El Andalous - The Incident

Egyptian Film Crew Shooting a Fictional Drama at El Andalous

A huge thanks to Sheila for the last three blogs. It’s given me a bit of a holiday and it gives everyone reading this blog a change of voice, which is always good!

What Sheila didn’t mention – and I’m glad she didn’t as I’ve been wondering whether to say anything and, if so, how – is that she arrived at El Andalous at a period of high drama.

Two of the Russian owners exited their flat one day, leaving behind their governess alone in the flat. The governess was in the bathroom, heard a noise, went to investigate, and found one of the cleaning staff rifling through items in the lounge. The male cleaner, realising he’d been caught, hit the governess on the head. She fell to the ground, and he fled the flat. Blood was on the wall and the floor. The police were called, the man identified and arrested, and the governess taken to hospital.

Hordes of angry Russians and worried Brits gathered in the reception area demanding to see the head of the management company. He eventually arrived, explaining that he’d just been visiting the injured woman in hospital and that he had arranged to pay all the hospital fees. There was a huge discussion on how security could be improved and crowds of people rushed to reception demanding the return of their spare keys (normally, you have to keep a spare at reception).

We were promised that harsh measures would be taken and the culprit would get ten years in jail. The police system works a bit differently over here and often the police will ask you what punishment you want to give an offender (I’m not too sure how this all works, but it’s possible it might be a bit like “do you want to press charges?”, to which you could reply that you don’t want someone to go to prison, but you do want them to give you your money back, for example. However, don’t quote me on this!).

It was agreed that security cameras would be installed and that the system for keeping spare keys – no longer obligatory since this incident – would be tightened up.

These events have a habit of taking a life of their own, so by the time Sheila arrived two days later, rumours ranged from an internet posting that the governess had been murdered to the accusation that the governess had invited the cleaner in and they’d had a lovers’ tiff. Neither of these are true!

Nevertheless, the main point was that what happened was a wrongdoing and this is indisputable. Our hearts go out to the governess, who is out of hospital, and we wish her a speedy recovery. Although the owners had lost their keys, a number of people had suspected staff of entering their flats without permission, and the incident only increased suspicions and made people feel very insecure.

It must now be at least a month since it happened and life here has settled back to normal. The cameras were installed, as promised (unusual for Egypt!), and the new system for keeping the keys safe appears to be working. We now have a security gate at the bottom of our gardens.

For those now worrying about my safety – please don’t! This was an unusual incident and was the first such case in six or seven years. Security is now better than ever and there’s already a lot of security in Sahl Hasheesh and in El Andalous. Wrongdoings happen everywhere and I’m probably safer here than in many other places (let’s hope I don’t live to regret saying that!).

Sheila's Words - Egypt for the First Time! Part 3

48 hours in Luxor (18^th – 20^th January 2015)

Smoke rising across the Nile at sunset

Just a quick note: I’ve finally realised what’s been niggling me about calling the staff at El Andalous ‘workers’, although ‘workers’ is probably the term used by the Egyptians themselves: it’s that it reminds me of the downtrodden Morlocks (in The Time Machine by H.G.Wells) serving the blessed and the fair-skinned. It’s true there is something in the set-up at Sahl Hasheesh that has a whiff of the colonial era, but without, I hope, sounding Orwellian, things are much more equal and friendly.

Back to Luxor!


I was in Fiona’s hands and trusted her itinerary implicitly; she hadn’t let me down so far.

I wanted to be surprised so I didn’t even read Fiona’s blog entry on Luxor before going; I’ve done that now and I feel a bit jealous about her and Lena’s dinner on the bedroom balcony, overlooking the Nile, but, in our case, it would have been too chilly, anyway.

There is a pleasant, smoky smell at dusk and on the opposite bank you can see grey smoke intermingling with the red colours of sunset. We were told this was a counterblast against the mosquitoes.

At the Sheraton where we stayed (yes, the Sheraton, Luxor’s best luxury hotel! no fewer than 6 stars!) we did gulp down milkshakes on the balcony one afternoon, in between temple-trailing, but never really lingered there to soak in the majestic sight that is the Nile. (It’s worth pointing out that they didn’t apply an extra charge for room service to our final bill.)

I got up many different times at night but didn’t want to slide along the trundling shutters to take a peek. On reflection, it would have been better just to draw the curtains. It’s difficult to contain your excitement when the timeless Nile is just below you!

