Category: Africa

First of all I’d like to say thank you to all the new visitors to this blog who are being directed through my website www.tinytrekkers.com which is a website geared towards backpacking with kids. But I’d also like to welcome back those who follow us every year; some of whom have followed us from day one. And so as the 2013 trip begins I extend a warm welcome and a heartfelt thanks to you all.

…This time I have done things differently, not only are we accompanied by Jack but also I wanted to try and offer Charlie a new level of maturity and almost self sufficiency. Not because it is easier for me (though it is) but because last year he slipped so seamlessly into the role of travelling and almost naturally took on a self imposed autonomous role.

It meant a little juggling around and so I replaced my 35 litre bag with a large 70 litre mammoth backpack and bought Charlie a 25 litre pack that fitted the requirements of hand luggage on most airlines. And on this trip, where we have some 15 flights that makes a difference as I now have just the one hold baggage to pay for. Across all the flights I have saved about £100 in baggage fees giving Charlie a cabin baggage sized pack.

Anyway, the point is that in Charlie’s bag, is just Charlie’s stuff. The only time I expect to deal with his things is laundry, and he loves it. He has stepped up to the plate completely and taken on his independence with a level of maturity far older than his eleven years.

So we are now into the first week ok the the trip and so far things have gone suspiciously and seamlessly well. Our train left Wakefield on time, arrived in London on time, we scooted through the underground without any hassle whatsoever and took the train to Gatwick with absolute ease. We checked into our hotel around 5pm and by 5.30pm I was in a beer garden watching the kids play and putting away an ice cold Stella Artois.

The following day started with an all you can eat full breakfast (where Charlie actually ate all he could) and then we slipped through the airport like we were covered in WD40 courtesy of the family lane at Gatwick Airport.

We arrived at our gate about 30 mins prior to the flight, boarded and left on time. It was the last flight until September and yet just a third full. We landed in Luxor early, avoided the visa scam (paying just $15) and not £15, walked out of the hotel and met Sayeed (A friend) who banged us in a minibus and took us straight to the place we are staying. Within no time we were on the hotel roof, 46 degree temperatures and looking out over the West Bank suspicious at just how seamless things had gone. Laid on the mattresses I listened to the call to prayer echoing around the city, Egypt had sprung to life from a quiet day in Ramadan to a bustling Arab city illuminated with ancient culture. Then the tranquility of an idyllic Egyptian evening was interrupted by bursts of gunfire.

Egypt is still having issues that have plagued it on and off since the revolution in 2011. Though Luxor has remained largely unfettered by the troubles I was still unsure about coming here. The issue is that I have onward travel booked and I just could not make things work without incurring massive costs. It helped that we are staying with friends and so prior to travel I had first hand local updates about how things were developing. But now it seems things are taking a different turn.

Luxor is like most Egyptian cities that straddle the Nile, on the Eastern side you have the main part of the city, with a west bank populated mainly by villagers. The main entry point to the east bank in Luxor is a place called Al Gezira and is where the local ferry offloads everyone from the east bank including tourists looking to mooch around the best of Luxor’s Egyptian history.

It turns out there is a fuel shortage on the west bank and so everyone had no choice but to queue at the petrol station and wait in line for fuel. After a while the queue was some 5km long. In a country already racked with tensions you can imagine how, when after queuing for 8 hours drivers were told the was no fuel left, it kind of pissed them off. Go back a few years and the worst you would have expected was a sweaty sandal making its way across the forecourt toward someone’s face at speed. But times are that hard ain’t no one throwing their sandal. And so now the locals have taken to venting their anger with guns. But not just anger at having queued all day in near fifty degree temperature only to be blown out. But anger at the whole situation, anger at having no fuel, no tourists, no money, no food, no elected government and a country that to many is on the verge of civil war. Many might argue that the only reason things have chilled out is that because it is Ramadan, but as a tourist walking around I sense tensions. That said, and in fairness to the Egyptian people we have been welcomed with open arms with people greeting us as we walk around with ‘welcome to Egypt’ we have sensed much more gratitude and graciousness than hostility. In a city that has absolute nothing going for it other than its tourism industry which has now been all but abandoned, people are not just feeling the pinch, but facing absolute ruin and complete desperation. The tourism industries solution? Raise the price of entry from an already extortionate amount to plain daylight robbery.

To many this probably makes sense, less tourists = less income = less likely to break even therefore raise prices = increased income = more likely to break even. And if it was that simple I might understand. But in a country where money is king, where every day starts and ends with an attempt to make as much felucia as possible I can’t help thinking that the tourism department are simply rats jumping a sinking ship and clawing what they can, whilst they still can.

In 1997 over 60 tourists were beheaded at the Temple of Hatshepsut in an act of terror by a group which was essentially an off shoot of the recently over thrown Islamic Brotherhood. At the time of the attacks the locals in Luxor came together in an act of solidarity against what had happened. Furious that this would happen in their city they sent their hearts out to the international community that this was not welcome in Egypt, this was not their Egypt, this was terrorism. But they suffered, tourists stayed away for a long time and Luxor suffered badly. But slowly things improved and whilst the tourists forgot about what happened in 1997 the locals didn’t. And so when the Islamic Brotherhood took power in Egypt promises of a united Egypt were taken with a pinch of salt. Then earlier this year in an almost unthinkable move, President Morsi (Egypt’s recently overthrown president) decided to make the head of the Luxor Tourism board the man at the centre of the terrorism attacks in 1997. He rocked up to the Iberotel ready to take office but was barricaded in the hotel by the Luxor people furious at his appointment. The anger was such that he never actually took office and made a quick (and some might say lucky) get away out the back door.

The sad reality is that Egypt has never been far from the headlines and some might assume that this is indicative of the Egyptian people, but what you have is 85 million people craving a future, one not defined by anyone but themselves and their own aspirations. Where every dream can become an achievement, where there is hope, belief and most importantly – peace.

And it seems to me that until someone can guarantee these basic rights that we take for granted in the UK, the problems in Egypt are far from over and perhaps, as many believe this is the beginning of the end for Egypt and that what lay ahead is not a bright future, but a tormented misery and another chapter in the Arab Spring.

Maria brought a bowl of coco pops from the kitchen, she had bought them for Jack, knowing that every kids loves anything covered in chocolate, naturally Jack was over the moon and he added these to his already huge banquet of omelet, bread, honey and fruit.

We had a long, and hot day ahead of us and so having a good breakfast was key, we were heading to our last place in Egypt, the West Bank of Luxor.

The West bank is premier and hardcore in terms of sights and it draws tourists from all over the world and has for decades. All keen to experience a slice of Egypt and to see history still being discovered today. It’s a fascinating mixture of ancient history and archeology.

There is just too much to see and do on the West Bank, and so with Maria’s help I had put together an itinerary that was suited to Jack. Typically a tour of the West Bank costs around LE£70 not including entrance to the monuments. (We had decided to go independently) But it’s a bit of a chore, the ticket office is far from most places and so you have to decide what you want to do there and then go to where you decided. You can’t for example be driving down the road and see something that looks good, you must have ore purchased your ticket which stinks of India to be honest. However the Valley of the Kings, and the Temple of Hatshepsut have their own visitor centres and ticket offices, and since these were the first two place on our itinerary we we made our way to the public ferry at the backside of the Luxor Temple, paid LE£1 and jumped on the boat.

And really, that was where I started to eat my words, and where the hassle began. We were hassled non stop on that boat, it was constant, and was it not for my calm manner it would have very easily and very quickly have got aggressive. It was hostile, and forceful and they were insulting, calling me disrespectful, why was I in Egypt if I refused to pay into the economy etc. All geared toward putting me under pressure so that I took the service, which was mainly for a taxi. I was asked “what have I done to you for you to not want to use my service” I said, I offered a service, I wanted to sell my camera, would he buy it. He got the message and laughed as he found someone else to harass.

Once at the dock the hassle continued, horse and carriages, bikes, scooters, guides, tickets, taxis, buses – you name it. It was full on. In situations like that I tend to try and walk to a main road. These guys might be offering a taxi but often what happens is they don’t have a taxi, they are making themselves agents and so getting a commission which is of course added to your fare.

