Pros of Egypt • Best tan of my life • I’m not sick…..yet • The pyramids are kind of amazing • The ancient ruins are incredible• The camels are adorable

Cons of Egypt • I’m 90% sure I’ve melted at least an inch • I take that back. It’s too hot for melting. Evaporating would be more realistic. • The camel poop is really getting on my nerves • I think these people never got the whole smoking-is-bad-for-you memo, because I’m going to get lung cancer if I don’t melt away to nothing before then • Did I mention I hate mummies?

When we got off our plane from Greece, my first impression was something like: “and I thought Virginia Summers were bad”. How I managed to last an entire month in a hyper-dehydrated sauna, I have no idea. I’ll leave it to my parents to describe our first sight of Egypt via car- I was sound asleep the whole way. When we got to our hotel, though, some sugary drinks and my first pyramid sunset/ mini pyramid light show from the roof of our hotel more than did the trick to wake me up. On top of the beautiful view, we found out that we were just in time to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime experience that we had totally forgotten about, until a worker at the hotel reminded us- the lunar eclipse. We talked to a friendly Swedish couple (well, my parents and I did. Once Z’s sugar rush ended, she passed out and didn’t wake up until the moon’s glow had been completely replaced by an orangey circle.) who gave us recommendations on where to go in Egypt. Once the light of the moon had faded, we decided we should pull a Zosia and go to bed before it started to come back. Aside from the heat, Egypt wasn’t seeming too bad. Yet.

The second day, we were recovered enough from the flight to catch an Uber to some courts in an Egyptian club. We played tennis for 45 minutes of the hour we had. Why didn’t we play the full time? That was my fault:

When I was a baby, I had silent reflux. Every time I ate something, acid would come up into my throat and burn painfully. I was a truly awful child, always hungry, but screaming when you fed me because of the pain. My parents gave me medicine, and as I got older, I mostly got over it. When I do the pacer at school, or work out particularly hard, I still get reflux- an excruciating stinging burn in my stomach and the back of my throat, especially when I run hard. It happens very rarely though and subsides pretty fast. The more lasting effect of my reflux is harder to deal with, though. I don’t really get hungry or thirsty, at least not in the way most people do. I know when I’m hungry, because the people around me get hungry and my blood sugar drops, making me tired. I’m not so good hydrating myself, though, and have to be reminded to drink, that I’m probably thirsty, which can a serious problem playing tennis in the desert outside.

I wasn’t thirsty, so I hadn’t drunk any water the morning we decide to play tennis. I was fine for the first 20 to 30 minutes, but then I started to get dizzy and nauseous. Not particularly hot, though, which was weird, and still not thirsty. I sat in the shade, and forced down a few sips of water, but I didn’t want to drink. I wasn’t thirsty, and I identified the nauseous feeling as being waterlogged, what happens when you drink water too fast, and then run, which gives you a stomach ache. I got back on the tennis court, but after a few rallies, I got more intensely nauseous, and the dizzy feeling came back, worse than before. I sat down again until it subsided, but as soon as I started to play, it felt as if someone was pressing on my brain with stifling cotton, and my vision went dark at the edges. I walked to shade and sat out for five minutes. After the time out, I felt fine, and went back to the court to try to get a 40 ball rally, and after failing, I sat there for another two minutes, and then asked to practice serves, which should have been easy. I hit several serves, and kept having to breathe with my hands on my knees for 30 seconds before I could serve again. I stumbled over to the shade at the other side of the court. My mom grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward an air-conditioned room. I tried to tell her I couldn’t walk, but I couldn’t speak.

I tripped to the door, vision totally black now. I managed to sit down on a bench apparently, but everything passed the doorway to the locker room is hazy. According to my mom, she handed me a water bottle, and I crushed it as I went white and started shaking. I lost consciousness, passing out onto the floor, from the heat and severe dehydration. My mom thought I was having a seizure, and began to drag me out of the room, trying to get to an emergency room. By some wild coincidence, there was a doctor in the locker room and she told my mom to put lay me down on the ground and put my feet up. Immediately, the blood rushed back to my head, I stopped shaking, and woke up. The doctor and my mom poured water over me, and fed me to get my sugars back up. Even though I still wasn’t thirsty, I was forced into drinking three whole bottles of water, and then half of a huge bottle of water.

