There's a Hole in my Road.....

Dear Reader, dear Reader, there’s a hole in my road, dear Reader a Hole!  I jest not. Such frivolities are not necessary here in Maadi where the feel of ‘what?!’ is the norm! No warnings, no signs to indicate what is being constructed... but all of sudden, one morning I wake and I find that a ditch is being dug at the end of the road! The following morning this soon turns into a large semicircular ditch and traffic is cordoned off with these bright blue screens. This certainly helps the flow of traffic outside the apartment but it does mean I need to walk around the ditch to get to the taxi in the morning, adding precious time to my ‘late again’ morning starts! 

Thursday afternoon, I returned from work to have a pneumatic drill pummelling away digging up the tarmac on the road! This fortunately stops at sun down which is about 5.30pm at the moment. However, 8 o’clock the following morning as I am trying to enjoy my Friday morning lie in, the blasted thing is off again! There are four men circling the driller who has no protective gear (none of them do!), some watching, some collecting the drilled up tarmac and throwing it some distance away. Today, it looks like some peculiar corn circle without any corn in sight. We anticipate pipes may be laid, which could well mean our water supply buggered up in the very near future. Will these joys never cease? This noisy pleasure was heightened as we had our late breakfast yesterday with the freight train blasting it’s whistles and bells and then the tinny Mullah’s epistle which followed. So much for a quite morning! I made myself numerous cups of teas wondering, why don’t I just hit the Gin!? At times, I cannot but feel ‘someone’s got it in for me’!

Remember my wonderful taxi driver/Arabic teacher? Well, last Sunday, after I had sung his praises, he did not show up! I had a feeling something was amiss when I looked out of the living room windows and did not see him washing his prized vehicle.   I call Mohammed Ali who tried to reach him but to no avail. After ten minutes of panic, I jumped into a random taxi and prayed the driver was not illiterate as I showed him my school address in Arabic! The chap was cheerful and literate and got me to work....Thank Allah for that small mercy. I have a theory that the folk here are generally and consistently religious  because they really need to be. There do not live in a place where they can depend on much so when things go right, Allah is praised and thanked. It is very much a part of their everyday language and something I am beginning to appreciate.

Whilst many worship God, there are also those who worship Mammon.... There was a school event a few weeks ago at a venue in the desert..somewhere. We went at night, so I could not now for love or money tell you where this place is. All I know is that it took us nearly an hour to get to this school built in the desert somewhere. Our vehicle was a fabulous Limousine like people carrier! We travelled in style, even if we had to cross a ditch to get onto the right road at some point. The school looked like some hotel in Dubai. Apparently teachers were consulted as to the style wanted, but all was ignored as the ‘Egyptian benefactor’ had his own visions of vulgar grandeur. There was local wine served and fabulous canapés. Not having had anything to eat prior to the soiree, I indulged and was invited to circulate by a wonderful gregarious Australian. This proved fruitful as I met a wonderful colleague at a partner school who then invited me to a Felluca ride...a life long fantasy came true as I glided down the Nile on the vessel gently chatting to the company on board. Slowly and regally, the sun set and a sense of blissful calm descended. There is something magical about being on an ancient river in a boat the likes of which had sailed at the times of the Pharoahs.

Domestic life in the meantime stumbles along. There are now daily power cuts in the middle of the night which disrupts sleep; a major cupboard door has collapsed in the kitchen; odd bits of brick work has come off the wall outside the front door and the sloping cooker causes husband much stress! BUT, it’s our home! We can enjoy meals watching downloaded UK faves and look out of the windows to see the Cairo blue sky...il hamdu lillaah( thanks be to God)...

Slow Slow Quick Quick Slow.... Hesham reminds me on my weekly dance classes...The stately elegant Foxtrot is the ‘slow’ dance I am working on. My concentration at times baffles him as he tells me to ‘let the feet do the thinking’! He has worked out I am stressed when my fingers start typing on his palm! Apparently, that is when he knows I am no longer letting my feet do the work!!!  The classes are now much more demanding as he works on refining technique and posture. The business of controlling my ‘core’ perplexes me as I am convinced I do not have one. And having to breathe as one concentrates! That is a chore! However, when the turns are smooth and I am being taken across the floor to the tune of ‘Fly me to the Moon’, nothing else matters...There is music in my soul, dance in my feet and..the hole in my Road...Quick Quick Slow...