Taxi drivers exist to drive someone from A to B and if you offer them a price that makes them money then they will accept it. Finding that minimum price is the difficult part, just LE£1 (ten pence) in Luxor will buy a local some food. And considering Luxor has absolutely nothing (seriously) going for it other than tourism, they have no other choice than to work for what they can get. For instance, I feel a little sorry for the horse and carriage owners, there are dozens of them in Luxor, fancy and often gorgeous carriages pulled by a skinny horse. Tourism is down 90% in Luxor compared prior to the revolution. These guys invested everything in buying a horse and carriage and probably lived the good life for some time. People’s perception of animal treatment changed and so they adapted and made sure their horses were fed and looked after. I don’t know anyone who would ride a sick horse. And so these guys have to make a bottom line (the food) before they turn a profit, if they don’t, then the horse suffers, which makes getting business even harder for them. It’s an impossible situation.

I knew the price from the dock to the Valley of the Kings could be got for just LE£15 (a quid fifty) for the 8km journey. The price of course started at LE£50, it was very busy, and the driver slowly made his way through the chaos. As we sat waiting I saw two Chinese girls looking like they were getting seriously harassed, they were obviously trying to get somewhere but were facing a wall of aggression. I wound the window down, and said “Ne how” (hello in Chinese) and being white I instantly had their trust, I asked if they wanted to jump in with us and they didn’t give it a second thought, they didn’t even ask where we were going. It happened that they too were heading to the Valley of the Kings and couldn’t even get a price, drivers were simply accosting them for full price tours, claiming one way taxis didn’t exist. Needless to say they were grateful for us helping them out and they insisted on getting the taxi fare.

The Valley of the Kings is literally in a valley, cut deep into the desert stone. Huge cliffs keep the heat in, and at 32 degrees already, it felt much hotter. Entrance cost LE£80 and gives you the opportunity to go into three of the many tombs except for the tomb of Tutankhamen which costs extra. You literally have to wade through the market that is conveniently built before the entrance, and yet again it was full on aggression with people grabbing my arm trying to physically pull me into their shops. Once through the souq I was stood having a drink and some guy started talking to me, he was a guide and offering up his services. I cut him short and refused his services, he spat on the floor in front of me and started shouting at me for being disrespectful, how could I come to his country and be so ignorant, I was not welcome and the rest. I stood and listening to every word he said and then laughed at him, I told him he was one of the reasons tourists stayed away and I probably respected his country more than he did.

There is a shuttle train that runs up to the entrance, and so we hopped on it, and once at the entrance was completely bombarded by ‘officials’ who looked suspiciously like locals. Photography is banned in the Valley of the Kings, and this is rigorously enforced, by entering you give the police and officials authority to confiscate your memory cards, phones, cameras etc if you are caught taking photographs. I explained there was not a hope I was leaving my camera with him. And I refused and continued walking, he took major insult by this and started going absolutely mental. He grabbed my T shirt and shouted in my face, I pushed him away and had just had enough. I pointed in his face and told him if touched me again I would kick the shit out of him. The tourist police had decided to actually do something at this point and asked me to put my camera bag, in the daypack I was carrying. I did this, and off we went. I could hear him arguing with the police as we walked off. These guys genuinely feel insulted that you did not let them screw you over.

The Valley of the Kings has some 63 royal tombs, all burial places for royalty of the New Kingdom of between 1550 BC and 1069 BC. They were discovered, and then ransacked with ancient thieves taking everything they could. Today tombs are still being discovered, and those already discovered continue to have other chambers and corridors found. All the Tombs are very different from each other, but generally they are long corridors into the cliff face, or steep descents into holes in the ground. They are beautifully decorated, the walls and ceilings covered in gorgeous Egyptian artwork and hieroglyphics. At the end of some tombs is a sarcophagus or the actual casing which contained the mummy. I have to say, once inside the Valley the hassle was minimal, occasionally a local would shine a torch on a dark spot and expect a bit of backsheesh but it was harmless. The three tombs were chosen by Jack and was Ramses IX, Ramses III and the tomb at the far end of the valley and straight into the 300m cliff face – Tawosret/Sethnakht (which was also our favourite) actually, as we sat deep in the tomb I asked Jack if he knew the story of mummy’s and he said “seriously dad, course I do” so I asked him to tell me and this is what he said “Candice, on Phineas and Furb tripped over a ball and then she found some toilet roll and ended up wrapping herself up in it becoming a mummy and walking like a zombie”

I left it at that.

It was a real shame, but we didn’t get a single photograph and there was some world class photo opportunities. I did consider taking one on the sly, but it was simply not worth the hassle and so opted against it. Probably rightly so.

I had considered walking over the mountain to the Tempe of Hatshepsut but it was too hot, and there was a sign prohibiting climbing of the mountain, despite it obviously been a means for baksheesh.

Leaving the Valley of the Kings was every bit as difficult as getting there and even the servee which charges just LE£0.50 (5 pence) was telling me it was LE£20, it seemed that tourists who travelled one way were fair game to get scammed on the way out. I had people trying to put things on my head, taxi drivers trying to bleed me dry and so we decided to walk.

Neither of us were bothered about walking and I think the driver who pulled beside us sensed that. For LE£10 (a quid) I figured we might as well just jump in.

The Temple of Hatshepsut is probably what most people associate with Luxor. If you google image Luxor it’s what comes up. The huge temple sat in the massive cliff face with long, steep steps making their way to the top floor. It’s a very beautiful and somewhat imposing structure, it’s almost as definitive as the pyramids in regards of what we perceive of the ancient Egyptians. And so for us it was a must. Again you must trawl through a market and then pay the entrance fee of LE£30, it was good, but there was too many people there, it was a little chaotic and getting a good photo was difficult. It is located at Deir al-Bahri which is the officially designated hottest place on earth and so Jack got a kick out of knowing he had been to the hottest place in the world, and even though it was only around 36 degrees, it was still hot enough to know you were somewhere hot! (He’s still not over it either!)

The day by now was getting on and the constant, full on hassle had worn me down. We decided to jump in a taxi to the ticket office to decide where we would go next. At the ticket office there was just a few locals kicking about and literally, as we jumped out of the car they jumped up and ran towards us. As I stood trying to decide what we would do next, I couldn’t concentrate on a thing as people were in my face telling me this and that and so I looked at Jack who was obviously now feeling it too, the heat, the fact that everything was such hard work. We decided we’d had enough and started walking the few miles back to the ferry port. After about 200m the last hanger on gave up and suddenly it was silent, and we were amongst green fields set to a desert backdrop of overwhelmingly large mountains peppered with thousands of holes which contained tombs. After about 15 minutes we had had time to really fall in love with the beauty of the West Bank. Then out of no where we heard “hello”, and sat getting some shade beneath a palm tree an in a field to our right was a woman and three kids. She gestured us over and so we went and sat with them, they were processing sunflower seeds and she offered us some. It was clear the only English she knew was hello and as they tried to talk to us in Arabic, it became a comedy of sign language. It was surreal, relaxing, and a real welcome reminder of true Egyptian hospitality.

We continued our walk and suddenly saw two massive statues, we were at the Colossi of Memonon and as I tried to take a photograph of Jack someone stood in front of the camera and tried charging me. It’s a completely free place, and yet the hassle continued. We decided to bail, and jumped in a servee, I handed him LE£2 which was twice what it should have been for me and Jack, hoping he’d just keep quiet and he did. And as we waded through the final bits of bull shit back to the boat I couldn’t wait to leave. Once on the boat I saw a couple and was talking to them. They had only visited Rameses Temple and had completely had enough and so decided to leave the West Bank. Maria later told me that so many people have plans of visiting everything yet return just a few hours later worn down by the hassle.

Once back on the East Bank we grabbed a really late lunch, and given it was an absolutely gorgeous day I bought Jack a chocolate sundae from McDonald’s. We sat in the park with the amazing Luxor temple behind us, not a cloud in the sky and it was beautiful. We were relaxed, and the West Bank was now a distant memory. A little girl probably aged around 6 came over to us, bare footed she asked “tea, Pepsi” it’s a common thing, parents send kids to foreigners as a service and then they get a small markup on whatever they sell you. I asked how old she was and she replied “tea, Pepsi” at the moment Jack offered her his ice cream, her dirty hands and clothes told a story of extreme poverty, but the smile on her face was one of happiness. She had one of those faces where when she smiled, her whole face smiled. And Jack responded by smiling back. With that we got up and walked off into the chaotic streets.

This trip has shown me a side to Jack that is exciting, caring, friendly, funny, happy, optimistic and accepting. From the long journeys, to scaling pyramids, rubbing pepper spray from our eyes, overnight trains, extreme heat, walking miles and miles, ancient temples, boats, camels in the desert, and the stunning river Nile. Jack asked me if I’d always look after him, I replied that of course I would, to which he responded “even when your dead” It was a glimmer of the little boy underneath it all, beneath the bravado and the cheeky smile is a little boy, just five years old learning his way in life.

