Egypten

The Nile south of Luxor is increasingly hemmed in by the Eastern Desert, its banks lined with grand, well-preserved Graeco-Roman temples at Esna, Edfu and Kom Ombo, and its lush fields punctuated by palm-backed villages – it’s the ideal place to sail through on a Nile boat. The once-great city of Al Kab provides the perfect contrast to the grandeur of the temples, while at Gebel Silsila the river passes through a gorge sacred to the ancients, who used stone from the quarry to built the temples in Luxor. Aswan, the ancient ivory-trading post, has a laid-back atmosphere and plenty of things to see.

On the northern end of the First Cataract, marking ancient Egypt's southern frontier, Aswan has always been of great strategic importance. In ancient times it was a garrison town for the military campaigns against Nubia; its quarries provided the granite used for so many sculptures and obelisks.

If you’re in a hurry to reach the treasures and pleasures of the south, it is easy to dismiss the places between Cairo and Luxor. But these less touristed parts of the country almost always repay what can be the considerable effort of a visit.

Less than two hours from Cairo, the vast salty Lake Qarun comes into view and the arid monotonous plains are replaced with a lush patchwork of farming plots, sunflowers swaying in the breeze, and tall date palms with water buffalo lounging in the shade beside them.

For a brief period following the Egypt–Israel peace treaty of 1979, a thriving Israeli tourism trade meant Tarabin (Nuweiba's waterfront beach-camp area) could claim rivalry to Dahab as Sinai’s hippy beach paradise. However, the vagaries of the regional politics over recent decades have meant Israeli travellers, for the most part, shun Sinai. So while Sharm boomed and Dahab grew steadily into a low-key resort, Nuweiba which stretches over 15km, was left to function primarily as a port for the Aqaba-bound ferry to Jordan. It's a shame because it could easily be the mellow beach-camp paradise that Dahab was a decade ago.

Egypt’s northern coastline runs for 500km along Mediterranean shores. Its sandy beaches and turquoise-hued sea lure floods of Egyptians here during summer and, in recent years, a number of sprawling resorts have been built facing these crystal waters. Most travellers, however, make a beeline straight to the once-great port city of Alexandria. Eulogised through the centuries, this faded old dame of a metropolis is still by far Egypt's most atmospheric city. Alexandria's fresh sea air, fantastic seafood, ancient history and crumbling gems of belle époque buildings give it a spirit distinctly different from that of Cairo.

Rugged and starkly beautiful, the Sinai Peninsula has managed to capture imaginations throughout the centuries. The region has been coveted for its deep religious significance and its strategic position as a crossroads of empires: prophets and pilgrims, conquerors and exiles have all left their footprints on the sands here.

Technically all of Cairo on the west bank of the Nile is Giza, though the name is inextricably linked with the Pyramids, 9km from the river, on the edge of the desert. Truly time-strapped sightseers could conceivably stay out here and bypass Cairo entirely, but that’s missing a lot of the fun. More realistically, you’ll probably come out here on a day outing. Sharia Al Haram (Pyramids Rd) leads straight to the site and the village of Nazlet As Samaan at its base and south of Pyramids Rd.

In-the-know divers have been heading to Marsa Alam for years, attracted to the seas that offer up some of Egypt’s best diving just off the rugged coastline. Despite this, the far-flung destination stayed well off the tourism radar for a long time. While the town itself remains a quiet, nondescript place, the strip of coast to its north and south has been snapped up by eager developers and is now home to a plethora of resorts and half-built hotels.

In its late-19th-century raffish heyday, Port Said was Egypt’s city of vice and sin. The boozing seafarers and packed brothels may have long since been scrubbed away, but this louche period is evoked still in the waterfront’s muddle of once-grand architecture slowly going to seed.