Last night I was in Egypt.
It was early morning, the sun just beginning to rise, painting the base of the pyramids a liquid gold. There was a chill in the air – making me wish I'd brought a sweater, even though I'd have no use for it in only an hour or so, once the morning sun had fully awakened. I stood at the base of the world's most iconic ancient wonder, arms wrapped tightly round me to stop me shivering, feeling the dewy air wet my hair. I strained to see the top which seemed to disappear into the clouds forming from my own breath. I felt the excitement of finally getting to see something I've wanted to see all my life and so unexpectedly. After all, only a few hours before I had climbed into bed and switched off the light with no travel plans for the immediate future.
For this was only a dream.
I have never been to Egypt. Yet.