When Eid hit Sharm, this Sharmer hit Cairo. The only way to escape from the incessant ringing of mobile phones on the beach seemed to be to visit the place where they all came from - the big C. Having arrived on the night bus at some ungodly hour of the morning, I found a different Cairo from the one I was used to. All was quiet and peaceful, the birds were singing, the streets were civilised, the Nile was oozing gracefully along (a glutinous substance cannot flow incidentally) but a bit cold for this southerner. I'll get used to it.

First stop - The Nile Hilton for breakfast. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the waiters spoke English - a hitherto unknown concept for Sharm - and actually seemed interested in providing customer service. This is what we need - civilisation. As the sun rose through the smog, I dreamed of a few days of culture. After all, this is the capital of the country which claims to be the birthplace of civilisation. Culture will have to wait however, after spending the previous day working followed by a night on the Superjet, what I need now is food, drink, sleep, and lots of it. Cancel culture for today.

Saturday:

OK, this is where the culture starts. Let's visit the Museum. Having fought my way through the security guards I gained access to the building, which houses the national treasures of Egypt. These national treasures are more security guards it would appear. No, I was mistaken. They are merely leaning on the exhibits, or against the signs asking you not to lean on the exhibits. After a couple of hours my head was spinning with unanswered questions such as:

Why are the rooms too dark to see what's inside them?

Why are the description cards at the back of the cases where you can't read them?

Why do you call someone’s daddy a mummy?

I cannot believe that the same race that built the pyramids so many thousands of years ago are unable to make a plug for my bath. Obviously I've had too much culture for today. I'm turning cynical. Of course the Egyptians built the Pyramids, only they were meant to be round.

Sunday:

Having learnt from Dr.Tequila, (professor of XXIII dynasty liquor), last night that in fact it was extraterrestrials that built the pyramids, I feel more able to pass on culture and begin to appreciate the finer points of this city. For example - taxis. Where I come from, a taxi driver takes you where you want to go. Not in Cairo. Apparently I need to know the route. The taxi drivers responsibility is to drive at breakneck speeds through impossibly small gaps in the traffic whilst looking at me over his shoulder demanding directions to my destination. I would pay a Kings ransom just to stop the car and get out, never mind where I actually end up. Yes, just drop me here, I'll find it thanks, it's in Cairo somewhere............  

Monday:

I can barely believe it! Cairo has an underground train system – and it works! I even got some small metal discs as change for my ticket. At least, I guess it was change. In Sharm, the smallest change comes in the form of 10LE notes. The only problem I had was actually getting on the train. Having politely stood back to let the other passengers off, I was greeted by the doors shutting in my face. Learning from experience and reverting to schoolboy rugby techniques, as soon as the doors of the next train opened it was head down and go for it. That seemed to work a lot better, though I did get some funny looks as I picked myself up from the floor, especially from the guy I’d tackled. Not very polite, but it’s survival of the fittest in the Metro Jungle.

I continued my cultural education by attending the Sound and Light show at the Pyramids. Pretty impressive once I got there, although the commentary sounded like an out of work thespian auditioning for a part in the local amateur dramatic societies next production of Hamlet. Hamming it up or what? There I am, stepping back through the millennia, carried away on a journey through times gone by, when the spotlights pick out an aircraft hanger at the base of the pyramid! Did this house Nefretitis personal Lear jet? Maybe it’s the country house of Ramses 747. I’ve heard of a blot on the landscape, but this is an affront to history. How can you build something like this on the site of one of the Seven Wonders of the World? This must be why the term " E-logical " was added to the English language. 

Tuesday

Is it always so smelly, dirty and noisy in Cairo, or did I just choose the wrong week? The aroma of decaying waste infiltrates everywhere, the streets are overflowing with discarded rubbish, and the cacophony of car horns is ceaseless. I truly believe the cars have got their wiring back to front here. Normally you push the horn to make a noise. In Cairo you push it to stop making a noise. Combine this with an apparent dustmans strike, far too many people living in far too small a space and you’ve got sensory overload to the nth degree. All five of them. My eyes are full of grit, my nose is black, inside and out, my ears hurt, I taste petrol whenever I open my mouth and can’t move without squeezing between a million people who all seem to be going the other way. I wanna go home!

Wednesday:

OK, I’m feeling a bit better today. The gasmask and earplugs help enormously, combined with a shoulder to cry on last night, copious amounts of whisky, (for medicinal purposes), and maybe the thought that I’ve got a bus ticket out of here tonight. One more day to survive in the big C without getting run over by the traffic, trampled by the mob or contracting some untreatable respiratory disease. Ah ha, so that’s why it’s called the Big C! The thought of spending the night squashed into the Superjet watching repeats of Egyptian comedy, (I use the term loosely), doesn’t seem so bad anymore. However, one more thing I have to do whilst I’m here is to take a cruise down the Nile. So what – I’m a tourist aren’t I?

Is it really a liquid? I daren’t touch it without protective clothing but from where I’m sitting it looks more like toxic waste than water. There are people fishing in it too! What do they expect to catch? Surely nothing can live in this murky medium. If it does, then it must have evolved over several thousand generations to survive on a diet of industrial pollutants and human excrement. I just hope that the fisherman don’t eat whatever they find in their nets but hand it over for scientific research. I mean, you can’t swim through this stuff, you walk over it. Maybe that’s how He did it.

Thursday:

Home sweet home. What a relief. I extracated myself from the overnight bus to see the sun rising gracefully over Tiran Island into a clear blue sky, its reflection dancing on the crystal clear waters of the Gulf of Aquaba. Breathing in the clean fresh Sinai air once more, the only sounds I hear are of the sea slapping against the shore and the beating of the migrating birds wings on the air. Truly this is paradise on earth. Why do people live in Cairo when all this beauty and splendour is a mere 5-hour drive away from the pollution and overcrowding of the big city? Actually, perhaps it’s better that they stay where they are. If everyone moved down here, there wouldn’t be enough room for me anymore. The already creaking infrastructure would finally collapse, manic taxi drivers would rule the streets, the stars would become invisible through the smog and the sea would turn brown. It’s not that I’m selfish, it’s just that I like this place the way it is. So, Cairo has shops, theatres, history, culture, restaurants, even a Metro.