“He will arrange a VIP chariot for us.” Pointing to one of the small black-and-white taxis that sped by, Amon added, “I will not bend my body to fit into a chariot so small. My sarcophagus was more spacious.”
I laughed, shifting closer to him so a large group of people could pass us, and Amon wrapped his hands protectively around my shoulders. There were many tourist groups from several different cultures and countries. Amon cocked his head and listened as they passed. “There are so many languages,” he said finally.
“Egypt is a pretty popular tourist destination.”
“What does this mean, ‘tourist destination’?”
“Well, many visitors come to Egypt to see the pyramids or other relics of the past.”
“What kinds of relics?” The car arrived, and the driver rushed out to take the bag from Amon.
“Artifacts like pottery, art, jewelry, old writings on papyrus, mummies, that sort of thing.”
Amon had my door halfway open but halted. “They visit Egypt to view the dead? See the bodies of those who have left this life?”
Suddenly, I became aware of how disrespectful that seemed. “Um, yes. Though I think some of the more fragile mummies are kept locked away from the public. I suppose you could think of it as the people of this time paying their respects to the kings and pharaohs of old. No one is allowed to touch them, and they’re usually preserved under glass.”
Amon didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could tell he was rolling the idea around in his head.
When we were settled in the car, Amon said to the driver, “We are VIP travelers seeking respite from our journey. We require refreshment, new clothing, and supplies.”
The driver raised his eyebrows at Amon, chanced a look at me, and asked in English, “Where do you like to go?”
“Take us to a nice hotel.”
“Cheap nice, or pay-the-money nice?”
Amon leaned forward. “The fee is immaterial.”
“Pay-a-lot-of-money nice,” I clarified.
“Very good.”
The driver sped off, taking what I suspected was the long route, but I didn’t complain. It was nice to watch Amon as he took in the changes to the city.
“How far are the pyramids of Giza?” I asked the driver.
“Not far. Maybe thirty-five, forty kilometers. You want to go today?”
“No. Today, we rest.”
“Very good.”
“The weather is cooler than I expected. Is this normal?”
“April is spring in Cairo,” the driver explained. “Very nice.”
I played with my phone and discovered that the pyramids were about twenty miles from the airport. Converting to cubits, I whispered, “Sixty-seven thousand five hundred cubits.”
Amon just grunted in response, totally transfixed by the scenes outside the window. Modern Cairo was a bustling city. Like New York, it had a mix of both old and new buildings, except that old had an entirely different meaning in Egypt.
We passed mosques and bazaars, cemeteries and museums, luxury towers and apartment buildings, and theaters and shops, but unlike New York, Cairo had an ancient feel, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that if the people slowed down enough, the desert dust that constantly lapped at the edges of the city would rise up like a hungry wild beast and consume civilization, dragging it back into the sand and burying it so completely that Cairo would quickly be lost, like the cities of old.
The driver finally pulled up in front of a large hotel with a beautiful circular pool and fountain. Palm trees lined the drive, and two large columns, carved to look like ancient obelisks, stretched to the sky on either side of the pool.