I traveled from Cairo to a small city by the red sea, crossing almost 400km of desert via a beautiful large road, with hardly a car in sight.
Upon arrival, the city looked quite devastated, as if there had been a recent war or some type of natural disaster. Construction sites stood abandoned, piles of rubble everywhere you looked, and empty dusty shops lined the high street.
I wondered if this was a joke that the Egyptians had played on me, telling me to travel so far to reach such a place. A little like when you climb inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, going deeper and deeper into the pyramid with less air and more cramped conditions, to eventually reach the chamber where King Tutankamn’s tomb rested for thousands of years.
It was an empty room, with nothing inside. No inscriptions, no artifacts. While the granite stonework was impressive and the journey inside the Pyramid was a reward by itself, I could not help to draw parallels to my journey to Horgada.
And then, we turned into a place of such beauty, and it was even more beautiful after having witnessed the terrible conditions of Horgada.
This shows how we need both the sweet and the bitter in life, as being able to experience and live in the bitter makes the sweet so much sweeter.