(Day 327) February 2005. It all began with a humble domestic flight across the country from Philadelphia to Los Angeles. By the time I returned home in January 2006, I had set foot on five continents and about two dozen countries. A trip of a lifetime, well worth the time and effort, eye-opening, rewarding, and a bunch of other things as well, but most of all, unforgettable.

"Airport? Matar?"

He nodded. "You speak Arabic?"

"No, just one word."

Whether his english was just as poor, or he had to concentrate on the road, there wasn't any more conversation after that. Not even any negotiation for fare; Apparently, you're just supposed to know how much it costs from point A to point B. Confident he knew what he was doing tailgating and cutting other drivers off, I sat back and watched Cairo's disorderly traffic, which, as far as what I've seen, only ranks as second worst.

So where is it worse? And while we're making comparisons, what are some of the other bests and worsts of my travels? Keep in mind that though I went around the world, I'm didn't even come close to seeing all of the world, and this compilation is far from global...

Worst Traffic: A ride through Cairo is an adventure, it's possible to sit in traffic for hours in Bangkok, but Hanoi takes the first award here. Actually, it's mayhem in both of Vietnam's main cities - crossing the street in Ho Chi Minh City can give you gray hairs too - but the onslaught of motorbikes in Hanoi left the most lasting impression. And the honking... Drivers honk when they turn a corner, when they make a U-turn, when they run a red light. When they pass someone, when someone passes them, when they think they might pass, or be passed. It's like war out there!

Best Beach: If New Zealand could solve its sandfly problem, I'm sure the bums would come flocking, but for now, I have to say Perhentian Islands have the best beaches I've seen. Jewel colored waters, beautiful stretches of sand, hammocks hanging from the trees. And being there in low season, I had it all to myself!

Best Food: Picking the best food is like picking a favorite supermodel. There are so many to choose from and they're all so delicious! I'm going to miss kangaroo steaks in Australia, little steamed buns in China, shish kebaps in Turkey, and so many more. Thai food really gets my mouth watering though. It's difficult to say what exactly defines Thai food: You have the curries of the south, the seafood near the shore, the mouth numbing chillis of the north. Plus the staples of pad thai and sticky rice. I'm afraid any Thai restaurant I go to from here on out is going to be a disappointment if they don't provide sticky rice!

Best UNESCO World Heritage Site: The field is stacked here. Yogyakarta in Indonesia had some fascinating rocks. The Great Wall of China is worth seeing more than once. The Pyramids of Egypt, despite the hassle, is something to behold. Cambodia's Angkor temples edge all of them out, and only by the slightest of margins, because there's just something surreal about seeing ruins overgrown with trees hundreds of years old.

Best Massage: I've noticed so far Southeast Asia has been sweeping the M-whY's. Let's continue the streak. Best massage goes to the blind masseuse from Seeing Hands in Cambodia. My decision could be influenced by the fact I had spent the days leading up clambering over the aforementioned Angkor temples, but if there was something like this near where I live in America, I'd be making daily visits whether I was sore or not!

Best Encounter with Wildlife: Coming across a king cobra in Malaysia was a thrilling moment, but it being only a baby sort of nerfed the encounter. (Then again, a king cobra's poison is supposedly deadly from the day it hatches from its egg...) Coming face to face with a wombat in Tasmania my favorite though, primarily because I got such a great photo out of it. They're like tiny bears and incredibly cute. It's a shame you see so many on the highways as roadkill...

Best Trek: New Zealand reigns king as far as natural beauty goes. Most people rave about South Island and say it's best to spend most of one's time there. But it'd be a shame to skip the North Island and miss out on the Tongariro Crossing. Craters with interesting features, lakes the color of emeralds, and a variety of different landscapes. I'm trying to think of the best word to describe it, but my vocabulary just isn't that good.

Best Activity: I'll be honest. Treks aren't really my cup of tea. I'd rather be taking twisties on a motorbike. Or racing down a bobsled track with the Latvian national team. The latter may have been the most exciting 49.609 seconds of my life!

Best Journey: Traveling overland takes time. Eight hours in the bed of a pickup truck over Khmer dirt roads. Twelve hours on a bus from Istanbul to Cappadocia. The 96 hour train from Ulaan Baatur (Mongolia) to Moscow makes everything else seem like a walk around the block though. I've dubbed it the Trans Mongolian Mall for all of the buying and selling that took place at the stops in between. I remember towards the end, I was dying to get off, but completing the mother of all train rides is something I can brag about for years to come.

Best (Hottest) Women: Maybe it's no coincidence that Anna Kournikova and Maria Sharapova are considered bombshells on the tennis circuit. Russia produces some very good looking specimens. And they make such a big deal about looking good. I mean, they're wearing skirts while I'm shivering under multiple layers!

Most Overrated: It's a subjective thing, but I found Bali the most disappointing. Kuta Beach was average as far as beaches went, the temple architecture is nothing to rave over, and the Balinese dances I attended were unauthentic performances. If I had to do it all over again, I would've skipped it and gone straight to Yogyakarta.

Best Country: If I had a nickel for each time someone asked me "What's your favorite country you've been to?", I'd have enough to finance another jaunt around the world. It's not an easy question to answer though. Are we talking about best food? Nicest people? Most scenic? I usually end up giving a noncommital answer. Every country is different, but I liked all of them and can't pick a favorite.

And usually that suffices. Most people won't press the subject further. I know it's a lame response though, so after giving some more thought to it, I've come up with a more satisfying answer.

It's the aim of most travellers to get off the beaten track, to connect with locals. There's something special about being somewhere few foreigners have been. I don't mean to disparage those on vacation packages who have just see the highlights and then move on; In limited time, you can only do so much, and it wouldn't make sense not see the Sydney Opera House when in Sydney. Immersing oneself in culture takes time, and in many places, there's a language barrier to overcome. Because I spent the longest period of time in China and am fluent in mandarin, I think I got the most out of the country. I had some interesting conversations with locals, on board trains, in taxis, and away from the cities. I'd like to share something I jotted down in my notes:

We were riding down a small bike trail in Yangshuo, site of those picturesque limestone peaks. She was a village girl, a year older than myself. I had hired her to be my guide. She wasn't asking much in payment, when I gave her the equivalent of US$6 for her day's work, she acted like it was a fortune. We got along well. Because I speak a bit of chinese, there was no language barrier between us.

It made me realize how people all live on the same planet, but we each live in our own worlds. When I go home, I'll return to the corporate America, sit in my cube, and wonder what car to buy when I save enough money. She'll still be stuck in rural China, guiding tourists when it strikes her mood, subsisting on just a couple dollars a day. Two different worlds: Mine is round, hers is still flat.

