In de Nile

Through Amman, the American guy we had traveled to Cairo with, we had agreed with our cabby to get to our hostel for 14 Egyptian pounds. When we arrived, he tried to tell me 40. I said no, explained the crucial difference between 14 and 40 (although the 14 had been agreed upon in Arabic between the driver and our friend), told him I would not give him more than the 15 I was intending to give him, and he eventually said okay and we got out of the car. Interesting start. We found our place, Lialy Hostel, fairly quickly, but were uncertain of it by the somewhat shady state of the entrance. We walked up the three flights of stairs to the entrance, and upon seeing the charming lobby, we were completely reassured.
After a warm greeting from the receptionist, Shady (Sha-D), we checked into our room. Technically they were out of triple rooms, so he offered us a double and a single, but we decided that we would fit the three of us into a double room (and agreed to pay the triple rate: three showers, three breakfasts, etc.) and although we imagined two of us doubling up in bed, Shady brought in an extra mattress for us. The bathrooms were clean, the room was charming, and breakfast was included. All of this for the equivalent of $6 each per night. After having some dinner and doing some planning, the three of us decided to turn in early, still tired from our odyssey to Cairo, and intending to leave by 6:40 am to make our way to Giza, and the pyramids.
Following the tips of Lonely Planet, as we began our trek we sought out a meter taxi, knowing it would give us the best deal to Giza. Before we had even completed getting to the pyramid plaza the onslaught began: “You want camels? Come to my stables, good prices, good deals.”
We wanted to wait by the window to make sure we could buy our tickets to the plaza right away, since they only sell a limited number per day. Having our student IDs was definitely a good idea—Cairo is big on student prices. After successfully acquiring the tickets, it was time for camels. We were aware that the ministry of tourism had set the official price at 35 egyptian pounds an hour (less than $7) and we were also told to haggle. We eventually agreed with a man for 30 pounds and hour, and taking a two hour trek, so 60 egyptian pounds each. My camel was named Michael Jackson. It was a thriller.
Our guides were two: a mid 30’s seeming man, and a young teenage boy. The boy did most of the work, leading on foot, while the man rode a horse.
The pyramids were everything they are expected to be, and more and real and surreal. We took tons of touristy pictures, as well as walking around on the base of the pyramid and around the Sphinx.
Because we had arrived so early, we were finished touring and playing in the pyramids before 11. Caroline and I had thought it would be funny to eat lunch at the Pizza Hut across the street. We got there and it was still closed. That is what happens when you start the day at 6 am.
We stop for some Fanta, relax and bit, and then make our way back to Cairo, where we went straight to our hostel and our 30 minute nap turned into nearly 5 hours. Oops. So we got up, got some dinner, and then went for a tea and nargillah, and then going for a stroll along the Nile, having a lazy Arabian night.

Oh, PS, crossing the road in Cairo is a permanent game of frogger. My hand was hit by a bus. Aval kol beseder.