Kingdom of Love and Hate

Cairo, I have come to discover, is not a city for measured responses. This is a place which incites utter joy and beauty AND utter rage, usually at the same time!!! Regarding the latter, let me update you on Crane Canaveral!

Since October last year when a huge hole the size of a large bomb blast appeared just to the left of our apartment’s front door,  I have been living next to a building site. At first, apart from having the road cut off, it did not bother us one bit. They dug the hole, built a wooden frame inside it, took it apart, covered it and installed a watch man over it. He started to build a shack, which soon became a shed lined with duvets. He made friends and his pals came to smoke shishas with him and altogether, they made tea on his little stove. It all looked quite poetic; almost like a dying tribe of Maadi Bedouins having moved in! The New Year soon brought with it the Revolution, but the watchman and his pals stayed on. To look at the trio, it was hard to believe the country was in any state of turmoil or uncertainty or indeed in a state of revolution! However, once we came back after the evacuation, the serious orange metal army had arrived!! The loyal band of brothers remained amongst the satanic cranes, dwarfed but nevertheless not insignificant. Unfortunately, as the bad boy machinery started their thunderous assault, the shed disappeared as did the guardians of the crater. For nearly four weeks, from sunlight until late into the night, six days a week, the loud drumming drone of the generator signalled digging. We discovered it was to be some well project, but no one really knew what it was about or more importantly for us, when it was about to end. We suffered the days of noise discomfort chanting the maxim in our heads, ‘it will be over’....Sure enough, the huge digger came to a halt one day and the hole got covered over. We almost sighed with relief. But, the orange army of equipment did not move. Suddenly one day, on the other side of the railway tracks, opposite our crater, another was being dug! Was the process going to be repeated?! Indeed it was! On our side, jackhammers removed the compacted earth and dug up the concrete, powered by mini generators. Wire frames were put in place and then filled with concrete again. Whilst the noisy digging supported by the noisier generator has been in full swing on the far side opposite our road, another crane has been digging up the earth exposing water! This has now being going on for over three weeks. At times, there is a false sensation that the noise levels have gone down. This is only the ears growing numb to it all! Added to this, the noisy freight train passes at certain intervals, honking at full hilt. I am beginning to think most Egyptian workmen are deaf. They wear no protective head gear and work entire days with his noise right next to their ears! As Sandy was telling me, there is rarely the same gang of workers. They get rounded up in the mornings, get given their tools on site, work and leave. It’s not like there is a foreman we can approach each day to ask questions! Our tolerance levels have worn thin and we did start to look at places elsewhere. We love the apartment itself, our neighbours are wonderful and ideally we don’t want to move. When Landlord Captain O came to collect two months’ rent a few days ago, the generator was still on and we explained our displeasure at the whole process. He sympathised but felt he could no more give us an answer than anyone else. We then had to mention to him the very strong possibility that if on our return, the whole thing was still going on, we would need to ship out! He looked quite alarmed at this. He did not entertain a conversation about it and promised us double glazed windows on the spot! He mentioned nothing about increasing rent and left promising he would try and find out as much as he can about the project! Half an hour later, he calls husband. Apparently, the generator and the orange army were due to be removed in two weeks time and the road on our side returned to normal!!!??? The road building which is also going on was due to finish by the end of August.  Where he got any of this information is beyond us!  Maybe he cornered the Lord Lucan Bowab after he saw us?? Husband and I looked at each other bemused. We were not convinced! We have only three more weeks here before we leave for the summer so we shall suffer what we must until that point. If on our return, the fiasco continues, we are away...within the month if at all possible!!! The muezzin at the mosque is one thing, the freight train is another but all combined with the infernal generator sound is sheer purgatory! This aspect of Cairo living, I hate, hate, hate!

TG Services, the local heroes I had come to depend upon have now been seriously demoted in my estimations! For a while now, the shower pressure and temperature have been playing up to infuriating degrees! Within a week, I had what husband called Legions of Genius plumbers coming to look at the problem. Their verdict, we needed a special pump for the apartment. The cost of this was to be a princely sum of 5500 LE (approx £550!) Landlord Captain Osama, understandably, was not so sure! He wanted a second opinion, so arranged for the Bowab to send another plumber to check the water pressure. Sure enough, there was no problem. However, the non English speaking plumber took some time to work out the problem I had been describing for weeks. My patience waned to dangerous degrees and my frustration must have come across! I told Captain O, ‘I am now seriously upset because no one seems to be listening to what I am saying!’ Almost with alarming alacrity, Captain O spoke to the plumber and within five minutes, my words were being echoed regarding the problem! In the end, it was a matter of changing the pipe size going from the boiler to the hot tap! It all took two hours, but at least the shower temperature and pressure have some consistency and can be adjusted! I have yet to telephone TG services to say I will not be paying you for such bad advice! That conversation, I am looking forward to....