Final thoughts: Just take a look at the UNESCO World Heritage list and you can see how much more is out there. I only sampled a tiny bit of what is out there. I don't think it's possible for someone to visit all of them, but if someday I win a US$300 million Powerball lottery, I'll give it my best shot.

If that never happens, I'll still have plenty of stories to tell my kids and grandkids in the future. "C'mon dad, you've told us about the Trans Mongolian Mall like 300 times already," they might say, prompting me begin a new tale about the time I cycled drunk in Australia wine region, or the cyclops I met in Laos, or the Russian police scam I got caught in, or one of the many other unforgettable memories which I'll be able to recall in great detail, because I took the time to blog it all!

(Day 326) If, for the sum of Eฃ10, I can move from a hotel with stained walls and low water pressure to something a bit more luxurious, I think it's worth the upgrade. After all, it was my last day in Egypt, and essentially my last day of travel.

I decided to explore the city on foot today. It's cheaper than hiring taxis, and less complicated than solving local bus routes. Not to mention a great exercise too. If the last scale I stepped on was correct, I've lost 20lbs since leaving home 11 months ago. Crossing from downtown Cairo to Islamic Cairo, I felt the collective pulse of a city 20 million Cairenes, none of which I had any business with. Don't these people have jobs? Shouldn't they be off working somewhere? Following the mob, I ended up a meat market. Sometimes my mouth waters looking at a raw steak knowing how good it'll be after cooked, but I had a hard time imagining anything savory coming out of the slabs hanging on hooks here.

It was around this intersection I admitted being lost. Right, left, or continue straight? It took me a couple guesses, but I did end up at Khan al-Khalili. I visited at the markets here last time I was in Cairo, and so I continued on up a hill, under an overpass, onto a dusty road leading through - cue horror flick sound byte - the City of the Dead. I'm sure I've played a video game of the same title at some point. This municipality gets its name from the mausoleums built here in the past. It used to be Egyptian tradition that family tombs would be designed with rooms where passing visitors could stay overnight. The dead hoped that in this way, they'd be remembered; The city's homeless saw it as free accomodation. And it's been this way for centuries.

Down a narrow lane, I reached the Mosque of Qaitbey. This obscure mosque that sees few visitors - outside the two men knelt in prayer, I was the only one there - is featured on the Eฃ1 note, supporting my guidebook's assertion that it marks the pinnacle of Islamic architecture in Cairo. The dome, as described, was amazingly intricate. I climbed the constricting spiral staircase of the minaret for sweeping views of the necropolis.

Tess, the English woman I met in Luxor, had mentioned to me her favorite place in Cairo had been here, citing the friendliness of the people. I was a bit skeptical at first - the types I've come across so far hasn't given me great impressions of locals - but she turned out to be right. The caretaker of the mosque didn't charge me 'donations' like yesterday. I tipped him Eฃ5 for pointing out some of the mosque's highlights, which he pocketed graciously. As I wandered through the streets, some of the more bold kids paused what they were doing to greet me. A pair of boys that couldn't have been older than 10 rode up to me on their bikes to wave 'Hello' before speeding off. To tell the whole story, yes, there were a couple requests for baksheesh, but overall, I came away with a encouraging reaction.

As with most poor neighborhoods, sanitation appears to be an afterthought, as unsightly garbage littered the streets. Livestock was kept in the strangest of places, for example, tightly packed in small area next to (a different) mosque. A bottle of soda cost 25 plasters (Eฃ0.25) provided I drink it on the spot and return the glass bottle. I gave myself plenty of time for the long trek back to my hotel. As enjoyable as it was poking around during the day, the City of the Dead didn't seem like the place to be after dark. After all, I left my zombie blasting shotgun back at home.

I'm happy to conclude my last day, in Egypt and overall, on a positive note. What made it even better was having a nice room to return to for a good night's sleep. I haven't felt homesick at all the entire time traveling, but I'll admit, now the idea of returning home is becoming very appealing...

(Day 325) It totally goes against my character, but I don't trust anyone in Egypt, particularly in Cairo. Tourists are the target of so many scams that I question the motive of anyone who approaches me. In a perfect world, everyone would be well off and visitors here wouldn't be seen as money growing trees ripe for the picking. And even though the price of being scammed isn't all that high, it still does leave a sour taste in your mouth.

"So this guy says he can take us to Dahshur and back for E£80," said Aaron when I rejoined them. It seemed reasonable, but when the three of us went to seal the deal, the price all of the sudden jumped E£20.

"You told just me E£80!"

"I thought it was only for two people. Three people, E£100."

"It shouldn't matter, we're paying for the car, it doesn't matter how many people are in it!" Yet the guy maintained that if I wanted to come along, it'd cost an extra E£20.

"Let's look someplace else," we said, and turned to leave. We had gone about ten feet when he called us back.

"Okay! Okay! E£80." Flagging a random taxi down, he chattered away with the driver in Arabic, presumably giving instructions. He wouldn't be coming with us, he was just acting as an intermediary. "Can you pay now?"

"No way, we'll pay after we get back, what if we get there and he just leaves?"

"The car needs gas, can you pay E£20 first?" Figuring we'd be safe - the driver wouldn't abandon us with three-quarters of the payment still to be collected - we forked over a twenty. Some more Arabic and money were exchanged, and we were on our way.

So we didn't stop at any of the gas stations we passed on the 55km drive south. The E£20 was just so the middleman could get paid. Our driver didn't speak a lick of english. Nor did he know where Dahshur was. More than once, he rolled down the window to ask directions from street vendors and truck drivers. Even then, he drove right by the street we were supposed to turn off of. If it hadn't been for a boy who saw three tourists in the back seat and came chasing after us, who knows where we might've ended up.

The Red Pyramid is the first true pyramid built by the ancient Egyptians. The name supposedly comes from the reddish tint of the inner limestone, though the original casing would've been white like all the others. We pulled into a gravel lot where only a handful of taxis and shuttles waited. I'm guessing most groups don't make it out this way, as camel drivers, guides, and other touts have deemed it not worth their time to set up shop here. As we got out, the cabbie began gesturing as if we should pay him.

"No, we'll pay you when we get back. You wait here." Also in a perfect world, everyone would speak the same language, and there'd never be problems communicating. Unable to understand each other, we found another idling driver who could speak a bit of both languages.

"Can you tell him he needs to wait here, and we'll pay him when we get back to Cairo?"

Some conversation in Arabic followed. "He says he's only supposed to take you one-way," said the translator.

