Taste of the drought: Egypt

The Great Pyramids stand on a pale sandy hill top overlooking an endless curvy desert and armies of roasted nut coloured buildings that underline the city of Cairo. I approached the Pyramid of Khafre, the second largest of the threesome that make up The Great Pyramids, having been warned by the tour guide that the Daddy, the Great Pyramid of Khufu, might be too much for me to handle. Mesmerised in front of the entrance, I registered two things: no fresh air travels through this solid figure, which means I could suffocate, and in order to access the gut of the pyramid - a stone-cold burial chamber that homes a black sarcophagus - I would have to crawl through a long, narrow passageway discovered by Giovanni Battista Belzoni in 1818.

After a few moments, I greeted the three Arabic-speaking men who guarded the entrance, handed one of them my entry ticket, and confirmed that I had followed instructions and left my digital camera in the coach. I took a deep breath and headed inside. As I did so, a gust of fear travelled through my body, stealing some of the limited air I had reserved for the journey. Pulling myself together, I took another deep breath and began to employ the rhythmic breathing that had kept me alive till that moment. One, two, one, two... were the words in my mind as I tried to inhale and exhale the stagnant air that I depended on as I walked crouched through the semi-lit tunnel longing for the end.

Yes. I made it!

It was a sight that I wasn't sure was worth me risking my life for - a dim 14.2m by 5m by 6m room with an Old Kingdom tomb made out of granite to the far west. And stood at the room's entrance was a stodgy, camel-coloured Egyptian man hastily waving his fan to cool himself and stimulate the still air while he complained that he had been in the chamber for the past four hours. Salaam Alaykum, I said to him. Alaykum As-Salaam he replied, and then offered his services in exchange for Egyptian pounds.

He offered to fan me for a few minutes for around 10 Egyptian Pounds (EGP); use my mobile phone to photograph me in the chamber for around EGP15 - which contradicted the previous instruction that cameras aren't allowed in the pyramid for fear their flash would cause the stone to decay - and brazenly requested a fee for just being there.

Luckily, I had become used to the locals trying to scam me out of money. So I just stood there gazing at Belzoni's tag on the south wall: Scoperia da G Belzonia 2 Mar 1818.

I visited Cairo as part of a seven-day celebration of my 24th birthday, and it made quite a contrast to my location a couple of days earlier: Sharm el Sheikh, surrounded by masses of rippling indigo sea, misty mountains, grand hotels, and a late-night district which seemed similar to London's Leicester Square.     

Sharm el Sheikh is an extraordinary city. Situated on the coastal strip between the Red Sea and Mount Sinai, it is highly accessible and offers an exciting mix of the natural elements, alongside traditional and contemporary hang-outs. I decided to travel to the city only weeks before going, and the fact that I was going on my own made me much more vigilant.

In preparation for my trip, I 'Googled' the city and learnt that it attracts scuba divers worldwide because the Red Sea is home to 250 exquisite coral reefs, and 1,000 species of exotic fish. But, the fact was that I still knew very little about the place.   

On arrival, I discovered that the financial hunger of the locals had invaded its tranquil beauty. Taxi drivers trailed pedestrians day and night beeping their horns for business, shop owners would prevent customers from leaving their shops unless they purchased something, and it was common to be overcharged fivefold by everyone.

Sharm el Sheikh's a reasonably prosperous and beautiful city. However, despite being the administrative hub of Egypt's South Sinai Governorate and populated by wealthy native and foreign residents, its major industry is foreign and domestic tourism.

The city's natural resources, combined with its closeness to the European tourism markets, have sparked the growth of internal and external travel within the region. Its increasing popularity has also encouraged investment from well known companies, such as Ford, Four Seasons, Hard Rock Café, Pizza Express, and the Ritz-Carlton.

Scores of local perfume shops and plush hotels, two large 24-hour markets, daily excursions, and late night district Naama Bay have also bolstered Sharm el Sheik's economy.

Yet, in spite of the influx of major management companies - bringing with them hundreds of new jobs - and the existence of businesses owned and managed by locals, the community still struggle to make ends meet.

Mexicana Resort, where I stayed while in Sharm el Sheikh, is in driving distance of the city's airport and is sandwiched by cosy fragrance shops that specialise in natural essences, perfume bottles, oil burners, and hand-made papyrus papers characterised by prints of Egyptian hieroglyphs or historical images.

Aladino Perfume Palace is situated to the right of Mexicana Hotel, beside a newsagents and another fragrance shop. Owner Bob (also known as Mohammad) enticed me in on the morning of my second day in the city, proposing only Egyptian hospitality which included a cup of tea and a brief chat. If you refuse, you're disrespecting both me and my country, he said, so I followed him in not wanting to make enemies before my holiday actually begun.

I sat tense on a section of the long maroon and gold cushioned sofa which borders the square shop. As I gazed at the many transparent perfume bottles containing bright green, faint yellow, pale pink and clear liquids, Bob asked sugar? No, I replied. He then served me and took at seat within arms reach. He flipped open a catalogue illustrating his 50-strong collection of fragrances and cosmetics for all occasions. Lavender, Aloe Vera, Lotus Flower, spicy, sweet, caramel - all for good price, he blurted out without even taking a breath.

After a few moments, I apprehensively questioned his initial incitement of Egyptian hospitality. In an inhospitable tone, Bob explained that the welcome I had just received meant I should at least repay him by purchasing some of the products. I stared down at my sweaty palms, as my thumbs danced circles around each other, considering my next move. Lavender, Aloe Vera, Lotus Flower, spicy, sweet, caramel - all for good price, he recapped.

Why? I unexpectedly blurted out, why are you forcing me to buy things? Bob's response suggested not only the reception I should expect during the rest of my holiday, but the financial anguish that has pierced many African nations. He said: This country has not got much money, just like me. The money you could spend here today is noting to you, but to me, it's food, future and hope.