Most of what gets called a scam here is a transaction nobody explained. A handful of things genuinely are set-ups, they are always the same ones, and each is beaten by a sentence said before the moment arrives.
Most of what gets reported as a scam on this coast is not one. It is a transaction that worked exactly the way it always works, entered into by someone who did not know the shape of it — and the fix for that is knowing the shape, not treating a whole country as hostile. There is a second, much shorter list of things that genuinely are set-ups: a handful of well-known arrangements designed to leave you somewhere with no good options. They are few, they are always the same ones, and every one of them is beaten by a single move made before the moment arrives. This page separates the two, in that order, because getting them the wrong way round is what ruins trips here — not the money.
This list comes first on purpose. Almost everything reported from this coast is on it, and reading a normal transaction as a swindle is what turns a good trip sour — not the money.
What it gets called
The first price was ridiculous — they saw a tourist coming.
What is actually happening
The first price is not an offer, it is the opening of a conversation, and in a bazaar both sides know that. Being quoted high is not an attempt to cheat you; accepting it without countering is simply not playing. The one real asymmetry is that you may not know where the conversation usually ends — which is a reason to ask a few sellers before buying anything, not a reason to feel robbed.
What it gets called
Someone did something small and then asked for money.
What is actually happening
Baksheesh is a normal part of how service works here and it is not a swindle — the person who carried your bag, showed you the light switch or opened a door is doing a job that is paid this way. It is also entirely fine to decline a service you did not ask for, before it happens, pleasantly. The mistake is neither paying nor refusing; it is being surprised, which is what makes the moment feel like an ambush.
What it gets called
I paid more than the Egyptian in front of me.
What is actually happening
At many state sites there is an official two-tier ticket price, published and printed, and it is not aimed at you personally — it is how the country funds access for people earning Egyptian salaries. Informally, the same logic shows up in markets. You can dislike it, and it is worth knowing about before you are at a window feeling singled out, but it is a policy rather than a trick.
What it gets called
They were friendly first, so it was a set-up.
What is actually happening
On a tourist strip, an opening question is often a sales approach — and away from one it is usually just sociability, which is unusually warm here by northern European standards. The tell is not warmth, it is steering: a seller asks about you and redirects, someone being friendly asks about you and listens to the answer. Treating every approach as a con is the single most common way visitors here make themselves miserable.
What it gets called
I went in for a look and was there forty minutes.
What is actually happening
Tea, conversation and unhurriedness are how selling is done here, and accepting a glass does not commit you to buying anything — no seller expects it to. If you do not want the long version, decline the tea at the door rather than after it arrives, and leave when you want to. Nobody involved thinks that is rude.
What it gets called
The hotel took my passport.
What is actually happening
Registering guest documents is a legal requirement, and hotels here do it at check-in as a matter of routine. It is normal for reception to take the passport briefly to copy or scan it; it is not normal for it to stay behind the desk for your whole stay, and you can ask for it back once the registration is done.
Eight, ordered by what they actually cost visitors here rather than by how dramatic they sound — which is why a card machine sits above a camel. Each works by moving the decision to a point where you have no good option, so each is beaten earlier than it happens.
Where: Card machines everywhere — restaurants, dive centres, hotels, shops, and cash machines.
The terminal offers to charge you in euros or pounds instead of Egyptian pounds, framed as a convenience so you "know what you are paying". The exchange rate applied is set by the payment processor rather than by your bank, and it is materially worse. This is the most expensive thing on this page by a distance, it is entirely legal, and almost nobody notices it happening.
The move: Always choose to be charged in Egyptian pounds, on every machine, including cash machines. Your own bank will convert at a better rate. If the screen has already been pressed for you, it is fair to ask for the transaction to be voided and redone.
Where: Street taxis in every resort town, and the ranks outside the airports and big hotels.
The driver waves you in without discussing a price, or says the meter is broken, and the negotiation happens at the destination — where you have your bags out, your family on the pavement and no alternative. Nothing dishonest has been said at any point. The whole mechanism is the timing.
The move: Agree the fare before the door closes, every time, and say the number out loud. Where the ride-hailing apps work, they remove the conversation entirely and are the simplest answer. Carrying small notes matters too — "no change" at the end of a ride is the same trick wearing a different hat.
Where: Anywhere you pay by card, most often at the end of a long or busy evening.
An extra digit, or a machine that "declines" and is run a second time. Both are rare, both are easy, and both rely on you not looking at the screen before you enter a PIN — which most people do not, because looking feels like an accusation.