When all is said and done, the Egyptians on the whole have endeared themselves to us as individuals.  My driver Salah is so dear to me now. I look forward to seeing him drive up the road everyday and hear his throaty cheery ‘good morning miss’. He is always respectful and apologises even if he is a few minutes late! I have discovered he speaks more English than I thought. We do not have conversations, but it makes it easy for me to communicate with him. I have also finally met Muhammed Ali, who has been organising my drivers since last September. He turned up at my door last week as husband needed a courier for some documents. He is a dark stocky man, again very respectful in manner with grey eyes. I was actually delighted to meet him at last. Until then he had felt like some anonymous benefactor!

I was also fortunate enough to be invited to a brunch with a bunch of Egyptian ladies from school. Wonderful Sandy hosted at her beautiful home in Kattamaya Heights and I had the loveliest of afternoons in their company .They all work at the school, so their level of English is impeccable. They were amazingly considerate in speaking English for the most part and I enjoyed hearing about their days and families.  All were keen shoppers and looked fantastically well turned out. Two removed their head scarves and I was privileged enough to see them with their manes down! They all felt uncertain about what the new Egypt would bring, and in some cases were not optimistic. However, with citizens like them, Egypt in the end will not go far wrong. We feasted in Mediterranean style outdoors, copious amounts of food spread on a long table under a leafy trellis. I tasted ‘foul’ for the first time. It’s like Mexican refried beans, but tastes better. I learned to make cat’s ears with the flat bread to scoop up the ‘foul’. I also loved the large falafel dish I think called Tamaaya. However, my favourite has to be Fettir. Layers and layers of golden filo pastry cooked in the shape of a tart, to be eaten with dripping honey or molasses! That afternoon, sitting in the sun in the ample garden looking out over the golf course, I felt pleased to be in Egypt....

We have also enjoyed forays into Zamalek for meals and thoroughly enjoyed our walk around Garden City, all thanks to Sandy. Garden City certainly bears witness to former grandeur. Most of the majestic formal villas are incredibly well preserved albeit in need to some love and attention. With the climate being so dry, the wooden shutters have survived as has ornate ironwork. The Art Deco style is very much in evidence, with its easily recognizable sleekness. The Art Noveau-esque structures still bear their ornate carvings and fabulous detail. Cairo was certainly the Paris of North Africa going by this evidence and given the chance, being in this city from anywhere in the 1920’s to early 1950’s is somewhere I would have loved to have been. The Cairo of Olivia Manning and her wonderful tome ‘Fortunes of War’.

We have also enjoyed evenings with Sandy and her pals. Dodo (pronounced Doo-doo), Tata, Loulou, Ali to name but a few! They are all highly educated and Dodo and Tata very politically aware. They are revolutionaries if truth be told. They are determined someone good must come out of the recent turmoil, but are circumspect about prospects. 70% of the population are illiterate and can only think very short term. The parliamentary elections are in September and Presidential elections in November. By the end of 2011, what will the political landscape be in Egypt? We as those who cannot vote, can only wait and see. In the meantime, Dodo is attempting to make Cider having fallen in love with the drink on a recent business visit to the UK! He had just returned and when asked if he had discovered any fine ales, cited “Strongbow”. He was most surprised to be informed that this “ale” was, in fact, made from apples. Having been further advised that cider is technically not too difficult to produce and that the ingredients to that end are readily available in Egypt, some further Internet research on the specifics of cider production has convinced him to try a bit of home brew. Following the recent purchase of requisite materials, we wait with bated breath to see if he will survive his experiment.

More than anything, the trees in Maadi enchant me the most. The spring blooms were stunning then about a month ago, the Flame Trees started blooming. They are amazing trees. The leaves are fern-like and delicate, almost lime green in colour. The flowers are heavy and voluptuous, and hang like burnt orange overgrown grapes. They make me smile and are my daily dose of Divinity amidst the heat, dust and noise of the cityscape. Frederick Leighton’s painting ‘Flaming June’, with its languid air very much evokes the feeling of June of Cairo...minus the torturous din of Crane Canaveral!

I am indeed in the Kingdom of Love and Hate....

From Athens to Atlantis

Athens, ancient city... seat of the great idea of Democracy... land of Pericles and his great Parthenon on the Acropolis....

