Pharoed out

I'm disappointed in both Egypt and myself.

I never thought I would so quickly tire of a place.

Yet here I was.  Uninterested by my surroundings and a little bit bored.  Had a become so jaded that I couldn't appreciate the beauty that was around me?  Or was this place so truly manufactured that any spark it may have once possessed had disappeared before even Herodotus had stepped foot here?

Like most similar situations, it was probably a mixture of both problems.

I was undoubtedly in a foul mood.  I wasn't sleeping.  I had not been able to balance off the annoyance of dealing with touts with any positive encounters and I was reminiscing too much for the times I had spent in Syria.

This was all then coupled with the manufactured nature of the sights.  Places that felt like ancient theme amusement parks (in poor condition), rather than being rightfully monuments to humanity's triumphs.

It made for a toxic mix of bitterness.  I found it almost impossible to move beyond the veneer of tourism that enveloped anything of perceived value in this country.  No work done was on these monuments was for legitimate conservation purposes.  Nothing was being restored purely for humanity's future.  It was all here purely for convincing tourists to part with their money.

Walking in and out of the ancient sights made me feel more isolated from humanity.  I had come such a long way to try and connect with people and to try to understand more deeply the struggles of our past.

Instead, I found myself losing my longings for adventure and wanting nothing more than to sit down for a cup of tea.