Looking northeast toward Cairo from the hill above Giza Pyramids on an opaque winter morning, I could see just five blocks into the closest neighborhoods. The rest of the gigantic city lay obscured by dust, haze, mist, and smog. Nothing prepares you for the grandeur of the Giza complex. Its artistic theme and layout impresses more than either the size of the pyramids or the engineering skills of their builders. They were conceived by a virtuoso with incredible imagination.

In this oriental country where classical ruins collide with the modern world, an uncommon brew of feelings often arises — disdain and awe its main ingredients. The attention to detail — the spiritual vision and concentration of effort among the ancients (the awe) — juxtaposes with the sales pressure, piles of trash, stuffed baby camels and other lowbrow souvenirs (the disdain you feel) permeating contemporary, touristy Egypt.