Pyramids and the Sphinx

It does pay to have connections, especially in these far-flung corners of the world. After mentioning to my Egyptian friend that the black and white taxis were a bit nerve-wracking to take (something about no air conditioning, cardboard patching together the floor boards, and decades-old battered Peugeots), he called his personal driver for us. So we were met this morning by Mohammed and his young friend Tamer, and their very comfortable air-conditioned Daewoo. Mohammed was more than gracious and Tamer was actually a careful driver, so we had a comfortable ride to Giza and the largest of the three pyramids. I was so transfixed with the people-watching from the windows of the car that I was oblivious to the massive stone pyramid that suddenly loomed in front of us and took our breath away. Pink Floyd blasted from the car's speakers as we pulled up the pyramid site, which oddly felt like just the right mood-setter. We had been smart enough to arrive early, before most of the tour buses, although there were already scads of scantily clad tourist clambering all over the base of the largest pyramid, Khufu. Also...heels? At the pyramids? Seriously? But anyway...Mohammed quickly arranged a private guide for us, and Gamel took us under his experienced wing. He was able to take us down into some tombs where we saw no other tourists, and they were guarded and posted with "No photography" signs. But Gamel cheerfully grabbed our cameras from us, directed us to the right positions, and snapped away. I don't think I quite got my little mind around the fact that I was standing in tombs that had been there for thousands of years, staring at hieroglyphics telling stories about people who looked like they shared the same hopes and fears and loves that we do today. I just gazed at the little pictures and the lines in the stones, as if their secrets would suddenly reveal themselves to me. Maybe by the time I get home and look at the photos I took again, it might start sinking in...



After the pyramids, we said ma'salaamah and shukran to Gamel and hopped back into the car (serenaded by "Footloose" on the stereo) to head down the road to the Sphinx. And yes, it's true, the Sphinx is much smaller than one expects in person, but she is also more striking and serene than photos reveal. Finally, it was starting to get hot(ter) and the tour buses kept arriving, so we said yalla bina and decided to go to the Egyptian Museum.




Oh, also? It turns out, that contrary to the belief seemingly perpetrated by Western tourists, the way to stay cool in the blazing desert sun is NOT to wear as little clothing as possible and expose most of your previously pasty white (now tomato-red) skin the the sun. As we found out, if you cover yourself with a light layer of linen and even put a scarf over your head, you actually stay cooler and far more comfortable. I realize that these desert folks have known this for years, but I'm just sayin'. Apparently those lobster-skinned Brits in plaid shorts did not get the memo.