The Pyramid Scam No One Warned Me About— A Guide to Getting Out of an Egyptian Scam
- Julianne Chin
- 7 days ago
- 7 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
If you’ve ever met me during my travels, I’ve probably told you this story in one short sentence:
‘I got scammed in Egypt, but I got my money back.’
Yes, I experienced the infamous pyramid scam in Giza — and yes, I walked away with a refund. I’ve shamelessly decided it’s finally time for this ridiculous story to make it onto my blog, partly as a warning, partly for a laugh. And maybe, just maybe, if you ever find yourself scammed in Egypt, this story might show you a possible way out.
For those who’ve already been to Egypt and read every guide on how not to get scammed, please don’t judge me just yet. And for those planning a trip: I loved my experience, especially the ending of this story— but please, do not learn from me.
What Couldn't Go Wrong... Went Wrong
This happened back in early August 2022, during my three-month Divemaster internship in Dahab. I took a week off to explore other parts of Egypt. After getting used to the calm, quiet rhythm of Dahab, Cairo felt like a sensory overload— endless honking, shouting, and chaos from 7 till 11.
I had been warned repeatedly to take a local friend with me to the Giza pyramids. And I was supposed to go with a friend of my colleague Alex, but he got into a minor traffic accident on his way back from Dahab. Left on my own, I stubbornly ignored every other warning and decided to go anyway.
I had read enough guides.
I thought I was smart.
What could possibly go wrong?
After avoiding countless people trying to sell me things, I finally felt a moment of peace and tried to navigate my way towards the ticket office— until a man and a young girl approached me, introducing themselves as a father and daughter visiting from Alexandria.
‘I’m bringing my daughter to see the pyramids,’ he said. ‘You’re welcome to walk with us. It’s safer with an Egyptian.’
He explained that the pyramids were still far and suggested sharing a minivan. I was cautious, but he told me a detailed backstory: he was an English teacher, widowed, raising two children on his own. It sounded genuine. At worst, I thought, I’d pay a small transport fee.
So I got into the minivan with them.
Instead of arriving at the pyramids, we were dropped in a random village near Sakkara. The man said we’d eat lunch before heading there. Somehow, I still didn’t see this as a red flag. We shared food and snacks, and eventually he announced we were finally on our way.
‘My daughter wants to take a horse carriage’, claimed the man. We went on a horse carriage. In the midst of our conversion, he invited me to take a selfie with them, with my phone, as a memory of the trip. Then we then got transferred to a tuk-tuk. Time passed— more than two hours since we were supposedly heading to Giza.
That’s when the driver turned into narrow, lifeless alleyways, stopping under a bridge full of graffitis and flaming trash.
‘I will bring you to the store to pay for the tour.’
‘What kind of tour?’ I asked. ‘I never signed up for one!’
‘The carriage, the food, and the next horse tour in the pyramids!’ He said with a grin on his face.
That was the moment realisation hit me: I hadn’t signed up for anything. I had been walked into it and thrown myself into a lion den.
We were in the middle of nowhere— no people, no shops, no help, almost like a spiritless world after a zombie apocalypse. Only me, the scammer, the driver, and the silent little girl. I was scared. I couldn’t fight two grown men, and screaming wouldn’t have helped.
They drove me to a shop and forced me to pay for an absurdly overpriced ‘tour package’— over 200 euros. The man still pretended to browse perfumes for his ‘family’ while I stood there, furious and helpless.
My day was ruined. But since I’d already lost the money, I decided to at least see the pyramids. I refused to let the scam take that away too.
I was placed in a carriage circling the Great Pyramids of Giza, trying to convince myself to make the best out of the situation and enjoy the moment. I couldn’t. The photos the ‘guide’ took were terrible, even for a person who did not care much about perfect pictures, which only added fuel to the fire. When the tour ended, he suggested more activities— traditional clothes, dinner and music in a Bedouin village. I made up an excuse and begged to be dropped at a bus stop. At that point, I just wanted out. Who knows if that would have been another trap?
They finally let me go, ending the harrowing experience.
When the Universe Opened Another Door
I don’t believe in gods, but I do believe in cycles— in the idea that when one door closes, another opens, and that I am blessed with luck.