"No, it's E£80, return. Why would we only want one-way?"

"He says he was told E£80 one-way, and he wants the rest of the money so he can return to Cairo now."

"No! The deal was including back to Cairo. If he leaves, how are we supposed to get back?!"

Some more unintelligible chatter. "Okay, he says if you pay an extra E£20, he will wait here and take you back." And so that had been the plan all along. Get us out here, to the middle of nowhere, then tack on a few more pounds, knowing we really had no choice but to agree.

Split three ways, it's only a dollar and change more. It's one of those things though, had they just told us E£100 from the start instead of doing the E£80 for two people, then E£100 for three, E£80 for one-way, E£100 for a return trip, I probably wouldn't have cared. Being baited like this is what struck a nerve.

We went over the agreement one last time. First, he'd wait while we climbed down the shaft to the antechambers of the Red Pyramid, then he'd drive us to the Bent Pyramid, a pyramid that (according to the most accepted theory) had its 54 degree angle reduced to 43 degrees when its architects began fearing instability, and finally, drop us off at the Mosque of Ibn Tulun to see the oldest functioning Islamic monument in Cairo.

"Is this Ibn Tulun?" Aaron asked the caretaker.

"Yes, yes, come in." We were asked - no, charged - E£20 in donations. Comparing our surroundings with pictures in the book though, we realized were in some other mosque. Ibn Tulun was on the other side of the wall.

"I asked you if this was Ibn Tulun, and you said yes," Aaron frowned at the caretaker. "What did we just pay E£20 for??"

"For Allah. You want to climb the minaret?" The look that Aaron had on his face... I thought someone was about to get strangled.

At least we all got half our money back. We turned the corner and found the real entrance. Sacks were wrapped around our shoes, and again, more 'donations' were asked for. E£10 to see the courtyard, another E£10 if we wanted to climb the minaret. "I won't climb the minaret then," I said. The large courtyard was empty save for us and another group of tourists... who weren't wearing sacks on their feet.

"Were you guys charged at the entrance too?" I asked them.

"No, mosques are free to visit," they replied. "We've been working in Cairo for about a year now, that's how we know." Any place that can't produce a ticket stub shouldn't be charging admission fees. Learning that we had been had once again made it all the more difficult to smile in the photos.

If that was the case, then I knew no one would say anything if I climbed the minaret anyways. Not a whole lot to see, other than satellite dishes, as Chanda pointed out.

After doing the math (US$1 = E£5.7), it turned out that the day was actually quite cheap. Including accomodation, I got by on about US$30, and that included a splurging on a real burger and fries at Hardees, the American fast food joint being one of the few places in Cairo where prices are clearly posted and you can know for sure exactly what you're getting!

(Day 324) The early morning commotion from new arrivals preparing to visit Abu Simbel woke me, but after the noise died down, I had no problems falling back asleep. My day wouldn't begin until they got back - at nearly noon - because of trouble finding the dude who had our train tickets.

"Yes, yes, I have your train tickets," he told me when I got a hold of him. "Meet me downstairs now?"

Chanda didn't take shit from no one, as she put it herself, and I thought she was going to give Hussein an earful for not being prompt. Especially as he booked us the 8:30 night train instead of the 6:00 like we had requested. And he didn't even have real tickets. Just receipts for them.

"We were given tickets last time, is this receipt enough?" she questioned. "These are first class, with air con right?" That's what the original agreement had been.

"The receipt is good enough, and yes, first class with air con," he assured us. Though punctuality hasn't been a forte of those from Amigo Tours, at least they always came through with what they'd say they'd do.

They'd help with boarding when the time came, but the rest of the day was ours to do whatever we wanted. I had already seen the markets, and Aswan isn't as rich as Luxor as far as heritage sites are concerned, so I wasn't quite sure what to do with the free time. "So what're your plans?" I asked Aaron and Chanda.

"Probably go see the Unfinished Obelisk," they suggested. That was about the only thing in Aswan we hadn't seen. Stopping every 100m to check my map, we came to the entrance of the Fatimid Cemetary.

"It says here in my book that we can reach the obelisk if we cut through the cemetary." The graves and mausoleums didn't look particularly inviting though, and the filthy bums loitering around the entrance made it even less appealing. One of them, apparently the keeper, approached us.

"Obelisk?" he asked, showing us his badge. "Come, this way."

He led us along a path through the tombs to the other side, where a number of tour buses were parked. (For the record, we tipped him five pounds total.) Aswan quarries are Egypt's main source of granite, and the hard stone used to be floated down the Nile to build all those ancient temples. At the Northern Quarries lies an unfinished obelisk, abandoned by ancient stonemasons when a flaw appeared in the rock. Had it been finished, it would've been the heaviest piece of stone ever fashioned, weighing in at 1168 tons.

Because getting here involved a long sweaty walk, we found a bit of shade and stared at the stone for longer than it'd interest most people. Back in town, we sought out a place to eat. Several barge restaurants on the Nile came at the recommendation of the LP, and so we took a seat at one of them.

"What is this?" Aaron asked the waiter, trying to decipher the menu.

"Fried chicken."

"And this?" asked Chanda.

"Fried chicken. Kentucky Fried Chicken." At least half a dozen items on the menu were just that. Fried chicken.

Most of my meals in Egypt have either been koshari (an Egyptian staple of pasta and rice covered in some sort of tomato sauce) or falafel. Today, I was in the mood for something more familiar. The burger that came out of the kitchen wasn't what I expected though.

"No bread?" There have been times when I've thrown away the buns and only eaten the meat, but never have I had a burger that didn't come with buns. A good amount of ketchup made it edible, though Aaron and Chanda's fried chicken looked a lot better.

The rest of the day frittered away. Not a whole lot happened. We returned to the markets where I picked up a tshirt to replace one I had left behind somewhere. My fellow Americans had become ruthless bargainers, and I'm sure they got everything at the cheapest prices possible. Later that evening, we boarded our train, where we shared a compartment with three Egyptian women and a girl that looked about nine. Though they barely spoke any english, they were probably the kindest people I'd met in Egypt, sharing their Lays potato chips with us. Ample leg room made up for seats that wouldn't recline, and with some effort, I managed to fall asleep, concluding my day with incomplete obelisks and burgers.

(Day 323) It's easy to see where Ramses II gets his megalomaniacal reputation. The warrior pharaoh raised monuments to the ultimate glory of himself everywhere. English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley tried cutting the presumptious ruler down to size, mocking the 'shattered visage' that lies next to 'two vast and trunkless legs of stone' at his funerary temple. (Sadly, I wouldn't get the chance to visit the Ramesseum.) If Ramses II mummy were ever animated though, I can just imagine his response: No doubt, he'd point at his works at Abu Simbel and say, "Well? What do you think of that?"