 The area was better than I imagined it. Swelegant would be the word. It’s clear much has been invested into this site and it is impressive. We arrived Easter week-end, so entry was free. Due to a bad club sandwich in a gorgeous terrace restaurant which looked out onto the Acropolis, husband spent the entire Athens week-end in bed. I was, however, perfectly fine and explored it all....solo. Walking around the Plaka area is a joy. Lined with tavernas, gift shops and asundry trade, it is a veritable labyrinth of delight. The shopkeepers are multilingual, welcoming and warm. There is nothing jaded about their approach. With their country’s economy in such dire straits, maybe a real effort is being made. Whatever the reason, I felt quite safe and happy walking around on my own, looking and shopping, especially in the evening.  Lamb was being roasted on spits on Easter Saturday in readiness for the Easter Sunday feast. There was a real sense of occasion and celebration in the air. Late on Saturday night, I ventured out, being told, there would be the Greek Orthodox midnight mass going on in all churches. After having a simple alfresco dinner, I ventured into a church. There was a small crowd, which soon grew. Everyone came in with tall slim candles which could be purchased from Bangladeshi street sellers all over the area. Leading up to midnight, there was a lot of preamble getting dressed by the priests, readings from a side lectern by a lay person, chanting....all fascinating to watch. Some people were dressed up, some were not. It was a chilly evening and older people had winter coats on. Come to think of it, most people had coats on as I shivered in a denim jacket! Suddenly, a priest in red robes lit candles on what looked like a three pronged trident.  The single flame for the others originates from the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem where it’s collected by the Orthodox Christians in quite a fanfare of ceremony. I had seen the scenes on television earlier and was rather taken with this ancient ritual. There was much shuffling around by the congregation when the priest came to the head of the aisle. Suddenly, the people swarmed to light their own candles from these flames. There was then a procession by the priests, followed by some of the congregation out onto the courtyard of the church. The huge doors of the church were then closed behind them. A young couple seated next to me asked me something. I told the man I spoke no Greek. He told me no problem and gave me his candle. I thought to myself what a lovely gesture.  We could hear readings happening outside before what sounded like fireworks started going off. Every one inside hugged and kissed each other. The young couple shook my hands and wished me Happy Easter. Moments later, there was a raised voice from outside, a reply from the lay reader and then theatrically, the huge wooden church doors were flung open with an accompanying rush of air and the priests re-entered! I had never seen anything like it in the Catholic Church! The lay reader beetled up the aisle, swinging the chandeliers with a hooked rod as the priests made their way back to the altar. It all looked quite spectacular, even in a small church. Shortly after, most people started leaving. Outside, folk seem to be sitting down for their midnight Easter feast at beautifully laid out tavernas all over Plaka. As I walked back, nursing the flame of my candle, meeting others doing the same, it was easy to feel a new beginning had truly started.

The Acropolis

I have always believed no amount of prior knowledge of a place can prepare you for the visual spectacle of the experience. The Acropolis is such a place. It’s astonishing any of it has survived given its long history of being violated in one way or another. Conquering nations have not respected it, changes in belief systems have not preserved it, Elgin removed the best parts and yet, it has survived to enthral still. At spring time with abundant orange blooms perfuming the air and bright spring flowers lining its paths, a visit to the Parthenon on the Acropolis is something to experience. It’s humbling to know, at its height of beauty and wholeness, Plato, Aristotle and Socrates amongst many others led lives and wrote in its shadow. I’m not sure I would have loved the gaudily painted original and certainly as a woman in Classical Athens, I might even have hated it as a symbol of an unjust patriarchal system. Ideals of democracy were not extended to the female of the species! However, as a 21 century woman, I did admire its grandeur as to me it seemed to me like a fine ole dame who had seen life in all its ecstasy and agony! The new Acropolis Museum is an architectural wonder. Natural light floods the structure as it’s designed to be walked around 360 degrees. Huge glass windows reflect the Acropolis. The artefacts inside each tell a story of being made and destroyed. I especially enjoyed the cafe with its huge terrace. Wonderful place to reflect and enjoy a hot sweet drink!

We left Athens with husband recovered and thoughts of living and working there tempting us! I particularly loved the cockerel-like strutting Presidential Guards with their pompom shoes. Those handsome, nubile young men were utterly mesmerising and amusing! I did giggle with delight watching them! But most of all, it was the scent of orange blossom all over the old city which I will always associate with my first visit to Athens.

Next..Santorini...Ancient Thera....

For those of you who may not be yet aware, I’m an ancient history addict! There, I have finally and proudly admitted it. There is a Classics bodlet in me desperate to get out! I wish I could say I had any knowledge of any Greek or Latin, but I do not. I have a passable knowledge of Greek mythology and Greek tragedy from my Drama Studies, but really nothing more than a passion and a fascination for ancient civilisations. They were after all ‘us’ ..’then’.  Bethany Hughes has been a great influence in helping me nurse my penchant for such  bygones places and people. If I’m honest, I want her life and knowledge without the children or even husband! I’ve never had a desire for the former and I already have the latter...So, coming to Santorini, the most southerly of the Cycladic Islands, has been a long harboured wish. Archaeology and geology has established that ancient Thera, part of the great Bronze Age Minoan Civilisation suffered a cataclysmic volcanic eruption, most of it to be swallowed by the sea. They were a prosperous sea faring island, a central trading point between  Asia Minor, the Eastern Mediterranean and North Africa. The frescoes discovered at Akrotiri there have been astonishing in content and style; fluid and naturalistic compared to the formulaic necropolis painting of the Egyptians....

