That dear reader is my new maxim! It is a very necessary one living here in the Big C. Reliability and Dependability are aliens on this planet that is the 'here and now'.
Cabs..yes, those wonderful black and white numbers which should have died with the Dodo are whizzing around here competing with the 'metered' white new creations which somehow manage to stay white in this heat and dust. The drivers of the ole boys are like their vehicles, leathery, dark and somehow quite mishapen. The White Cab drivers are slightly more polished and well groomed, but not necessarily any more competent. I know this from randomly hopping into one or the other after my initial s'chool run' driver let me down. There is no forwarning when this happens. One just has to take the intiative and carry on regardless...As it happened, he had not woken up that morning, having observed Ramadan for well over three weeks and existing on two/three hours of sleep a night. I forgave him, but decided to take a chance with my random taxi boys instead. I had various levels of luck with them being able to read the school address in Arabic, or asking four or five pals along the way where this school was that I taught at. No 'knowledge' test had been conducted for them. After a week of this daily stress even before my teaching day had begun, I called a taxi 'dealer' recommended by a colleague at school. A certain Mohammed Ali. I have no idea whether he floats like a butterfly or stings like a bee, but I wanted to see if a certain level of realiability could apply to anyone connected with taxis in this enthralling city! Well...it started off promisingly. Then, one morning, no show! So, I called Mr Ali. He actually answered and said that morning's driver had gone to the wrong address. OK..one must go with the benefit of doubt. However, after twenty more minutes of no show..it was time to hop into another random taxi! This one got me to school in the horrendous first day traffic of young Egyptians going back to school! All these hopes of their country in fabulous green ginham shirts and colourful polo tops, all loitering, waiting for their school pick up buses or hurrying into parents' cars in already clogged up main streets...Meanwhile, I manage to contact Mr Ali who apologises. His driver would be ready and on time tomorrow. And..he was! I have even seen some of them twice. Mr Ali has a policy of his clients not getting too attached to a single driver lest they set up a private deal without him!! One has to be dependent on him. If that produces a iota of reliability, that is fine by me! So, thank you Mostafa, Abdul and Hassan...and anymore I'm likely to meet in the daily morning adventure that is the school run!
Shipping...a very sore point indeed. A subject that has given me migraine attacks! It was daylight robbery getting our big shipment with most of our goods, but infinately worse treatment was to follow for 11 boxes! One was commanded to pay as much in Taxes/Duties/Bond fees (?)..all spelling 'ripping you off big time' for 11 boxes as one was for an entire house shipment. Law, Logic, Reason...more alien candidates for this planet. And there was no simple delivery system..'here is my address, deliver it please, I have paid for it' means nothing. Over three days, there was the game of the Goddot shipment! Was I ever going to see it? Eventually, boxes were delivered to the school, proverbial arm and leg fee paid and wonderful handy man from school brought it all over. Said handyman was also going to come to 'Trump Towers', our abode to do some odd jobs yesterday; but alas did not show up. He was ill. I would still be waiting for Ramzi Goddot if I had not called him. There is no procedure of forwarning. I know he is a good man and I must trust his way is not my way. And Hobson is my new best friend!
As with all things, there are the odd exceptions to the Rule! Our dear Landlord follows up with calls and checks things have been done. He clearly has been influenced by his travels! Apparently, the 'perverse' mattress will be replaced very soon..maybe even this very week...Inshallah...
There is also an organisation called Otlob which must have been established by an Egyptian Swiss. Otlob means 'order' and is an internet food order site. We have used it very successfuly four times now and everytimethe reliability rate has been outstanding! One places an order and an e mail is received. If the order is going to be longer than 45 mins to deliver, one receives a phone call and is given the option of cancelling the order..which is followed up with an email acknowledgement. The quality of the food has been far superior to any 'take out' in the UK and the prices very reasonable.
With Otlob, the Egyptians do it better! OTLOB for President!
Friday, 24 September 2010
Saturday, 18 September 2010
The Case of offending Nails
For a country where women seem to cover up for reasons of religion and modesty, getting a pedicure seems a curious exception to the rule!