"I guess we're just waiting for everyone else." When every foreigner who hadn't made the trip yet were collected, our police escorted convoy got moving. Parts of southern Egypt contain pockets of unrest, and seeing how important tourism is to the country, authorities aren't taking any chances. Should anything happen to us, well, the baksheesh economy is in for a prolonged recession.

It's not like I've never been up at this hour before, but usually when I am, there are half a dozen empty Mountain Dew bottles on my desk. With no caffeine in my system this morning, my eyelids drooped and I napped the entire three hour ride. "So do we have a guide today or not?" I wondered aloud after being dropped off in the parking lot. Aaron spotted Osama, our guide from yesterday, and we began following him, then realized he was in charge of a different group today. Finding ourselves in front of the entrance, we got in line for admission and purchased our own tickets. Like at every other attraction in Egypt, no one cared that we set off all sorts of alarms while passing security. Seeing how hundreds of tourists had all just arrived at the same time, I don't blame them for being a little lax, though if this was the case every morning, I wonder why they bothered installing those metal detectors in the first place.

Originally carved out of a mountain face and overlooking the Nile, the Great Temple of Ramses II was one of those that found itself submerged under Lake Nasser when the High Dam was completed. Therefore, Ramses' mummy would have to thank UNESCO for saving his quartet of colossal 20m tall statues. One of them lies in ruins actually, but the other three remain intact and are deservedly the subject of much awe. Getting a photo of them sans tourists is pretty much impossible, however. We did the best we could, then went inside for a look at the interior.

"Why won't they let us use cameras," I complained. I then noticed other people were getting away with photos - there were way to many of us to police - and so I joined the ranks of offenders and snuck a few of my own. In the first hall were several more statues of Mr Ramses, and on every surface in the temple, reliefs had been carved depicting scenes like battles he was victorious in. Stone images of Ra-Harakhty, Amun, Ptah, and (of course) Ramses II sit on thrones in the innermost chamber. Twice a year, on dates that most probably have significance, the first rays of the rising sun shine through several rooms aligned such that the deities are illuminated.

Aaron couldn't figure out how to turn off the conspicuous shutter clicks his digital camera made, so he'd only end up with photos of the facade. Not that big a loss, since it's the most impressive feature anyways, of this and the nearby Temple of Hathor. Dedicated to Queen Nefertari, evidently Ramses' favorite, it's one of the rare temples consecrated to a queen. Six statues, four of the king and two of the queen, stand in pose as they have for centuries.

The experience would've been different had the place not been swarming with visitors, but the attention they get can only add to the pharaoh's prestige. Ramses II may have been seeking a different type of immortality when he he built these monuments, but it's due to their popularity that efforts have been put forth to preserve them. The daily predawn convoys and the six hour return journeys will continue, because, as this traveler who has been to that 'antique land' can affirm, these colossi are well worth seeing.

(Day 322) Cruise management went around telling guests how much tip was expected from everyone. In my opinion, service hadn't warranted one, plus I was quite confident food on board had made me ill. Therefore, I thought I was being pretty generous when I left something anyways.

"I thought tips are optional. I decide how much I want to tip."

"But the tip is ten pounds per person, per night. There is only ten pounds in the envelope."

"No, I decide how much I want to tip."

Putting things in perspective, this was less than US$2 we were arguing over. Just on principle though, I held my position. Aaron and Chanda, who had been looking on in disbelief, chimed in on my behalf and helped me get rid of the guy. I probably should've done what they did, and not handed over the envelope until the representative from Amigo Tours showed up. When he did, several porters appeared out of nowhere and snatched our bags (which had been lying on the floor), and carried them 25 yards to the taxi.

"Excuse me, you have to tip them," we were told as we climbed in the cab. Shaking my head, I handed over a pound and a half, which may sound meager, but that's what the guidebooks suggest. In just about every other case, the folded notes are pocketed without being counted. Seeing how we had just gotten off a Nile cruise though, we were seen as tourists to be milked.

Three pounds per person, they insisted. I showed them my wallet. "Unless you can break a E£100..." Like myself, Aaron and Chanda didn't have any small bills neither. The two Aussies sharing our ride might've, but weren't in the mood. "Just tell them that you're Australian and you don't tip," they said. "Then close the door."

Peter and his wife Rebecca (I think that was her name) had been on the same ship as us. They too had disregarded the 'guidelines' set by the cruise and tipped at their own discretion.

"Everywhere you go, all you hear is baksheesh, baksheesh, baksheesh," I said. "It's beginning to get annoying."

"Yep, it's been the same for us. It begins to wear on you after a while," confirmed Peter. "I'm kind of glad to hear we're not the only ones who feel this way." I'll wager it's a popular sentiment for many visitors here; No day is complete without getting hassled at least once. In the words of Mark Twain, tourists here 'suffer torture that no pen can describe from the hungry appeals for baksheesh that gleamed from Arab eyes.'

"You can't let things like that ruin your vacation though," Peter pointed out, and seeing as my stomach ailments were no more, I was ready to approach the day with as much optimism as I could summon. Just enough time had been alloted for us to check in and to secure my belongings until everyone met in the lobby for our morning activities.

Visiting Kitchener's Island is on most Aswan tour itineraries. The place feels like a leafy sanctuary in the middle of the Nile. Back in the 1890s, Lord Horatio Kitchener was presented the property for his accomplishments as commander of the Egyptian army, and he subsequently turned it into a botanical garden, importing plants from all over. The island's southern tip was a nice place to sit and watch feluccas quietly glide by. Well worth the price of admission.

Too bad the same couldn't be said for Elephantine Island. It took all of five minutes to see the pathetic Aswan museum, and for that privilege, we paid E£10. Back on the boat, a Puerto Rican woman was whining about all the separate admission fees, which are never included.

"Where is my money going?" she asked. "Who is getting my US$360?"

Comparing prices, it looked like she and her daughter got a really raw deal. Peter and Rebecca paid US$245 per person for their 6-day, 7-night package; Aaron, Chanda, and I, US$260 each. And ours took us out to Abu Simbel, a highlight conspicuously missing from the Puerto Ricans' schedule.

That wouldn't happen until tomorrow though. The afternoon was set aside for visiting the Aswan Dam, and its successor in both attraction and functionality, the High Dam. The former was the world's largest when first completed in 1902, and the latter currently ranks as the number three in the world. Behind them sits Lake Nasser, the world's largest artificial lake.