The move: Read the amount on the screen before you touch the keypad. It takes a second and it is not rude. Keep the receipt, and if a payment is run twice keep both — a card issuer will deal with a duplicate charge if you have them.
Where: On the way to a market, a museum, a dive centre or a boat you already booked.
A helpful stranger tells you your destination is shut — for a holiday, for prayers, for renovation — and happens to know somewhere better, which is somewhere paying them. It is the oldest one in the region and it survives because it opens with a favour rather than a sale.
The move: Do not take the state of a place from someone on the street. Walk the last hundred metres and look, or ring the number you booked with. If it really is closed, it will still be closed in five minutes.
Where: Bazaars, promenades, outside restaurants, and around the big hotels.
A bracelet, a small carving, a "gift for the lady", a papyrus with your name being written on it while you watch. Once it is in your hand or your name is on it, the conversation changes to payment — and refusing now feels like taking something back rather than declining it.
The move: Keep your hands down and keep walking, with a pleasant "la’ shukran". If something is already in your hand, hand it straight back rather than holding it while you talk. Nothing that is genuinely a gift stops being one when you offer to return it.
Where: Camels and horses on the beach roads, quad stops, and around the big photo spots.
You are invited to sit on the animal, hold the bird, wear the headdress — free, for the picture. The fee appears once you are up there, and getting down is a separate negotiation. The unpleasantness is the position, not the amount.
The move: Settle whether there is a charge, and what it is, before any part of you leaves the ground. If you did not agree to a photo and one was taken of you, you are under no obligation to buy it.
Where: Promenades and hotel gates, priced conspicuously below the desk inside.
The saving is real and so is the reason for it. What is often missing is a licence, an insurance policy, a passenger manifest and any way to find the operator afterwards — and on a boat day, in a country where the sea is the actual risk, those are the things you are buying.
The move: Book boat trips and desert days through a licensed operator with a fixed address, and ask to see the licence — a real one produces it without a pause. This is the one item on this page where the money is not the point: the diving section lists what a properly run centre looks like, and the same test applies to a boat.
Where: Luxor and Cairo day trips, and most desert programmes.
The alabaster, papyrus or perfume workshop is not part of the tour; it is a paid stop, and the pressure inside is the price of the seat outside. Being told it is included in the day is the only dishonest part.
The move: You can sit it out, and saying so pleasantly at the start of the day is far easier than at the door. If you do go in, the shopping page explains how to tell real alabaster and real papyrus from what is usually sold instead.
The taxi, the camel, the boat, the guide, the "small extra" at the dive centre. Every set-up on this page works by moving the conversation to a point where you cannot walk away. Asking first is not distrust, it is ordinary here, and nobody is offended by it.
Two seconds of attention at a card machine is worth more than every other precaution here combined, because the currency-conversion charge is the one that quietly takes the most from visitors and the one nobody thinks to check.
A large amount of what feels like being cheated is the absence of change at the end of a ride or a purchase. Break notes at the supermarket or the hotel, before you need them.
No, thank you — said warmly and without stopping — ends an unwanted approach better than silence, better than ignoring, and much better than irritation. Stopping to explain is what turns thirty seconds into ten minutes.
Boats, dives, desert days, airport transfers. Anything where being able to find the operator tomorrow is part of what you are paying for is not a thing to buy from a promenade.
A hotel duty manager, an excursion desk or a shop owner will usually settle a dispute on the spot rather than have it escalate, and almost all of this is settled that way. Raising your voice moves the conversation from a problem to be fixed to a confrontation to be won, which helps nobody.
Every resort town has them, they deal with visitor disputes and thefts as routine work, and asking a hotel to call them is normal rather than dramatic. For anything involving a theft you intend to claim for, this is not optional — an insurer will want a report made locally, at the time.
A duplicate charge, an amount that does not match your receipt, or a service never provided are all things your card issuer handles. Keep the receipts and raise it while you are still on the trip rather than a month later.
If a pattern is running on this coast that is not on this page, we would rather know. The site takes tips privately and never publishes who sent them — a pattern is worth writing about, and one bad afternoon is worth checking before it is.
This is general guidance from people who live here, not medical, legal or security advice. For anything acute, get a doctor — the coast has good clinics and decompression chambers. Before you travel, check your own government’s current advice, and once here, follow local beach closures and dive-centre briefings: they know about today’s conditions, and this page cannot.