The Egyptian Museum. It’s at the top of every list.
So I headed out.
It’s an easy walk from the Le Caire, stopping first at a book shop,
a market,
a coffee shop,
and a neighborhood diner
for beef shwarma.
Then the Museum.
The oldest archaeological museum in the Middle East,
it houses over 170,000 artefacts spanning the Pre-Dynastic Period till the Graeco-Roman Era (c. 5500 BC - AD 364).
Like the other great ones, words are inadequate.
Only images come close.
I stayed until closing, returned to my room, showered, napped and headed out again.
The Museum is for visitors from all over the world.
The night is for Egyptians.
Postscript
There was a boy on the street.
Everywhere there are millions like him.
No doubt I’d passed him by earlier, unnoticed.
We almost always do.
I tapped him on the shoulder, handed him a crisp 100 EGP - so little - and crossed over.
Thinking the better of it, I looked back. My eyes caught his. Astonishment. I nodded, then returned to the comfort of my room.
I debated, prayed, hoped he was still there.
He was.
I tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him five of the EGPs - so little.
Crossing again, I didn’t look back.
“The poor will always be with us,” he said.
But still.