Our guide was one of the better ones I've had in Egypt. Osama was his name. "Just like Osama bin Laden," he himself added. He briefly pointed out the controversy regarding the High Dam's construction, noting that the US had denied Egypt's request for financial backing, and that it was the Soviet Union that eventually supported the project. The benefits of hydroelectric power didn't come cheap though. Several cultural relics were submerged when water began backing up. Fortunately, UNESCO came to the rescue, disassembling the temples and reconstructing them on higher land. And since no day in Egypt is complete without visiting at least one ruin, we were brought to see the temples on Philae.

The approach was made on boat. Not only did UNESCO manage to it, they even placed it on an island landscaped to look like the original isle. Some of Osama's commentary I had heard before, like reason for the defacement of reliefs, but other bits of trivia, like how the Coptic Christians converted these sanctuaries for their own use, were new. Osama's english was fluent enough that understanding him didn't require effort, and so I didn't mind when the legend of Osiris, Isis, Horus, and Seth was told for the umpteenth time.

On the way back to Aswan, Osama mentioned offhandedly that it's Egyptian tradition to tip the driver, but left the decision up to us.

"So how much are we supposed to leave," asked Chanda.

"100 euros," joked the driver. "No, just kidding. It is up to you."

Unlike the morning, I was glad to pay a tip. I don't recall how much baksheesh I left when we were dropped off at the hotel, but I can assure you, it makes a huge difference when the service merits one, and not greedily sought after with those gleaming eyes that Mark Twain described.

(Day 321) I think I had a slight fever, my stomach hurt, and the night before, I threw up in the toilet. Immediately after waking up, I had take a shit, and the rest of last night's dinner came out in a torrent of loose stool. Yes, I was afflicted with the curse of the pharaohs, which had unleashed its fury in the worst of ways.

"Hey, we're supposed to be leaving in a few minutes," said Aaron.

"Oh, we're at Edfu already?" Two Egyptian temples were on slate today, the first being the Temple of Horus at Edfu. We were given boarding passes as we got off and told what time the ship would be sailing again.

On shore, other people were climbing into these fancy horse drawn carriages, and we were about to do the same when Aaron smartly decided to check if it was going to cost us anything. "60 pounds," came the answer. Was everyone paying that much? It didn't seem like it. Many were accompanied by guides, and whatever tour company they were with had arranged everything for them. "Where's our guide," we wondered. Maybe our cheap backpacker package didn't come with one?

So we had to reach the Temple of Horus ourselves. Had we known how far, and in which direction, to go, I would've been fine walking. But we didn't, and so our hands were kind of tied. Horse carriage seemed like the only way to go. E£60 was way too much though. Back in Luxor, we once caught one for E£1 per person. The haggling began. We insisted on paying no more than E£30, round trip, and they countered with E£45. "It's a good price," they kept saying, but I've heard that line so many times that I now interpret it as "That's how much we like to charge you foreigners." We came to an impasse in negotiations, and unable to come to an agreement, we walked away, pretending to look for another driver.

"Okay, okay, okay! 30 pounds!" they called out after us. It still felt ridiculously expensive, but like I said, we really weren't in a great position to bargain.

Dedicated to the falcon god, the Temple of Horus was built about 2000 years ago by the Ptolemy line of pharaohs. I made it past the first pylon, then sat down in the Great Court, abdomen pains putting a damper on my enthusiasm. Chanda had come down with whatever I had too. The two of us spent most of the time under the pillars, while Aaron went off in his everlasting hunt for 'good pictures'. I'll bet he got a few; The Temple of Horus is regarded as the best preserved of any Egyptian temple. Its location is, according to Egyptian mythology, where the legendary clash between Horus and his evil uncle Seth took place.

I was waging just as epic a battle in my digestive tracts, and was relieved when I got back to my room. I wrestled off the crocodile on my bed, curled up, and went back to sleep - I couldn't feel the discomfort if I wasn't awake. I showed up at lunch, mostly out of curiousity to see what was being served, and, for obvious reasons, didn't eat very much. The couple bites I did have didn't stay in me very long.

Admittedly, confining myself to my room defeats the whole purpose of taking a cruise. The view from my window wasn't all that bad though, and I felt more at ease knowing the bathroom was only a few steps away. I was thinking about staying on board during our stopover at Kom Ombo, and had we had to negotiate and pay for another horse carriage ride, I most certainly would have. Fortunately, these temple ruins were right at river's edge. Right before leaving the boat, we were approached by someone from the ship.

"Are you rooms 215 and 217?" he asked. "I'm your guide for Kom Ombo."

Oh really? Then where were you at the last stop? Aaron and I didn't believe him. He was already leading another couple around, and we suspected he was just trying to have us along so that he might earn some extra tips. I wasn't especially interested in listening to him anyways. Using guidebooks handed down to me from Tess (the English woman I met two days ago), I showed myself around, finding a shrine with two mummified crocodiles in addition to reliefs of falcon-headed Horus and croc-headed Sobek.

At dinner, having not eaten all day, was ready to give food another try. I felt fine during the meal, but a couple hours later, not so fine. The curse of the pharaohs live on, and all I can do is wait for it to pass. In the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go use the toilet.

(Day 320) I was up a few minutes before 7:00, a few minutes before anyone in America rang in the new year. 2006 was already seven hours old for me, yet those back home were still partying and drinking, waiting for the Big Apple to drop. This little tidbit wasn't lost on me as packed away my clothes.

What?! But didn't they tell us yesterday to be ready by 7:00?

"If that's the case, I'm going back to sleep then," I said. It might just be the way things are done in Egypt, but no one ever seems to know what's going to happen until the last minute.

Four hours later, the three of us were sitting in the lobby, with everything we needed, except our vouchers.

"Okay, the taxi is here," said Mohammed, supposedly the guy in charge around here.

"Wait, we need our vouchers back," we told him.

"No problem, it's okay, you don't need the voucher."

"Yes we do, you asked for them when we got here, what if the next hotel asks for them too?"

There was a brief exchange in Arabic with him and the receptionist. "The voucher is in the other office. If we spend time to go get it, you will miss your cruise. Don't worry, everything will be okay, you have three nights on the cruise..."

"Two," we corrected him.

"Two nights on the cruise, two nights in Aswan, plus train ticket back to Cairo. No problem, why don't you trust us?"

"Because we've been asking for them back for the past two days, and we still haven't gotten them back..." Each time, we were told to check back later, either in a couple hours, or in the evening, or the next morning. I was fairly confident they'd live up to their end of the bargain, but possession of the voucher would've been reassuring.