Fiona’s already written about our rather dramatic exit from Sahl Hasheesh on Sunday morning and the ensuing excitement of rural Qena, I can only say that the sense of drama increased as we entered the metropolis of Luxor.

There’s this constant symphony of tooting horns which made me wonder whether the warning toot conveys any meaning whatsoever or whether it’s just part of the communal fun of driving together. Cars and calèches (horse-drawn carriages) plunge down the roads in equal number but cars seem to make a point of brushing-with-death overtaking. People glide in and out of this chaotic traffic rather nonchalantly, I thought, given the danger. The horses, too, were unperturbed by the onslaught. Frequent graffiti about the Revolution seemed to up the tempo even further.

Modern Luxor is a town that has obviously seen better days. The Sheraton was quite splendid but there was a hint of shabbiness even there.

The huge terrace in front of Karnak formerly tried to contain hordes of eager tourists. When we arrived early on Sunday night for the Sound and Light Show ( think sixties’ epic with the portentous voices of the likes of Richard Burton bouncing off the stunning monuments but no discernable story as such), we were told to wait at the ticket desk until there were, at least, ten people for the show! Thankfully, for the organisers, there were eventually more than 50. In its heyday, they were turning people away.

The Valley of Kings on Monday wasn’t at all deserted as we’d supposed. It was, to our surprise, the Egyptian school holidays (I’ve been unable to find out the exact dates. Fiona?) and there were many Egyptians about. They have been told by their government to support internal tourism; I was surprised that even adults seemed to be unaware of the fragility of carved hieroglyphics on walls and columns and would lean or brush against them willy-nilly.

Me at the Sheraton with the Valley of Kings in the background

We got there at about 11am and I was in a thin muslin shirt and despite the bright sun, the slight wind was piercingly cold. Everyone else was covered up. I didn’t realise the taxi driver would be with us all day (not nearly as expensive as you might imagine) so I could have left a jacket in the car – it did get very warm later.

After first being led through a string of tourist shops by the guide, we had to take a little tourist train to advance just 100 metres into the valley. The 4 EGP fare was, no doubt, the reason. The guide then sat us down, out of sight of the tombs (that we were itching to see) and did a lengthy sales pitch for some postcards, but then when it came to exploring the tombs themselves, proceeded to hurry us. I was unable to say no to the pointless postcards (quite pricey at 50 EGP = £5); I think it was tiredness manifesting itself as stress - and a proclivity to obey.

The first tomb, Rameses IX, was freezing and I had to hurry it. The second one across the way (Merantapeh) was hot and humid and quite empty and the third one (Rameses VI) was quite warm too. I haven’t quite worked out if the various temperatures in the tombs are to do with where the morning sun is directed.

I found it amazing that these painted and carved tombs were so well-preserved with all this hot air and breath, day in and day out for the last century or so. With your 100EGP ticket you can only see three tombs (but you can buy more tickets) and I think the guide did point out the ones that were the most intact – she wasn’t allowed to come in with us, ostensibly because a guide’s breath will decay the tombs further but, oddly, not tourists’ breath (which seemed daft at first but then hot air does come to mind when I think of that particular guide).

I would have liked to have broken away for the 15 minutes needed to explore two long, meandering pathways - cut into the mountains - that led to different tombs and get a better feel of the valley.

There is not much left in Tut’s tomb, apparently, and that’s 100EGP a visit but I passed by the entrance (duly feeling a frisson).

Although, the Valley of Kings is big and imposing, and a dream come true, it was smaller than I expected. Unfortunately, photos were prohibited, anywhere in the valley.

One of the kaftanned tomb keepers followed us in to explain the paintings but Fiona warned me that his friendliness would be requiring ‘baksheesh’, so against the dictates of your upbringing you have to walk away rudely.

I was lucky enough to be quite alone once or twice at the bottom of the tombs (long, straight passages that slope down to a larger burial chamber (except for Rameses VI, which has a little kink because the ancient builders came across an even more ancient tomb!) and like many before me, I marvelled at all that richness and culture buried away under the sand - far from human eyes - for so long - and felt very privileged to be there and to savour these extraordinary remnants of an ancient and powerful civilisation.

