As I flew in to land in Cairo, any doubts I had about the Pyramids of Giza slid out the back of the plane. The ancient structures rose up out of the desert, unassuming yet powerful, dominating the Sahara. The Nile carved the desert in two nearby, separating these gentle loners from the sprawling modern metropolis of Cairo on the opposite bank.
I was instantly enthralled, and had to restrain myself from dashing across the river immediately to get a closer look. But, as dusk was looming ever closer, I settled for a night in the big smoke, and contained my excitement until the following day.
It was a Friday, and everything in the city was closed. I decided this would be the perfect time to travel across the river to Giza, but naturally, I was not the only tourist in Cairo to have this thought. Every bus and taxi in town seemed to be heading across the bridges into the desert beyond.
Giza itself, on first inspection seemed more like a European resort than an Egyptian village, and was only a few 'kiss me quick' hats short of being Blackpool beach. Hundreds of people mingled around the giant entranceway to the desert, and a trail, like ants, led up to the pyramids. Surrounding the gates, tour guides, papyrus sellers, and souvenir shops filled up all the space. I felt instantly intimidated and decided to hide out in a carpet shop until I got my bearings, desperately trying to ignore all the offers of guided tours, and challenging camel trips.
Before I knew it, I was handing over cash to a young lad, Mohammed, who had convinced me, not entirely against my will, that a camel trip around the desert and to view the pyramids would be a much more authentic experience than just walking. A few others joined us, and we climbed aboard some awkwardly shaped creatures while the hoards pushed around us making balancing even more complicated.
I was beginning to wish I had kept my view from the plane as my sole experience, and stayed away from this tourist trap. This place was meant to be isolated, filled with the spirits of old, a few snake charmers, and perhaps Indiana Jones running through the middle, but nothing else. There were not meant to be thousands of brightly coloured clothes wrapped around strong variable accents, and attached to rapidly clicking cameras. But still, it was too late now.
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