And now, as I write this final entry we are sat on the rooftop looking out over the beautiful city of Luxor, its still hot, the skies are still a gorgeous blue and the Nile still glistens. Knowing that we go home tomorrow I just looked up at Jack, he caught my glance and responded with a huge smile and a wink which scrunched his whole face up.

Its the perfect end to a perfect journey.

Luxor is one of those place that I grew up wanting to visit. Home to the Valley of the Kings, the very name struck a chord of excitement in me for years. But beyond that Luxor is known for a great number of places, so many in fact that it is known as ‘The worlds largest open air museum’. No doubt about it there are enough sites here to keep you occupied for a very long time, and I’m talking weeks, perhaps longer. For Egyptologists Luxor is their Mecca, and in terms of tourism numbers it is one of the few places in Egypt still managing to bring in foreigners. That said, the Karnak Temple used to sell 10’000 tickets daily, it now is lucky to hit just 1000. It is therefore not surprising that Luxor is also known as the bull shit capital of Egypt, and for those travellers who have never experienced the sort of pressures some experience, it is the worst place in the world for them. But for us, really I don’t know why but we got very little hassle. I’m thinking its a mixture between the confidence that I exude when travelling, my relaxed couldn’t give a shit attitude and the fact I can speak a little Arabic. Or maybe (and more likely) its the fact I have a sruffy beard, tired clothes and look like a scrubber that’s stepped out of years in the desert. Still, for us a simple “laa shukran” (no thank you) was all that was really needed when we got bothered. I did see some people getting real hassle, usually the people who come to a poverty stricken country wearing expensive looking clothes and oozing ‘scam me’ from every pore in their body. Egypt is struggling, people that used to make a good living now have nothing, they are desperate. No, they are desperately desperate. And as a result prices have dropped massively and though the price for a taxi around town might start at LE£40 it very quickly drops to just LE£5. It’s almost instant too, you get a ridiculous price, say “da gha-lee aw ee” (that’s too expensive) and the price falls dramatically.

The day started with breakfast cooked exclusively for Jack, it was bread, beans that looked like someone had taken a shit on his plate and egg. He’s picked up a slight cough and the wife of the hotel owner made Jack some concoction or other. He didn’t like it and so on the sly we watered a plant with it. We then met Maria and went to our new place. It was absolutely gorgeous weather wise, not a cloud in the sky and I sensed a really good day coming on. After welcome drinks Maria drew me and Jack a map of the what’s and where’s and we found ourselves back amongst those we fit in with. It became quickly apparent that Luxor could be done, including accommodation for about £15 per day including visiting a site. Food is around LE£3 (30 pence) for something simple like falafel, and bread is even less. But at the same time you can easily pay LE£100 for a meal, or pay LE£10 for a bottle of water when it should be LE£3, it’s a real backpackers paradise, and given the vacant hotels, empty taxis, and desperation of touts, it’s a real gem of a place.

Luxor straddles the Nile and the East bank is where it’s all happening, the palm trees, greenery, well developed roads etc and for us, the Luxor Temple and The Temple of Karnak. I’ll talk about the West Bank in the next entry as we decided to do the East Bank on one day and the West on the next.

If you imagine, at the centre of Luxor is the Luxor Temple, a huge complex some 4000 years old, surrounded by a main road on one side and a beautiful Islamic aquare on the other, yet idyllically set amongst palm trees and vast monuments that tell the tale of time. It’s an absolutely gorgeous place and skinned me LE£50 for entrance with my “beautiful little white boy, Mr Jack” we really lingered, it reminded me of the Roman forum, but perhaps not quite as grand. But then considering the Egyptians mooched about thousands of years before the Romans, its not really fair to compare. I had been told about a small mosque built into the side of the complex that gave amazing panoramic views over the complex and both Jack and I stood in awe at such a spectacular place.

We grabbed a quick lunch and hopped in a taxi a couple of miles up the Nile to the Temples of Karnak. Entrance was a hefty LE£65 with Jack free as usual.

Covering a vast area of 2km, it was where god lived on earth a few thousand years back. And over the course of 1500 years it became a vast city home to some 81,000 workers, half a million cattle, 65 separate cities, and a shit load of other stuff. The fact is it is massive, with ancient obelisks rising high above the already gigantic columns its an area where I instantly knew Jack would love. He was climbing, running, falling, and absolutely loving life. The whole scale of the place is overwhelming, and yet it is so well preserved. The hieroglyphics look stunning, and you can get a real sense of life there, yet complete incomprehension at how such a magnificent, and huge place was constructed. Much of our time spent in Karnak was off the area. We explored the parts no one could be bothered with, the magical lake, the hidden treasures and we sat, and spoke. Jack opens up so easily to me and I could listen to him for hours. But after some tome, and considering It was around 32 degrees we decided we needed some shade, and it seemed a lot of others had the same plan. Jack became an instant celebrity and was attracting loads of attention. He said afterwards “dad they were fighting over me, it did my head in” I reminded him he was smiling the whole time, looking like he was in his element and he laughed, saying “yeah I actually proper loved it” and he pulled his really shy face.

Time had moved quickly and it was now heading up to 3pm, we had quite simply got lost amongst the history, the beauty and the whole feel of the place.

I decided we would walk the couple of miles back to Luxor along the bank of the Nile. With the West Bank being huge desert rock formations, there being absolutely no one else around and the sun glimmering on the river it was amazing. Easily one of the most beautifully picturesque places I have ever been. We were completely alone for much of it. We skimmed rocks on the water, played army behind palm trees, and kicked tangerines that had fallen from the trees. Eventually the bank turns into an almost promenade, and we continued our little journey back to town. It was so surreal, I felt like I would wake any moment.

Jack was being his usual self and running along, without a care in the world. I loved spending our time there together, but I wished the other kids were with us. I ached badly for a special someone, my kids, ice creams, laughing, joking. I thought of forgetful Lucy – that magical moment when everything is perfect, where nothing else matters and suddenly I felt lonely.

Jack was a bundle of joy and throughout the day he was in such a great mood that has been the vein of things on this trip. We’re almost not father and son, but best buddies just living the dream. I genuinely haven’t told Jack off a single time, he has adapted to whatever has come his way and has been non stop optimism, a really joy to be around.

In my mind this trip was also going to be an indication of how well he would cope on the road and he has absolutely exceeded all expectations. We had planned this summer to laze around in Dahab going on the odd excursion throughout the Middle East. It would have meant having my whole family there but Jacks mum pulled the plug meaning it was back to the drawing board. But now I know just how well Jack copes, we could end up anywhere.

Out first day in Luxor was fabulous, really, it was one of those days that had everything, one that I know I’ll remember for a long time. Though it was three people short of perfect, it was truly an amazing day.

To those at home I just want to say how much I miss and love the three of you so much. Not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of any one of you. Charlie, I can’t wait to see your new hairstyle, Abi your new belt (which I’m convinced you’ll get) and Toby, I hope you get well soon x

To our new future, a new path in life and to the five of us – here’s to life xxx

To Jacks mum – heres something special, enjoy our amazing little boy.

http://youtu.be/7HmFfSgST5U

When we’re travelling things relax a little, and one of those is bed times and mornings. Unless we have important connections to make we literally go to sleep whenever we want and get up when we wake up. This has meant that generally we’ve gone to sleep around midnight and the awoke around 9am, but there has been has no emphasis on urgency. And with that in mind I didn’t take too much care in finding out the time of the train from Aswan to Luxor, and didn’t anticipate just how much hassle getting there would actually entail.

We got up, and slowly made our way to the train station in Aswan, getting there for around 10.30am. Expecting just to hop on a train and be on our way I couldn’t have been more wrong. No one would sell me a ticket, and kept telling me that the next train was at 3.45pm, I spoke to the ticket office and they said that there are only certain trains foreigners may take. I asked when the next local train was and he said 1.30pm, but refused to sell me a ticket and assured me we’d be kicked off if we boarded.

With that in mind we made our way to the bus station some 3km out of town. Same story, there were only certain buses we could catch with the next being at 4.30pm. We naturally attracted a lot of attention and some bloke came over and showed us to the minibuses, which go when full. I asked the price and he screwed me, it was so obvious as he was asking his mates just how much they could get out of me. The price was LE£60 for us both, I later found out it should have been about LE£40. So we boarded the minibus and as my shit luck would have it the only seats available were the back ones, there was about a centimetre of space, but the journey would only take 3hrs. Then it turns out I was sat behind a tour guide who had just taken a cruise down from Luxor and was now returning, his hard sell began before the mini bus was even half full. Then, just as I was toying up getting off and heading back to the train station the fattest woman in Egypt sticks her nugget through the door and starts shouting at me. The tour guide told me back seats are reserved for women, I explained there was no way at all she was fitting on the back seat, and in any case, I already had the seat so it was just life. Her bell end husband, a skinny guy (obviously since the food in the house was certainly not going his way) started shouting at me too. I had just had enough, I got off the minibus, and then the driver started shouting at me saying we had a deal, I owed him for the fare. I pointed to the woman and said blame her and we made a bee line for the main road, jumping in the first taxi that came along headed back to the train station.

