Egypt - but no temples.

A little bit like this cat's creepy eyes, Egypt is a country of extreme contrast. Magnificent monuments a thousand years before their time stand out against a country crippled by archaic and outdated infrastructures. Natives who go out of their way to help you and are generous to the point of embarrassment stand in the shadows of those who aggressively demand money for the most minute of reasons. Sun drenched sand so dry that it doesn't even stick to your skin can be found hundreds of meters away from the Nile's fertile and moist soil.

There are, however, some things where contrasts do not exist, such as the food. Now, I don't usually like making sweeping statements, but one thing that was a source of profound and heart felt sorrow was Egypt's culinary talent. I cannot remember a single meal that I enjoyed or one that my digestive tract didn't punish me for eating. The raw ingredients are superb. Plenty of fresh vegetables, aromatic spices and tender meats. The cooks on the other hand, well, I never saw them but based on the dishes I ate, I think I can only describe them as follows: Imagine a 16th century village idiot who has just smashed his head on a large rock and is slightly more confused than usual. Now inject him with a cocktail of methamphetamine, cat urine and rancid whale blubber. Put him in a kitchen that is so filthy even the cockroaches are going on strike. Blindfold him, spin him round forty times and tie his fingers up with elastic bands and put them in a pair of socks. Then ask him to unleash his creative fury and cook a delicious meal. Only, the meal won't be delicious. It will be a pile of miscellaneous mush that is so unappetising it makes you want to die instantly. Don't come to Egypt for the food. In fact, bring your own.

Asides from the food, Egypt proved to be a highly enjoyable experience and the people were friendly enough. They would greet us with an array of welcomes ranging from 'hey you, come here' to 'lucky man, how many camels for your wife?'. On more than one occasion I would attempt to enter the initial phase of negotiation and demand at least three camels in exchange for my Ju. I am not sure who was more afraid; Ju at the prospect of having her husband sell her for such a lowly sum to some miscellaneous and smelly street seller; the miscellaneous and smelly street seller at the prospect of having to follow up on something intended as a joke and then being forced to marry a fiery tempered Frenchie; or me at the multiple dilemmas of importing three camels into the United Kingdom of Great Britain. In the end, the street sellers always found a way out and even my pleas of giving them camels to take my wife, they would politely decline and move on to an easier target.

As you can see, these two photos are of natives in their native habitat.

Despite initial thoughts, this is not a native and it is in fact my Ju. She is on top of Mount Sinai after a night long trek up this glorious peak. Glorious in the sense of its biblical significance and the panorama from the windswept summit. Not so glorious are the twenty thousand other 'pilgrims' and, the ten thousand camels carrying them up there and the thirty thousand tons of steaming camel turds. Despite that, the sunrise over the Sinai range were a truly memorable experience and possibly one of the most spectacular sights I have had the fortune to witness.

The above photos were taken while doing a desert trek. The colours were amazing, the sky was clear, the heat was ferocious and our guides very friendly.

As a break from the dust, the heat, the dirt and the hustle and bustle of Egypt's streets, we decided on a little Nile Cruise. One hundred other Englishmen decided on the same thing. The above photo is 4pm tea time on our boat. Note, the structure and order of this queue. Patience and fairness is the name of the game. The Egyptians, however, have a slightly different method of queueing to the British. Quite simply, it is a free for all where the biggest, loudest and pushiest individuals get served first.

If you ever spend time in Egypt: find a queue, a cool drink, some monkey's nuts (not the literal ones) and watch. The English tourists would form a nice, neat and structured line where fairness and order reign. That is until a local employs his own strategy: he would approach the neat line, hesitate slightly, walk past and conveniently slot himself in front of the first person in the queue. This would be greeted by a chorus of tuts and huffing and cries along the lines of it not being cricket. Eventually, the sense of profound injustice would wash over and they would resume the wait. That is to say, until the next local copies the behaviour of the last and the tutting and huffing resumes. But despite this, the English would maintain faith in their system and stay true to the safety of order. After the ninth or tenth time of local line breaking, order would crumble and the chaotic side of the English would expose its ugly and unsightly head and they would descend into a free for all style of queuing as employed by all those on non-European decent. That said, I much prefer the Egyptian method as it is far more entertaining and sociable.

The next update will be the bread and butter of Egypt: Temples. Watch this space... just not too often as our speed is slow and our update sporradic.