During landing we crane our necks to see any glimpse of the pyramids from the air through the small cabin window, but the sight is too limited. We have to wait.

I get off the plane and immediately my imagination runs wild - I feel as if my feet develop tentacles, burrowing deep below the surface of the modern airfield, down through the layers of sand, in an effort to 'sense' any remains of the ancient Iunu, 'On', Heliopolis, without really being sure if this is the place it´s supposed to be situated. I had my idea confirmed later.

Once outside the building, past the confusion of getting a visa, changing money and finding baggage, we are helped into a minibus. The sun is slowly sinking. Everywhere beyond structures, cars, buses, people scurrying back and forth, I see reddish sand and rocks. Somewhere an obelisk flashes by. My first glance of anything ancient.

The taxi takes us into Cairo while dusk changes into darkness. Traffic is intense, drivers honk at each other incessantly. Some day later we understand that Cairo drivers, and in fact all drivers in Egypt, don´t honk 'at' each other, they honk 'to' each other, in an endless communication which makes getting somewhere possible. Traffic doesn´t float on in lanes as it does in Europe or the States. In Egypt everyone changes lanes as soon as and as often as possible, trying to utilize any little room between cars to get there first. And between all taxis, private cars, buses and trucks a donkey trots patiently along, pulling a cart with an impossibly huge load of vegetables.

At some point we cross the Nile. I look out at the dark waters where the city lights are reflected and try to believe that finally we are here. It´s the Nile out there. Not our usual Gothenburg river...

At the hotel, there´s David Robert´s litography of the Hypostyle Hall at Philae hanging over our bed. I take that as a good omen.