There is a park near the station and so we spent a few hours just relaxing and passing time. And actually it went pretty quick, and within no time it was 12.45 and we made our way to the station. We sneaked past the guard who probably couldn’t have cared less if he tried and hopped on the train to Luxor. With no doors, smashed windows and grubby seats it was a shit hole of a train. Kids were sat smoking and arguing, parents were fighting and it became clear why the Egyptian government and tourism board did not want foreigners on these trains. All the same, the guard came and charged us a total of just LE£22 (two quid) for the 4 hour jolly to Luxor. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad, Jack sat attracting a gang of kids all watching him play his psp, and I read Arnold Schwarzenegger’s autobiography. The occasional glimpse through the window of the massively overcrowded train showed a beautiful, yet poverty stricken part of Egypt trundle by at around 30km/h.

En route I had realised it would probably be getting dark on arrival to Luxor and so text Jacks mum asking if she would phone ahead to our hotel and ask them to meet us off the train. She told me it was all sorted and so we relaxed a little.

Once off the train I was surprised at how small Luxor looked, I think I expected a huge city, but its not like that at all, it is no where near the scale of Cairo, and more like Aswan, as Luxor too straddles the Nile having an East and a West Bank.

We were on the East bank, which is where all the hotels and restaurants, train station etc is. And within no time we was jumping into the car of the guy who’d come to collect us.

“Listen my friend, tonight the hotel is fully booked, but we have another place for you outside the hotel” instantly I told him to stop the car, he refused assuring me everything would be ok. I tried opening the doors and they were locked, he told me they lock automatically when it’s moving. I told him it was bull shit since the car was older than the pyramids of Giza. When we inevitably got stuck in traffic things got really aggressive, there was two of them in the car, the driver and the guy saying “my friend it is my duty to look after, we Egyptians, we like foreigners, please relax” so when it got stuck in traffic I wound the window down and was shouting police from the window and started to fit Jack through the window. Attracting a lot of attention the guy got out and ran round opening the door letting us out.

We jumped in a taxi and I told him to drive where all the hotels are, I would look for one that looked decent. We found one, actually a really nice place for just LE£90 (9 quid) and I was on the wifi working out just what had happened. I got in touch with the original hotel, a highly revered backpacker place owned by a Belgian woman called Maria. She explained that the hotel had nothing to do with the bollocks at the train station and that Jacks mum must have just phoned some random chancers in Luxor Looking for some commission. As I came to look at a map and get a grip of the city I realised they were driving away from the city, to a part where there are seemingly no hotels and so who knows what was coming for us. Probably some uber expensive hotel in the middle of no where that would mean we had little choice. In any case, Maria said she would personally come and collect us from our new place in the morning.

The hotel we found was right amongst the ex pat, sex tourism part of Luxor. Every hotel and restaurant is pretty much British, ran by British, for the British. Seriously, a whole block of really good, and in some cases fine places. As we were walking looking for somewhere to eat I found a place called the regal lounge, it was like something out of colonial Singapore and full of middle aged couples looking for fun and women looking for sex. But the beer was cheap, the food was cheap and there was a pub quiz.

Jack and I joined a couple from Birmingham who had retired and were now travelling the world, and we came third 🙂 we ate fish and chips and for a while it felt good to be amongst British people. The ex pat community is fantastic, very friendly and full of information, though I have to say, the prices some of the people were telling they had paid, I knew they had been scammed, but since it was cheaper than the UK they were happy nonetheless. As the night wore on Midnight approached and a middle aged woman called Janet took a real liking to Jack, she was acting like his grandma and I could tell she loved kids. She explained that her only son had got married and moved to Australia, she was divorced and so rather than be lonely at home, would float around ex pat communities around the Middle East. It was really nice to be talking to someone, and I felt really sad for her. It reaffirmed the importance of family, and yet I would never discourage my own children from doing the same as her son. I thinks it’s easy to become insular in the UK, but the world is so amazing, and given an opportunity to leave, I would support any one of them.

Anyway the night drew to a close when she became insistent we would have a comfy “and more fun” night at her place. We decided it was time to call it a night.

And so as me and Jack walked back along al-Madina hand in hand to our hotel, the street bustling after midnight, everywhere still open we grabbed a bottle of Sprite, a Kit Kat and and I laughed at how the day had gone. It hadn’t been a bad day, it had been interesting to say the least. But nonetheless, as we climbed into our beds and said goodnight to each other. I was glad it was over, and I think secretly – Jack was too.

Perched in the far south of Egypt, Aswan is a world away from anywhere outside the Sinai. It sits on the East side of the river Nile and due to the dam further down the road the Nile has swelled creating islands that have now of course been built on. One of which is actually where our resort is.

It’s not a large place and easy to navigate on foot. Essentially you have a long road called the Corniche, it runs parallel to the Nile and has a North end and a South end. The walk between the two is about 20 minutes – we know because when we got ditched off the train we made our way to the Corniche and then walked south to the jetty where our boat leaves from to our hotel.

On the West Bank of the Nile is desert, a massive sand dune steals the light and runs down the length of the Nile, and it it’s end is tombs dug into the rock. It looks like something straight out of an Indian Jones movie and the second I saw it, I knew I wanted to go there.

At the start of the day I made a plan of what we would do in Aswan, there are an awful lot of sights, all dotted around the place, and some up to 25km away. Usually tour groups head South to the dam and then mooch around the sights down there. The reason is that it holds such significance to Egyptian life. Since much of Egypt is dependent on the river Nile, when it was determined a dam would be built it essentially wiped out everything south of Aswan due to drought. And also submerged many villages and ancient monuments. One such monument was a temple that for years would attract people to look down through the clear water and see amazing temple submerged beneath them. Once home to Egyptians of thousands of years ago, now home to the inhabitants of the Nile, fish and such like. UNESCO eventually got a grip and divers dismantled it and then rebuilt it on higher ground. But not everything is submerged in water, there are a whole host of things to see and do and you could linger here for some time without getting bored. And when you have done everything, and seen everything – You could just sail along the Nile on a felucca watching the sunset in arguably one of the most picturesque sunsets in the world.

I digress, so I wrote a list of things to do on the back of a couple of post it notes. I decided which I wanted to do the most, which Jack would enjoy the most and the sort of price I could expect to pay. So to give me a starting point for bargaining.

I had intended to leave the hotel early to get as much out of the day as possible, but Jack had fitted right into Nubile life and had slowed to an almost stop. Which fitted with me to be honest, Jack had decided it was time to slow down, and I agreed. And so we had breakfast, hopped on a boat and made our way to the Corniche. We jumped in a servee and headed up to the North end. – A servee is basically some bloke who owns a minibus and flies around town charging everyone a fixed rate of 50ps (half an Egyptian quid so 5 English pence) it’s always a cramped affair and I’m told, a sure fire way for a white woman to get touched up. No one touched us up and we hopped off at the public boat across to the West Bank. The price for the crossing is LE£1 but you try and get it for that price. In the end I had to pay LE£5 but believe me that took some hard core bargaining skills. And don’t expect any help from the locals, all Nubile people live a simple life, they see you as a rich tourist and believe it is your duty to pump money into their fledgling local economy and in many ways I do agree, still it pisses me off. And on the subject of what pisses me off, I have noticed this time in Egypt there is a whole generation of kids looking for a kick in the head. I don’t know what it is, but there are some hardcore knob heads around. And they are all around 15 – 17 years old. I am convinced as part of coming of age they are looking for a slap.

Anyway, the boat showed the first time I had seen segregation in Egypt. The front half was all men, and the rear half all women. Still, we sat with the women since it was the only space on the massively overcrowded boat and no one said a word.

The crossing took around five minutes and suddenly we was in the desert. Operation get money from tourists went into full force and we literally waded through the hassle, purchased a ticket for Tombs of Nobles for LE£30 (Jack was free as usual) and set about making our way up.