Once I was able to sit up and stand, we went to the club’s pool to cool off some more (not using the 15 minutes we technically still had on the court). A few hours later, after spending the rest of the daylight in the pool, we had dinner at the club, followed by a dessert of fried dough covered in honey and powdered sugar. Yes, it was as good as it sounds. No, my whole “healthy eating” thing does not apply to this situation. Fifteen minutes later, once it was totally dark, we found a huge track that circled a soccer field, more tennis courts, and other athletic facilities that was surrounded by a horse-racing track. We ran around the inner track, totally not racing (I won), until we tired out and decide to head back to our hotel. Today’s school lesson: You need to drink in the desert. 😛

The day after the tennis attempt, we set out on a tour of the pyramids that came before the big ones at Giza- the step pyramid, bent pyramid, and small but perfect pyramid that came before the first Giza pyramid. We got to go inside almost all of the pyramids we visited through steep, small shafts with no regard for people suffering from claustrophobia (i.e. me). The view inside was almost worth it though, adorned with hundreds of beautifully detailed hieroglyphics, in perfect columns.

Although we were not allowed to go inside (not exactly to my disappointment- one suffocating pyramid was plenty for me), we also visited the huge step pyramid, known as the “stairway to heaven”. With six steps of mud brick, it came far before the giants we think of today when somebody says “pyramid”. It was the first pyramid ever built, belonging to the great-grandfather of the biggest pyramid. By this time, it was noon, the peak of the heat, and between the desert climate and the long dusty walks between structures, my sister and I decided to hold a not-so-silent protest until our parents relented and agreed to take a break before continuing.

The same day, after being jazzed by another sugary drink (you know it’s bad when my health nut of a mom is offering me sugar) and refreshed by car – air conditioning, we walked out to the bent pyramid, which is a regular pyramid from the ground to ¾ up it, where they realized if they continued to built at this angle, the pyramid would collapse. I know what you’re thinking- “COOL, a deformed one-man graveyard!! I so want to visit that!!” But it gets better! A few minutes later, we arrived at the mini-museum of Ramses the 2nd.

Before we get to why this museum was noteworthy, let’s get some background information. Ramses the 2nd was arguably the best-known pharaoh ever (even more famous than Tut, who actually wasn’t that influential in ancient Egypt. Tut is only known today because his tomb happened to be spared from robbers, which made it an incredible archeological find). Why? This guy was EVERYWHERE. And by everywhere, I mean everywhere. He wasn’t really that famous for the things he did for Egypt (although he did make many architectural advances) but more for how vain he was. He had over 60 wives, and WAY over 60 statues of himself made. He took statues of other Pharaohs, destroyed the names on them, and carved his own features over them. He had statues sculpted from scratch on many different scales, but the best known of these, and the one we visited the museum for, was the enormous “colossus Ramses”, 11 meters tall with nearly perfectly preserved features.

We were walking around the huge statue, marveling at the astonishing architectural capabilities of the ancient Egyptians, when a security guard stepped into the room. Having just been scolded by a tour guide for leaning on a sign too hard, Zosia and I muttered a few unfriendly things along the lines of “over-protective” under our breath. That was completely forgotten when the guard slipped under the rope on the perimeter of Ramses, touched the 2,200 year old precious artifact, and gestured for us to come down and do the same. Who could possibly resist? It was just one little touch…

It was (finally) time to go back to the hotel (and air conditioning), and we hung out on the roof with the view for a while playing cards, before climbing into bed, exhausted.

The day after, we visited the 3 great pyramids. The blocks of sandstone, bigger than me, seemed to scrape the sky. I could only imagine what it might have looked like in its prime, white limestone walls sloping up to a solid gold peak. It must have been beautiful.

As incredible as the outside of the pyramids was, I can’t say the inside exactly rivaled it. The reason the pharaohs decided to move their place of burial from pyramids to the valley of the kings, was because the pyramids were so easy to see and therefore easy to rob. The only things not ravaged by robbers were the plain walls, and smooth stone sarcophagus in the last room. The airflow out of the pyramids was very poor, and more narrow, claustrophobic corridors didn’t help. As great as the pyramids are in general, I don’t recommend going inside.