We ended up getting Mohammed's cell phone number and his word that someone would be waiting for us once we got off the boat in Aswan. Not that the latter was worth very much. Considering all the hassle we've gotten from just walking down the street, I might trust a used car salesman more than I would an Egyptian. (Can you imagine an Egyptian used car salesman?) During the short drive to the port, I wondered what our ship would be like, and prepared myself for the worst.

To be fair, they had delivered all that they promised up til now, and it would be that way for at least the next two days. Our cruise was rated five-star, just like they said it'd be. Now obviously, five-star on the Nile isn't the same as five-star in, say, the Carribean, but this was more than acceptable. The beds were fresh, the shower was clean, the toilet had enough oomph to flush down a turd.

"This is probably the best I've stayed in in a while."

Exploring the rest of the ship, we found lounge chairs and a couple jacuzzis on the upper deck. We sailed a few minutes past noon, and lunchtime came an hour later. We followed the dinner bell down to the restaurant.

The food looked better than it tasted, but served buffet style, I could stuff myself with as much tough beef as I wanted. After eating, we returned above to waste away the afternoon. No stops were scheduled for today, so between naps, I watched the banks of the Nile scroll by. Birds flitted about the surface, camels loitered at the water's edge. Some kids paused their soccer game to wave 'Hello' at us.

As Ra descended from his midday perch, trees became a silhouette against the orange glow. I couldn't ask for a better first sunset of 2006. Meanwhile, I wondered what those back home were doing... Just waking up, I'll bet, tired and hungover!

(Day 319) "So what exactly are we waiting for?"

"Our bus isn't here yet," answered Tess, a woman from London sitting next to me. "You must not have been in Egypt long, you didn't really expect us to be leaving on time, did you?"

"Only three days. And I was sort of hoping we were." I mean, they had told us 7:00am, and everyone was downstairs waiting by then. This didn't bode well for the rest of the tour. A ten minute delay I could understand, but one of nearly an hour?

Gad was again our guide. It was a bit chaotic, as he had gather everyone together, collect money for entrance fees, go off to buy the tickets, then round us all up again to pass them out. Now I have nothing against him personally - he may very well be bursting with fascinating information - but it was like listening to some of the college professors I had. What good does it do me if you can't present it in a manner that's understandable? Gad went on in his broken english for a while, then were given some free time to explore on our own.

62 tombs have been excavated in the valley, some belong to persons other than pharaohs, and not all are open to the public. The last, and most famous, is that of Tutankhamun, the only one found with all its treasures intact; Grave robbers centuries ago got to all the others centuries ago. His has been deemed worthy of a separate ticket, but according to Gad, not necessarily any better. Instead, he suggested four that we might find most interesting.

"Ramses I, III, IV, and IX," Tess and I repeated, commiting them to short term memory.

The first of the set we found was of Ramses III. "No photos inside," warned its keeper. Reliefs along 125m of corridors and all the adjoining side chambers were still in full color. The mummy, sarcophagus, and its lid have all been moved to museums though. I didn't understand a pictogram of the hieroglyphs, but it was more interesting than any art gallery I've ever visited. Ancient Egyptians believed in the importance of afterlife, and spared no expense in building their tombs and funerary monuments.

Ramses I had a much smaller tomb, simpy a short corridor leading to a single chamber. The most likely reason for this is that he only ruled for one year. The quality remained excellent though, and the pink-granite sarcophagus had been left (or put back) where it was found. Our tickets only allowed for entrance into one more, and running out of time anyways, made quick work of Ramses IX.

"That felt really rushed," Tess and I agreed. The magnitude of the crowds contributed to the hectic air; Apparently, every West Bank tour happens in the morning, and all of them go to the Valley of the Kings first. The valley didn't have quite the somber mood you'd expect from royal burial grounds.

As happens with large groups, people get lost and lose track of time. Precious minutes were wasted before we were back in the vehicles and brought to our next stop: An alabaster workshop.

"Time for the driver to get his commission," I heard someone grumble. We were robbed of another thirty minutes here; Five went towards a demonstration on how to tell real alabaster figures from fake ones, and twenty-five in the store upstairs. Even if I wanted to buy some a bust of Nefertari or something, I wouldn't do it here. Just out of principle.

I didn't see anyone else leave with souvenirs either. At the Temple of Hatshepsut, we again listened to Gad's spiel - I didn't catch anything more than Hatshepsut was Ancient Egypt's first female pharaoh - and everything else, like how she is depicted as female in some places yet clearly male in others, was learned from Tess' Lonely Planet Egypt.

"I only have a Lonely Planet Middle East," I admitted. "It's only got like 25 pages on Egypt. (I was exaggerating.) Hardly enough for a country with so much in it."

"Oh, well I'm off to Sudan tomorrow. You can have it if you like, I won't need it anymore."

"Really? Are you sure? Thanks!" I know I've ripped on the LP a lot, and admission fees and transportation costs are always outdated no matter which edition you buy, but the one good thing about their books dedicated to individual countries are the 'boxed texts', which are often well written and very insightful.

I don't need any book to tell me Hatshepsut's funerary temple is a fantastic piece of work though. The way it just merges into the mountain face. Looking up, I saw...

"Are those people up there??"

High above us, a handful of tourists were hiking over from the Valley of the Kings. A clearly marked path led the way. Artisans and workmen used to walk the same route thousands of years ago. The view from above must've been amazing - I had a notion to head up myself - but being shackled to the tour group, didn't have the time.

A couple who had forgotten where our meeting point was held us up some more, and they were finally located, we were taken to Valley of the Queens. Only two of the 75 known tombs were open to visitors; The Tomb of Nefertari, hailed as the finest in all of Egypt has been closed indefinately, making me feel a bit robbed. There was an initial outcry when Gad announced twenty minutes for both, but excepting a mummified fetus displayed in a glass case in one of them, there wasn't a whole lot to see.

A quick photo stop to at the Colossi of Memnon, and that was it. The rest of the day was ours to do as we pleased. Aaron and Chanda wanted to check out Luxor's museum; I was more than content to just sit on the Corniche, next to the Nile and in front of the Luxor Temple, and unwind. Tess joined me until she had to catch her train later that afternoon. A couple kids approached us as we chatted, trying to sell us tissues. They were persistent, but miraculously stayed out of 'annoying' territory.

"They can see us caving," grinned Tess. And we were easy targets. Sitting on a bench in the shade, we showed no inclination to moving. Every ten minutes, they'd stop by to see if we had changed our minds. Finally, we gave them half a pound each, and waved off the packet of tissue they held out.

