In Egypt, you forget which century you’re in

Before going to Egypt, all I imagined about this place were the pyramids. After arriving, I realized Egypt is much bigger than the pyramids and far more fragmented than I had imagined. Starting from Cairo. The first time I saw the pyramids, it wasn’t as shocking as I expected. Maybe it’s because I had seen too many photos; standing in front of them, I just thought, oh, so this is it. Cairo is chaotic and noisy, and taxis often take detours, but you can complain, and once you get used to it, you don’t get angry anymore. The Egyptian Museum is packed with treasures; Tutankhamun’s golden mask shines even more brilliantly than in photos. These artifacts are thousands of years old, with craftsmanship so exquisite it’s unbelievable. But standing before these ancient relics, there’s a strange sense of disconnection. The people of modern Egypt have little relation to those who built the pyramids. Ancient Egyptian civilization ended long ago, followed by Greeks, Romans, and Arabs, each layer covering the last. Those temples and pyramids are now heritage from others for today’s people. I made a spontaneous trip to Siwa. Siwa is deep in the desert, about eight or nine hours by car from Cairo. Compared to the shrewdness of Cairo, the people of Siwa are surprisingly simple, with clear eyes and genuine smiles, untouched by tourism. At night, I went to the Sahara to watch the stars. The Milky Way hung right overhead, filling the entire sky. Lying on the sand dunes, the wind was cool, and there was no sound around. At that moment, I felt how small humans really are. I went to Luxor to see the Valley of the Kings. Dozens of pharaohs’ tombs are hidden in the valley, with deep burial passages and walls covered in colorful paintings. After more than three thousand years, the reds are still red, and the blues are still blue. The Nile in Aswan is beautiful; sitting on a sailboat drifting slowly, you don’t have to think about anything. From Aswan, I went to Abu Simbel, where four colossal statues of Ramses II sit at the temple entrance, each about twenty meters tall. After more than three thousand years, they still look so majestic. Finally, I went to Hurghada by the Red Sea. The water is blue and clear; while snorkeling, I saw coral and fish with vivid colors, like swimming inside an aquarium. I spent a few days lying around, sunbathing, daydreaming—a completely different pace from the previous intense sightseeing of ancient sites. The chaos of Cairo, the starry sky of Siwa, the murals of the Valley of the Kings, the Nile in Aswan, the colossal statues of Abu Simbel, the Red Sea in Hurghada. Each is Egypt, but together they are hard to summarize. This is a modern country grown on the ruins of an ancient civilization. The glory belongs to others, but the life is their own. Yet those ancient things are truly amazing. The colossal statues from three thousand years ago, the golden mask from thousands of years ago, the vivid murals inside the tombs—those people are long gone, but the stones remain, the colors remain, and you can still stand there and see it with your own eyes.