Ripe with two days perspiration, we remain in the court, shoulder to shoulder and seated on pews, each awaiting our turn. People are frisked to be sure they have no weapons. At one point, the males are separated from the females. Rumor of a possible strip search passes through the crowd. Fortunately I can understand some of the native tongue, but there are a few dialects. The guard standing nearby looks at me in disgust and mutters something under his breath. His dialect, I do not understand. It could be my foreign clothes, strange body markings and brassy hair that set him off. For now, he doesn't seem aggressive, just disgusted. I only came here because the Niwt tour guide said it was the hottest ticket in Egypt. Should have gone hunting instead.

As the day wears on, the room becomes smotheringly hot.

"I would do anything for a bratwurst sandwich with a chaser of lowenbrau."