The Pyramids of Giza

I always thought that the Pyramids of Giza were smooth, with a singular slab-looking appearance. I thought that they sat out in the desert with the camels and vultures and the Bedouins. That's how I envisioned them.

Turns out that reality is a bit of a shock to the system. Rising up on a plateau surrounded by city, the Pyramids of Giza seem to overlook Cairo with an ironic timelessness. Their sides, chipped rough by wind and sand, will probably still be there when all of the new buildings in Cairo have become old and dilapidated. Even though there are camels, there are far more tourists and there aren't any vultures to be seen. The Bedouins have apparently gone elsewhere , but there are plenty of shady merchants roaming the grounds, trying to hawk their knockoff souvenirs, carefully avoiding the tourist police that stroll about. Egyptians dressed in gallabeyas will offer to take a picture for 5 pounds of baksheesh (tip money). And there are teenage boys, who sell postcards, who hound tourists relentlessly until one of two things happens: 1) the tourists cough up ten pounds for the postcards or 2) the tourists bust out some Arabic and then walk away.

In spite of all of the tackiness that modern tourism has brought to "The Pyramids," there's still a sense of awe and surreality in seeing them. I can't say exactly what it is that makes being there such a memorable experience. Maybe it's the size of the pyramids or the mystery that surrounds them or the fact that they ARE the most famous tourist attraction in the world. Perhaps, the pyramids speak to man's great desire to be immortal or his long sought ideal that cooperation can help achieve any objective. Or maybe, for me, it's got more to do with the fact that long before I was there, they stood in the same spot, and long after I leave this place, they will remain. After beholding them and going inside one, I definitely walked away with the sense that I had seen something worth seeing.