Yet at the same time as I was wowed, I sharply felt my own insignificance in the bigger scheme of things. Three millennia on, people’s implicit faith in an afterlife has not diminished; I wonder what they will think of us three millennia hence - if anything remains to testify to our passage on earth. Sorry, sermon over!

Medinet Habu

We later did Medinet Habu mortuary temple (but they’re all mortuary temples!) which is a jewel, and Karnak again (Fiona wanted to see it by day but I was worried it might spoil the hallucinatory effect of the night show), and, I must say, that zig-zagging around the 134 enormous columns (amassed in the centre) in the slanting sunlight is quite exciting – my courage had failed me the night before when they were swathed in darkness.

I started to walk around the red scarab by the sacred lake seven times (as no-one was around initially) making my wish as the legend dictates but midway a large family of Egyptians came along to spur me on, a young boy cheerfully taking my arm, but I broke away at ‘saaba’ (= seven) and they happily waved me away! I think Fiona was quite bemused by it all.

We then finished with ‘Luxor Temple By Night’ but during the day we also fitted in quick stops at Hatshepsut temple (to sneak in a panorama shot – you’re actually supposed to pay) and the Colossi of Memnon.

It was only when we sat down for the hotel buffet that evening that we realised how tired we were. The waiters always acted as if only buffets were available, presumably to avoid serving. The choice for the buffet was dizzying, as much as it was compelling, and part of me just wanted a basic meal set down before me.

At night, all the various sights of the day were flashing before my eyes as if I’d seen them on TV and not actually been there. I would definitely recommend not hurrying Luxor but there is something to be said for the intensity of the visit. And don’t let your guide delay you taking photos when it’s nearly 4pm, the light fades into dusk very quickly.

We had time to do Luxor museum (on the Corniche) in the morning before getting the taxi back home (it’s small but has a wide variety of well-presented treasures). Upon arriving at the Corniche on the hotel shuttle bus, I remarked on there being no one around but I spoke to soon, like vulture to prey, a flurry of calèche, shoe-shine and felucca hawkers all descended upon us noisily from out of the blue, but we ducked into the museum. 

We got offered a reasonable 20EGP calèche deal back to the hotel so we took it, but the driver, soon after we clambered in, had second thoughts and kept turning round to demand 10EGP extra as ‘baksheesh for the horse’. 

Fiona freestyling it into a caleche as the driver muses

I didn’t realise that the hotel page boy would bring our bags down to reception from our rooms (I’m not used to the 6* life!) but he did put them into the taxi for us. As we followed him, a group of cheery, elderly musicians with flutes and tambours (stationed outside the hotel to pipe up whenever someone appeared) improvised a song with the single word ‘bai-ee’ repeated; misled by the heavy accents, it only dawned on me in the car that they were saying ‘bye’.

It’s time for me to say ‘bye’ too and I know I’ve waffled on when I could have cut this down and been more comprehensive. There is also a vague word limit but as I’ve written all three blogs in practically one go (and I’m not used to writing) I’m flagging and so I’ll leave them as they are and hope you may, nevertheless, glean some useful information from them.

A last word to thank Fiona (mightily) for my stay and also Safi, Nicole and others who helped make my first trip to Egypt so memorable! I’ll be back!

Link to other photos: In progress (Fiona will provide the link later)

Sheila's Words - Egypt for the First Time, Part 2

Road out of Sahl Hasheesh with Verdant Roundabout

What I didn’t expect from Egypt: (Here follows another set of random observations)

Different skies and horizons – Flying to Hurghada from Cairo, I noticed the moon was a perfect hemisphere posed upright - a wedge of bright blood orange served up to the heavens. The red turned orange at Sahl Hasheesh, edged with a pale rind.

The horizon of the desert at night is unbroken like that of the sea, a vast sheet of deep black stretches out to meet the fainter blackness of the sky. For someone who has always been holed up in the dense conglomerations of big cities such unused expanses amazed me and I often wondered about the paradoxical proximity of barren desert and teeming sea.

The vermillion clouds overhead (when we drove through the mountains at sunset) were not like any I’d seen before. They seemed to be sent expressly to contrast with the granite rock.

Constellations like Orion were clearly visible at night. Sahl Hasheesh is mostly cloudless. I found it amusing when the taxi-driver felt the need to warn us that there might be one or two minutes of rain the following day.

Sometimes the mountains across the bay appeared as a string of impressively high peaks and at others times, despite the absence of cloud, a mere strip of flat headland. This deflation reminded me of the allegory behind the obelisks – the marriage of the male earth and the female sky.

