You know a place is good when I forget that you’re actually in Egypt (No offence to my Egyptian friends … Cairo is well … Cairo). We debated about going to Europe instead – serious considering ignoring the advice of all of our friends in Europe who warned of rain, rain and more rain. But, as she has done so often, Mother Egypt sucked us back in. So we gave it another try. And thankfully we did.
Beyond the tourist trap of Khan Al Khalili, a famous bazaar district filled with rowdy shopkeepers and unimpressed street cats, the backstreets are numbered with winding maze-like alleyways from which foreigners tend to steer clear. The narrow, broken down roads, dishevelled looking characters and smells that I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to inhale may not seem so welcoming at first sight, but with the aid of a helpful young chap by the name of … you guessed it…Mohamed, the end-all be-all name for all Egyptian men that walk this earth, put on his tour guide hat and led us throughout the back alleys where people’s livelihoods are gained.
The remnants of power, greed, sacrifice, love - all inscribed skillfully, methodically along the eroding structures that remain of the ancients. We were one of the very few people touring the marvels of Aswan. While enjoying the incredible Roman-inspired columns of the Philae Temple and the delicious taste of freshly squeezed lemon juice, guilt does tend to creep in, considering the reality of the state that surrounds us. The tourist industry in Upper Egypt has plummeted so severely since the revolution. The livelihoods of the Aswanese, especially of the Nubian community heavily dependent on tourism as their main source of income, have eroded in such a sort span of time. It is no wonder that our tour guides were so happy to host us. As we zip through the waters of the southern Nile, we try to become more conscious of our surroundings. Beyond the stories carved into stone lasting multiple centuries, but of the resilience of those who keep the fire of hope burning, even when the harbour is full of boats.
I call us the double T's. Typical Tourists (TT). Or maybe I should call us the triple T's? The Typical Tourists (TTT)? There were three of us there anyway. If you're in Cairo, how can you NOT become a triple T when the ancient pyramids of Giza are calling upon you? Time to get into our plaid shirts, put on our arabian turbans and gear up and all. Time to get our triple T's on! A few clips of our midday adventure that probably went on for a little too long. Slept like a baby that night. Traipsing in the desert for hours on end will do that to you! b.
Love at first sight! 
Giz
Getting close to sunset, one of the best times for capturing most dynamic and serene light! Enjoy :)
