3. Walk Like an Egyptian

3 Walk Like an Egyptian Stanley found being out in the sunshine very pleasant after being cooped up in a dark envelope for so long. "Is it always this warm and sunny in Egypt?" he asked. "It's not always this warm," Amisi answered, "but, yes, it's usually sunny. It doesn't rain often here, but when it does, we can get downpours." She

pointed to a beautiful river in the distance, fringed with palm trees. "Sometimes the Nile floods. And in the spring we can get sandstorms." Amisi was a very good guide. She pointed out mosques and gardens and historical sites. They stopped at a stall where she treated Stanley to some Egyptian food—falafel, kebobs, and dates. They ate as they walked, and Stanley found it all very tasty indeed. "Well, here we are." Amisi nodded across the street to a narrow alleyway crowded with booths. "That's the antiquities bazaar you were addressed to." She turned and pointed to a sign above them: National Historical

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Museum. "And here's where my father works. Would you like to come in? He'd be so thrilled to meet you." Stanley wanted to get right to work on the archaeological adventure, but he knew being polite and friendly always paid off. "Lead the way," he said. Amisi laughed as they stepped inside. "See those hieroglyphs? They'll lead the way." Stanley admired the black images on the wall. "Hieroglyphs were the writing system of pictures used by the ancient Egyptians. The people and animals were always drawn sideways, which told which direction to read them. My

father had these painted to point the way to his office," Amisi explained. As they walked through the rooms in the museum, Stanley saw many amazing things: golden masks and statues, silver and bronze coins, turquoise and ivory jewelry, beautifully decorated urns and pots. "Your country is full of treasures," he marveled.

"Yes," Amisi agreed. "But we're losing them. Criminals are looting the pyramids and then exporting the artifacts. My father says they are even worse than sneak thieves! Well, here we are." They entered the office marked CURATOR. Inside, a tall, smiling man came over and hugged Amisi. "Father, this is Stanley Lambchop," she said. "Stanley Lambchop," Amisi's father repeated, scratching his head. "Hmm... now where have I heard that name before?" "Your pen pal's letter?" Amisi reminded him.