Now, anyone that has ever walked up a sand dune will know just how hard it is. Seriously, and Jack told me all about it on the climb up to the tombs. Several times. But when we eventually made it and was looking to chill out and enjoy the view for a minute a couple of blokes appeared with dollar signs in their eyes. I thought it was suspicious that we appeared to have the place to ourselves. But what ensued was perhaps the snidest scam I’ve ever come across.

So what happens at every Egyptian site, In fact every site around the world, is that some local will instantly attach themselves to you, they will begin to point things out, or show you the way. They are trying to make a living and though some may be very knowledgable there are inevitably many who aren’t. Nevertheless, I am the sort of person who doesn’t want a guide, I don’t want to know every intricate detail, I just want to experience and feel the place, to wonder, imagine, to be alone. So me and Jack arrived at the top of this massive sand dune and this guy attached himself to us. I tried telling him countless times I wasn’t interested but he was having none of it, he insisted guides were mandatory, it wasn’t a choice I had. The he held out a rope with a key on the end of it and told me that it was the key to the tombs, and I had come to the tombs, this was proof they couldn’t be visited without him. I mean come on, seriously! in the end he got the message, put a curse on us and off we went exploring. Jack was the leader and we roamed around the place, not seeing a single door by the way.

But it was a very dangerous place, in the tombs were holes that just appeared out of no where and were very very deep. Jack has had enough of falling down holes and so we took great care, and after around an hour I remembered I’d seen a mausoleum further up on top of the mountain. There was no path and no one around and so we made our way up, best we could. It took a while, but the views from the top were breathtaking. We was atop a sand dune hundreds of feet high, looking down was thousands of years old tombs, then the Nile, then a panoramic view of palm fringed Aswan. It really was a gorgeous view. Jack had spotted a place on the sand dune that “looked comfy” and so we made our way there. It was about a 20 degree angle and so one wrong step would have created a sand-alanche and we’d have gotten seriously injured. But as it happened we were ok, and we sat, on top of this sand dune, not a person around, in the heat of the desert and loved life. We had the most gorgeous view, I had fantastic company, and we sat for maybe an hour, literally just enjoying each others company. For Jack it was a moment he could tell his friend James about, for me it was yet another memory I would cherish forever.

After Jack was convinced he’d seen a snake and my face was starting to burn we made our way back to the boat, but en route passed a load of camels. I was stood trying to convince Jack it would make for a perfect photo opportunity when some guy appeared out of no where. Now what normally happens at this point is that he moans that no pictures are allowed without payment. It’s complete bull shit as he has a camel in a desert and of course I’m going to photograph it. But this guy was different, he wasn’t arsed about the photo and offered to take us out for a ride. As it happens i had spotted an old monastery from the sand dune and asked how much, he told me his camel, Bob Marley would take us for LE£160 (£16 English) , it would take around an hour for the return trip. I explained this was too much and the bargaining began. In the end we agreed on LE£70 (£7 English) providing there was no bull shit along the way, such as unplanned detours etc. He was cool with it and off into the desert we went.

Jack was really nervous at first, anyone who has rode a camel will know, when it stands its quite unnerving the first time, and since Bob Marley decided to bolt off with us on top it was very unnerving. But eventually the valley of sand opened and we made our way to the absolutely stunning St Simeon Monastery (which of course was pretty much ruins) it was something straight out of Arabian Nights. There was no one around, we was the only camel in the desert and the heat made the Monastery built from ancient bricks look like a mirage. It was memorising. Absolutely beautiful.

Entrance to the Monastery was LE£25 with Jack being free. The whole guide thing came and went and then we explored. Completely in the middle of desert it felt surreal, but yet so very real. Jack was in his element as he climbed, and ran and just got lost in it all.

On the camel back to the boat dock the guy (who called himself Jamaica) explained that before the troubles in Egypt he would see 12 customers in just one one day, making a fair living for himself and his family. But we were his first customers in three days, and I believed him since literally, we appeared to be the only tourists on the West Bank. The issues of such a wonderful country are literally bringing it to its knees, and making an already tough survival for many people, almost impossible. And for a country that relies so heavily on tourism, the effects are clear to see. Even so far away from Cairo, at the opposite end of the country.

Our journey to the West Bank, and the camel ride meant it was now almost 3pm and we’d not yet had lunch. Jack claimed to have spotted a KFC and so we set about finding it. Sure enough there was one, and we were soon munching down on chicken, chips and coleslaw which was nasty, and turns out is made not from mayonnaise, but curd.

After reminding ourselves we were Westerners we were all Egypted out and so hopped back on the boat to the hotel and spent the rest of the day in the pool. Jack assured me the day had been the best of his life and I could see why. We had taken a boat down the Nile, scaled a sand dune, the son had shone at around 32 degrees, we had explored ancient tombs, mausoleums, then rode a camel through the desert to a monastery, there had been no one else around, we had crammed ourselves into a mini bus, had KFC and the spent a couple of hours in a pool surrounded by lush palm trees and one of the most famous rivers in the world. We had watched the sunset over Aswan again and then had anything we wanted to eat from the hotel A La Carte menu followed by chocolate ice cream. It really was an amazing day, and in Jacks young existence it was easy to see why it was the best day of his life. The only problem I have now, is how I’m ever going to top it.

I had hoped to get a ticket out of Cairo, and there was supposedly some guy that could get me a ticket. Essentially what happened was he told me he’d let me know by 11pm, then midnight, then first thing in the morning. It just kept getting put back and so in the end I knew he was just messing about hoping something would materialise.

The place we were staying in Cairo was the top floor of a 7 storey building kitted out with rooms, plants and a chilled out vibe. At just £2.50 (English) per night per person it genuinely is the beating heart of the backpacker community in Cairo and is always fully booked. With free wifi and prices geared toward the long term traveller it was perfect and checking out, and paying a fiver after two nights was an absolute bargain. The name of the place for anyone hitting up Cairo is Dahab hostel, Taal at Harb. Jack was adored, each night we all ordered pizzas and pasta because it was too dodgy to go out. I would have liked to have stayed longer actually, Jack felt right at home.

There was a rumour flying around the hostel that a guard at a station just out of Cairo (Giza) was dodgy and would take bribes like they were going out of fashion. I was told he was the ticket bloke in the porta cabin outside the station. And so we set off to see him. As we crossed the Nile out of Downtown Cairo smoke was still coming from Tahrir Square and the 6th October bridge was still barricaded. The driver was telling us that the government of Egypt had realised that the country was on the verge of collapse and so curfews throughout the country had come into force and the army was moving into Cairo to retake the area around Tahrir Sq. Later in the day we were to see the tanks and convoys rolling into the city. Leaving Cairo was no longer an option, it was an absolute must and the main priority. Whatever it took, whatever it cost, we were leaving.

At this point it’s worth pointing out Jack knew nothing. As explained earlier in the blog we are not a target, not the issue behind the anger and riots. He felt no tension, and was just Mr Jack, adored by all. That boy seriously has almost worn his hand out from the amount of high fives (or low fives in his case) that people have given him. Jack is living the dream!

Anyway, we made our way to Giza and I hunted down the portacabin. The conversation pretty much went like this:

Me – “I need a ticket out of Cairo today, what are my options”

Him – “All trains are fully booked, there is nothing”

Me – “I was under the impression you was the person to see about getting tickets that weren’t available”

Him – “There is nothing I can do, all I can tell you is that there is emergency tickets but you can’t get them until one hour before the train departs. But even then they aren’t guaranteed”

Me – “My boy and I, we need to get out of here today (I offered him a LE£100 note which is about a tenner in English money, and a days wage for him)

Him – “Ok, show me your passport”

Within a few minutes the emergency allocation had opened temporarily, and early and we had a ticket out of Cairo on the 8pm sleeper train to Luxor, and then Aswan. He didn’t scam me on the ticket price, it is a fixed $60 for adults and $45 for children. It’s a train complete with rooms with 2 beds in, evening meal, breakfast and is armed to the teeth with trigger happy police who’s sole purpose in life is to bolt up and down the Nile guarding tourists. In all honesty I’d have normally been slapping myself silly over having paid $105 for a train ticket, but the cost was no issue whatsoever. I was just glad to have a way out.

With that in mind we decided to head to the zoo since we had some time to burn.

Cairo zoo is on Giza and so away from the trouble of downtown Cairo. It’s school holidays in Egypt right now and I was hoping there’d be some kids Jack could associate himself with.

As we approached the zoo entrance 2 guys came over and were well excited about Jack, it dawned on me that he was wearing his Egyptian national football shirt and Egyptians are crazy about football. They absolutely loved the fact a little boy from the UK was wearing their national shirt. One of the guys was trying to give me a few smokes in recognition of my fashion abilities.

