Clare Vooght
CAIRO
In the last 24 hours I have seen a woman dangle her toddler over train tracks and a man sitting on the roof of a pickup truck while it jerked in and out of traffic on a motorway without any lane markings. But I've also seen one of the world's seven wonders.
Straight after arriving in Cairo, we arrive at the pyramids. For a laser show. Yup, a laser show, telling us (in full neon glory) the story of the stunning edifices. Only, under the shroud of darkness they don't actually look that stunning. And with gaudy lights illuminating them in turn, they look fake.
I share my controversial thoughts with my group. To my surprise, they agree in hushed tones, hoping they'll look more impressive in daylight.
The next day we give it another shot. Breathing relief, we see the enormous stone constructions – shooting up from Cairo's desert edge and guarded by the Sphynx – exactly as they should be. Big and baffling. And in peak season, the usually swarming tourist hotspot is dead. With no more than a hundred visitors, we nearly have the pyramids to ourselves. No queues and no jostling to see - it feels like a luxury.
We push on to Saqqara, a nearby cluster of ancient tombs and temple ruins and it's deserted there too. Our guide tells us the feeling in Egypt is uncertain but hopeful and daily life continues.
One year on from the start of the revolution, tourism is slow as expected, but beginning to pick up - I'm told group tours are starting to book up again.
Out on the streets again, camels are parked up next to cars, donkeys cart vegetables between beeping cars, people shout to greet each other. Cairo is its usual chaotic self.
At the station, getting ready to board the sleeper train to Aswan, a toddler is running dangerously close to the edge of the platform. His mum runs to grab him, but instead of swiping him close, she grips his hand and swings him over the edge. My heart stops, but the pair are laughing.
ABU SIMBEL
We leave Aswan in the middle of the night, cutting through the desert with an armed police escort to reach Abu Simbel before sunrise. And we arrive, without a hitch, at the temple, dedicated to Ramesis II, on the banks of Lake Nasser in the Sudan border at 5am.
Carved into the rock face, the temple has four stone-cut figures of the pharaoh around the entrance. Inside, wall-etchings of hieroglyphs and images telling stories survive in colour. We emerge from the elaborate stone cave as the sun shoots up above the hills across the lake.
Of all the amazing things I've seen in Egypt so far - the pyramids, all the other temples - this particular one at sunrise is the most beautiful. It's miles from the noisy markets of Aswan, where we spent hours haggling over spices and scarves yesterday. And miles from the Philae Temple - which was impressive, but not on this scale.
Abu Simbel is something else. We drive back through the desert in daylight, dry sand on all sides, to an entirely different form of transport - a felucca, to be pushed up the Nile by wind.
FELUCCA CRUISING ON THE NILE
A felucca ride is a traveller's bliss - days spent lounging on deck with cheap beers and evenings spent moored up on beaches.
We rock up to our felucca on Tuesday afternoon, ready for some serious chill time. We're given a tasty Egyptian lunch of flatbreads and falafel before we catch the wind to push us up the river Nile from Aswan. Lying on the deck as music plays out through an incredibly retro boom box with a book and a beer in hand, I forget anything else exists.
By the time night falls, we moor up and have a dinner cooked by the crew, of more flatbreads, soups, potatoes and stews. We then find our way to 'Adam House' - a place felucca travellers can stop for tea and sheesha on comfy cushions.
As we settle in for the evening, a local woman comes to give us henna tattoos. Now this is unwinding. When the sheesha burns out and it starts to get late, we head back to the felucca and unravel our sleeping bags for a night under the stars.
The next day is spent making our way up the Nile, relaxing in the same way as yesterday, while the brave take stops for swimming (I decline politely, as it is February after all).
That evening we stop off at our own private Nile beach. After dinner the crew get a big bonfire going before cracking out some drums and playing some traditional Southern Egyptian tunes. They get us all dancing, and we all sing songs from home - the song on the Quantas ad for the Aussies, Spice Girls Wannabe and Wonderwall by Oasis for the Brits.
The felucca experience is one every well-seasoned traveller should have. Be warned - they have no bathrooms, but they're a hell of a lot more fun than your usual cruise experience. We have one night back in the comfort of the Sonesta St. George Hotel in Luxor before the Valley of the Kings tomorrow.
We've just heard about the football violence and protesters gathering in Tahrir Square, but as it stands we're still catching the sleeper train back to Cairo tomorrow evening.
BACK IN CAIRO
Our night train takes much longer than expected - thanks to long stops caused by protesters on the lines - so the day is already in full force when we're driving back into Cairo. Precarious bricks fall off lorries, camels are tied up in the backs of trucks, beeping cars weave dangerously close to each other on highways with unmarked lanes.
It's straight to the Egyptian museum by Tahrir square, overlooked by deserted hotels and the burnt out National Democratic Party headquarters. The news hound in me wants to see what's going on, but our guide isn't having any of it and ushers us through the gates of the museum.
Once in, all the sites we've been to in the last week fall into place - we see the contents of Tutankhamen's tomb, including his gold mask, jewellery and sarcophagi, taken from the Valley of the Kings. We find out the meanings of the statues' features - cobras for lower Egypt, vultures for upper Egypt, kings with palms down meaning mercy, hands in fists for power.
Out in daylight again we spot a kid, not much older than 12 peering over a steering wheel of a car, driving jerkily around a roundabout the wrong way. After a week, things like this aren't surprising anymore.
We stop off at a cafe for some kosheri - a spicy tomato and lentil dish with rice and pasta - before hitting the bazaar. The lack of tourists here makes things pretty intense. Stall-owners shout from every angle and thrust scarves and scarab jewellery in our faces. We get our haggling faces on and make it out with alabaster candle holders and copper lamps.
In the calm of yet another deserted resort, we spend the night in five star luxury - as expected tourism is at rock bottom and hotels are cheap, even now it's high season. It's a good time to come to Egypt if you're on a budget and hate crowds.
While I wait for a ride to the airport, I sit by the resort's huge pool and its drooping volleyball net, as a panpipe and saxophone version of the Titanic theme plays out eerily through speakers. Only four other people are here.
