The first time I visited Karnak Temple in Luxor I left feeling a bit underwhelmed.

Maybe this was because Karnak was the most-hyped sight among our friends in Cairo, or because it was the hottest day of our trip (28 degrees) and we were already tired from walking and visiting the Luxor Museum and the Mufficiaton Museum on the way. Karnak also was relatively busy (by early 2021 pandemic standards), and we had been spoiled earlier in our trip by having the temples in Abydos and Dendara to ourselves.

We had Luxor passes which allow for unlimited entries for five days to all the main sights, so I decided to give Karnak another shot on our last morning in town. I left the hotel at 5:45 and hopped into a taxi, arriving right at 6:00 for the opening (Jessica remained in bed sleeping).

At the gate of the complex I passed through a metal detector, and then made my way to the visitor centre, where I passed through a second metal detector. Then I walked to the ticket office where I showed my pass and went through a third metal detector. 

I exited the ticket office and thought I had passed all the possible checks when a guy called me back and took one more look at my pass before letting me go ahead. 

I walked into the Great Hypostyle Hall, the centrepiece and most majestic part of the temple complex. As I expected, there were no other tourists in sight (but many guards), and I walked around enjoying the early morning light.

One of the guards approached me, and he identified a person at the other end of the hall as “the inspector” and asked me to wait. The inspector slowly walked toward me, and when he finally arrived he said that the temple was closed. This struck me as strange, as I had already walked past dozens of employees, passed through three metal detectors, and had my ticket checked multiple times. 

My first thought was that this inspector wanted a tip, and that he was making up a story so that I would give him some money (like the many guards throughout the trip who offered to open “closed” sights in exchange for a tip). I didn’t offer any money and refused to leave, and then the inspector started angrily repeating that the temple was closed. 

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A constant of life in Egypt is having random people (often plainclothes police officers) trying to enforce arbitrary and constantly shifting rules, which has led to many squabbles. I have been scolded for taking photos of old buildings, for walking along the beach, for swimming in the sea, for sitting on a bench in a public park, for taking a photo of a cat near an embassy. for trying to cross the pedestrian section of a bridge (but walking on the road with the cars was ok!), and the list goes on.

As a privileged foreigner, these interactions end in mild annoyance and inconvenience, although they have occasionally turned a bit nasty, like when I was berated for allegedly taking a photo of a church when I didn’t even point my camera toward it. Exploring Egypt is not always a relaxing experience, and my level of frustration is always simmering and ready to boil over. 

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The Karnak ticket inspector did speak English, so I told him that the temple opened at 6 and asked him to leave me alone. He responded that the temple only opened at 7 due to Covid. Closing the entirely outdoor temple during what is surely one of the quietest hours of the day is obviously a poor method to limit COVID spread, especially in a country where there have been basically no restrictions since July 2020, but it would fit the pattern of the government’s intermittent and incoherent containment policies such as closing public beaches and parks while allowing private beaches and shopping malls to remain open. What didn’t add up is why all the guards running the metal detectors and ticket booths had let me through if the temple truly only opened at 7. 

The ticket inspector told me to wait and he started to call people, but there was no way I was going to lose this battle, so I just yelled at him that I wasn’t leaving and then made my way out of the Great Hypostyle Hall to explore the rest of the complex. 

I had a peaceful walk around the sacred lake with one of the guards clearly following me, but at least from a fair distance.  

Fifteen minutes later a different guard wearing traditional clothing tried to show me something in the hopes of receiving a tip, but I just ignored him and he went off in a huff. 

Then the guard who had been following from a distance caught up with me and said he was sorry about the altercation with the ticket inspector, but then he quickly transitioned to trying to explain some paintings to me so I also ignored him and kept walking.

I made my way back to the Great Hypostyle Hall and thankfully the ticket inspector had left and I was able to wander around the columns in relative peace.

I did find Karnak more impressive on this second visit, and it was beautiful to see the early morning light on the columns, but I still prefer the temples at Abydos and Dendara, which might be just because I saw them first and so they seemed more impressive. 

As I was making my way out just after 7, another group of security guards was entering the site, followed by two small groups with guides, which seemed to support the ticket inspector’s claim that the opening time had moved to 7:00. It could also be that they asked guides to only start bringing in tourists at that time, or maybe the arrival of these groups was just a coincidence, since it still wouldn’t explain why I was able to enter at 6:00 in the first place.

I will probably never know the answer, because almost none of the tourist sites in Egypt have websites or Facebook pages with accurate information, they also rarely even have hours posted at the sites themselves, which makes it very difficult to ever pin down operating hours (when I visit other neighborhoods in Cairo I usually plan to see at least two sites so that I won’t be totally disappointed when one is inevitable closed). 

In the end my second visit to Karnak was definitely more memorable than the first, and as I recounted my experience to Jessica over breakfast, she felt vindicated in her decision to sleep rather than to be part of (another) squabble.