The Valley of Kings

I've only been to Egypt a couple of times as a child, but that place still managed to find its way into my heart. My parents weren't very enthusiastic about the place, since what they mostly heard about it before going was: it's dangerous, try not to stray far from your hotel, keep your child by your side at all times.

I, on the other hand, have always been mesmerized by the majestic pyramids, by the powerful sphinx, by the infinite sand dunes. All the myths and stories I'd heard and read came rushing back as I looked down from the plane as we were getting ready to land.

And I wasn't disappointed. Some things, it seems, you have to look through a child's eyes in order to truly appreciate what's around you. Otherwise you are too skeptical, too detached. You can quite easily give up the possibility of adventure for a lazy day in front of the hotel pool. And, if not for my insistence, that's exactly what would have happened.

 

But kept persuading them to go on this tour or the other, so, eventually, they agreed to leave the luxurious five-star hotel for a day go and see the Valley of the Kings, if I promised to stay close and be very-very careful.

I remember that day very clearly, even though it was so full of emotions and excitement it was threatening to become a blur. I'm not going to retell all the historic details – you can learn that from a guide or a guidebook, both of them will be much better at telling you about the whos, whens and whats of the place than I am.

What I can tell you that going there, to Biban El Moluk, is worth it. Worth the drive in the scorching heat, worth the searing wind, worth the sharp specks of sand biting into your skin. Even approaching that place, I could feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck – so hauntingly ancient it felt. It was as if I was staring into the calm face of eternity, and felt incredibly small compared to it. The never-ending steps alone were humbling.

The breath of time continued to follow us as long as we were walking through the valley. All the treasure discovered within the tombs had long been transferred to museums, but I wasn't all that interested in the treasure, after all, it's just gold. What attracted me much more were the scenes from Egyptian mythology painted on the walls, depicting the funeral rituals and the afterlife. The illustrated spells from the Book of the dead looked so bright it seemed the magic the priests believed them to possess kept them fresh.

Even my parents couldn't help admiring the majesty of the place. The only thing that slightly spoiled the impression was being constantly followed around by people asking for money. Understanding the state of affairs in Egypt even at the time, we tried to be condescending, but it didn't make tolerating their attention much easier. And my mother constantly worried when she looked to her side, and I wasn't there. Understandable, true, but I would so much rather have had the place all to myself, to roam through it, take it all in. Then I would have seen and remembered so much more.