The sun sets early and sharply.

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My skin (especially on my hands and feet) tended to shrivel and scale – Even though I applied sun cream dutifully every morning. I liked the effect of the Red Sea on my hair; the saltiness made it curlier. The colour on my evening shoes has worn away but they only strolled along paved streets so I’m still puzzling over that.

Every other building in Sahl Hasheesh and beyond being a half-built shell: it almost seems like a deliberate architectural feature. It’s an unmissable (in both senses of the word) phenomenon!

As in ancient times, wealth still flaunts itself in the desert. Fanciful and commodious hotels stand proud and aloof in the middle of nowhere. One named after and shaped like the Titanic!

Administrative mania – Solemn form-filling was required for just about any activity from taking a semi-submarine to seeing Sand City.

Sand Sculptures of Nefertiti and Akenathon Sun-worshipping

The sense of community in El Andalous – I thought people would keep themselves to themselves but there is obviously a lively community there and lots of going-ons beyond the tranquil facade! No comment!

The magnificent landmark entrance into Sahl Hasheesh – ancient warriors are lined up in Pharaonic style behind two enormous columns.

To find Arabic so fascinating – I was moved to make attempts to understand the script and the spoken word.

Clean toilets – The toilets in SH and Hurghada left nothing to be desired; they were all up to modern standards.

In Luxor they hand out about 30-40cm of toilet paper as you go in, and there often isn’t soap or towels but the toilets themselves are clean enough, albeit old and with dodgy locks. There was no foul stench (which can’t be said for some of the toilets in Paris).

Like Lena I was surprised by the toilet rolls hanging next to the wash basins in the mountain stops. The obligatory tip has gone up to 2EGP. Fiona has now been to 4 different desert cafes; it’s surprising, because you don’t really notice there being very many during the 5-hour trip. A slit of window set against patterned wallpaper at the far end of the cubicles tickled my fancy for some reason: it was like a lurid painting of a desert with mountains and sky but, of course, it was the real thing!

Change being unobtainable! – It first started at Cairo airport: I bought a small bottle of water for 29 EGP (extortionate!) with a 50 EGP note and the guy was clearly surprised that I asked for the 1 EGP missing change ( I also had to hang around for the 20 EGP because he said he didn’t have any notes). This was par for the course. You would get a bill, for say, 55.36 EGP but small change was in short supply. The smallest delineation I ever saw was a 50 piasters coin. So in the example I’ve given, you would pay 55.50 or more likely 56 or 60. When you got 5, 10 or 20 or even 50 EGP notes, you were keen to hang on to them.

The lack of change made buying souvenirs particularly difficult and hawkers tried to take advantage by just rounding prices up. This customary flexibility with numbers allowed retailers to ignore sell-by dates on food, as long as the year is right seemed to be the motto! I also wasn’t prepared for the scruffiness and flimsiness of banknotes (a wad would hang limply in your hand like a rag); ancient papyrus is better preserved!

Nonchalantly flouting safety rules - No seat belt locks in the back of taxis, or rather they are inextricably tucked back into the seat holes from which they emerge, to allow room for more people. Taxi drivers yell into mobile phones for entire journeys.

We got into this contraption at Karnak temple (I’ve never watched Top Gear but I know what a car is supposed to look like) for a very bumpy ride; the petrol fumes were very heady and the various clanking and clattering noises made me wonder how many car parts had been left behind on the road. But we got back to the hotel unscathed!

Blithely ignoring requests - I found that some Egyptians would wholeheartedly concur with the reasonableness of your request (for say, silence at 7am) and then exactly two minutes later would seem startled by your reminder.

I often heard expats sounding out the letters T I E; it took me a while to work it out.

Blithely ignoring reality - A word on Egyptian business sense: An entrepreneur opens a new bag shop similar to the unfrequented and failing one next door. The first bag shop owner is not fazed by this but heartily welcomes the second for bringing more trade to the area!

Talking of more trade, I was amazed that every authentic Italian restaurant is conjoined with an authentic Chinese one, sharing waiters, toilet facilities, an owner and, no doubt, a cook - but not sharing very many customers!

Shop signs (especially for the poorer shops) are a kaleidoscope of colour and reflect the optimism of shopkeepers.

