Alexandria

in the name of god, the most merciful


Late afternoon, Friday. We rise from wicker chairs to walk along the Alexandria cornish. The sky is clear and smooth, the colour of birds eggs. Young couples stroll. Boys wield huge wooden crucifixes laden with cotton candy, pink and white puffs in plastic pillows. The city wraps itself around the cove, pulled in a tight smile. Fishermen cast long rods into the Mediterranean, rich and blue and stretching proudly towards Greece.

the view from our two-inch deep hotel balcony

We are taken by this city, she whose streets are lined with old pharmacies, whose trams clatter slowly between the horse drawn carriages and the bleating taxis, whose midans are green and dotted with park benches, whose air smells good, whose history is long and bold but almost completely faded from sight. Where once a gigantic lighthouse flashed fire at passing galleys, where traders and merchants pulled ashore for spices and whores, where Cleopatra's palace once stood on a site now well below the waves.

self portrait on the two-inch deep hotel balcony

lisa with joel's sunglasses, coffee shop on the cornish

joel attempting to self-portait on the two-inch deep hotel balcony.

We reach the new library on the coast in the east of the city. Its glass wall slopes away from the sea, a huge clear hill under which people burrow like ants in a colony of desks and and displays and the narrow stacks of books, shelves only slightly filled and yearning for new stock. The interior rises like some pyramid temple, its many levels glowing with a million tiny lights, like fireflies.

all the above: the beautiful alexandria library

Outside there is a concert, an event to oppose violence and terror, with bands bathed in red and yellow light under the blue dome of the planetarium. Lisa befriends a short haired Egyptian girl, independent and brazen and slightly sarcastic. I am taking to Amir, a gentle man who works in a sustainable development NGO. I am talking to Amir, but I am also watching the young Egyptian girls, because they are not only young and attractive, but they are dancing and they are hanging around in groups with boys and they are showing their hair and, perhaps even, a sliver of their stomachs, all things that are rare in Egypt, at least in the places I've been frequenting.

the planetarium and the stage

But here comes little Hamm, the best five year old dancer Egypt has ever seen! His body is wiggling like a worm and then, suddenly he is on the floor and trying his hand at some break moves! He is a sure fire crowd pleaser. We dance together in the crowd, we are the centre of attention, we are a famous team. We can charm anything. But then, when my back is turned, off he goes to entertain none other but the Keri Russell-haired girl I have been watching the most! She laughs so much at him. I am left alone and unnoticed. The little deserter.

hamm

That night there is, on my plate, fish and squid and shrimp the size of small boats. And a whole mine field of mezze. Our strict budget takes a time out for our one night on the coast.

The following day we walk a long distance through the streets of Alex, visit the old Roman catacombs (which were only discovered 100 years ago when a donkey and its cart fell through the earth), drink tangerine beverages, slap palms with a hundred school boys, buy things (me=two posters of female arabic pop stars, one poster of Gamal Abdel Nasser, five stickers of female arabic pop stars, two 1970s arabic body building magazines), ride a tram about 100 metres, and meet up with our new Egyptian friends from the night before. Amir takes us to the train station to get return tickets but we discover that all the trains are booked up for the rest of the night. And, thus, the bus. Our hearts are shattered and broken - we love the train. But Amir knows just how to pick up our spirits: we head out for kushari and fresh sugar cane and date juices. And there's just enough time for a quick visit to the local sporting club, which costs 10,000 euros for a life time membership and is the size of a medium sized village, and where all the rich kids come to hang out and eat ice cream and take cell-phone photos. Lisa is stunned and excited by the concept of an outdoor laps pool ("Wow," she says), and I pick out 16 year old girls for Joel to go talk to. We only end up talking to Amir, some jolly mothers and some special needs kids who are selling wooden flowers they made in craft class.

And then the bus, on which the driver is merciful with the movie volume, but it is dark and I cannot sleep and my ipod is out of batteries. I play 'rotation' on my mobile all the back, back home, to Cairo.

The roman catacombs

My bodybuilding magazines.