Cairo's City of the Dead is as off-beat as it gets; poor folks living among the dead for want of space--the desert around is not kind and full of WWII mines on top of it. (GWW: Deutsche Wertarbeit). To see how upscale Cairenes live, take a taxi around Mohandessin, some of my in-laws used to live there, they're now scampering for refuge, though. Both quarters are no tourist attractions per se, but I like to have an idea about where I stay.

I recommend visiting the Great Pyramid's King's Chamber. Some may think that's cheesy, but to my surprise I found it viscerally thrilling to be surrounded by ~6 million tonnes of man made stones. Unfortunately, some parents make the trip with their kids who often don't take claustrophobia well. Combined with the absence of toilets and no quick way out this makes for an interesting experience. Third World as it gets. Hopefully they did something about that in the meantime.

If it gets hot and sticky I recommend a Jellabiya--looks terribly silly but cares for welcome ventilation. It's quite ok in the country, though not so much downtown, lest you grow a beard. When descending over Cairo check the roof tops--garbage disposal is a problem, so people pile waste upwards; I could spot the occasional very lonely goat feeding on it. Else, the Zabaleen, informal garbage collectors, mostly Copts, feed their swine on it; not for long, I'm afraid, as, um, democracy takes its toll. You can meet them in Garbage City, part of the City of the Dead already mentioned by Lukas.

Cairo is a desert city, so don't expect Alhambra style architectural wonders. There are some nice buildings left over and not yet nibbled away by poverty, but you'll discover a thousand shades of grime that cover about everything exposed to the weather. Should you visit a mosque, care for a pair of extra socks, lest you catch athletes pious feet. Don't bow down to smell the carpets (no, this is no islamophobe joke, except for the 'pious'). Don't do as the natives, they trust in God.

There are tax reductions for property owners who wedge a mosque into their buildings, so in almost any building there's a garage, half a garage or some hole in the ground that hosts a holy man--and mostly his family, too. Mostly you can't tell they are mosques, but you're brutally shown at dawn. The smaller the mosque, the louder and screechier the mosque's amplifier. I particularly enjoyed my (personal?) muezzin who started the day by turning on the amp--the beeping and buzzing alone would wake you up. Half an hour later he would get up (would he?), clear his throat repeatedly (amp on!), have an argument with the missus, and finally serve the first prayer. Which he was ill(illest?)-equipped for. No voice, no rhythm, and he probably didn't understand himself what he was screeching. After three or four days I started to sleep through, having funny and loud dreams in Arabic, though, my neighbour of sorts always bleeding through blending in. Sleeping on the tenth floor or higher may be recommendable, from high above the five daily prayers from ten thousands of mosques even have an eery charm, as the small stinkers get drowned out by the big guns.

> 'cause I hate beaches and resorts
Thank God we don't do status signalling over here, as that would be trite. That said, Hurghada did suck big time, and yes, resorts mostly do. The fish were not too blame, though, it was the people. The world would be a better place if some of us were fish.