Bellydancer Monique Feron left her Auckland home and dance school to experience life as a woman in Cairo. But she never imagined she'd perform on a floating palace. Share the exciting journey through the heart of Egypt with her...

The Egyptians live with an intensity that mirrors their land. In a country that's four times the size of New Zealand - with 15 times the number of people - music, dance, food and religion blend in a rich and colourful tapestry. A strict religion is tempered with an innate sensuality found in their dance and music. The famous singer Om Kholsoum, sang from the heart of every Egyptian, both rich and poor. When she died a few years ago, the whole of the Arab nation stopped to mourn for two days. When Abdel Halem Hafez, the Middle East's answer to Frank Sinatra, died, some of his fans actually committed suicide. As I've danced and taught dance most of my life, I wanted to go and feel the pulse of Egypt, the beat of her heart and to be absorbed into the culture.

I arrived in Cairo to stay at the apartment of my hostess, Samiha, a good friend and devout Muslim. Most people here live in dark city apartments with no garden, and the women spend their days inside. Hawkers pass by below, crying out to sell their wares – black honey, bread, fruit and veges – and they will even buy your rubbish! The whole exchange is conducted by lowering a basket down on a rope from the balcony. Anything can be delivered at any time. Samiha explains it simply: "People serve people."

Sixteen million people live in Cairo and there is noise 24-hours-a-day. Someone's always honking their horn – not to harass other drivers, but as a type of Morse code to signal where they're going or who they are. Cars, trucks, donkeys and carts interweave with young men who simultaneously ride their bicycles while balancing trays of croissants on their heads. Families of five squash helmet-less onto one motorbike. On one occasion, as Samiha drove into a heavily congested road, I said: "My eyes are closed." She replied: "Mine too."

I believe in Allah now, as I've seen people emerge miraculously unscathed from what seemed like sure accidents. With no road system as such, you can be only ten minutes from home but it will take you more than an hour to get there. Thanks to the tolerance of the people, however, situations that might cause a riot in New Zealand are diffused with an apology, not settled with a fist.

Women play a subservient role in Muslim culture and are very modest. Samiha did my laundry, but I washed my lingerie myself and hung it out to dry on a line over the balcony. When Samiha discovered the bra and knickers, she went to great pains to carefully cover them with a sheet so that they would not be seen. If they were to drop off the line on to the street below, that's where they would stay because it was not seemly for a woman to go and pick them up. Like many married women, Samiha wore an o'sharb, a headscarf to signal she was unavailable. While these women do not bellydance in public, they will perform among themselves, at family parties. Samiha's seven-year-old niece, Yasmine, danced for me so naturally at the dinner they held in my honour.

While most bellydancing stars in Egypt are looked up to on a par with rugby players in New Zealand, the premiere bellydancer in Egypt, Fi Fi Abdo, is rather controversial. On stage, she has been seen to smoke a shisha (tobacco) from an elaborate pipe, which is outrageous for a woman, even though the men sit smoking fruit-flavoured shisha outside the many cafes that litter the streets of Cairo. But Fi Fi lives like a queen. She has an apartment that's all marble and glass on the embankment of the Nile. She can actually drive her car into her private lift, which takes her up to her apartment. She also has a helicopter landing pad on the roof for when the traffic is "just too hideous, darling". There is wealth undreamed of in Egypt.

Samiha's brother-in-law, Zedan, took me through his family-owned French furniture shop. The best houses are filled with it; detailed, fine and always gilt - chairs, mirrors and chaise lounges, covered in elaborate tapestries. I also visited the Asfour factory where diamond-cut crystals are turned into home decorations. Shamadan (chandeliers), more exquisite than you can imagine - and with even more unimaginable price tags - hang row upon row. This is where the wealthy from Saudi Arabia, Europe and Egypt come to shop.

The Egyptian men ooze charm, which can easily be mistaken for flirtation. They have a natural vanity and pride combined with class and culture that is very appealing. Egyptian people as a whole have a gentle charm and warmth that comes across in even the most mundane of exchanges. "Thanks be to God" and, "May you live for a thousand years," are commonplace sentiments. A sure-fire way to offend an Egyptian, however, is to refuse their food. So I spent endless hours eating, trying not to eat too much. Everything, yes, everything is fattening - but absolutely delicious. The best way to describe Roz bi lebn, a milk and rice dish, is an explosion of heaven in my mouth. Morning feasts of sweet rolls filled with black honey and tahini paste, agua (dates), helawa and much more were prepared by Samiha's mother especially for me.

The muezzin sings out across the square, an ancient chant calling Muslims to prayer five-times-a-day. And although it's not quite summer yet, it's blazing 35-degrees, the heady scent of spices fills the air, bolts of vibrant materials grab the attention of passers-by and water sellers offer a drink from the Nile out of pouches on their backs. It's time for me to find work but one just can't go knocking on doors in Egypt. It's a case of who you know.

