A chaotic arrival to the Red Sea

This place is a contradiction, an anomaly. Full of warmth and generosity, and also something harder to read.

I landed in Egypt on a red-eye flight with my guard up and half asleep at 6 AM. My bags were opened. Questions were asked. Then more questions. Eventually, I was waved through and stepped outside just as the sun began to rise.

That’s when the taxis appeared.

“Taxi? Taxi?”

With a dead phone and not too many options, I say yes - and then tell them the area where I'll be staying.

“Thirty dollars.”

Even though there wasn't much in my control, I know a bad deal when I hear one. "Thirty dollars to go two kilometers?" I said, "I'll give you four."

"Four? I'll give you the ride for thirty-five."

I laughed and said, "I thought we were negotiating? How did your rate go up?"

I shrugged it off and sat down to charge my phone from my laptop.

For the next few minutes, we went back and forth. The same ritual, the same combative yet friendly tone, the same numbers thrown into the air like dice - each of us standing firm on the hill we’d chosen to die on.

When my phone finally came back to life, I opened InDrive. I entered the suggested fare: two dollars.

Accepted immediately.

The original driver realized he was losing me and just went for it.

"Ten dollars. Ten dollars. Come with me."

I shook my head and declined politely.

Welcome to Egypt.