That evening, Mohammed, a local Egyptian I’d connected with through Couchsurfing, invited me to a dinner gathering after hearing what happened. He tracked my live location when things went wrong and made sure I was safe. Over the years, strangers on Couchsurfing have helped me out of several bad situations, making me believe that angels exist — they just don’t always look how you expect. After a failed attempt to dispute the charge with my bank, one of Mohammed’s friends spoke up:
‘I know the head of the Giza Tourist Police. I can take you there tomorrow.’
As he is another Mohammed, I am going to address him as Mo below. Initially I hesitated. My time in Cairo was limited, and there was no guarantee I’d get my money back. Still, I went, and I was glad I did.
VVIP of the Egyptian Police Station
Just as Mo promised, he took me to the tourist police station located very near to the Pyramids, with the fact that he got out of his own way and left his work behind.
Back in Hong Kong, I have always seen the police force as the ‘legal gangsters’ employed by the government— corrupted, and owns no morals. Who knows if Egyptian Tourist police are also the one of these crows?
What followed completely changed my view.
I was almost treated like royalty— the policemen took me into a cool room and listened to the story, Mo helped with translations. I was offered tea and cigarettes. Happily drinking and smoking while waiting, they came back to me with a couple refills which I rejected. But I almost felt like a very very important person in the station.
With the selfie the scammer had taken on my phone and my bank transaction record (luckily I paid by bank transfer as I was robbed in Istanbul 2 months back and was running out of cash), the police quickly identified the group and brought the manager in.
Being too disappointed and fearful to speak to him directly, Mo acted as a translator and relayed messages back and forth to the 'manager'. At first he used the excuse that I should ‘just treat it as helping the poor guy (the scammer)’ and pay for the services I had received, attempting to refund only half of the amount.
I explained that this wasn’t about the money but the principle— me being forced into paying for things I never agreed to. I was a 20-year-old student, threatened in the middle of nowhere.
Finally, he agreed to refund most of the amount, in cash (which in turn saved my life as I had almost nothing left on me when ). He emotionlessly pulled out a stack of 200 EGP notes, as if this amount— which would mean a lot to many poor people in the community— was absolutely nothing.
I learned that the girl wasn’t the ‘daughter’ at all— just a child used to build trust. Through her eyes, I could tell she knew it too. I heard stories about what happened to the man afterward: some said he was arrested; others said the police took no action, but he was beaten up by some gangsters. I didn’t wish violence on him. That would be too much for a poor man who drifted astray while struggling to make a living in the wider world. I only hoped the girl would someday be free and take fate into her own hands.
That day felt heavy, and the weight didn’t go away even after I got my money back. I couldn’t stop thinking about the poor young girl, but there was nothing I could do for her. As requested, I left the officers with a thank you letter, and returned to Dahab that same night.
The Ultimate 'Guide' to Getting Out of an Egyptian Scam
After my experience, people often asked if Egypt is safe without a pre-arranged tour, or if solo travel there is worth it.
My answer is yes— but maybe not for beginners.
If you’re easily annoyed by constant attention and aggressive sales tactics, Egypt will surely exhaust you. Besides that, as a solo female traveler, I was proposed to countless times— sometimes by married men, sometimes by men who couldn’t even speak English (a bus driver tried to propose to me in sign language and even suggested having kids together).
That said, I never felt unsafe at any point of time, and I witnessed real efforts by the Egyptian government to reduce scams, including tourist police checkpoints in popular areas*. So if you are a seasoned traveller, or planning on being one, as long as you are willing to take up some challenges, you would have absolutely no problem.
If you do get scammed:
gather evidence (photos, locations, transaction records)
go to the tourist police
don’t be embarrassed
Most importantly, don’t let fear stop you from traveling. Be cautious, be firm, and learn to say no— but don’t stop believing that kindness still exists. Sometimes, it shows up right when you need it most.
* The Egyptian government has made some effort to create a more tourist-friendly and scam-free environment, although its effectiveness remains questionable. While I was walking through the streets of Khan el-Khalili with an Egyptian friend, the police stopped us at a tourist police checkpoint near the city gate to check our IDs. This is part of an initiative to identify and prevent potential scammers operating in the area. Tourist police stations are also set up around major touristic districts, although many tourists may not even notice them.
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