I stare in disbelief at my surroundings. Two days ago I was driving away from a town of one thousand people and no traffic lights and now I'm sitting in the middle of a Smash-Up Derby, swallowed up in a crazy and cacophonous whirlpool of horses, lorries and gun toting guards.

I feel numb. My face feels numb and it must show because all enthusiasm for the sale has drained out of our moustachioed, bottle wielding, friend. He lets us leave and with apprehension we step back into the white bright Egyptian morning.

Its been a little over an hour since we arrived in Cairo. As the greenest of all tourists we've already been nailed by the hotel owner. We've paid twice the going for our room and he has our deposit for a guided tour to the pyramids tomorrow. Right now were buried in the Lonely Planet looking for a clue to questions we haven't even asked yet. Immersed in the safety of the pages. Where to? "Taxi!"

Naturally we end up on the outskirts of the sprawling city-among ruins. We wander between immense columns and try to imagine the area blanketed in worshipping Egyptians. As we trundle a shriveled old man grabs our attention with a pssst or a hiss. He beckons us with furtive waves and nodding. We approach with a caution that feels warranted despite the fellows obvious frailty.

"Come. Quickly. See something special. Quickly, quickly", he almost whispers, ushering us down a crumbling stone corridor. He mutters and points at the walls occasionally exhaling in a whistle or wheeze. We have no idea where we are going or what the point of all this is but curiosity prods and the walls get closer, the light dimmer and the air more stale.

"Through here. See. No visitors. No people. Quiet please or there will be trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Yes. Police trouble. Quickly through here." he says eyes darting as he pulls back some of the the wire mesh fence before us.
"Look."
"Look? At what? How? "
"Like this, like this,"and he demonstrates, poking his whole head and neck, right up to his shoulders, through the hole he has created.
Reluctant but curious I step forward and lean toward the wire. As my head reaches out a hand touches my shoulder. I yelp.
"Baksheesh?"grins the old man waving his palm under my nose
"Baksheesh? Oh, yeah, OK," I say recalling the tip for the taxi driver (and no it wasn't "don't look into the sun mate") and fumble for a few coins. This had better be good.

I poke my head through the opening and start to strain my eyes to get a glimpse of what I expect to be, at least, some minor archeological marvel at the very worst something interesting.

Nothing.

After five long minutes of eye watering effort (trying to get my moneys worth) I give up. "I cant see anything,"I half whinge.
The old man shrugs his shoulders and starts to shuffle off. We follow and once outside the old rouge starts his pitch on two tourists that bear a striking resemblance to ourselves.

Its some time later that the beauty of the scam sinks in. After experiencing a healthy range of local shysters tactics I have learned that in a city such as Cairo, where poverty is a scale rather than a state of being, the few dollars coughed up for apparently nothing is priceless.