Armed guards at every tourist site are a reminder of how Egypt is desperately trying to protect visitors, writes Christine Madden after a recent trip to a country hit again by terrorists this week

When my mother, who turned 75 this year, asked me to mark the event by accompanying her on a trip to Egypt, I was initially doubtful. Apart from the inherent risk of a claustrophobic eight days with my mother in a foreign country, I was apprehensive at the idea of visiting a country repeatedly struck by terrorist attacks specifically targeted against tourists.

One colleague at this newspaper warned against the trip. Another at a different publication, who had narrowly missed an attack in Israel, said philosophically: "You can be lucky, you can be unlucky." It's true: I had ended up travelling to London on July 14th last year, right between the two attacks on the Underground. In the end, I decided to try my luck again. We spent a fascinating and sunny week on the Nile in March; a terror attack hit the Red Sea resort town of Dahab last Monday evening.

Droves of people, from tourists to new-age Isis worshippers, travel to Egypt to visit artefacts and archaeological sites like nothing else you've ever seen. The powerful and highly developed civilisation of ancient Egypt lasted for centuries and left an artistic and architectural legacy that leaves you speechless with awe. But before you can approach the many tourist sites dotted up and down the Nile, you have to pass the armed guards and metal detectors regulating your path to each one. Sometimes they were circumspect and checked through bags, but frequently they waved you through, ignoring detectors bleeping their warnings, to avoid huge backups in the swarms of tourists from all over the globe.

No matter where you are in Egypt, armed guards police the area, always on standby, machine guns at the ready. They stand in front of every ATM machine, public building and hotel, and survey bazaars and tourist sites.

Your jaw-dropped amazement at the magnificence of the immense tombs and temples is almost matched by your frequent sense of unease at the sight of armed military hustling you through entrance checkpoints, patrolling through forests of decorated columns 20 metres high or lounging on the bottom blocks of the pyramids.

Nevertheless Egypt and its tourism industry - as well as the hapless tourists - remain the target of terrorist attacks, such as the bombs that went off at Dahab earlier this week that killed at least 23 people and injured 62.

The shock and fear generated by terrorist attacks, and the low-level anxiety occasioned by the constant military presence, contrast sharply with the impression you receive of this sunny, colourful country and its friendly people. My first contact with a local came from a boy who mustered up enough English to call out "Welcome back" to me on my first trip to Egypt. Girded with a quick sense of sly humour and a strong penchant for teasing and jokes, the Egyptians you meet in the bazaars and on the street are welcoming, open and thirsting for chat. You could put their friendliness down to their hope of sharing a little of your western currency, but they're equally chatty and fun-loving with each other as well.

Eye contact with locals on the streets attracts a big smile and instant interest, despite our sometimes pasty, sometimes lobster-like appearance in sunglasses and T-shirts, the inevitable cameras dangling from our necks. Smiling children in a school group at the Hatshepsut Temple - where 58 tourists and three policemen were shot dead by terrorists in 1998 - approach me with choruses of "You are welcome!" and "Where are you from?" eager to speak to someone new and practise English.

Their good humour and mischievous wit are no doubt vital in coming to terms with the destitution of large swathes of the population. Egypt may be a large country, with an area of 1 million sq km, but its population of 74.9 million is concentrated on the narrow ribbon of life the River Nile has represented for thousands of years. And tourist revenue - which represents one of Egypt's three major sources of income - goes directly to the people, as opposed to income from oil and gas or the Suez Canal.

With a population of about 17 million, Cairo seems always about to boil over with cars and people, many of whom live in unspeakable poverty. The residents of the legendary City of the Dead, for example, squat in structures originally built as monuments in a sprawling graveyard. With nowhere else to go, they live without amenities of any kind - electricity, water, rubbish collection, never mind a sewerage system. Domestic animals as well as people wade through mounds of waste and filth among the ancient graves.

It drives home forcibly that 21st-century quandary about western ethics in relation to developing countries, and makes you question, as you sit in your four-star hotel or on the deck of a Nile cruise ship, what your role is in creating or alleviating that poverty.

However, the unimaginable splendours of a highly developed ancient people, not to mention the constant sunshine and beautiful beaches seem, despite everything, to continue to attract tourists.

A spokeswoman for Thomas Cook reports that, although it is "too early to tell", she doesn't expect the recent attacks to affect sales in the long term.

"A few customers have called with concerns," she says, "but the Government hasn't changed its travel advice. Obviously, straight after an incident, there is a slight dip in bookings." But in her experience, the market recovers.

"I'm not aware that it is a major cause of concern" to holidaymakers, she adds.

Our tour guide, however, thought differently. "This year it wasn't only the attacks but also the Mohammed caricatures that have scared people off," he said. "The mass media gives people the impression that we're aggressive. In principle, we don't have anything against foreigners."

And when the tourists stay away, he emphasises, everyone suffers.