There's a hot, hot wind blowing through the city in the late night.

The last time I remember such a strong night wind so hot, I was on the Nile.

In Egypt, the heat is inescapable, even in the middle of the night. I remember standing upon the deck of a small ship heading upstream, and just letting that hot wind blow over me. Not that I could do anything else but.

As we sailed from small town to town, through darkness between tiny enclaves of light, I enjoyed the company of some Australian tourists. They sipped beer and we had pleasant conversation.

The Australians are, to my experience, great tourists to travel with. Easy-going, rarely rude, and thirsty for adventure. They're not going to hold up the tour to haggle for cheap souvenirs, but they're rarely going to complain about the people that do, or much else.

The wind could be strong enough to push you around, and scaldingly hot, but none of us were going to say much about it except, "Wow, this is warm."

Travelling up the ancient waters I imagined the Pharoahs that used to rule that land, and how they transformed the desert into a vast empire. How they used their power to change things around them.

When the wind blows like this, I can't help but think of exotic places, and change in the air.