
For most of my life I’ve been a teacher in Iceland, where I was born. In the 60s, I did a postgraduate degree in Edinburgh, but in the 70s I settled into life as a history and Spanish teacher in Akranes, a town north of Reykjavík.
One night in 1974, I was having a drink with my fellow teachers after school and playing bridge. The conversation turned to farming in Iceland – we were discussing how the industry finds a use for every part of the animal. Take lamb, for instance: the meat is eaten, the skin used for clothes, the intestines for sausages and the bones turned into toys for kids. Someone asked if there was a use for the penis, which made me recall how, as a child, I had been given a dried bull’s penis as a whip, to drive the animals out to pasture every day.
I was telling my fellow teachers about this and said that I would be interested in finding a whip like that again. “Well,” said one of my friends, “you might be lucky.” He was returning to his family’s farm that weekend and offered to find me some “pizzles” (a very old word for penis). I agreed, and the next week my friend came back with four bulls’ penises in a plastic bag. I took them to a local tannery and had them preserved. I gave three away as Christmas presents and kept the fourth. That was the start of my collection.
At first, it was a bit of a joke. It was very common then for teachers to have other jobs in the farming and animal industries, such as whaling. So to tease me, other teachers began to bring me penises from their second jobs – whale penises, sheep penises. I started learning how to preserve them. Then, gradually, the collection took on a life of its own. I thought: what if I collect the penises of all the species of Iceland? So that is what I tried to do.
I kept an eye on the news; if an interesting whale was found beached on the coast, I would try to get the penis as a specimen, or if an outlying island was infested with black rats that had escaped from a ship, I’d ask the pest control technician to send me one. (I’ve always had a rule that no animal would be killed for my collection.)
By 1997, I had amassed 63 specimens and the story of my collection had become more well known. I was invited to display it in a small space in the centre of Reykjavík, and my penis museum, or the Phallological Museum, to give it its proper name, was born. There are a lot of different ways to preserve a penis and I have tried all of them, so the collection varies between dried, stuffed and mounted penises, and also those floating in alcohol or formaldehyde.
The collection is very large today, as people have sent in specimens. The largest, from a sperm whale, is about 6ft long, while the smallest, from a European mouse, is less than a millimetre and must be looked at through a magnifying glass. We have one human penis on display, from a 95-year-old man who left it to us in his will in 2011. A few well-endowed humans, one from America and one from Germany, have promised to donate theirs when they die. They are young, though, so we will have to wait a while for those.
You might call me a bit eccentric. At first people thought there was something wrong with me, but over time they saw I was a serious collector who was precise and accurate with the information I kept, and that there was nothing pornographic about the collection. I’m happy that people don’t think I’m a pervert any more.
I’m now 80 and have retired to a small town in the north. I’ve had great fun building the collection over the years and starting the world’s first penis museum; before me, there had been some small collections of penis bones – which many animals have – but not a more comprehensive collection of all these different types. Some people collect stamps or rare coins; I chose instead to collect the phallus. Someone had to do it.
In the words of Sigurður Hjartarson, Fri 22, Apr 2022–as told to Felix Bazalgette
I don’t think I’ve ever been to a museum where the patrons have been so animated. Women easily outnumbered men by 2:1, and everyone seemed to be engaged. I saw no evidence of embarrassment, and selfies dominated most picture-taking opportunities.
But what surprised me most were all the children running through the exhibits like they were at a petting zoo. And their small hands were very busy at the gift shop,
where I found a great souvenir,
and many more items…
for more sophisticated palates.
All in all, it was an uplifting hour, yet extremely humbling for human egos.
Leah and I overnighted in Arnarstapi, a tiny fishing village perched on a lava cliff in West Iceland, where Mt. Snapafell looms large across the horizon.
Icelanders believe the village still pulses with a healing energy that emanates from chieftain, Bárður Snæfellsás, half ogre/ half human and sorcerer from the first settlement.
as imagined by sculptor Ragnar Kjartansson in 1985
Legend suggests that Bárður was swallowed by Snæfellsjökull glacier. Perhaps it was his penance for killing his nephews, who admitted to pushing his daughter out to sea on an ice floe.
Consequently, Bárður was forever frozen in time and eternally committed to protecting the people of SnæfellsnesPeninsula,
and preserving its unspoiled natural beauty…
Another storm was brewing the day of our drive to Snæfellsjökull National Park. We mapped a route in search of the mysterious Snæfellsjökull Volcano, and took the high road as directed by GPS…
until we ran out of road and visibility halfway up the pass.
It was snowing on the other side of the mountain, and road crews had already conceded to Mother Nature.
So back down the mountain we went, where the weather was more predictable, and the roads were more reliable.
Unfortunately, we sacrificed a critical hour to correct our course, which translated into less time exploring Snæfellsjökull glacier at Snæfellsjökull National Park.
Instead, we continued to our next destination and penultimate excursion–
Our pre-paid guided tour of Iceland’s largest cave was originally scheduled for 1pm, but with rain clouds rolling in and a cold drizzle spoiling any chance of sightseeing or picture-taking, we expedited our drive to Borgarfjörður, with prospects of joining the noon tour if allowed.
We arrived at 12:05pm, but Sigurður (Siggy) agreed to include us, since he was already waiting for another late arrival with reservations. Hallelujah!
With our tour party now complete, each of us received a hardhat and headlamp, and Siggy (our only true-born Icelandic guide during our trip) led us 100m across a lava field called Hallmundarhraun to a twin opening in the earth where the roof of Víðgelmir had collapsed, revealing the cave’s only entrance.
We were dressed for winter inside the cave, where temperatures usually rise to 4oC, but Siggy was comfortable in a traditional Icelandic wool sweater knitted by his mom that he wore this day to celebrate Iceland’s Independence Day.
While traditional wet caves boast an array of stalactites and stalagmites, Víðgelmir cave gave us icicle formations,
and colorful mineral deposits imbedded in the walls,
and ceiling.
After an hour, we reached the end of the boardwalk where the tube narrowed,
and it was time to resurface.
With a 2-hour drive to Reykjavik ahead of us, we may yet reach the Penis Museum before closing time.
Warning: Be advised that the photographs presented here must be properly viewed on a big screen. Failure to comply will result in diminished satisfaction and an acute craving for Taco Bell and The Kardashians.
Leah and I approached Westfjords with three scheduled days to weave through as many of the fjords before reaching the Brjánslækur ferry crossing. Total driving distance added up to nearly nine hours, but with so many photo opportunities and sightseeing possibilities to consider, I wondered if three days was enough to adequately explore the oldest part of Iceland–where its raw, rugged beauty continued to surprise us around every hairpin turn of every rutted ridge road.
Sadly, the answer was “no,” given the scary condition of so many summer-only roads, not to mention our pending midday ferry reservations on Day 3. Regardless, our time retracing the “dragon’s head” was eye-opening, head-turning, and breathtaking. With so much landscape candy still to process, I’ve momentarily selected the following collection of picture postcards for review:
Hólmavíkurkirkja, Lutheran church in HólmavíkReykjanes @ ReykjarfjordurLitlibær farm in Skötufjorður BayLitlibær farm in Skötufjorður BaySúðavík @ Álftafjörður BayDýrafjörðurDynjandi waterfall in ArnarfjörðurGadar BA 64, 1912 @ PatreksfjörðurUS Navy Douglas DC-3 @ Hnjótur Museum in PatreksfjörðurHnjótur Museum @ PatreksfjörðurBreiðavík BeachHvallátur, Rte. 612Látrabjarg cliffHvallátur, Rte. 612
Streaming thru America 