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The year was 2018, it was my first trip to Cairo. Not exactly by choice — I was travelling for work and quite apprehensive, especially since a quick Google search will tell you Egypt tops several lists as one of “the most dangerous places for female travellers.”
I was ready though. I had all my vaccinations done and, of course, my “not-to-do” list memorised:
- Don’t eat outside the hotel.
- Don’t have ice in your drinks.
- Don’t eat fruit you can’t peel yourself.
- Don’t go anywhere without your anti-diarrhoea tablets.
- Don’t, under any circumstances, go exploring by yourself.
Simple enough rules.
I broke every single one on the first day.
The plan was simple: travel between the office and hotel, no sightseeing, no risks. But just a few days before my trip, the Egyptian government announced that my first day would be a public holiday. After some debate, I decided not to change my travel plans. I landed at 9am ready to head straight to the office — except now, I had an entire day to myself.
The thought of spending it trapped in my hotel room with only screaming Excel sheets for company was unbearable. So, I did what any responsible traveller definitely shouldn’t do — I opened TripAdvisor and looked into some Cairo excursions.
One click led to another, and before I knew it, I was in the hotel lobby waiting for two strangers to pick me up.
Hosam and Abdo arrived on time. Abdo would be my driver; Hosam, my guide. The car was old and near collapse — much like most of Cairo — with no signage, since the company only used freelancers. We were off to Giza, home of the ancient pyramids — one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and the only one still standing.
The drive was… intense. Cairo traffic has no rules, no lanes, and seemingly no fear. Everyone appeared to understand the rhythm of the chaos — everyone except me. My right leg was in spasm from repeatedly slamming an invisible brake pedal.
At one point, I looked out the window to see a horse eating from a rubbish dump. I thought, “Well, that’s bizarre,” but quickly realised that in Cairo, bizarre is just normal. That’s when it hit me: I had leapt headfirst into this adventure without telling a single soul where I was going. If I disappeared in a country with a population of over 100 million people, there would be no breadcrumbs to follow.
Still, the nerves faded as soon as I saw the pyramids rise from the desert. They were breathtaking — timeless and surreal. Hosam, however, decided to add a personal touch by following me around with an umbrella. He insisted on holding it over me while I walked around. Now, it’s not easy to win an argument with a Middle Easterner, but after five years in Dubai, I had mastered the look. The one that says, “No.” He recognised it immediately and backed off.
Unfortunately, that victory was short-lived because Hosam had also appointed himself my personal photographer. He took my phone and began directing me like a Vogue model. “Smile! Pose! Move a bit to the left!” Within minutes, about five Middle Eastern families joined in, insisting that I pose in their family photos too. Somewhere across the Middle East, I like to imagine my photo hanging proudly on strangers’ living room walls. Between the awkward photos, dodging camels, and Hosam’s insightful historical commentary, I found myself laughing — truly laughing — at how magical it all was.
On reflection, perhaps those travel warnings were a bit harsh. But a few years later I spoke to a friend who’d also visited the pyramids solo. She’d gone on a camel ride, and her guides led her away from the crowds, threatening her for money. She gave them what she had; they returned her safely. Same place, two very different experiences.
Was I lucky?
Was she unlucky?
Maybe both.
Either way, Cairo taught me that sometimes, the most unforgettable adventures start when you break every single rule you set for yourself.
