The Way Back from Saqqara, home of the oldest step pyramid:

The juxtaposition is extreme. Donkeys, wagons, buses, and cars clog the streets. Think of a pile of laundry in which everything flops onto everything else. You have garbage dumps, clothes lines, date trees, and market vendors folding into the crevices formed by red bricks and agricultural fields. Also, the city repeats itself. That is, it goes rich, poor, rich, poor. But I can hardly tell the difference between the pristine real estate and the slums. I sometimes noticed a few more patches of green and a little less trash in the well-to-do areas. Our guide noted one way to make the distinction is to count the number of satellites on the roofs. I guess it works.

Also, on the way back I saw an orange camel, a green caravan, a blue boat, and a yellow plane painted on a small, rural residential building. The members of this family have made the pilgrimage to Mecca over the years. They are privileged and have stories to share. The journey there must have been enlightening, colossal, epic. But what about the day after they painted those pictures. How did the individuals feel about coming home? How did they feel after visiting the holiest city and returning to daily life?