Entrance to the zoo was LE£20 (2 quid) with no charge for Jack. The best zoo I have ever been to, by far. And I’m talking as far as to the moon and back twice, is Singapore zoo. The worst was Beijing zoo and I was expecting Cairo to be something like Beijing and I was right. It is run down and the animals are in a poor state. Workers around the zoo kept coming up to us and asking if Jack wanted a photo laid with a lion, I was like “seriously, no thanks!” At one point Jack was feeding a monkey some Doritos and a guy came over asking for baksheesh since he’d turned a blind eye. But it didn’t detract from the fact we actually had a really good time. It was a little sad to see the animals in the state they were, but Jack didn’t mind. Too young to understand he was happy to be getting so close to the animals, who are not long away from escaping due to the rusted bars and falling apart cages.

The highlight for me though was the play area, quite a large kiddies play area built around the same time as the pyramids. In England it would have come complete with no win no fee lawyers.

I sat and relaxed making arrangements with Jacks mum for Aswan and a hotel. Jack played with the kids. Every time I looked at him he had a posse of girls excited about him, or parents keen to have their kids snapped with him. First he came back with a packet of crisps someone gave him, then an orange, then a sticky apple, then to tell me some woman “eurgh she just French kissed me dad” what he meant was some woman had kissed both his cheeks.

As we left the play area Jack was a legend in his own right, and I was now looking forward to a five star hotel on its own island, reachable only by boat in Aswan.

After the zoo I decided to take Jack to one of the most beautiful parts of Cairo, and perhaps my favourite part; Khan A Khalili – more commonly known as Islamic Cairo. I wrote about this last time and so will just sum it up by saying its a lot like Arabian Nights, think a souq selling spices, silver and all set to the back drop of Islamic buildings hundreds of years old. If Aladdin flew past on a magic carpet it would have felt so right.

As it goes we chilled in a few mosques and in some vain attempt to quell Jacks constant hunger I bought him a banana. He walked down the cobbled street a few feet ahead of me when suddenly he disappeared down a hole. I was convinced he’d broken something and his cries conformed it to me. I picked him up and sat him down checking his knee which had swollen up. He was in obvious pain, some guy came over and started rubbing something on Jacks leg (not a clue what it was) but he was adamant it would sort him out. It actually did, and when Jack had calmed down I told him I don’t like to see him cry, if he stopped I’d get him some cinnamon chewing gum. It worked a treat, he jumped up and it wasn’t long before we walked off, hand in hand. I said ‘hole-ey, shit Jack that was funny”. To which Jack replied “I know” figuring I’d try again I said “HOLE-d my hand jack” to which Jack replied ok dad. I explained it to him about five times and he had no clue what I was talking about.

Jacks leg only started hurting again when I suggested we walk back to the hotel. But given taxis are so cheap in Cairo it made sense to just hop in a taxi. The driver didn’t have change which got boring 4 years ago in Vietnam and so when I refused he suddenly remembered the change in his pocket, and after collecting our bags form the hotel we made a bee line for the train station in Giza looking to bail the city for good.

I wasn’t entirely convinced the train was sorted, and by 8.15pm I was even less so. Come 8.45pm and I’d spoken to Jacks mum that I felt we might have been scammed, but I still had hope. Absolutely no one spoke English and the best I could get from anyone was “Inshallah” which means “god willing” in other words, if it does it does, if it doesn’t then it wasn’t meant to be. Every train that came into the station assured me train 84 was the next one, and fifteen trains later I was a starting to make contingency plans. A group of Chinese girls had attached themselves to us. One of them was crying, the taxi driver had driven off before she could get her bags from the boot. She had lost her passport, camera, ipad etc. I then realised things could be worse, potentially she had been robbed and scammed.

Train 84, the best train in the whole of Egypt pulled into Giza at around 9.20pm. Within no time at all we were in our room, a beer was cracked open and Jack was eating the chicken curry he had ordered whilst I munched down on fish and who knows what. But the main thing was that we were on the train. And within no time at all it was steaming down the side of the Nile to Southern Egypt. Since we were in a sleeper and darkness, we were also supposedly missing one of the best train journeys on Earth.

I awoke as the train was leaving Luxor having just had a near solid 9hr sleep. Jack was just coming round, the reason we’d woken up was because half the train bailed at Luxor.

Jack was in charge of keeping the room tidy and he did a good job, he was like a little granny. It was now 9am and breakfast was delivered to our berth, it was a selection of croissants with cheese and honey and coffee. There was three hours left of the journey and so we opened the curtains, put some music on and had breakfast whilst watching the stunning Egyptian countryside go by.

During the train journey Jack was an absolute star, it was the longest single journey he had ever done and I didn’t have a single issue with him, and not once did he say he was bored, or that he had had enough. I spent a lot of the time thinking and reflecting on family life. Egyptians are very family orientated and its had a real impact on me.

We pulled into Aswan around midday and expecting chaos we were met with people just going about their business. Knowing Aswan proper was not too big we crossed from the train station and onto the bank of the Nile known as the Corniche, and headed south for about km or so, to where the boat left for our hotel.

Aswan is a world away from Cairo, and after a bit of messing about we found ourselves having a gorgeous evening meal, with a local beer, watching the sun set over the Nile. And as the skies turned red, and the West Bank sand dunes littered with ancient caves reflected in the Nile I got a tinge of excitement. Jack was using cocktail sticks to eat his cheese sandwich and he smiled in a way which melts my heart, and as I thought of those at home – Charlie and his garbage jokes, Abi and her countless pictures she makes for me, and Toby with his mid air star jumps. I realised just how lucky I was and just how important family was.

The day started with us scaling the 280 steps down to ground level and hunting down breakfast. This was a near instant fail as both Jack and I started sneezing, rubbing our stinging eyes and nostrils. Tear gas was in the air and we were back in our hotel in a flash.

We had decided to best thing to do was bail Cairo for the day. The problems in Cairo have scared off most tourists, embassy’s have closed, and the touts at Giza pyramids were now beyond desperate. A visit to the world famous Giza Pyramids was fraught with potential issues and so we decided to head out of town.

We hired a driver to head West and to a place some 30 miles, yet a century away from Cairo. The road runs along the side of a side river from the Nile, the concrete towers become fields and palm trees and the cars very quickly become horse and cart. It is Egypt proper and beautiful.

As we left Cairo the streets were filled with burned out cars, makeshift road blocks, fires still burning, and bricks and glass everywhere. It was every bit the war zone I had worried about, the driver made apologies for what his people were doing. He explained that that vast majority of Egyptians hated what was happening, and wished for an end to the violence and troubles.

As we left on one of the few remaining bridges not blocked out of Cairo I stopped to take a photograph of the beautiful city. And as we looked off the bridge, everything looked perfect, so silent and peaceful. The Nile glistened under the sun and Minerets pierced the sky, it is one of the most troubled cities on earth at the moment, yet for a minute it seemed perfect.

The journey to Dashur took just over an hour, down broken roads and through villages that time has long forgotten. Children whipped donkeys, chickens hung by the neck, families survived and thrived. But they thrived on nothing. In the UK we thrive on success, and kid ourselves that a day to the coast once every six months will reaffirm our place in the world. The true meaning of family in the UK is long forgotten. Family means relying on each other with an absolute unfettered trust, a love so powerful it becomes the reason for life. Like nothing else matters, a reason for waking, a means of survival and a smile so powerful it is craved by those without such purpose.

Entrance to Dashur was LE£30 with a few quid for the car. Total in English was about £3.50. Dashur has huge significance in Egyptian history. In many ways it was the trial ground for what the world believes to be amongst the most amazing human feats in history and probably the worlds first, and longest lasting fail. It was at Dashur that Pharoah Sneferu who lived some 6000 years ago decided to bang up a pyramid. Even today the best minds in the world struggle to ascertain how pyramids were built with such rudimentary equipment. Well rewind back to Dashur in 2613BC and look to the so called bent pyramid. This was a prototype if you like to building a pyramid. It was sussed out and built at 54 degrees, but when it started to collapse, the angle was changed to 43 degrees and the layers changed to horizontal bricks. Still, bent as it is, it still stands today. Closed to the public it was history’s first fail and led to Egypts largest true pyramid – The red pyramid; Also at Dashur.

The first thing we noticed about Dashur was that no one else was there. It was completely abandoned, no camels, not touts, no shoddy tourist restaurants. Nothing and no one. We made our way straight to the massive Red pyramid. Where I knew we could descend into and explore.