"Halas? (Finished?)" asked Tess. The two boys smiled and nodded, and ran off as if we had made their day.

Today was New Year's Eve, and so Aaron, Chanda, and I felt like we had to do something to mark the occasion. Not being in a big city like Cairo, we didn't have many venues to select from, and wound up at a crowded pub where no one knew the official time. Each table had at their own countdown to 2006.

"Happy New Year!" we toasted, then celebrated again thirty seconds later when the next guy's watch hit midnight.

Several ancient ruins on the West Bank of Luxor were not included in our tour this morning, and I'd like to be back someday to visit them. So my new years resolution is pretty simple. Find a job and begin stashing away money again. Hopefully I'll have the opportunity then to climb the cliffs near Hatsephsut's temple and the Tomb of Nefertari will be open by then. And next time, I'll know to spend more than just two days here!

(Day 318) So I signed up for this package where all my activities for the next week are pre-arranged for me. It's a pretty mindless way of traveling. I don't have to look for accomodation, transportation to all the sights is taken care of. Other than deciding what to eat and what to drink, my brain shouldn't be taxed all that much.

There are no official guidelines for transliteration between arabic and english, and so that probably explains its unusual name. Shady Hotel is correctly pronounced 'Shaddy Hotel', and supposedly comes from the owner's name. They took our vouchers and passports, checked us in, and gave us a run down of the day's activities. The first didn't begin until early afternoon.

"In the morning, you can take optional tour: Felucca ride to Banana Island, balloon over the Nile..." I had to make a decision?? The whole point of this was so I could sit back and let everyone do the planning for me.

Well, considering hot air ballooning would've cost 100 euros, and they were asking only E£60 for the felucca (which, by the way, is still overpriced, but we wouldn't figure that out until much later), the choice was fairly easy. We had an hour or so to wash up, then were taken to the docks.

A felucca ride is one of those things one just has to try when in Egypt. The small, canvas-sailed boats are everywhere on the Nile, and are the traditional method of river travel. Unfortunately, the wind wasn't strong enough, and so the captain had to call out for assistance. A little tugboat pulled the Lady Diana and the Happy Nile upstream. Lying on the cushioned seats and looking out over the banks was most relaxing after two packed days in Cairo. Maybe half an hour later, we reached Banana Island.

Banana Island didn't appear to be an island. Then again, water levels are fairly low this time of year, and the channel connecting it to the banks could've been easily filled had the Nile been 6m higher as it usually is. It didn't just have bananas either. Mandarins and papayas were also grown, though, as our guide explained, it was named such because bananas are the only fruit that was harvested all year round. He brought us out a bunch which had been picked two weeks earlier and had been given time to ripen.

"This is pretty cool, we're eating bananas from the island they were picked from," said Chanda. By the time we were ready for the return journey, the wind had picked up enough for the sails to be let out. Tacking back and forth, we were dropped off a little short of where we started from. Someone was again waiting to arrange transportation for us though. It's so easy when everything is taken care of for you.

A guide was even provided for our afternoon trip to Karnak. Understanding Gad, our Dasani-water-bottle-waving Egyptologist-in-training was a little difficult though. I tried hard - really, I did - to follow his explanations. For example: The temple was not the work of one individual; Egyptian temples were regarded as 'living' and built bit by bit over many centuries, each pharaoh added to and modified it as he saw fit. Damage to limbs and faces of reliefs were inflicted by early Christians who saw it as a way of demonstrating the Egyptians gods as powerless and no longer being able to see. The colossus in front of the second pylon was erected by and is the image of Ramses II. After his talk, we had some free time to wander.

"So where do we go first?" Supposedly, this scarab is supposed to grant a wish to whomever walks around it seven times. ("It's probably just a ploy to make tourists look stupid.") Past a couple magnificent obelisks, we reached the Great Festival Hall, and behind it, someone got sacrificed on what looked like a sacrificial table. Every bit of the 1.5km by 800m complex was remarkable. Those more eloquent than me have had difficulty describing it, and since I have the benefit of living in a digital age, I'll just pictures do the talking.

I think I'm in the majority when I say the Great Hypostyle Hall was the most inspiring. Anything that gives me fits trying to photograph is special in my book, and it's hard to believe there are 134 of them. "How did they erect them?" marveled Chanda.

"Duh, didn't you see that crane next to the pool?" Had the Egyptians had the technology we have today, who knows how much they could've accomplished. Perhaps the entire Nile would be lined with gigantic pillars.

Seeing these monuments lit by modern day torches is another advantage we had over the ancient Egyptians. Following the convoy of tour buses, we were shuttled over to Luxor Temple. Its construction was also overseen by multiple rulers. Begun by Amenhotep III, who built the first court, nothing major was changed until Ramses II came along. Two seated colossi of him guard the outermost pylon, the second court contained several more statues of him. If there's one pharaoh you just can't avoid hearing about, it's him.

"The McDonalds over there? Also built by Ramses II," cracked Gad.

From finding where Alexander the Great carved his name in hieroglyphs, to interpreting the mythological stories behind reliefs, there's quite a lot to absorb. So even though my activities for the next few days are planned out, it's not like I can turn my brain off and veg. Traveling like this is never completely mindless. It's just a little less work.

(Day 317) Our driver was again waiting for us in the lobby, ready to do our bidding. Except he probably had a better idea of what to see than we did. Basically, we'd be going wherever he took us.

"So what else is starred in the book?" Aaron and Chanda had one of those Eyewitness Guides, and in addition to having colorful photos and well drawn maps, also highlighted the must-see's of every district. The much smaller Mosque of Suleiman Pasha was tucked away in the less visited northern enclosure, away from the throngs of students on field trips. Its keeper unlocked the tomb room and gave us a mini tour of the building.

"We should probably tip him," said Chandra. Baksheesh is a way of life in Egypt, and just about everyone who performs a service expects some sort of monetary compensation. Not being a local, knowing how much to tip is never easy. I folded up a five pound note (US$1 = E£5.7) for the three of us and handed it to him, which he pocketed without saying anything.

We had enough time for a peek into the Mosque of An-Nasir Mohammed (pictured above), then rushed back to the entrance to meet Sayed. Navigating roads crowded with Peugeots, we arrived at the Mosque of Sultan Hassan and the Mosque of Al-Rifa'i. "I'm not going to bother tying my shoes anymore," I declared, as we removed them for the third and fourth times to explore the cavernous interiors.

