Maybe it was hanging with Gisselle, but I woke up in Cairo with an unexpected sense of freedom. Extending my trip by three days so I could attend the opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum turned out to be one of the happiest last-minute decisions I’ve ever made. It meant I suddenly had an extra day—an unexpected bonus—to explore some of the “smaller” museums in Cairo and Giza that I had never quite managed to fit in. So today became my day to visit the National Egyptian Museum of Civilization, the NEMC, the home of Egypt’s royal mummies.

The trip there was its own adventure. I ordered an Uber, expecting a typical car, and instead watched a young man pull up on a motorcycle and wave at me like this was the most normal thing in the world. And so off we went, the two of us—a 66-year-old watercolor artist from Denver and a grinning twenty-something Cairene—zipping through the streets of Cairo for 22 unforgettable minutes. We kept yelling “Yalla Bena” which is Arabic for “LET’S GO!!” We laughed, we dodged traffic, and I held on for dear life while also thinking, I must be the luckiest man alive to be having this moment. I gave him a tip of 100 Egyptian Pounds and he almost exploded. He kissed me on both sides of my face and yelled “HABIBI!!”  

For reference: 100 EGP is $2.11.

The NEMC itself was extraordinary. Unlike the bright chaos of the old Egyptian Museum in Tahrir Square, this place is quiet, modern, respectful—almost reverent. The royal mummies are housed deep below ground level. You enter by walking down a long, gently sloping ramp into a series of darkened rooms, each one guarded, each one silent. And there they are: the kings and queens whose pyramids and temples I had stood inside just days earlier. To see their actual faces—their actual bodies—felt like stepping through a curtain between worlds. I learned there are twenty mummies on display, each resting in carefully lit cases, treated with the eternal dignity they deserve. There were signs posted that read No Photos and I respected that, as the Museum (and to be sure the Egyptian people as a whole) had gone to great lengths to see that the mummies were shared encased in dignity.

The rest of the museum was equally fascinating: ceramics, textiles, tools, jewelry, and the famous royal mummy procession artifacts that were used when they transferred the mummies from Tahrir Square to the NEMC a few years ago. I was struck by the medical tools, thinking of my friend Dr. Joe Agnew, proof of doctors setting bones and even amputations done 4000 years ago with no electricity. There was my man Akhenaten. (I remain fascinated at the drastic artistic style shift that occured when he took the throne) I was also struck by the tools of the scribes. Believing myself to be a sort of a modern-day scribe, I was moved to see their pallets and brushes still holding color. But it was that sense of quiet respect, that soft-lit descent into the realm of kings, that stayed with me long after I left.

It was a peaceful, independent, deeply memorable morning—one where I felt capable, joyful, and completely present. Cairo has a funny way of throwing little surprises at you, and today it gave me a motorcycle ride through a metropolis of 22 million people to meet twenty kings, and a memory I’ll simply never, ever forget.