Ready availability of sun loungers - El Andalous beach has only one row of loungers so you get an unadulterated view of the bay! We always had a choice of lounger, whichever beach we went to.

The palm-lined esplanade with its sea-view restaurants was practically deserted at night and the infrequent beach bars completely so, yet the latter were lit up and soft, swooning music would waft over (it made me think of mermaids and sirens). It was all like an extravagant film set waiting for actors.

The huge number of Russians around - And none particularly Dostoevskian!

Regrets:

None! As I will be returning to fulfil my wish list! Thanks Fiona!

Wish List:

1. I want to walk on the desert a bit and not just drive through.

2. Boat trip to El Gouna. More temples and tombs in Luxor. Stopover in Cairo.

3. More snorkelling. Fiona has converted me to fish worship! 

Fiona the Fish

It was a ‘fishy’ holiday: What with the glass-bottomed boat, fresh fish dishes at the marina, the fish market, the Hurghada Aquarium (Red Sea in Glass (sic)), a souvenir cartouche smelling of smoked haddock and Fiona’s superb collection of fish photos (taken with her underwater camera), I had many a lucid dream involving fish.

4. Take a good quality, speedy and reliable camera to snap up the constant surprises and delights. (My Android phone turns everything into an impressionist daub)

5. Go with an Arabic phrase book and guide book (I went with neither but Fiona served very well for both)

6. Read up on Egypt’s rich history beforehand to avoid information overload.

7. Get a tour guide who is easier-going and less appalled by my ignorance and my retention capacity (of the memory kind, though I did have a problem with constipation too) or dispense with one altogether.

Next week I’ll tell you a little about our trip to Luxor.

Sheila's Words - Egypt for the First Time!

I've handed my blog over to Sheila for the next three weeks so that you can get her impressions of life in Egypt!

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Fiona Living the Life!

( 12th - 22nd January, 2015, at Fiona’s with just under 48 hours at Luxor)

I’ve never done the Middle East or Africa before (yes, Egypt is North Africa!). I’ve almost exclusively traveled in Europe and am not known to shun comfort or to be intrepid in any way. I did practically no research for this holiday, not even Google Maps or Fiona’s blog, because I knew Fiona would take care of me and I wanted to be surprised.

I’ve been back in Paris for a few days now; on my immediate return, the cold, grey and wet seemed like a bad waking dream but Egypt was the dream – a fantastic one!

Egyptians would ask if it was my first time in Egypt and then say ‘welcome’ with glowing eyes fixed on me as if envying my fresh encounter with the magic timelessness that is Egypt. Even the ersatz Sahl Hasheesh emanates a sense of primordial mystery.

What follows in 3 blog entries (expectations; surprises; Luxor) are just some of the many impressions that come to mind (and which may serve to assuage the fears of untravelled wimps).

What I Expected From Egypt vs. What I Got

Mosquitoes ravaging me as they usually do – But not one bite! There were some to be seen but they did not attack and I used the deterrents I brought with me very sparingly.

Diarrhoea – Quite the opposite – pocketing white bread rolls for lunch from the Luxor hotel led to particularly unbudgeable constipation. It took some major heaving to be relieved! Fiona left me to it.

Unbearable heat – I don’t like very hot weather but I didn’t expect to feel so chilly when I arrived at Hurghada airport at midnight. For the first week or so, it was hot in the bright sun during the day but the evenings were nippy. Some Egyptian men seemed prepared and wore woolly hats but I noted that the taxi-driver wasn’t sure how to turn the heating on in the car. The end of the second week was perfect. No teeth-chattering shivering on coming out of the sea and warm, humid nights.

To sleep badly – Fiona has the perfect bed and she gave it up for me! At the Luxor hotel they had bolster-type pillows which I eventually chucked off and ended up with my head thrown back and my jaw open like a dead pharaoh waiting to receive choice sustenance in the afterlife, but all I got, unfortunately, was a mouthful of my own stomach acid that led to a hacking cough that woke Fiona. Her pillow turned out to be ok but it didn’t occur to me to phone reception to get a better one.

Tiredness – In spite of the regular hiccups in my sleep routine - there was Running Boy above Fiona’s apartment (he’d sprint from one end to the other interminably), the Egyptian workers having a long and loud mothers’ meeting early every morning in the passage behind the bedroom, and the general insomnia in Luxor - I was unusually alert and energetic and never had any sinking moments at all until bedtime. Egyptian air must be particularly invigorating!