Samiha just happens to be close friends with the most successful businesswoman in Egypt, Madam Wafaa. With her husband, Magdi Radi, she owns MG Group - a company that has three boats on the Nile, one on the Red Sea, as well as two hotels and a number of tour buses. Madam Wafaa has arranged for me to dance and play hostess and basically, "add the feminine touch" on their premiere boat, Liberty. This five-star floating palace has been awarded the best cruise ship on the Nile every year since 1995. I had wanted to work while I was here but this exceeded my expectations.

Samiha and I travelled 12 hours by train from Cairo to Luxor, Upper Egypt, which is far more conservative. Through the train window, date palms drooped under the strain of their bounty on the banks of the Nile, as the landscape changed from a concrete jungle into that of biblical times. At Luxor the five-levelled ship sat like Cleopatra's throne on the water and I felt like the Queen herself as I stepped aboard.

Of the 75 staff, the majority were the black Nubian people of Upper Egypt. Three were Christian and the rest Muslim, so there would be no drinking, gambling or carousing. I had never seen such luxury, let alone experienced it. In the main foyer, Roman columns supported a mezzanine balcony that was topped with a domed aqua stained-glass ceiling. In the centre of the marbled floor, a bronzed woman reached for the sky while foliage sprouted at her feet. No wonder the Liberty attracts presidents and kings.

I knew all eyes were on me the night of my first performance. Could this New Zealand woman dance? I was more nervous about this show than I'd been in years. So dance I did, in a blue, figure-hugging sequinned dress that shone on the floor. I'm sure the staff breathed a sigh of relief when I finished and coaxed the guests on to the dance floor. Al Humdull Allah ("Thanks be to God"), I had been accepted into the fold. Each night there was another dance, another outfit, another opportunity to sparkle.

Of course being the only woman crew member on the boat had its advantages. Mohammed, 'Top chef on the Nile' since 1995 ran his kitchen like an operating theatre - meticulously clean with unsurpassable results. The temperamental artiste (it's a chef thing) served me dish after dish of local fare, each meal a banquet. And never once did I even pour my own glass of water. Baskets of fresh fruit arrived in my cabin and charming men named Mahmoud, Anter, Hani and Ahmed anticipated my every need. All that was missing was my bath of goat's milk. During the day I basked in the sun or took the women for bellydancing lessons.

Aswan was my favourite stop. The cobbled streets are swollen with people and donkeys pulling carts. Spices of every description presented a colourful canvas in stall fronts as their scent hung heavily in 40-degree heat. Vendors continually threw water on the ground to still the rising dust. The people here are honest and live simply, but the old lore of the land applies. Two young Nubian women, Maria, 18, and Mona, 19, told me how they work 12-hour days, six days a week, for NZ$18 a month. They must remain virgins until marriage and have to be escorted to and from work, as well as on any outing with a young man, by their father, brother or uncle. They just could not grasp the concept that Western women choose their own sexual partners. They held fast to their belief that because many Western women aren't virgins when they get married, they throw themselves under any man that crosses their path.

During the nights at Aswan, the Nubian musicians would come and play the drums and wily mizmar flute, while their Tanoora dancers, clad in shimmering harem pants and hoop skirts, spun around like dervishes.

I revisited the West Bank and the Temple of Isis or Philae, which I adore. Isis is the goddess who takes spirits on her wings safely into the next life. Her temple is filled with birds and greenery. Lotus flowers, the symbol of Upper Egypt, grace the tops of columns. It's easy to feel the feminine power here.

Nights showed the Nile bathed in moonlight, adorned in her sparkling diamonds and starlit stole while in the daytime she was both soft and tempestuous. We moved to the gentle rhythm of the river, with time keeping pace.

After four cruises the time came for me to go. My heart was heavy knowing I had to leave the Liberty, her crew, the Nile and all I'd grown to love. I walked down the gangway as the staff lined the side of the boat, waving and calling out their goodbyes. I twirled my gold cane to hide my sadness and threw them a kiss.

Ahmed carried my bags and was to accompany me to the train. I hopped aboard the horse and cart. "Why you go? You must stay - you are part of our family," Ahmed said. I could not answer. The moonlight danced across the Nile and Ahmed wiped the tears from my cheek as I neared the train and the end of this wonderful journey. In Sha'Allah ("God be Willing") I will return to my beautiful river that is the living heart of this country. I'm sure my palace and family will be waiting.

- by Paige Adamson

If you are interested in taking a cruise with the MG group you can email them for more information at: mgg@mggroup.com.eg