After rescuing me from the searing, swarming dust of metal and exhaust on Cairo's roads, I've essentially been kidnapped by a taxi driver. Ibrahim El-Ex picks me up from my hotel every morning, takes me to see things I want to see (the pyramids, the bazaar), and things I don't (carpet shop, perfume shop). Yet every time I get close to snapping, he takes me somewhere brilliant - to the village of his birth, to a cafe where he hangs out. These personal trips tie me to him emotionally.

The more tired I get, the less will I have to break away. My power as customer has evaporated in the 40-degree heat. I am Mowgli confronted by Kaa - and he knows where I live.

Three days later, I have mild sunstroke and want to lie in a darkened room for a week - at least. As a reward, he takes me to his local cafe and we smoke shisha and play dominoes - something that he's done every night for decades. After three games, a strange clarity settles in my sun- and applesmoke-addled head and I start winning. The next day I slip out of my hotel early and get into someone else's taxi...

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