Nobody Cares About Dad

Let’s dive into a story about Egypt that swings from laughter to lament, sprinkled with a dash of history to spice things up, shall we? Picture this: Me, embarking on a holiday odyssey, a trek that I hoped would tick off dream destinations from my bucket list. Turkey? Check, and gladly left behind. And now, Egypt. Ah, Egypt, the land where cats were once revered as gods (and, judging by their attitudes, they’ve never forgotten), where pharaohs built pyramids while presumably complaining about labor costs, and where, in my case, expectations crashed harder than a poorly constructed chariot.

Joining me on this adventure was the Eyes family, with me as the fifth wheel—or should I say, the spare mummy in the tomb? My travel companion and business partner, Mark, made me feel right at home amidst their familial memories. The journey was a mere five-hour flight, a refreshing jaunt compared to my usual marathons to Asia. Upon arrival, we were greeted by weather so perfectly balanced, it could’ve been designed by Ma’at herself, the ancient Egyptian goddess of harmony and balance. Not too hot, not too cold—just the right setting for a sun-starved Brit from the north.

Egypt proved to be a bargain hunter’s dream. Imagine, a local taxi for 60p, a Red Bull for £1.50, and a steak as big as a Pharaoh’s appetite for just £12! This trip was unlike any other, mainly because it was my debut holiday as a teetotaler. Eight weeks sober, and not once did I glance longingly at the “liquid poison”. My mornings were hangover-free, filled with gym sessions and breakfasts that didn’t taste like regret. This was my health retreat, complete with nutritious feasts, hydration, and a newfound dedication to Muay Thai. Egypt, with all its temptations, couldn’t sway me from my path of sobriety.

However, not all was as splendid as the golden masks of Tutankhamun. While I had heard tales of the legendary Egyptian hospitality, my encounters felt as genuine as a fake Sphinx souvenir. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was helpful, but it felt as if their smiles were as plastered as the walls of a newly discovered tomb. My day trips—a blend of buggy driving, quad biking, camel riding, and a desert “party”—were as overstretched as the reign of Ramses II, dragging on for hours beyond what was enjoyable.

And then, there was the blackout. An entire evening spent without power, making me feel like we’d accidentally stumbled into the plot of a mummy’s curse. Not the hotel’s fault, of course, but it certainly added an unwanted layer of authenticity to the “ancient” experience.

As for the food, let’s just say it was as forgettable as the lesser-known pharaohs. While the prices made my wallet sing hymns of praise to Anubis, the god of the afterlife, the flavours—or lack thereof—had me embarking on nightly expeditions in search of something palatable.

So, there you have it. Egypt, with its rich tapestry of history, stunning landscapes, and culinary misadventures, was a journey of highs and lows, a true testament to the rollercoaster that is travel. Would I go back? Perhaps, once the memories of bland meals and forced smiles have faded into the sands of time.