Islam may be the dominant religion in Egypt today, but it's undeniable that Christianity has had a longstanding tradition here as well. Most of the churches are located in what used to be Babylon, nowadays referred to as Coptic Cairo. The Church of St Barbara was a starred item in the guidebook.

"How is this one of the largest churches in Egypt?" Even after taking into account the rooms towards the back where we again had to remove our shoes to enter ('for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground'), it didn't seem very big. The Hanging Church, with its twin towers, was a little larger, but still nowhere as vast as the Islamic mosques.

"I think I liked the mosques better."

A random guy latched onto us, acting as a guide and leading us to places we could've easily found on our own. "He probably wants a tip," we muttered, and tried to shake him as soon as possible. We ended up giving him a couple pounds to go away, though he shamelessly asked for more. "We didn't ask you," Chanda countered. As they say, nothing is ever free, and that couldn't have been more true in Egypt.

Costing only E£1 apiece, falafel pitas are probably the closest you'll get to a free lunch. Sayed then dropped us off at the Egyptian Museum. We were subject to a rigorous security check upon entering. I was turned away and sent to left luggage twice (once for my camera, and again for a lock they found in my backpack) before finally clearing the metal detectors. A huge collection of artifacts were strewn about the hangar-like building. I've touched on how incredibly old these things are. Just as mind boggling is how long Pharaonic Egypt lasted. Over 30 dynasties spanned nearly 3000 years, and the sophistication of their work is indisputable.

Exhibits, sadly, were not well labeled. A couple sentences composed of mispelled words and seemingly hacked out on a typewriter were as good as it got. Unsurprisingly, Tutankhamun's gallery was most popular; Nearly everyone took their turn peering up the famous death mask to see if there was anything special inside. (There wasn't.) With our student cards, we got discounted admission to see the Royal Mummy Room. Eleven embalmed pharaohs were encased in glass showcases, including the ubiquitous Ramses II.

"Cute, aren't they?" I had to say, though they were anything but cuddly.

We had some free time between when the museum closed and our next activity. Aaron and Chanda went off to get some food, while I returned to the pension and dutifully blogged a bit. At 6:30pm, Sayed showed up again to drive us to Khan al-Khalili. I'll dismiss it as your average tourist bazaar, though stores towards the rear also peddle items for everyday use. Chanda was in the market a water pipe and perfume. The thought of haggling with smooth talking salesmen didn't appeal to me, especially when I have no idea what things should cost, and so for the time being, I remain souvenir-less.

Back at the car, Chanda told Sayed how much perfume cost and asked whether she had overpaid.

"Good price," he answered. Whether he meant it, or was just saying that to make her feel better, we'll never know.

Shopping will never be my favorite way to cap off a day, especially after being on my feet all day. Sayed took us to the train station, where I ate a bland cheese sandwich before boarding our first class carriage. The reclining seats were nice and soft, with ample leg room. Kicking off my boots one last time, I made myself comfortable, and dozed off not too long after we got moving.

(Day 316) Having an accurate perspective on time can be tricky. I mean, what exactly is 'old'? Moldy oranges in my refrigerator are 'old', my parents are 'old', an antique from the American Revolution is 'old'. A piece of work from the Renaissance is even 'older', as is an artifact from the Dark Ages. Time has a way of glorifying things - oftentimes, the longer something has stood, the more compelling it becomes - and this simple test has definately added to the geometric splendour of the Egyptian pyramids.

Our driver Sayed was a laid-back, mellow guy who had a habit of slapping my knee and saying "Welcome" whenever we were in his taxi. Our first stop of the day was a travel agency to purchase ISIC student cards. Many of Egypt's attractions were half price to anyone who possessed one, and though I wasn't a student, I had been told to pretend I was. If I'm going to fib, I might as well go all out, I figured, and told had them print "Princeton" as my university. It cost me E£70.5, though it'd end up paying for itself within two days.

"We go to Giza now to see the Great Pyramids," announced Sayed afterwards, and left behind the congestion of downtown Cairo for (relatively) less trafficked roads where donkeys still trotted down the street. Having had expressed interested in hiring mounts, Sayed parked his black and white Fiat in front of some stables. "Horse or camel?" we were offered. For myself, the choice was obvious. I can go horseback riding anywhere in the world. Camel ranches are far less common.

"Whoa..." I exclaimed as the beast stood up to its full height. I had no idea how tall these things were. And how strange these creatures looked. They looked like they were always smiling, as they found us as amusing as I found them. My camel's hump must've been a bit lopsided, because I kept thinking I was going to slip off the left side. Nor were they as comfortable as I had imagined. We hadn't even crossed into the desert, and my butt was already sore.

Postcard pictures must be doctored, because I can't see how haze from pollution ever lifts from over Cairo. That said, it's still an amazing sight, their construction being a feat that continues to spur theories of unearthly intervention. So precise, so massive, and so old... We look at Roman ruins from two thousand years ago and call them monuments of an ancient civilization. The pyramids were built more than two thousand years before that, and so they would've already been ancient to tourists back then.

"We will wait here while you go inside the pyramid," said our two guides. "Walk like an Egyptian," they called out after us, recycling a joke probably used on hundreds of tourists each day. Touts and hassle swarmed the area, offering themselves and their camels as photography subjects - all for a price of course. I nearly had a mental lapse and fell for one of them, but caught myself at the last moment. Aaron, Chanda, and I walked around the base of the Pyramid of Khafre (the second largest), to where a passageway led into its depths.

The E£10 fee was included in our camel hire, and since cameras were strictly prohibited inside, we took turns ducking through the stuffy claustrophobic tunnels which led to nothing but two empty rooms. A bit of a letdown, though it's still something I had to do.

Back on camels, we rode around the excavated tombs of laborers to view the Sphinx. Except we didn't get very close. "Can't we go a bit closer, to where those other people are?" Aaron asked. Our guides furrowed their brow, like it was forbidden or something. "Okay," they finally relented. "But hurry." The whole thing felt a bit shady; The viewing plateau promised us was more of a sand dune, the camel ride was a little shorter than promised (though two hours is plenty for the untrained butt), the cheap headwear they put on our heads cost an unexpected extra E£10.

"You never know who you can trust around here," I'd remark to Chandra and Aaron later.

Sayed was one of the good guys though. "Welcome," he drawled again, tapping my knee while that easy-going smile spread across his face. Continuing south, we arrived at Saqqara. Chronologically, the funerary monuments here date even earlier than those at Giza. "Anyone offer you anything, anyone talk to you, just say 'No, no, no,'" warned Sayed. The entrance led through colonade columns into a vast desert of tombs, many yet to have been excavated.