I was invited to go get 'nails' done which I accepted with alarming alacrity given the state of my slutty toe nails given that my meagre kit of nail varnishes have yet to arrive. And I add, I really have no kit as such, simply a couple of varnish colours. So, it was with excitment that I walked out of school on Thurs, aiming to hop onto a school bus and be deposited in the mecca of all things to be found ,Road 9 in Maadi, However, the school bus was driving away, clearly after a prodigously full exodus of staff. A kind colleague offered to take me into Maadi after which I had to take a taxi to the busy said street. Cash was required before my long awaited appointed, so, that was a case of having to ask to find an ATM. Not much is made obvious but it is to all who know. Then, the moment came. We walked down steps to Tarek's salubrious establishment, to be greeted by a collection of white coated young men! Yes, young men..in their twenties. Ther were a few girls but predominantly, men. We were seated with foot spas ready and large barber like massage chairs. I opted out of having finger nails done having clipped them rather short a few days earlier. Once seated the slightly unnerving massage machine wriggling across my back, a girl started with the procedure. My remnant toe nail colour was removed, then the 'threading' began! Clearly, my feet were beginning to ressemble a hobbit's in their hirsuiteness. She gently massaged the foot and then walked away. She was replaced by the young man, who then dealt with my offending nails and toes for the next near hour. I watched with apprehension as he emptied a packet of instruments which clearly looked surgical! My toes were clearly going to need mammoth care on this occasion. He began by filing , then there were various stages of dead skin removal which I could not bare to watch. Each foot took approximately 20 mins each. My boy was much into his work and did not attempt chat as my friends' boys did. He did not even look up. Eventually, he said, 'you cut your own?' How could I deny it? His reply was, 'too short' and my feet reclaimed his attention. It was quite some time again before he allowed me to choose a colour which came in the form of dark or light baskets! I went for dark and deep red. His handy work had to be shown off! He applied colour, then left. The girl returned to massage my calves and the soles of my feet and added the top coat. Perfect! As we got ready to leave, the whole place started filling up with local women. They were ushered to the thrones of care and had their sandles removed for them as they talked on their mobiles or filed their nails. It felt utterly decadent watching these women and the young men at their command. The Spirit of Cleopatra is alive amongst these!
Friday morning, husband and I decided it was time to start hanging up some of our gallery of pictures . We found our trusty hammer and a nail and went to task, only to have the nail bend out of shape at the first bang! Another nail was tried and same result! Our conclusion? The walls are painted concrete!! Nails will bounce off them! We are now going to have to get help from a man with a drill and screws to put up our beloved pictures. Permission has been asked from the Captain and he has granted it. He has yet to discover how 'swiss cheese' like his walls are about to become!
With the case of the mattress, he has conceded I have a point and will order another once he is back from his trip to Tokyo! Inshallah...In the meantime, sliding off the bed each morning is the order of the day!
Oh, considering there are about 25 plug points in the apartment, only about 15 work. The splendid workmanship means the plugs slide out of the others! Yet again, help must be summoned for this task. Inshallah...
Simple things are not simple...shopping at Carrefour means, if a price label is not on your goods, you can't buy it! No one will be sent to look for the price so sale can be made. You will be told with a smile, 'no price'. And what does one do? Return the smile... find a taxi, bargain the price, and be driven out into the moonscape and building sites that leads back to the leafy streets and Trump Towers where picutures have yet to be hung but sandles can be removed to fully reveal beautifully buffed and painted nails. Joy!
