December 27. 3am. The alarm goes off. It is pitch black and minus 10 outside. Quick breakfast and check: passport? tickets?

Yes, we are finally on our way to Egypt. Anxieties about terrorism are pushed aside. We are together as a family.

Suddenly passport control at Plovdiv asks for the birth certificates of the children. Ooops!

"How do we know you are the children's mother?"

Off they go to make some checks. I am relieved to know that obviously child abduction is taken seriously. My son is embarrassed to be left standing on one side and scowls at me "Why can't you have the same family name as the rest of us?"

2pm.We finally land in Cairo. It's cloudy and grey - in fact it's raining and only 13 degrees. The initial welcome shown by the Egyptians is very warm. A smiling passport control officer is the norm. His sour-faced Bulgarian counterparts could well learn a thing or two about welcoming visitors.

The two-hour drive across Cairo from the airport to the hotel serves as an introduction to Egypt. Our local guide, however, speaks only Russian and so I just look out of the window at the familiar Asian scenario (we could be in Delhi) occasionally catching a Russian word or two that resembles its Bulgarian equivalent.

After checking into the (very pleasant) Hotel Zoser, we decide to explore a little on our own. There is a mall across the street. Crossing the street outside the hotel appears nearly impossible. I have never seen traffic like this. No signs of pedestrian crossings or traffic lights or subways. No one is going to stop - Todor and Oliver (my husband and son) are miles ahead. I protectively hug Sarina and go for it. By some miracle I am still here to tell the tale.

December 28. The pyramids I have waited all my life to see are finally before me (and of course thousands of others.) I try to ignore them and the dozens of hawkers that descend on us the moment we leave the bus. Maybe if I cover my head with a scarf they will leave me alone?

T and O actually enter the middle pyramid, but the warning that it was hot, cramped and claustrophobic inside is enough to deter me and Sarina. Everyone is busy snapping away - we need to take the memories with us because as we stand there admiring these great architectural achievements, you do not really find the tranquillity to absorb all that you see.

"No I don't want to ride a camel." "No I don't want to buy your faded postcards."

After the sphinx, it is time for the first tourist shop stop - a perfume palace. Again the presentation is in Russian (hey guys, do you mind - we are about to join the EU, not the Soviet Union!). We know you get fleeced at these places. The guide gets a cut, the driver, the operator and so on. Bulgaria produces equally good if not better essential oils. At least they didn't try to sell us rose oil. I've been told that all the shops around the area belong to relatives of Al-Fayed. No wonder the man could afford to buy Harrods!

We successfully avoid the next package-tourist trap - buffet lunch, $10 a head. Instead we visit the KFC with the most exclusive view in the world for a fraction of the price, and still have time to check out some of the local shops on our own. Our bargaining techniques are still in shipshape after last year's visit to India. We notice that many of our group are too afraid to leave the sanctuary of the crowd. After yet another official shop stop we finally head for the Egyptian National Museum in Cairo. It is getting late - the museum is set to close in two hours.

Our guide points out some significant exhibits en route to the main attraction - the treasures of Tutankhamun. Then we are all blown away by the question that if this is what was in the tomb of a young fairly insignificant ruler, what could only have been in those raided tombs of the great rulers? For an extra fee we visit the final resting place of the royal mummies. I am emotionally overcome as I look at the face of a man who ruled these lands 3000 years ago. What an amazing heritage!

December 29. Transfer day. Flew on to Hurghada from Cairo with our own Bulgarian charter plane. The weather is still cold and windy and many of us are still in the same clothes we left Sofia in. The large hotel resorts remind me of Las Vegas (without the gambling) and are really not my cup of tea, but the kids are excited.

December 30. Another early start as 150 coaches leave Hurghada in a police escorted convoy for Luxor. The guide again speaks only Russian and I am gradually getting irritated. Had we booked the trip locally we could have joined an English-speaking tour. After five hours, we finally stop 10 minutes for some photos, and then, before even getting to the Valley of the Kings, another shop stop. I am furious now. We didn't come all this way to look at shops! After Karnak Temple the guide proposes a few more shops.

"What has happened to Luxor Temple?" There is some misunderstanding - Luxor Temple is not included in the programme, according to the guide. It is according to my programme. I have it, black on white. The group protests but to no avail. The guide and driver cannot take us to Luxor Temple. Our group, however, in turn refuses to be taken to yet another papyrus or perfume shop and so we sit sipping karkadeh (Egyptian hibiscus tea) at the roadside till at 6pm it's time to head the convoy back.

December 31. Oliver's 12th birthday. He is content with a few modest little presents… After all he too very much wanted to visit Egypt.

The gala dinner (compulsory for all resort guests) is another major organisational achievement (a bit like the toilet stop on the convoy to Luxor) - 3000 hotel guests under one marquee!

The buffet spread looks spectacular. By the time the buffet is officially opened, many of the Russians and a few of our own group have already gone and piled their plates high with the delicacies of the evening. Needless to say, the eyes are bigger than the stomach and much is left on the plates uneaten and wasted. I feel sick deep down inside. We are probably no more than 500km from Sudan where people have been starving for years. I wonder if "our tourists" are even aware of it. Unfortunately - this is a negative side of package tourism.

January 1 2007. "Speak to me in Arabic if you have to - but not in Russian - I am not Russian - and nor are you," I snap at the bewildered salesperson. I have really had enough of this pandering to the tourists. But we have this problem in Bulgaria, too. The Russians are ruining the market here. They are arriving in huge numbers and, like package tourists the world over, they too are not the best ambassadors for their country. I have already decided that our next trip to Egypt will not be a package tour.

There is not much mentioned on the international news channels about celebrations back in Bulgaria.

January 2. Went on a snorkelling trip that we had booked in the resort. We were a pleasant mix of old and new Europeans. At first we were not sure if the weather would ever allow us to get undressed, but suddenly the wind dropped, the sun came out and we all plopped into the clear turquoise waters surrounding the Red Sea reefs. I just couldn't take in enough of the underwater beauty. Simply breathtaking!! Can't find the words to describe it.

And if that wasn't enough, the day ended with a group of about eight dolphins briefly escorting our boat back to shore. What a day to remember!

January 3. Time to return home. Typical - the wind has finally gone and the weather is warm. Much of our group seems to have had enough. Others haven't stopped moaning since they got here. We, too, didn't get everything we expected but we still had a good time.

Sometimes, like yesterday you also get more than what you expect.

6pm. Landed on time in Plovdiv. It seems to be snowing lightly.

Suddenly I am caught off guard by passport control. "Where is your Bulgarian passport?" I don't have one. Do you mean my lichna karta? "Wait here one moment." The queue behind me is restless. He returns with a senior officer and again asks me for my Bulgarian passport - I again offer to give him my lichna karta.

Suddenly I snap: "For 14 years I have been coming in and out of this country with no problems and today when all you should be saying is welcome - you ask me such a damn stupid question - give me back my German EU passport and let me through before I really lose it!"

Poor guy - I still don't know what he was on about - unless he thought you have to be Bulgarian to go on a Bulgarian package holiday!

Paromita Sanatani is co-publisher and editor-in-chief of Sofia - the insider's guide
www.insidesofia.com