It was desert, with basically a pyramid plonked right in the middle of it and everyone had chipped. For me it was perfect, and for Jack it was heaven. The entrance to the pyramid was a climb up about half way up the side, and so yet again I muscled from Brussels my thighs, died a few times and met a dodgy looking bloke at the pyramid entrance. You have to understand, rules in Egypt exist for two reasons, the first is because no one has bothered their arse to actually think things through properly and so has just come up with a rule. The second is to make people money.

There is of course no cameras allowed in the pyramid, what this actually means is, technically you aren’t allowed to take a camera into the pyramid. But, and on payment of a little baksheesh I will look away and not notice the flashes as you click away. Sure enough, I slipped the bloke LE£5 (50 pence) on entrance and the camera was never even an issue.

I never actually realised just how deep a pyramid went, I mean I knew they we pretty much dug up, or down. But the descent was tight, claustrophobic, hot, stuffy and seemed to go on forever. Jack was a little nervous, but I went first and he was keen to follow. We both fell a few times and used our ninja skills to ensure we didn’t go flying down to the bottom. Once at the bottom however, we entered the tomb and stood mesmerised at the fact we were at the bottom of a massive pyramid. After picking our jaws up from the floor at just how amazing it looked a Japanese tourist appeared from around the corner in the next room. Jack asked “where the heck did that guy come from” the bloke just smiled, touched up his camera and was off. I explained to Jack that Japanese tourists are everywhere. And that when Neil Armstrong first stepped on the moon, there was a Japanese tourist already there waiting to take a photo.

We had a moment in the pyramid, for a while things felt so surreal and as we sat playing 20 questions, in a 6000 year old structure, I felt closer to Jack than I ever had. Then he farted and we made our exit, up the long shaft. It was a killer, but at the top, several hundred feet up the side of a pyramid, looking out to the desert I smiled. The sort of genuine smile that comes along every now and again. A split second of perfection, a moment you know you’ll remember forever.

We decided to walk around to the back of the pyramid, and see what was going on. Not really sure what we expected as it was pretty much the same as the front, but this time there was absolutely no one around. No one looking for baksheesh, just miles of sand, a bent pyramid in the distance, and me and Jack.

I told Jack he had 15 minutes to do whatever he wanted, absolutely anything. He decided to eat some sand, then climb the pyramid. Of course he didn’t get very far since the blocks are the height of him, but for 15 minutes he had no restrictions, no care, and was allowed to be a kid. After the 15 minutes was up his smile told of a child coming of age, a child excited and that had free reign to just be a kid. I told him there was no longer any rules, and within reason he could do whatever he wanted. For the next hour, alone in the desert with Jack, with the worlds biggest playground obstacle within touching distance, I watched my boy love life. And it was sad. I knew this would be one of a handful of times he would feel this way. For me, watching Jack scale a pyramid, run into the desert, have absolutely no problems, no cares, and to know there was no one but us for miles around. One of the happiest days of my life, for a moment I felt content and though Jack will probably forget, today will stay with me for the rest of my life.

The next stop for us was Saqqara, a real time archeological site, mummies are popping up every few years. In true Egyptian style it has been decided that rebuilding the famous Saqqara pyramid using wooden scaffolding is just the same as it been built thousands of years ago. Personally I think they should let history take its course.

Saqqara is a reasonably famous tourists site and so there were a few people dotted about looking for that perfect picture opportunity. What this meant for us was that touts were out in force and I seriously got pissed off. Having paid LE£60 I was already looking for someone’s dog to kick. Yet every tomb we went to there was some guy saying “this is closed” and forcibly trying to stop us gaining access. The tourist police were busy trying to get baksheesh for taking photos and so absolutely everything was a mission. Someone even tried telling me that a Camel ride was mandatory, and tried pinging me a few quid because jack took a piss in some hole that was supposedly a billion years old. I mean, we did enjoy our time there and did manage to get our Indian Jones on, but it wasn’t easy. I considered Jackie Channing everyone, but we were in the middle of a desert and the humidity put me off.

In the end I stopped listening to people, and they did get quite heavy with us. For instance I took a photo of Jack next to some hieroglyphics and supposedly this wasn’t allowed. Neither was photos of the pyramid, tombs, shit – even grains of sand came with a LE£1 fee. Eventually we bailed down some pathway that was quite obviously closed and when three guys came chasing us we ran. It had become an absolute joke by this point, and we jumped onto the roof of a tomb that was closed and supposedly the most scared thing in Egypt, these fellas were phoning their wives and updating Facebook on the go. The tourist police showed their face and kicked off, waving sticks at us. As we climbed down I was explaining that everyone in Egypt was a knob head and it seems we actually did climb into one of the most scared tombs in Egypt. The police asked for my ticket and the whipped it out of my hand, shouted at me in Arabic and kicked us out of Saqqara. My driver took life seriously, but genuinely, I believe there is a cartel of hustlers running that place and as we drove back to Cairo I couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit legendary about getting bared from Saqqara.

As we entered the perimeter of Cairo reality bit hard and we found ourselves caught up in a riot. The doors were locked but someone posted something through the window, I quickly grabbed it. It was a spent smoke grenade, I knew we needed to leave and so after we seriously struggled to get to our hotel due to the road blocks we headed straight to Ramses station. The railway station of Cairo. A sandstorm was on the city and supposedly hitting up most of the Western Desert, my priority was getting me and Jack out of there.

There were no buses, not a single one as everything was booked up. The train station told a different story and the train to Luxor is fully booked until the 4th February. 16 hours away by road, our only option to escape Cairo to Luxor would be to hop on a train and hope for the guard to not kick us off for not having a seat. Best case scenario we sit on the floor for 11 hours, worst – we get kicked off somewhere along the Nile.

The train was a no go, and then outside, no one would take us to our hotel, believe me I tried and suddenly the the LE£ had no voice. The Metro was operating, but the stop nearest to our hotel was Sadat, which is Tahrir square, the final place of of 5 more people last night, killed in the trouble. We hopped onto the Metro and decided to get off at Nasser, a stop North of where we needed to be. Waiting on the station we got lots of looks, and once in the train a guy sat next to us and quietly told me to get off and leave. We were not safe. At Nasser we jumped off and the trains next stop was Sadat, young guys hung off the train from the outside and stood between the carriages.

We made our way outside the station and found our way back to the hotel. The manager told us to stay here and that the police station had been taken, the was a police car on fire at the end of our road and that things were now very serious.

As it stands I might have a black market ticket out of here tomorrow.

And so hopefully, next stop Luxor. Or Aswan, or anywhere.

“Egyptians look to the future and the future is tourism” said Mohammed when pressed on the security situation in Cairo. On the 25th January the second anniversary of the uprising, riots and demonstrations spread throughout the country. Riots filled the streets of Cairo and the death toll rose.

Roll back to 2012 and a football game between the Cairo team Al-Ahly and Port Said where it kicked off big time, the result was 73 dead and hundreds injured. Someone quite obviously didn’t think things through properly when deciding that the verdict on the 75 charged with ‘premeditated murder and attempted murder’ would be delivered on the 26th Jan.

With all that in mind, and in an already tense city, situations have just been waiting to flare up and as it goes, it kicked off on the 25th with even more dead and hundreds injured in battles with riot police. Rioting continued and when the verdict of guilty, and the sentencing of death was announced for the football hooligans things went from very bad, to exceptionally bad. In Port Said, in an flunked attempt to free their kin from imminent death some 38 people have lost their lives with many hundreds seriously injured. The president has declared emergency in several Egyptian cities, but not yet in Cairo.

However today, rioters face their fourth day in battles against the police and army. Their reason is simple – betrayal. Two years ago this week the old government was ousted and a new Morsi led outfit was put into place. Well the people feel like Morsi has done nothing. Just come along, chilled out, smoked a pipe and sat back whilst promises expired and the Egyptians are pissed off. But the important thing is they are pissed off with establishment, their frustration is intensely polar and aimed quite pointedly in one very distinct direction.

In other words were not talking about a bunch of hooligans all bent on trashing Cairo and everyone who gets in their way. Not at all, these people are willing to die for what they bleed and for their future, and their future is a fair, prosperous Egypt. That doesn’t mean as a tourist you can mooch through the riots with immunity, bullet proof with a smile on your face. It is a dangerous place to be and right now, 11pm on the 27th January probably every tourist is tucked up in their hotel avoiding the streets as advised by anyone with any sense. My hotel is about 500m from Tahrir Sq and we can hear the riots, the bangs, shots, sirens and chaos.