I was invited to go get 'nails' done which I accepted with alarming alacrity given the state of my slutty toe nails given that my meagre kit of nail varnishes have yet to arrive. And I add, I really have no kit as such, simply a couple of varnish colours. So, it was with excitment that I walked out of school on Thurs, aiming to hop onto a school bus and be deposited in the mecca of all things to be found ,Road 9 in Maadi, However, the school bus was driving away, clearly after a prodigously full exodus of staff. A kind colleague offered to take me into Maadi after which I had to take a taxi to the busy said street. Cash was required before my long awaited appointed, so, that was a case of having to ask to find an ATM. Not much is made obvious but it is to all who know. Then, the moment came. We walked down steps to Tarek's salubrious establishment, to be greeted by a collection of white coated young men! Yes, young men..in their twenties. Ther were a few girls but predominantly, men. We were seated with foot spas ready and large barber like massage chairs. I opted out of having finger nails done having clipped them rather short a few days earlier. Once seated the slightly unnerving massage machine wriggling across my back, a girl started with the procedure. My remnant toe nail colour was removed, then the 'threading' began! Clearly, my feet were beginning to ressemble a hobbit's in their hirsuiteness. She gently massaged the foot and then walked away. She was replaced by the young man, who then dealt with my offending nails and toes for the next near hour. I watched with apprehension as he emptied a packet of instruments which clearly looked surgical! My toes were clearly going to need mammoth care on this occasion. He began by filing , then there were various stages of dead skin removal which I could not bare to watch. Each foot took approximately 20 mins each. My boy was much into his work and did not attempt chat as my friends' boys did. He did not even look up. Eventually, he said, 'you cut your own?' How could I deny it? His reply was, 'too short' and my feet reclaimed his attention. It was quite some time again before he allowed me to choose a colour which came in the form of dark or light baskets! I went for dark and deep red. His handy work had to be shown off! He applied colour, then left. The girl returned to massage my calves and the soles of my feet and added the top coat. Perfect! As we got ready to leave, the whole place started filling up with local women. They were ushered to the thrones of care and had their sandles removed for them as they talked on their mobiles or filed their nails. It felt utterly decadent watching these women and the young men at their command. The Spirit of Cleopatra is alive amongst these!
Friday morning, husband and I decided it was time to start hanging up some of our gallery of pictures . We found our trusty hammer and a nail and went to task, only to have the nail bend out of shape at the first bang! Another nail was tried and same result! Our conclusion? The walls are painted concrete!! Nails will bounce off them! We are now going to have to get help from a man with a drill and screws to put up our beloved pictures. Permission has been asked from the Captain and he has granted it. He has yet to discover how 'swiss cheese' like his walls are about to become!
With the case of the mattress, he has conceded I have a point and will order another once he is back from his trip to Tokyo! Inshallah...In the meantime, sliding off the bed each morning is the order of the day!
Oh, considering there are about 25 plug points in the apartment, only about 15 work. The splendid workmanship means the plugs slide out of the others! Yet again, help must be summoned for this task. Inshallah...
Simple things are not simple...shopping at Carrefour means, if a price label is not on your goods, you can't buy it! No one will be sent to look for the price so sale can be made. You will be told with a smile, 'no price'. And what does one do? Return the smile... find a taxi, bargain the price, and be driven out into the moonscape and building sites that leads back to the leafy streets and Trump Towers where picutures have yet to be hung but sandles can be removed to fully reveal beautifully buffed and painted nails. Joy!
Monday, 13 September 2010
PlumbingToil and Mattress Trouble...
...not a city to be free of any trouble! However, miracles do happen. Our shipping got delivered to the apartment on time after numerous facile charges had to be paid to get it cleared at Customs etc etc etc! I am now considering which organs to sell to avoid having to remortgage my home back in Blighty! Most of it was in tact but some much loved crockery did not make it including a dear gift from my Faerie Queen of a tea set bought at Bebingtons in Rome. That did make me sigh with sadness. Considering the journey made, all items proved resilient. The last four days have been spent leisurely unpacking, rediscovering items not seen for a while and many of which brought back memories in that Proust like fashion of incandescent nostalgia. The most remarkable was a 1950's coffee set purchased at the age of 19. The art deco-esque black and white design, still stylish today without the retro glare, was a Czech design and until I unpacked it to admire it again, I had never noticed that the motif for the design was called Nefertiti. Maybe being here is destiny...
After a day of unpacking, an Angel girl invited us to dinner at the Intercontinental hotel downtown. We were delighted to 'go out' properly. The venue was indeed five Star sumptuos without being gaudy. We made our way to the terrace to have predinner drinks and looked out over the Nile and the subtly lit metropolis. Cairo by night is oddly romantic as the ugly cannot be seen! The meal was good but the service was not! The interminable waiting between courses was only eased by the pleasure of chat amongst new friends. It is always fascinating to observe those with the gift for conversation as many lack it. Fatema with all your wit and charm; Lynne with your wickipedic knowlege of living here and Helen with your gentle manner, thank you all for some sanity amdist the malestrom of moving and mayhem!!
