"So, are the pyramids as cool as you thought they would be?"
"Um, we haven't really been yet," we lamely respond.
"You are joking, right?" Our friends ask us this question, making valiant efforts to mask their "are you fucking kidding me" looks. They cannot dial it back quickly enough, however. We see it. We feel it.
Lame.
Lame, lame, lame, lame, lame.
So five months and twelve days after arriving in Egypt, Dana and I visit our first pyramids. Like New Yorkers and their curious relationship with the Statue of Liberty, we have not been in a hurry to make this journey. We figured the pyramids would still be there whenever we worked up the motivation to plan a trip. And with 182 pyramids in the country to visit, it is tough to decide where to start.
This is me offering a modicum of bullshit rationalization, by the way. We haven't made the trip up to this point because we have been too lazy to organize anything, too cheap to pay for anything, too busy herding cats at work, and frankly, too intimidated to travel.
This is me cutting the crap and being honest.
Along with some of our friends from school, we set out on this foggy, smoggy, Sunday morning to see Egypt's oldest pyramids and to pay a visit to the ancient and original city of Memphis. These areas have been a vital part of Egyptian heritage and "Western civilization" for almost 5000 years. Aside from Stonehenge and some of the other stone circles in the Orkney Islands, I have never seen structures as old as the ones we plan to see today. Armchair archaeologists that Dana and I are, we are excited. It's about time we get off of our lazy asses.
Saqqara is first. A step pyramid built for the pharoah, Djoser, Saqqara pre-dates the Great Pyramids of Giza by a couple of hundred years. It is a simpler, more diminutive structure compared to its famous Giza cousins but no less impressive. Located just outside metropolitan Cairo, Djoser's final resting place rises majestically above croplands to the immediate east and the shifting dunes of the Sahara to the immediate west. The pyramid's unique and very intentional location belies the haphazard, trial-and-error circumstances of its birth. Saqqara was the first of its kind, an engineering testing ground of sorts. A place where ancient builders worked out techniques that would one day create the only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World to survive into our time.
So the first step-slab is not big enough, you say? We will simply expand it and make it wider. The burial shaft is not deep enough and floods too easily, you say? We will dig deeper to twenty-eight meters. This works? Great, we will now make it a regulation to dig burial chambers at twenty-eight meters. So now the burial slab is not grand enough to befit the likes of Djoser, you say? We will add another slab-step. And then another. And then another. And so on. After a time, Saqqara rises majestically above the croplands and the shifting sand dunes. Builders learn cool techniques. Pharaohs get really cool apartments in which to spend all eternity. All is good with the world, and the world beyond.
Saqqara is but one of several pyramids in what is known as the Memphis necropolis. The word 'necropolis' means, quite literally, 'city of the dead.' There are many necropoli in Egypt, but the Memphis necropolis was the first to be built on such a grand scale. We take advantage of the opportunity to climb down into one of the lesser pyramids in the Memphis necropolis. How could we not? We first descend a good ten to fifteen meters down an inclined plank, down into the bowels of the pyramid. The incline has been reinforced with smaller, perpendicular beams of wood to prevent us neophytes from experiencing what would be a precarious slide. We have to kneel to make the downward climb. It is not easy, and it is not for the claustrophobic. Once we level out, we continue on into the very center of the pyramid, kneel-crawling for another twenty to thirty meters. The air down here smells like a dusty cave. I am very thankful for the lighting that has been added in recent years. Without it we would be trapped in total darkness. We finally reach a room where we can stand up. It is the burial chamber. Though the sarcophagus and corresponding treasure has long since been robbed, the room is finely carved with lovely hieroglyphics and images of men, women, beasts, and gods. We can still see some of the paint used to make the figures more lifelike. 5000 year old paint. Cool. We can still touch the sides of finely dressed and polished stone. Polished stone so smooth, you can almost see your reflection in it. Also very cool.
We are standing at the center of a 5000 year old pyramid. I grew up in rural southern Ohio. Dana grew up in nearby rural Kentucky. We may not be worthy, but we are here. We didn't have shit like this where we grew up. Nobody did. We never thought we would see something like this. But we are here now, and we are quietly thanking our mothers and our fathers.
We move on to Memphis. We learn the real name of the city (I have forgotten it now). The word, 'Memphis' is what the ancient Greeks called this place when they wrote about it. This locale, now covered by an open air museum and a very rural (and smelly) town, was once the capital of a sprawling and vibrant, ancient civilization. We visit the open air museum. We see a statue of Ramses II, the copy of which today invites Memphians into a glass Pyramid on the banks of the mighty Mississippi; soon to be a Bass Pro shop. The original colossus, derelict and largely forgotten, presides over a quiet, remote courtyard of pillars and column caps.
Dahshur is our final stop. Dahshur houses the first structures that we would call pyramids. With smooth sides, no steps and concealed entrances and exits, the Dahshur pyramids (there are several here) are a testament to what the ancient builders learned from having erected structures like Saqqara. The learning experience was far from over, however. The famous Bent Pyramid of Dahshur was started based on a design that called for steep sides of fifty some odd degrees. After having completed a quarter of the pyramid, the builders feared that the structure would collapse upon itself, and they changed the degree measurements to the forty some odd degrees that we recognize in all the pyramids that we can see today. And today, we can clearly see where the ancient builders changed their grand designs. Very, very cool.We walk around the base of this grand burial chamber, marveling at the size of the massive stones. How many years did it take to build this? How many slaves toiled? How many times has the sun risen and then set upon the polished stones of the lower portion of the pyramid? Did the builders have a sense that they were creating something that would last forever, or did they just show up to work, day in and day out? Did the architects have the same sense of awe and wonder that we feel when we look out upon these amazing monoliths? The historical record tells us that the ancients knew how to build these things, but the record is sadly mute on the point of telling us how they felt about the monumental architecture they were creating.