Cowardliness in the face of new challenges – I’m such a bad swimmer that I would fairly be categorised as a non-swimmer – I went very quickly from tentatively paddling and holding Fiona’s hand to snorkelling independently for long stretches round coral beds in among the weird and wonderful (and potentially dangerous) inhabitants of the Red Sea.

I ignored a twitching 3-inch cockroach on the apartment wall (yes, it was 3 inches, Fiona) and went back to sleep.

Similarly, I ignored Fiona’s tall tales of a rat wiggling its tail out of the air-conditioning unit and mice scuffling to get in under the mosquito netting and got to sleep just fine.

I can’t drive but I zoomed around Sahl Hasheesh in a beach buggy, dodging blithely-drunk Russians zigzagging their showy buggy (got up in the style of a car from the twenties) uncontrollably.

Buggy Drive at Dusk

Ineptitude at haggling - I got some good deals quite calmly! It helped not having to fake a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude. They were more desperate to ply their wares than I was to have them.

Pricing for tourist attractions and restaurants are fixed but tourists generally pay more than Egyptians for attractions – it’s a fact – there is two-tier pricing. The temples at Luxor are about 100 EGP (£10) each for those obviously foreign. Our Egyptian tour guide at Luxor was gobsmacked when I told her that the British Museum was free. She spluttered ‘But for foreigners?’ and I said ‘For everybody’ and her eyes dazzled.

Desert with soft undulating sand dunes – it was mostly quite solid-looking with clumpy patches and relatively flat until you’re among the awe-inspiring mountains. When we stopped in the middle so I could get into the front seat, I was unsettled by the unfamiliar barrenness all around me, and an irrational fear came over me of being stranded there alone. Safely back in the car, we sped through the Red Sea Mountain Chain accompanied by stirring Egyptian music; a backing singer belting out refrains as if he was calling from the peaks themselves.

Vague fear of hostility against Westerners and the relatively affluent – I found the Egyptians from all walks of life to be amiable and laid-back, almost down to a man, and tolerant and well-disposed to the odd ways and wishes of tourists.

Vague fear of acts of terrorism – police checkpoints are all over the place and active. The security at Sahl Hasheesh have what looks like a golf club with a disc on the end, which, I, initially, stupidly thought was a metal detector (duh!) but was a mirror for spotting bombs on the underside of a car.

Limited and poor quality choice of food – Spinney’s supermarket sells all that you could need in Hurghada’s showpiece Senzo Mall shopping complex; the taxi driver who picked me up from the airport took me for a quick spin round it to show it off.

The choice in the restaurants of Sahl Hasheesh and Hurghada is as extensive as anywhere in the West, you can choose from a wide range of Western to Middle Eastern, and the luxurious settings in Sahl Hasheesh are numerous and affordable. There were relatively few Egyptian specialities – one being stuffed pigeon. Beef bacon (a darkish meat) replaces bacon but is pleasant enough.

A sensitive stomach playing up - I can safely say I never had a bad meal during my stay and I only once had bloating after guzzling down too much pizza.

I was told that salad and veg were washed in boiled water and I ate them with no ill-consequences.

There was often a great selection of freshly squeezed juices available from 12EGP to 25EGP, such as, banana, mango, guava, strawberry and cantaloupe; they were all tasty and refreshing. I never got round to trying fig or date juice.

(There are often amusing misspellings like ‘lamb shake’ and ‘rice quakers’ (or something like that); Fiona, has promised to collate other chucklers. Well-known desserts like tiramisu are given an Egyptian twist but I was puzzled at how one dessert came to have that appellation, having nothing but whiteness in common with a tiramisu. )

The town and resorts being fairly close together and similar – you need a taxi or a car to get places and you cross largish stretches of desert. Hurghada and Sahl Hasheesh are like night and day; one is buzzing and burgeoning with life and commerce, and the other is spruce, spacious and still. And after Luxor, I found Safi’s comparison of Sahl Hasheesh to Disneyworld quite apt.

More camels – There were lots of donkeys and horses to be seen in Luxor and Qena but the only camels I saw were in Hurghada – just two adult ones and a very cute baby one.

Next week I’ll tell you about What I Didn’t Expect (which, admittedly, is similar to What I Expected vs. What I Got, but never mind!)