The following day was to be Eid, the Islamic Christmas after the holy month of Ramadan. We got home in a taxi driven by a Formula 1 wannabe. Within half an hour, husband cries out from the kitchen..'there's a flood'..the hot water pipe had simply broken!! I was in a short nightie and unable to find any sort of stop tap to turn it all off. Trying to call our elusive Bowab (caretaker type) proved futile as I ended up speaking to another man who was as fluent in English as I was in Arabic. By this stage, hysterical panic had set in. I threw on a T shirt over the nightie and knocked like a woman possessed on neighbours' doors. There was no answer in one but fortune of fortunes, the other answered. A timid girl called her mother to the door who quickly whipped on her Niquab (head scarf) and came into the apartment. She looked as puzzled to see husband directing the water from the pipe into buckets. Moments later, her own husband in near pyjamas rush in and help and turn the offending tap off! Noises of sympathy were made and it was impressed on us that nothing could be done that night as it was Eid the following day and a holiday after that. They took pains to make it clear that should we need anything in the next few days, to call them. Once again, we were heartened by their willingness to help.
The following day, the lady's brother knocks on our door offering more sympathy and immediate help. By this point, I had contacted our trusty plumber who said he would come the following day. As I had learned, I was not holding my breath. But, although two hours late and it being Eid day, he came and dear Mahmoud fixed the problem for near enough ten pounds. Our aviator Captain landlord rang later to be told all had been fixed. I am sue, he considers me a sure jinx in this life ...and I'm not about to make it easier for him..This Princess has had enough of the 'perverse' mattress! Climbing on and absailing off has not been helped by the fact that the dastard thing is too heavy to lift to change sheets and tuck corners in! It will go, even if one has to order and pay for a reasonable creation oneself! Looking forward to that particular conversation with our Captain! It's time for the 'matelas' wars!
Highlight of the week has to be the lovely dinner soiree with the 'Barries', a dear couple who choose their social company with care. They had cleaned up their grubby abode to an unrecognisable level after agreeing to rent it from a bombastic Pirate character!! It was lovely to share our new arrival stories and take cold comfort in the fact that we had won the trials of the week prize..again!!!
And so it continues...our neighbours are true Samaritans and in times of trouble, the Egyptians have not failed us in their magnanimity. Imagine having delicious Eid biscuits brought round by the young daughter of the family after you had troubled them from their Chritmas Eve celebrations with the words, 'We would like to share our celebrations with you. Please accept..' And we did....with great humility.
After a day of unpacking, an Angel girl invited us to dinner at the Intercontinental hotel downtown. We were delighted to 'go out' properly. The venue was indeed five Star sumptuos without being gaudy. We made our way to the terrace to have predinner drinks and looked out over the Nile and the subtly lit metropolis. Cairo by night is oddly romantic as the ugly cannot be seen! The meal was good but the service was not! The interminable waiting between courses was only eased by the pleasure of chat amongst new friends. It is always fascinating to observe those with the gift for conversation as many lack it. Fatema with all your wit and charm; Lynne with your wickipedic knowlege of living here and Helen with your gentle manner, thank you all for some sanity amdist the malestrom of moving and mayhem!!
The following day was to be Eid, the Islamic Christmas after the holy month of Ramadan. We got home in a taxi driven by a Formula 1 wannabe. Within half an hour, husband cries out from the kitchen..'there's a flood'..the hot water pipe had simply broken!! I was in a short nightie and unable to find any sort of stop tap to turn it all off. Trying to call our elusive Bowab (caretaker type) proved futile as I ended up speaking to another man who was as fluent in English as I was in Arabic. By this stage, hysterical panic had set in. I threw on a T shirt over the nightie and knocked like a woman possessed on neighbours' doors. There was no answer in one but fortune of fortunes, the other answered. A timid girl called her mother to the door who quickly whipped on her Niquab (head scarf) and came into the apartment. She looked as puzzled to see husband directing the water from the pipe into buckets. Moments later, her own husband in near pyjamas rush in and help and turn the offending tap off! Noises of sympathy were made and it was impressed on us that nothing could be done that night as it was Eid the following day and a holiday after that. They took pains to make it clear that should we need anything in the next few days, to call them. Once again, we were heartened by their willingness to help.
