It was hot - crazy hot, as we craned our necks in that stock-standard-tourist manner toward the summit of the Great Pyramid of Giza. As we manouvered our instantly leathery, sandal-clad feet around enormous, steaming piles of fresh camel dung we were cajoled, proffered and offered a myriad of questionable souvenirs from enthusiastic peddlers (who seemingly outnumbered the great hoards of thirsty visitors). Camel rides, minature pyramids, teatowel-like headware, nightmare-inducing wooden cats, the list goes on... Out of the throng, upon yet another polite refusal of a small "gift" (thankfully we'd been forewarned), one notably indignant youngster exclaimed with great gusto and enthusiasm, "It's a SCARAB!" As obvious and persuasive as his agrument was we still heartlessly declined, as we also did to the creative chap in Luxor who proclaimed "Hey do you want to
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