PS: Had our first foray to the British Embassy Thursday evening for a Round the World Quiz. Pretty secure entry procedure and decent imported wine! The evening passed well and our team won or I believe came second! I have to say at the risk of being biased, husband was the star of the evening! I’ve always known he’ll come in useful some day! He wasn’t the star of his Busman’s Holiday on national TV for nothing! His Bandsmen would have been proud of him!

....and Breathe....

Last week has felt deceptively quiet in that it seems to have passed smoothly, but in essence, it has not..not really, well partly it has. The week was also broken up by a public holiday for Armed Forces Day on Wednesday, so, maybe that's why the air of 'calm' pervades...

Certainly, my school run seems to have smoothed out..inshallah. My cheerful young driver Hassan washes his black and white taxi on 'car wash' alley around from the apartment every morning. I saw him last Monday morning from the bedroom window as he fetched his pail of water from behind the garden centre . He must get there about 7am and I must be his first client of the day. That was a lovely morning, sunny without feeling blisteringly hot. I am surprised Mohamed Ali has designated Hassan to me for nearly two weeks. Maybe they are related and he knows Hassan will not poach me as a private client? One thing is for sure...Hassan is determined to teach me Arabic! I don't know what made him think I would be a willing student. He has yet to learn I am brain dead before 10am and two cups of coffee. He admirably runs through key phrases every morning, with me repeating dutifully in parrot fashion only to have forgotten the whole lot ten mins later when he decides on a plenary. I know it will be all to my benefit to pay attention, but without being able to make notes, my retention remains poor. Hassan will soon doubt his efforts are worthwhile and maybe I can return to my dosy ride to school gently taking in sights which make me smile. There was one a few days ago, which made me want to hope out and take a photo.. if  I had a camera. Driving past semi wasteland surrounded by high rise blocks was this oasis...almost literally. There was a square mud brick building,  a carpet awning and small squared windowless windows, with a palm tree at it's side. It looked like something out of a Medieval Knight's Tale in the Arabian Deserts. There was something magical about it. I could imagine an ole boy in white dusty robes refusing to sell his land and letting the corporates work their ugliness about him and not yield to the modern. If it is such a thing, how admirable. I shall never know.

Whilst my days have been relatively calm, husband has been getting his share of the phantasmagorical! On a ride out to view a school downtown with a deputy, the car he was in caught on fire outside the French Embassy. There were security guards, but they were not phased. Fellow motorists stopped and came running with extinguishers and boating restaurants nearby brought buckets of water to cool the engine. The driver shaken by the experience was sent home and the rest of the journey conducted in a taxi. As he said, imagine a similar scene in London? The burning car would have been surrounded by a SWOT like Squad in minutes with national news teams swarming within ten mins! Not in  the Big C. Eventually, a policeman sashayed over to check all was well, but no other action taken. I'm sure the French diplomats see burning cars daily and have become immune...remember my Moses theory?!  Poor husband was also the victim of an aggressive illiterate taxi driver on another school visit where he was made to feel getting out of the car and hitching on the Suez road would be a better option! He was then made to wait over three hours for a taxi to return to Maadi. He felt himself ageing! With such car hazards, he has opted to take on working at a local school where no taxis/cars need to be involved! I'm sure the walk to work will be anything but smooth...

Smooth transitions are something I have been working on for four weeks in my one to one dance lessons! Finally, I am living the Strictly dream! Well, in a manner of wishing. The classes are half an hour each and my dance tutor is an Egyptian with an Italian accent! I am sometimes tempted to call him Eugenio after my favourite Italian. Hesham, however, is determined that I should not 'fake it' and constantly reminds me to 'breathe'. I think he means not over think what I am doing as well as not add or make up steps, but actually follow what I am being taught! I can't be doing that badly as praise has been high and I have loved every moment of gliding around on my foxtrot and waltz; relishing my sharp turns on the Tango after the promenade and distributing my weight correctly on the rhumba! The hustle has taught me how to 'spot' and the samba has added a new rhythm to my life. Dancing is everything I hoped it would be and more. It takes me away from the small traumas that is daily life and returns my joie de vivre. So much so, that on the walks back home, I have begun to notice the curious and the beautiful..the old villas with the huge lamps, now faded in their glory, but nevertheless still glorious...Cha Cha Cha...

A Plague on All your Houses!