The following day, the lady's brother knocks on our door offering more sympathy and immediate help. By this point, I had contacted our trusty plumber who said he would come the following day. As I had learned, I was not holding my breath. But, although two hours late and it being Eid day, he came and dear Mahmoud fixed the problem for near enough ten pounds. Our aviator Captain landlord rang later to be told all had been fixed. I am sue, he considers me a sure jinx in this life ...and I'm not about to make it easier for him..This Princess has had enough of the 'perverse' mattress! Climbing on and absailing off has not been helped by the fact that the dastard thing is too heavy to lift to change sheets and tuck corners in! It will go, even if one has to order and pay for a reasonable creation oneself! Looking forward to that particular conversation with our Captain! It's time for the 'matelas' wars!
Highlight of the week has to be the lovely dinner soiree with the 'Barries', a dear couple who choose their social company with care. They had cleaned up their grubby abode to an unrecognisable level after agreeing to rent it from a bombastic Pirate character!! It was lovely to share our new arrival stories and take cold comfort in the fact that we had won the trials of the week prize..again!!!
And so it continues...our neighbours are true Samaritans and in times of trouble, the Egyptians have not failed us in their magnanimity. Imagine having delicious Eid biscuits brought round by the young daughter of the family after you had troubled them from their Chritmas Eve celebrations with the words, 'We would like to share our celebrations with you. Please accept..' And we did....with great humility.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
There may be trouble ahead....
....but whilst there is the Muezzin with his melliflous pray chants, the helpful Egyptians with their impeccable courtesy and sunshine smiles, beautiful sundrenched dawns and balmy evening breeze, it's hard not to feel radiant somehow. BUT, the Urggghhhhh moment is never far and will pounce with featherlight warning, if any at all!!! Living in Cairo is a game of three halves...can't say that? Try living here on a maiden voyage to North Africa.
The Good aspects are sublime. Help is never too far away. Since moving into our overpriced apartment (so, we keep getting told), we have had no hot water, then no working shower as the hose was badly faulty and so killed off any shower pressure, blocked sink and bedroom air con dying in the middle of the night!!! All this in the space of a week. Every day, the trails and tribulations have felt like purgatory. But, help came in the form of school site staff, landlord's boy, caring neighbours and jovial taxi drivers..who, although pretty clueless about their 'local' streets, got us home. Many 'scenic' routes have been taken on ten minute journeys...
The Bad...well, not much is designed to work well! One soon learns the language of 'maybe this'll work, maybe not'. For someone Swiss minded, this has been more than teeth grittingly infuriating. Not the most tolerant or patient of women, silent screaming has become the norm!
The Ugly...not the best country for an Aesthete. Pavements are high and rarely continuous, there is 'selected' rubbish strewn nearly everywhere, roads lack tarmac and there are frequent sand pits to walk through!! High rise buildings are pocked with air con vents, numerous building sites look abandoned and then there is the omnipresent hooting of car horns.
Flat hunting amongst all this proved exhausting. Wonderful school representative did her best and soon worked out we did not want to live with a symphony of air cons at full blast! To be able to open a bedroom window without the howl of these machines seemed impossible. Our flat allowance, meant to be the highest in the city for a school, seemed to get us at best a near hovel. Places where Miss Havisham would have run away from... screaming! Even that Dickensian old buzzard would have insisted on better. Hence our arrival at our pad of choice and price. Light and airy, modern air cons, white tiled floors and modern furniture, not withstanding the romaneque bedroom fixture and fittings!! Oh, an extra high mattress for this Princess. Yes, it's nearly 'perverse'! When it's all working, it feels blissful, but one learns not to count on such things here in the Big C. Oh, there is a lift, which works three out of 5 tries. We are on the 5th floor with a view of a mosque, a distant Wadi (rubble looking desert!) and quite a lot of trees in one direction. Look carefully and there is Beauty....
Our esteemed Landlord is an Egyptair pilot. A Captain no less. Good looking in a film starry way with all the charm of Omar Sharif. Jury was out as to his dependability, but he has proved himself to be a gentleman and philosopher. Well meaning and fond of lights and gadgets! The place has at least fifteen different light circuits..yes, runway fetish indeed. He has lived in Morroco and Zaire, son of a diplomat, married to a French Algerian. His English is good, his French impeccable. He thinks deeply, talks easily and is aware of his countries shortcomings and corruption but remains a son of Egypt. Faith and loyalty are strong traits amongst people here.
