Salma Camp in Giza is run down, hasn’t seen tourists for three years, but it is safe and fairly close to the pyramids, so we couldn’t complain. There are hardly any tourists at the pyramids, which makes it quick and easy to visit, but once again, one feels for the camel touts and carriage drivers whose animals have to be fed. For safety we parked cheekily right alongside two Casspirs, which I would have loved to photograph.

After traipsing around the dusty grounds of the pyramids and the sphinx, we spent a leisurely afternoon at the poolside of Giza Meridien, acting like we were hotel guests, and had a lovely lunch. Jannie paid almost R50 for a beer, and decided what the heck, he is going to have three! Being in a civilised spot again feels strange. Outside the hotel grounds, the reality check of filthy, dusty Giza.

Left the campsite at 6:00 on Saturday morning to drive downtown and spent the entire morning getting the carnet de passage amended so that it now also features the name of the new driver and has the magic stamp of the AA of Egypt on all the remaining pages. Plus a letter in Arabic so that the customs in Aswan will not give Aart a hard time and detain our Prado. Egypt is notorious for red tape, and we have now done our best to foresee and forestall any issues that might arise. They demanded a letter of permission from AA South Africa, which we requested and were indeed copied on the email. When we got to the offices in downtown Cairo, a few blocks from Tahrir Square, they had not received it and would not accept the version on my laptop. I then noticed that the bright sparks at AA in Jhb had sent it to the AA in the UAE instead. That meant going down into the busy Saturday morning street, setting up the satellite connection, and forwarding it from my own mailbox to the AA in Egypt (Cairo), hoping that they would not be concerned about the sender. It worked! About 4 hours later we had the carnet endorsed. Hallelujah!

Trying to get out of Cairo traffic is a total nightmare when T4A doesn’t work. As navigator I had to rely on Arabic signs, a street map, and once in a while a sign in English. We found ourselves on the Alex Agric Road, whereas we wanted to be on the Alex Desert Road, and got stuck in chaotic, honking, miserable traffic. Hell on earth. Then we got into alleyways so narrow that one could barely drive. The high rises are everywhere, really grotty, what a hopeless situation. How do people breathe? There is no living space, and it left an indelible impression on me. The garbage everywhere in Cairo is absolutely shocking. They will soon bury themselves underneath the piles of rubbish.

We finally turned around, found the new desert road and reached Alexandria late afternoon. The whiffs of salty air immediately revived us. The Corniche has a buzz and it was emotional to see the Med, after 16 000km. The weather is pleasant, about 30 degrees, and everyone was out strolling oceanside. A holiday atmosphere, so different to Cairo, very European, could be Athens or Marseilles. Exactly like Durrell described in the Alexandria Quartet.

There is no camping anywhere, so Jannie send me hotel hunting, and of course I tried the Cecil, but at $180 for a seaview room, it was just ridiculous. The illustrious Metropole right next door was far more accommodating; even though their usual rate is $355, without breakfast, I was able to strike a deal for $89, including breakfast. Way to go! The epitome of elegance, 111 years old with the original caged, brass lift still in operation, high ceilings, and antique furnishings. Fine white cotton sheets, a king bed, fluffy white towels, satellite TV, wifi, we are in heaven. We are in the downtown shopping hub, and the streets are animated at night. The sidewalks are livelier than Temple Street night market in Hong Kong. We dined in a Greco-Italian restaurant and even though no alcohol is served, we had a jolly good meal. The alcohol-free beer tastes awful, but it is ice-cold, costs R7,00 and Jannie did not complain.

Our treat for having come this far is a bottle of French Tribaut champagne, and the surroundings could not be more perfect to savour every drop. A birthday gift from Joan and Douw, it has travelled all the way from Hermanus, stashed away in a secret place. It has been on the ice since yesterday, but we have been looking forward to this moment for weeks. We popped the cork at breakfast in the sumptuous dining room of the Met. The maitre d’ produced 100-year-old glasses for the occasion. Every drop from the angels and the gods are smiling on us. Then macaroons from Delices, just around the corner. After roughing it for so long, and under the most trying circumstances, we are like kids in a candy shop. We can get used to the high life!