Tuesday 27th January 8.30pm
We are hurtling across the Nile Delta in one of the fast 'Spanish' trains (hand me downs from Spain complete with bull and bullfighter motifs) back to Cairo after a long day in Alexandria. A bit of a pilgrmage really, carrying my copy of Durrell's Alexandria Quartet, now nearly re-read after many years. I read it first as a young teenager (and still have the lovely old Faber paperbacks) because Alexandria is also the place where my parents, Emily Garner and John Mitchell met at the end of the war and returned to Scotland to be married.
Its still a lovely city, a bit more ritzy and cleaner than Cairo, delightful weather today, fresh air off the Med and the swell crashing against the rocks. We walk the streets, have coffee and treats at Delices Patisserie (Banana Split for Tessa, croissant with olives and cheese for me) but are denied the beer at Trianon's (where scenes from 'Ice Cold in Alex' were filmed) as it has no licence. But we ride a tram, get caught up with thousands of students streaming out of the University, visit the Museum and the incredibly impressive Library opened only in 2002 - it has to be one of the world's most stunning library buildings.
I know nothing of my parents time in Alex but have my picture taken on the Corniche where they most certainly will have walked. We look for 40 Faoud Street where Durrell lived with Eve Cohen ("Justine') but despite our new ability to read Arab numerals (the alphabet is quite a different matter) we cannot locate it so a picture in the street has to do.
After sunset its back to the station and once again we are immediately seized on by a decrepit and scarred porter who insists on showing us to our carriage and then handing us over to the train guard to show us to our seat - its baksheesh all the way despite our best efforts to pose as independent travellers requiring no help we are lambs to the baksheesh slaughter. This morning at Cairo we declined a Porter to have a coffee first but he was at our side as soon as we stood up, insisting on taking our one small bag and showing us the carriage. He declined my small wad of one eqyptian pounds
'Not enough, it should be 10 pounds'
'But there is only one small bag'
'There are two of you'
Further protest is useless, if we are lucky we get away with 50 pence or less, if unlucky as in this case its over a pound.
Tomorrow its the Pyramids!
We are hurtling across the Nile Delta in one of the fast 'Spanish' trains (hand me downs from Spain complete with bull and bullfighter motifs) back to Cairo after a long day in Alexandria. A bit of a pilgrmage really, carrying my copy of Durrell's Alexandria Quartet, now nearly re-read after many years. I read it first as a young teenager (and still have the lovely old Faber paperbacks) because Alexandria is also the place where my parents, Emily Garner and John Mitchell met at the end of the war and returned to Scotland to be married.
Its still a lovely city, a bit more ritzy and cleaner than Cairo, delightful weather today, fresh air off the Med and the swell crashing against the rocks. We walk the streets, have coffee and treats at Delices Patisserie (Banana Split for Tessa, croissant with olives and cheese for me) but are denied the beer at Trianon's (where scenes from 'Ice Cold in Alex' were filmed) as it has no licence. But we ride a tram, get caught up with thousands of students streaming out of the University, visit the Museum and the incredibly impressive Library opened only in 2002 - it has to be one of the world's most stunning library buildings.
I know nothing of my parents time in Alex but have my picture taken on the Corniche where they most certainly will have walked. We look for 40 Faoud Street where Durrell lived with Eve Cohen ("Justine') but despite our new ability to read Arab numerals (the alphabet is quite a different matter) we cannot locate it so a picture in the street has to do.
After sunset its back to the station and once again we are immediately seized on by a decrepit and scarred porter who insists on showing us to our carriage and then handing us over to the train guard to show us to our seat - its baksheesh all the way despite our best efforts to pose as independent travellers requiring no help we are lambs to the baksheesh slaughter. This morning at Cairo we declined a Porter to have a coffee first but he was at our side as soon as we stood up, insisting on taking our one small bag and showing us the carriage. He declined my small wad of one eqyptian pounds
'Not enough, it should be 10 pounds'
'But there is only one small bag'
'There are two of you'
Further protest is useless, if we are lucky we get away with 50 pence or less, if unlucky as in this case its over a pound.
Tomorrow its the Pyramids!
1 comment:
Gosh! Fancy not having a drinks licence at the very bar that...
I guess if Tessa is managing to eat a Banana Split, she's no longer 'walking like an Egyptian'? Good to see that her constitution is getting stronger. :)
Yes, handy to be able to read at least the numerals -- I'd not thought of that. Handy tip.
"He declined my small wad of one eqyptian pounds"
But you've still haven't found any coins then?
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