I would be lying, however, if I didn't admit to enjoying the contrast. In a bit of travel snobbery, I felt as though my tattered person marked me as someone who had really been travelling and was rather proud of my lack of hygiene. Or perhaps that leap of logic was some type of psychological self-defense mechanism... At any rate, it was true culture shock.
Especially when a large group of tourists showed up at our campsite one night.
The entrance to Adams Home Camp:
Inside the compound:
Sunrise:
Gecko!:
The women were appalled that we didn't shower daily and that some of us didn't own shampoo (no surprise I fall into that category). Their sense of humor was socially approved in that it was insipid, pack-like, and safe. Granted, our sense of humor was lucky to rise above the potty level, but how is a game of slap the live croc not amusing?
Or three really ugly women? L to R: Lorenzo, Danny, me:
I couldn't deal with it and went into a corner to drink my beer. Nobody from Hot Rock managed to have even a marginally interesting conversation with the well-scrubbed tourists and we retreated back to our own groups like enormous magnets, mutually repelled. Was this going to be the real world? Dear God help me if it is.
That being said, how did we wind up spending our time in Aswan while waiting for BiRT to clear customs? By being tourists, of course. There was great food to eat,
Danny and Phil dig in:
camels to ride, 
Classic lone camel rider:
and faluccas to sail up and down the Nile on. It was time to put the tourist hat on, albeit a rather crusty and dirt-stained one.
First up, camels. Danny, Juliet, Mike, Phil, and I decided we might as well take advantage of the copious number of camel touts around and go for a two-hour ride that would take us to a monastery
and an obelisk. Riding a camel is absolutely hilarious. Coming from a horseback riding background, I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I threw my leg over the saddle, but it definitely was not being pitched forward, then back, then forward again as the camel stood up off the ground. It was like a massive horse bucking in slow motion and I couldn't stop laughing.
Camels rock:
Once up and after much giggling, the camel riders threw us the "reins" -- a single rope -- and we moseyed off, swaying and rocking with the motion of the camel while the camel riders walked behind us smoking and talking amongst themselves without giving any of us any instruction on riding the beasts beneath us.
Mike leading the pack at a fast-paced plod:
Just when we were getting the hang of it, the riders stopped us and clambered on so that we were riding double. And it is just next to impossible to keep from banging into the rider in front of you repeatedly when the camel stands or kneels down. I had plenty of practice because my camel rider kept losing his sandals and had to repeatedly stop our camel and dismount in order to retrieve his footwear. That was fun and all for the first few times, but by the time he flipped his sandal off for the 6th or 7th time I really wanted tell him to buy something with velcro. Regardless, it was a blast and I highly recommend jumping on a camel if the opportunity arises.
Where the town ends and the sand begins:
Camel rider and ruins in foreground, Aswan across the Nile:
Nearing the monastery:
Looking like a camel convention outside the monastery:
In true Hot Rock fashion we didn't want to pay the entrance fee and wandered around the outside of the monastery which was much more entertaining -- especially when the guard with the gun took a shine to Juliet:
Tourists leaving the monastery:
L to R: Phil, Omar, Juliet, camel guy, me, Mike:
Heading back:
After the camel ride, we went on a falucca for 5 or 6 hours, cruising along the Nile.
Danny watches for crocs off the bow:
It was a fantastic way to spend the afternoon, tacking our way through the hundreds of other faluccas and boats crammed onto the river. 
We ate, dozed, jumped into the river,
Tom somersaults in:
Mike psyches himself up:
And jumps!:
and created the typical Hot Rock spectacle.
Captain Cheese at your service:
Mike gives the faraway sailor stare:
How is it that we are not more tan (excluding Danny, who tans without trying)? L to R: Phil, Tom, Danny, Duncan, me, Mike; Front: Lianna, Lorenzo
It wasn't so bad being a tourist, after all.
