I AM not saying it worried me greatly but at some stage in my life I wondered what had become of Thebes. It was a place that seemed to figure regularly in my younger schooldays, along with Babylon, Troy, Carthage, Mesopotamia, the Hittites, The Philistines and Thrace.

Somehow I had left them all behind, mixed up with the half-retained Greek, Roman and Egyptian mythology, along with Hydra's head, Medusa, Achilles and that vulnerable heel.

And here we were, I discovered, with a feeling of meeting a long-lost childhood familiar, about to enter Thebes. I was pleased it had survived and flourished under the new name of Luxor. And it entranced me in its new persona, one much changed from the city about which Homer enthused.

By the time we reached Luxor, we had travelled down the Nile valley by train and come to terms with our shock at seeing Cairo, with its teeming millions beneath a haze of pollution.

I was surprised to discover the capital was the most populous metropolitan area in Africa, containing over two million cars, the majority of which are not only over ten years old, but involved in one gigantic, day-time traffic jam, which contributes to the general haze over the horizons.

It is a city of contrasts with impressive boulevards and large imposing buildings often to be found next to vast slum areas. The ancient Egyptians may have had a head start on civilisation but, as one of our party commented, they lost the thread when it came to dumping rubbish, particularly as they have, in the Sahara, one of the world's biggest landfill sites within easy reach.

They estimate that some 4,000 tonnes of rubbish per day in Cairo is neither collected nor managed. It is just left.

For the most part, dwellings are square, often two or three-storey with girders hinting at the possibility of an extra storey. This fashion, along with the absence of paint, excludes the owner from property tax, because the building is deemed unfinished, and also enables him to build upwards when his family grows and his children are married.

We had not realised how very much it is Third World - five million live in Cairo's cemeteries - but lest we feel superior about it, later, during the holiday, we were talking to our guide, Taso. To my wife's questions he pointed out education and health are free, but with regard to the latter, because it is "third world, we often have to wait six months for treatment".

We shifted uncomfortably wondering where the UK, with similar failings, fitted into the world batting order.

It transpires the duration of national service in Egypt is determined by your exam results. Poor grades qualify you for three years whereas the brighter individuals serve one year and much of that time is spent in the police. There are three divisions - the tourist, the traffic and the crime police - and I have never seen so many armed police on the streets, sitting in sentry boxes or on chairs in the open, or astride camels and horses, close to the desert antiquities.

My wife, who loves museums, felt a week might just be enough for her in Cairo's finest and it is an absorbing experience for those who like them. I confess to not being a great museum-lover when it comes to ancient civilisations. I do love history but I have a low boredom threshold for pottery, flint tools and eating utensils.

I was satisfied our guide took us through the cream of the displays in an afternoon and finished exhilarated by the tour, feeling relatively replete as if after a pleasant repast. But Ellie left the museum as if she had only just scented the cooking and had not even got round to breaking bread, I fancy we will have to return to Cairo for a second take at the museum.

The other big attraction is of course the pyramids of nearby Giza, which have to be seen to be believed. Nothing quite prepares you for them. Sadly, because of the "fog" - a local euphemism for pollution - we did not see the pyramids until close to them but, on the return to Cairo at mid-day, we could enjoy how they dominate the "fog-free" landscape.

As for the 20-metre-high Sphinx, well, I must admit to a tad of disappointment. I expected it to be three times bigger, and its situation, in a depression, only served to make it seem less imposing that I had expected.

All of which, is somewhat chary for it is the largest single-stone statue in the world and needs no endorsement from me with regard to its unique appeal.

Put it this way. A friend of mine came up with an observation with which I have to agree. Indeed it could be used as a tourist slogan: "You would have to be brain dead not to find enjoyment in Egypt."

l Oliver Phillips is a former assistant editor of the Watford Observer who has retired to rural France.