The bus was late leaving Hurghada, but when it did finally leave we got comfy and looked to the six hour journey ahead. Stopping only at some random service station in the desert the bus made good time, and after about five hours Jack grabbed my attention with excitement. “Check out these tanks dad” I looked out of the window and realised we were entering the city limits of Cairo, tanks, the army, trucks and young conscripts looked serious. It looked and felt like we were entering a war zone. I am not exaggerating, if someone had told me we were coming into Baghdad I wouldn’t have been surprised. And it was at this point that I suddenly started taking things serious.

The bus ditched us East of Cairo, in what I eventually realised was Heliopolis. Taxi touts were full on, and despite darkness coming in I politely told them no thank you and walked out of the bus station, turned left and walked until I figured we might get an honest taxi driver, and that would be a laugh anywhere else in the world. But from recent experience Cairo taxi drivers are by and large honest people. Bound by meters, and limited by traffic they tend to get you from A – B without much hassle, and given that 10 minutes in a taxi amounts to about a quid English money it’s just not worth their while driving you round aimlessly.

We did find a taxi, Jack buzzed off no seat belts, I wondered just how many cigarettes the guy would smoke and we both held on for dear life as the taxi raced through the streets giving us plenty of near death experiences along the route. A couple of quid Egyptian is sufficient to say thanks for not killing me.

We got to our hotel and the lift was out of order. This is no joke, we were on the seventh floor of a 150 year old building and scaling those steps made my thighs almost bust out of my kecks Johnny Bravo style.

Everything was great until I reminisced on a kebab joint in Zamalek, which is a sliver of land on the Nile just a bridge off Cairo. The sixth of October bridge was closed off due to the riots, but supposedly the next bridge up (27th July) was open.

Getting to Zamalek was fine and we bailed at Subway for a cheap munch. Jacks new favourite best food ever is Meatball Marinara and cheese on white, and within a few minutes I’d bagged 4 cans of Heineken and we were looking for a taxi back across the Nile.

I’d actually considered walking it, Cairo at night is gorgeous. The Nile is sided by international hotels and old steam boats and dotted with shadows of palm trees. You could seriously film a movie here and base it in 1979. Billboards still advertise Kodak and Coke, a city older than time, dotted with all the mod cons, but having somehow stayed in the 70’s it is without a doubt one of my favourite cities.

Anyway, we struggled to cross the suicide road and was helped across by some guy who put his life on the line for us, we hopped in a taxi, and when I pronounced where we needed to go, the driver must have thought I spoke Arabic, its all in the H’s and R’s and once you’ve nailed their pronunciation life gets easier. After speaking to me for five minutes, laughing and telling me his life story he looked at my blank face and spat out of the window. The bridge was jammed and it didn’t take long to realise why. Suddenly I noticed people were wearing medical masks, a clear feeble attempt to mask the tear gas lobbed at them. Others wore head scarfs around there face. There was several hundred demonstrators, it was dark, and they were controlling traffic. It looked like they were trying to turn people around but my driver was insistent and kept driving. At the second set of rioters the situation had seriously escalated and things were no longer tense, but lawless. I was asking him to turn around, gesturing with my hands. He was having none of it and I slipped my beers under the seat in front trying not to make eye contact with anyone and hoping they wouldn’t notice this was anything other than just some knob head taxi. Jack was clueless to what was going on, but by now I was worried. People have, and continue to die on those streets. I noticed a line of riot police all helplessly letting this self governance go ahead in some attempt to quell any issues.

It was dark and I could seriously sense a chinning coming my way. The first note I pulled out of my wallet was LE£50 and I gave it to the driver and gestured again he turn around. Money speaks better Arabic than I do and he spun around and after a brief stop at the first barricade we were off into the night. It took him ages to find a way to where we needed to be that wasn’t barricaded off, and by the current news much downtown Cairo is yet again suffering to riots.

Cairo was somewhere that would have been difficult to avoid, and so after speaking with Jacks mother we have made arrangements for us to spend most of tomorrow away from the city. And it’s a real shame, but safety must come first and though we aren’t the direction of anyone’s hatred, things are extremely tense and best avoided. At whatever cost.

The leading photograph is one taken on the sly from the taxi.

Hurghada has been attracting divers from across the globe for years, and as a result it is probably the most over developed place I have ever been. More overdeveloped than its adversary ‘Sharm’ and that is saying something.

The name Hurghada is a bit misleading to be honest, consider it to be more the name of an area, rather than a place. For instance, at the far south end of the coastline is the Resort strip, home to all the posh places like the Oberoi, then further North is Sigala, a bit like Russian central and then Ad Dahr at the north end which is like Islamabad in Egypt. With about 20km separating the three areas and then flanked on one side by the Red Sea and a desert in the other, Hurghada for many is a slice of paradise that is currently basking in about 27 degree temperatures. It is now one of the cheaper places in Egypt due to the fact most regulars have bailed to Sharm and most divers have headed to Dahab, and even the issues in the Sinai have not brought the masses back to this one bustling holiday town. Now, Hurghada looks like a tired, overgrown, sand blasted collective of concrete buildings and sandy streets. It genuinely looks like investment dried up in the 80’s and the lines of desperation show in most people’s faces trying to make a living of the hardcore tourists, (predominantly Russian) that still make it to this little haven.

The flight landed on time and within no time we had our visa and was outside the front of the terminal looking to change cash. Naturally we had walked past the only currency exchange and wasn’t allowed back in (I only had USD) I managed to find a shady guard who was happy to give me a good rate and we looked for a ride into town. Now, I have always been confident when it comes to bargaining, and have faced some real hardcore bargain veterans, these pale into insignificance to the cartel running at the airport. The price started at LE£150 and eventually, after a heated few minutes settled on LE£60, but even this was a scam as I knew full well the price should have been more like LE£25. In hindsight, and certainly if I had had Charlie and Abi with me, we’d have walked out of the airport and hopped in a taxi on the main rd. But honestly, it never occurred to me at the time.

The taxi took around 25 minutes, and it wasn’t long before the bright lights and odd English word became sand blasted Arabic signs, mosques started to appear, and Levi’s and a T Shirt became traditional Arabic dress. Anywhere else in the Arab world and I’d have felt a kidnap coming on, but Egyptians have such a welcoming manner it’s hard to feel threatened. Sure enough it wasn’t long before we pulled up outside our hotel and were greeted by the manager – Mohammed (which i know is no surprise)

We were in Ad Dahr which could be any Islamic city across the Middle East in any country, it is budget central and rooms can be found for about a fiver per person per night. It’s actually funny, a taxi from Ad Dahr to Sigala some 6km away costs LE£10 no problem. Yet a taxi from Sigala? Bargaining starts at LE£50. There are a few tourists in Ad Dahr, but mainly the are Egyptians coming from elsewhere in the country. Prices reflect this and are probably amongst the cheapest for a tourist in Egypt. This is great for us, and so we started our day trying to hunt down an aquarium.

The issue for me with Hurghada is that during the boom, every piece of coastal real estate was bought and built on. In order to protect each others investment vast concrete piers were built out to sea meaning not just parts of beach were lost, but the coral that was the very basis of the tourism diminished. Additionally, the sea might be a clear turqoise, the sand red and amenities everywhere. But it’s not hard to be reminded you are in some fettered, false charade that could so easily have been paradise. I imagine the divers who came to Hurghada in the 70’s talk about a hideaway that once was – Now nothing more than a concrete strip of occasionally used buildings outnumbered by wrecks of projects that never took off.

We found the aquarium and so began a calamity of trying to change a LE£200 note for the LE£15 admission. In comparison LE£200 is like a £19 note. But times are hard and people are skint. When it did eventually get split we headed downstairs and were happily surprised at the fish on show. It was quite large and well looked after and Jack was loving it. We were the only ones in there and so we managed to have some real father and son time. And so we laughed, played hide and seek, and for the 45 minutes or so we we down there forgot about everything and just enjoyed life. I needed it.

The afternoon was spent lazing on a beach, since every beach is hotel owned and there are no laws prohibiting privatisation you either stand and watch from afar, or pay a hotel to let you use their beach. I was moaning to Mohammed about this and it just so happens he knows a hotel along the front. He made a call and away we went towel in hand.

We spent the afternoon relaxing on the beach and using the pool.

The weather was good, the beach near deserted and so we had an afternoon of Jack and Dad time 🙂

We swam in the sea.

Tried our hand at fishing on dodgy piers.

Felt sorry for the crabs that might get washed up to shore and so built them crab houses.

Helped catch an octopus.

Tried nicking a boat.

Licked a cactus.

And booked our quad for the morning 🙂