Work is a dream compared to Latrine High. Beautiful well mannered children who have an innate repect for each other and other cultures. Not all are perfect but many are perfect enough to make going to work a pleasure and a joy. I shall not forget my first set of spontaneous cuddles from year 4 last week. I think that smile I felt is still there.
We have been here for most of the holy month of Ramadan, when the faithful fast from sunrise to sunset. Life staggers on in the heat and nothing much seems to happen anytime soon. After Iftar when the fast is broken, commercial life ambles on til 1am! But don't count on it being reliable! Yes, remember where I am!...
Tomorrow, our long held shipment in Alexandria is due to arrive..Inshallah....Inshallah...
The Good aspects are sublime. Help is never too far away. Since moving into our overpriced apartment (so, we keep getting told), we have had no hot water, then no working shower as the hose was badly faulty and so killed off any shower pressure, blocked sink and bedroom air con dying in the middle of the night!!! All this in the space of a week. Every day, the trails and tribulations have felt like purgatory. But, help came in the form of school site staff, landlord's boy, caring neighbours and jovial taxi drivers..who, although pretty clueless about their 'local' streets, got us home. Many 'scenic' routes have been taken on ten minute journeys...
The Bad...well, not much is designed to work well! One soon learns the language of 'maybe this'll work, maybe not'. For someone Swiss minded, this has been more than teeth grittingly infuriating. Not the most tolerant or patient of women, silent screaming has become the norm!
The Ugly...not the best country for an Aesthete. Pavements are high and rarely continuous, there is 'selected' rubbish strewn nearly everywhere, roads lack tarmac and there are frequent sand pits to walk through!! High rise buildings are pocked with air con vents, numerous building sites look abandoned and then there is the omnipresent hooting of car horns.
Flat hunting amongst all this proved exhausting. Wonderful school representative did her best and soon worked out we did not want to live with a symphony of air cons at full blast! To be able to open a bedroom window without the howl of these machines seemed impossible. Our flat allowance, meant to be the highest in the city for a school, seemed to get us at best a near hovel. Places where Miss Havisham would have run away from... screaming! Even that Dickensian old buzzard would have insisted on better. Hence our arrival at our pad of choice and price. Light and airy, modern air cons, white tiled floors and modern furniture, not withstanding the romaneque bedroom fixture and fittings!! Oh, an extra high mattress for this Princess. Yes, it's nearly 'perverse'! When it's all working, it feels blissful, but one learns not to count on such things here in the Big C. Oh, there is a lift, which works three out of 5 tries. We are on the 5th floor with a view of a mosque, a distant Wadi (rubble looking desert!) and quite a lot of trees in one direction. Look carefully and there is Beauty....
Our esteemed Landlord is an Egyptair pilot. A Captain no less. Good looking in a film starry way with all the charm of Omar Sharif. Jury was out as to his dependability, but he has proved himself to be a gentleman and philosopher. Well meaning and fond of lights and gadgets! The place has at least fifteen different light circuits..yes, runway fetish indeed. He has lived in Morroco and Zaire, son of a diplomat, married to a French Algerian. His English is good, his French impeccable. He thinks deeply, talks easily and is aware of his countries shortcomings and corruption but remains a son of Egypt. Faith and loyalty are strong traits amongst people here.
Work is a dream compared to Latrine High. Beautiful well mannered children who have an innate repect for each other and other cultures. Not all are perfect but many are perfect enough to make going to work a pleasure and a joy. I shall not forget my first set of spontaneous cuddles from year 4 last week. I think that smile I felt is still there.
We have been here for most of the holy month of Ramadan, when the faithful fast from sunrise to sunset. Life staggers on in the heat and nothing much seems to happen anytime soon. After Iftar when the fast is broken, commercial life ambles on til 1am! But don't count on it being reliable! Yes, remember where I am!...
Tomorrow, our long held shipment in Alexandria is due to arrive..Inshallah....Inshallah...
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