I sort of hinted at this story in the chapter 'That Time A Mummy Stole My Heart'. This was before I became an archaeologist, but it kind of transpired because I wanted to be an archaeologist, so I choose to include it here as a sort of Christmas special.

To give you an indication of when this happened, it was more than ten years ago. I was about to graduate high school, and already got accepted into my university.

It was around this time that my parents thought it would be a great idea to go to Egypt during my winter vacation and see the many splendid sights.

The only issue was that the tour we wanted took almost three weeks, which meant we would spend both Christmas and new years in Egypt. That didn't matter for my teenage self; I was just stoked to visit the pyramids, temples and all the places my archaeologist-heart wanted to see.

So, we went on the trip and it was amazing. Words can't describe the breathtaking sights I have seen that even in their rundown state can take your breath away. To imagine what it might have been like to see them in their full glory, was enough for any human to be rendered speechless.

We started in Luxor and travelled down the Nile to Aswan before coming back to Luxor from which we would take a train to Cairo, on Christmas eve.

This would also be the first time we would be without a guide since the political climate was a bit tense at that time we were advised to travel with a guide at all time.

Our guide was terrific, a retired historian himself, he knew so much about the sights we visited and was overall just a wonderful human being. But due to Christmas, he couldn't accompany us to Cairo, and we assured him that would be okay. We would meet our other guide in Cairo anyway, and it was a night train so what could go wrong.

Well, we were about to find out. It started with our arrival at the train station. Our guide brought us not to the platform; no, he escorted us all the way to our cabin for the night. The cabin existed of a bunk bed against the wall with a small table and chair against the other wall, leaving barely any room for a normal person to stand in between the furniture. Imagine the Orient Express cabins, if one person was out of bed, the other had to wait for them to leave before they could get out.

Because we were with three people, we were fortunate enough to get a cabin adjacent to the other one via a small door, meaning I could walk to my parent's cabin without having to step out into the hallway. So, the suitcases were pushed onto the empty bed to make do with what little space we had.

Now, before our guide said his goodbyes, he gave us the following instructions; stay in your cabin, lock your doors, and don't eat any of the food that is not packaged and sealed.

He gave us three bottles of water and three oranges, and with that, we parted ways.

Since it was already evening, we stayed in our cabin waiting for departure when my dad and I spotted several armed guards entering the train. As I said, it was a different political climate back then, and seeing armed guards was not unusual, but still, it did put us a little on edge. Then dinner arrived.

The first thing that I remember was the smell. As soon as I opened the door that horrid smell made me gag. My dad was the only one brave enough to open the plastic container, but even he closed it as soon as he saw what was inside. It looked like it had been reheated until a point of no return and looked almost as bad as it smelled. Even after we had politely given back our dinner with the excuse that we weren't hungry, the stench still lingered. So, our Christmas dinner was half an orange, some water, and then straight to bed. Until the train stopped abruptly, nearly launching me from my bed, and knocking the suitcases all over my cabin. I tried to hold on to the railing, hoping to fall asleep as the train took off again. Still, the incident repeated itself so many times that I had given up on sleep all together before midnight and decided to occupy myself by reading.

My parents seemed to do better with sleeping, but even their night rest was cut short by a sudden gunshot. We couldn't, and still can't, agree on where it came from or how far away it was, but it was for me the first time I ever heard a gunshot in real life. And it scared the living hell out of me. I ran to my parent's cabin, and we looked out the window, hoping to see what was going on, but in the pitch-black desert night, you can't see anything. All I know is that we were in the middle of a desert, in a train, on Christmas eve, and that none of us was going to get a wink of sleep that night.

We stayed up all night, ate the remnants of the oranges for breakfast on Christmas Day, and thanked heaven once we finally arrived in Cairo. There our new guide was already waiting for us, and even though she tried to put us at ease, saying that the shot was probably just to scare animals off the train tracks (which might be what actually happened) we just wanted to go to bed and spend Christmas sleeping until nightfall, when we stuffed ourselves with all the delicacies of the Egyptian cuisine.