This is me waxing philosophical.
The sun begins to set, plummeting toward the dunes in the west. We leave. We waited over five months to witness these breathtaking pieces of architecture. Buildings just under 5000 years old. Supremely cool. Sure, they will always be here; at least in my lifetime. But as we drive back to the suburbs of Cairo, I wonder how many more generations will have the opportunity that I have been afforded today.
I also wonder what the hell took us so long to get here.
All photos taken by the incomparable Dana Purpura.
Gravy, sop it up. 
We order, we chat with Phil, and we eat. You know the eating is getting serious when the only sounds coming from the table are monosyllabic utterances of acclaim. Such is the case today. The first to finish wins the honor of breaking the silence, proclaiming the meal as being just about over. This is done by wadding up the napkin and then throwing it down on on the plate as if you have just scored a touchdown. Then you lean back in your chair, stifle a massive belch and say something to the effect of "done being about ready to bust." 
The studio building is a simple, two-story affair with a brick facade, a broad, green awning and a sign sporting the famous Sun Studio logo. With the exception of the sign, this frontage could be a part of Main Street anywhere in small-town America. We walk into a 1950s diner area doubling as cafe and gift shop. We purchase four tickets, waiting for the 1:30 pm tour to begin. We begin promptly at 1:45 pm.
We take the stairs down to the studio itself. There is only the one studio room plus the adjoining sound booth. Only one room; one. So much history, so many classic recordings all done here in this modest studio. The soundproofed tiles on the walls and ceiling are original, having been fitted into place by Sam himself working alongside his secretary / major-domo, Marion Keisker. Marion was the first person to record then unknown Elvis Presley. A couple of days later, when Sam first heard the recording, he wasn't impressed; so the story goes. He didn't sign Elvis until a year later.
record, he knelt down to the ground, kissing the spot where Elvis stood when recording his first track. Bono wept during his first take, sobbing into the very same mic Carl Perkins used to record Blue Suede Shoes. A photo toward the back of the studio captures a stunned Bono staring at the famous microphone. The room has an inescapable power and magnetism. It feels like hallowed, sacred ground. All that music. All those legends. People like Elvis just hanging out here. It is impossible not to stand and think, taking all of this in.
I first arrived in Memphis in July of 2006. Other than the good folks at Lausanne Collegiate School who had hired me in March, I did not know a soul in Memphis; no friends, no family. Just me and two small pieces of luggage. The rest of my stuff was packed into three cardboard boxes and was in route from London (that is another story for another time). I remember walking off the jetway and into Memphis International for the first time. Nice, neat airport. The smell of coffee and bagels. A very proper, male voice over the sound system welcoming me to Memphis International, telling me that I can smoke in Maggie O'Sheas. I remember an inward chuckle, thinking that the man's voice was about as un-Southern as a voice could get. After a very long wait for my luggage (why?!) and a rambling search for a taxi, I recall being struck by two pressing thoughts: 1) I did not know anyone in this city, and 2) having made rental property arrangements entirely on-line, I could not help the taxi-guy out when he asked me to direct him to a particular section of Mt. Moriah Road. I had never been to Memphis. I had no idea where Mt. Moriah actually was.
Memphis. Where bluesy chords still reverberate from cramped honky-tonks down on Beale Street. Where narrow shotgun shacks and stone mansions are parts of the same neighborhood. Soul food and the world's best barbecue are served in Memphis kitchens. Where majestic parks are integral parts of the urban landscape, now connected by a series of paths for runners, walkers and cyclists. Where children's hospitals work for cures and where Fedex ships to a myriad of global destinations. And all the while, the mighty Mississippi flows past the city's bluffs.
A couple of days later, Dana and I have recovered from our jet lag. We have rented a bungalow in Midtown for the holidays. Renting a home beats living out of a suitcase in a hotel. Almost as a bonus, the Midtown bungalow puts us in a central location. As the neighborhood narrative goes, "Midtown is Memphis." Although I think this is a rather narrow definition of all that Memphis is, I like Midtown; it's Bohemian atmosphere and its confluence of cultures and lifestyles. 
Dana and I decide to go for a morning walk in the Cooper-Young district, the heart of Midtown. We are heading to the local Easy Way, a Memphis food store founded in the 1930s that specializes in local produce and products. Easy Way stores are like overgrown, orange-painted, highway fruit stands but located in the heart of Memphis. With low overhead, wonderful produce and some of the nicest, most knowledgeable grocers in the area, Easy Way is a great, inexpensive alternative to places like Whole Foods or Fresh Market.
"Well, I have always been a wood-worker. It had been a hobby of mine; something different than my day job. I have always enjoyed it, though. A couple years back, I got so that I was making wood furniture and toys for friends and then local shops. I kept getting more and more requests. One day I was at my desk at work and I asked myself, "what are you doing." I went home and talked it over with my wife, and she was real supportive. So I put my notice in at work and started this wood-working business. So now, I'm livin' the dream. I'm down here working on a custom interior. C'mon in, and I'll show ya' if ya'll got a couple of minutes."