I was early morning in Cairo, Egypt, and still cold and dark. The ride was peaceful and comfortably quiet alongside our fellow travelers, most of us still dreary eyed and possibly even drooling. With each passing minute, the pyramids I had only seen in movies got closer and grew larger and sharper. They almost looked gold in the light of the rising sun.
As I hopped out of our modern-day chariot, a faux-leather-lined travel van, my girlfriend Allison’s hand in mine, we were met with a warm glow. There they were. The Great Pyramids of Giza. Iconic, mammoth, radiating the sun back at us as it outlined every crevice, crack and brick. To simply say I was in awe doesn’t capture it.
“I’ve seen these on screen, I’ve read about them in books, drawn them in art class, but I’ve never truly seen them. Not like this,” I thought to myself. There I was, experiencing one of the oldest wonders with the love of my life. How privileged, inspired and humbled I felt in that moment.