An hour later, we made our way to a museum that held the boat that was supposed to take the pharaoh to the afterlife, buried beside the pyramids. On the top floor of the museum, the boat was pieced back together in perfect order. Instead of using modern technology like glue, it was held together with hemp rope twisted tight enough to make it able to float. It’s so impressive how ancient Egyptians managed to make things like enormous boats, without so much as glue.

When someone says Egypt people think of the pyramids. When somebody says desert travel, the first thing that comes to mind is camels. How could we come all the way out to North Africa, and not try to catch a lift on one of these animals? We drove to a place recommended by our guide, where we could rent a ride. My parents each got one, and Zosia and I shared a camel. We walked out to a high dune where we had a view of the pyramids, took a picture, and headed back. In total, it was a 20-30 minute ride. I hated every second of it.

Camels are really, really tall. And they can run. And they can bite. And they can growl. I climbed on behind Zosia, totally ignorant of this. We all sat forward on our camels, ready for the ride. They hauled themselves to their feet, and I jerkily rose three meters off the sandy ground. I screamed and nearly toppled off the back. Zosia started batting at my hands frantically, gasping for breath, and I realized I was squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. I calmed myself down, saying an adult with lots of practice leading camels would be guiding us. “Go, go!” called a voice from somewhere under us. The camels started to move, and I looked down to see, not an adult, but a child younger than Zosia leading the camels. I hung on to Zosia for dear life, as the camels set off. The boy who was steering us kept hitting the camels so they would move faster, but they only half responded, jerking ahead one step and then barely moving the next. This forced the rider to perform a sort of dance, trying to balance themselves on the hump through the terrifyingly lopsided gait.

I was just starting to relax slightly, despite the immediate risk of being trampled by a camel, when the boy made a sound, and slapped the camel extra-hard. The camels began to sort of gallop, except they kept slipping on loose rocks and sand. This time, Zosia had to slap me hard to keep me from suffocating her. Mistaking my pure terror for delight, the boy tried to make them run again, but they refused, growling and snapping at him instead. He shrugged and walked on, obviously not aware of the risk that the camels would revolt, and bite us and trample us, and then kill us. At this point we reached the dune where we stopped to take a picture, and I nearly cried with relief-I only had half a ride left to go. We went back the way we came, except downhill now (even more scary). I tumbled to the ground before the camel had even fully sat when we reached the conclusion of our ride, giving thanks to every god I’d ever heard of (Egyptian included) for keeping us safe. We hopped back in the car (definitely my preferred mode of desert travel), to see the sphinx and then the Mohammad Ali mosque (the ruler, not the boxer), glad to be back on solid ground.

The sphinx was built to protect Khafre, son of Khufu and the second biggest pyramid at Giza. It was carved out of a single massive stone and has suffered extreme weathering. It might never have been found if it was about 12 meters shorter, because only the head was sticking out of the sand when it was rediscovered. Today, it’s still standing tall, part of it restored by archeologists. It was almost as cool as the pyramids, such an amazing sight against the endless desert.

Next up, and our last stop for the day, was the Mohammed Ali mosque. It was built on one of the highest points in the city and surrounded by a fortress called the Citadel. When their enemies tried to climb up, they would pour boiling oil on them until they retreated. The inside of the fortress was beautiful, with pretty gardens adorned with colorful flowers kept neat and watered daily, despite the torrid climate. The mosque beat the fortress, though. Exquisite decorations in an array of brilliant colors covered the outdoor part of the inside and the outside, while rich dark blues and purples blanketed the inside, which was lit by circles of gold chandeliers. An imam sang of Allah’s works to us, while we admired the building. It was really cool to know where the call to prayer came from, when we heard it again that evening back at our hotel. It sounds throughout all of Egypt from various mosques around the country, at the times of prayer for Muslims. It’s a haunting sound, seemingly emanating from the pyramids themselves. If you go to the roof at night, it isn’t hard to feel like the theory that the pyramids were built by aliens is accurate; the call to prayer resonating from their silhouettes, ghostly in the moonlight. Cairo may not be the equivalent of a western city in cleanliness or infrastructure, but its ancients must have been a sight to behold!