 The shipping has all arrived after 'arm, leg and head on silver platter' fees, most of which  were fabricated. Although 'British minded' Government Officer at school has decided to contest the big shipment fees, I am not holding out that any repayments will be made. For example 'Agricultural Fees'? I do not recall any livestock or farming products being unpacked or packed in Dundee!!! If there were any cows or chickens in our shipment, we certainly missed them!

The apartment is coming along and when Ramzi Goddot did make it last week, pictures went up and the large white spaces are filling up with artwork from both our households making the place look homely with that gallery air which has always felt 'home' to me. More have been framed at a fraction of UK prices and  delivered. One of the boys had pink nail varnish on him which was just fabulous! I wonder if he went to the same Nail Bar as I to have that extra treatment from Cleopatra's Boys?! I have more damaged frames to redo, so maybe I shall ask! Then again, maybe I shall not lest he takes offence and slashes my beloved RSC poster prints!

Mid week, we had our second round of powercuts. It only lasted ten mins, but this time, we had candles ready. There must have been another one in the night, as I woke up sweating with that overheated drowsiness which can only come from having to try to sleep in a stiflingly hot room. The life saving air con was switched back on and slumber was resumed..only to be shattered again by the dawn call to prayer from our neighbourly Mosque. I had enjoyed the Muezzin's call, but not since some 'third world' tin can sounding loud speakers had been installed! Maybe their wonderful sound system had died during a power cut! Now, I am rudely awaken daily at near 5am by the tinny banchee call to the Faithful! This Infidel has started cursing! Maybe I'll grow accustomed to it, but they maybe not! Time to look out for ear plugs!

Thursday evening saw us witnessing our first sand storm! Quite spectacular it was too in a biblical way! It was by no means a 'bad one' but it felt menacing enough. The winds rose first and the huge windows in the front section of the apartment started to rattle alarmingly. The howling grew and a black ball of dust could be seen approaching. Then the scent of wood burning filled the air inside. It was not unpleasant but it was not comfortable either. This was followed by the white net curtains billowing and flurries of faint golden clouds rushing into the apartment like some ancient  mythical  visitation from Zeus! Business as normal carried on outside with the car horns trumpeting; the usual 'face off' with drivers trying to go both ways on what should be one way roads with too many parked cars; delivery boys on bicycles on their casual miraculous runs. We even had our shopping delivered that evening, nearly three hours late, with the boy making two trips in the dust storm as he had forgotten our key water order! Not much seems to phase these wonderful resilient people, descendants of those who have survived Moses' great plagues.

Yesterday, we had our first early evening shopping trip buying Egyptian cotton sheets and bed covers . Now that the Princess mattress has been replaced, my feet can nearly touch the floor as I step out of bed and suitable sheets can be purchased. We took a taxi out to the recommended mecca for bedding. This was not a simple exercise as once dropped by the taxi, there is the nerve defying crossing of  a main road. The traffic is not set to stop at any point to let you cross, you just have to walk out into it! I am much more hedonistic about these things, but husband was an bag of nerves! We eventually got across and found ourselves before the godfather of Maadi bed linen! It was a true den of  delights! We settled for white 5* hotel sheets and quilt covers and managed to buy a valence sheet beautifully described as 'bed skirt'. Makes much more sense for it's purpose!..On our return to the apartment, we found the main vestibule flooded! We pressed for the lift and it came down. Opened the doors to enter and was met up a curtain of water. We foolishly got in the lift, before realising, water and electricity (!!??) and jumped out. As we climbed the five flights of steps, there was a flood on every single floor in the hall ways. Entering the apartment with the greatest of trepidation, we saw all seemed dry, including ceilings. Hard to say where this particular infliction came from as no notices were up in any language! About an hour later, lift seemed to be working again and the water swept away...

Sand storm, flood..pestilence was to follow!

There is an ant problem in the apartment, but not much of one to worry us too much. They appear and then seem to disappear without too much intrusion. However, yesterday, reaching for a new bag of sugar, I noticed  ants inside the bag!!! Surely the bag was sealed?! Well, not entirely. Quality control of packaging does not exist here! There was a tiny entry slot and the little mites found it and were enjoying a sugar fest! We were determined to salvage what we could, so strained the sugar and took out the ants...to drown them humanely in a bowl of water! I'm not sure how this affects my Kama, but at least I now have ant free sugar stored!

Late September should be 'lovely' weather according to the locals...but it's still blisteringly hot at 40 degrees C. Maybe Moses has arisen and found he did not make it to the Promised Land after all and  is not best pleased in a Sinai Cave... vowing vengence?!