Imerovigli, not far from Fira, the main town on the island was where we had booked our hotel. We got it last minute so knew very little about it. Arriving at the island, only about half an hour plane ride from Athens, we shared a taxi with a couple from an unknown European country as we could not decipher their accents. It seems to be the practise from the airport, that unless you had booked a transfer, you would just share with someone else who was going your way! We got dropped off at the top of a set of steep steps. I made my way down to reception and was nearly blinded by the light bouncing off the white walls. We had lucked out as the phrase goes! The hotel was a set of white washed rooms, many built into the rocks so were like caves. The views were breathtaking looking out over the deep blue sea of the Caldera. This fact amazed me. I was looking out at the sea filled crater of the Volcano which had destroyed Thera. Our room was a few floors below the reception and we indeed had a cave apartment. Our terrace had stunning views and breakfast would be brought to the room no earlier than 8.30am! Perfect! So began my love affair with this island....daily we walked into Fira during the day along the coastal road. The volcanic rocks were abundant and many walls were made up of these black porous stones. The island was also abundant with spring flowers. However, there were few trees and they were squat. Clearly, things got windy here! Most the town, nay most of the island, is deserted between October and April. I could imagine it being quite blustery. Santorini  is known for its wine, sundried tomatoes and fava beans but I got the impression most the food during the tourist season got brought in. The north of the island is quite flat and so cultivation takes place there and that is where the beaches are found. It’s not an island for beach life which suited me fine! It was too cold to venture to the ‘black beach’ with its black volcanic sand and there is also the ‘red beach’ due to the minerals in the earth. I enjoyed wondering around the narrow cobbled streets, often mistaken in shops as being Greek! I took numerous photos as the Cycladic architecture of white buildings and cobalt blue domes just enchanted me. Santorini is the most photogenic place I have ever been to. There seemed to be no bad view down to the Caldera!

One day we took a taxi to Oia. It is the second town on the island and clings to the rocks in the same way as Fira.  It did however have a more refined air and there were certainly more arts and crafts shops than tourist tat! Again, every nook and cranny had copious charm and appeal. We lingered in a cafe, me diving into huge bowl of thick creamy Greek yoghurt topped with golden honey. It was served in a large glass bowl and looked like Ambrosia for the gods...

On our last day, we took a catamaran sailing trip from the north side to the two islands in the centre of the crater. A couple from the same hotel came with us and there were to be only two couples. We were told there would maybe be five. Clearly, we were early enough in the season not to have a crowd. I’m not a natural sailor so the less suited me fine!

Patty and Phillip were a lovely grown up pair. They were currently living in Warsaw. She an American and he a New Zealander.  They were like minded well travelled folk and easy going. They were fascinated we had lived through the Egyptian revolution and we were happy to share our experiences. It was interesting to hear of the Islamophobia of her relatives in the US during those days, especially images of the faithful praying in Tahrir Square.

For the most part the sailing was enjoyable. Captain Ted, a cross between the Sopranos and Pirates of the Caribbean was very entertaining. A burly bearded fellow, he was brought up in New Jersey of Greek parentage and was now on the island with an Australian wife, also of Greek parentage. He ran two catamarans and owned a sushi restaurant in Fira. He had two able seamen to assist him; Chris, a gorgeous fair haired, willowy Australian with jade green eyes and another young man whose name escapes me! That one did the rigging and the cooking! It was quite an experience to see the sails going up and feeling the lunges in the water! Poseidon certainly had a bout of indigestion that morning!  Fortunately, we moored in mill pond like conditions, and enjoyed a feast of barbecued huge prawns, Mediterranean pasta and Greek salad with as much wine as we wanted! We could have taken a dip in the hot spring, but all of us declined given the chilly conditions! Also none of us had taken our costumes with us! Even if I had done, I would have had to frolic with the life jacket as I’m a natural sinker!

On the morning of departure, I went out onto our terrace to take in the view. It was magical. The sun had just risen and the sky was bathed in rose light. The sea shimmered sliver and the air smelt fresh and clear. I could not remember the last time I had smelt such clear air. The sky was strewn with light clouds which I knew would evaporate as the day grew. I felt almost heartbroken to leave... I looked across at Oia, its small white buildings covering the rocks like delicate lace. On the other side of my vision, Fira was still snoozing. There were no cruise liners in the Caldera that morning; these huge ships which come in laden with tourists who rush to Fira for a couple of hours and then scurry away again. I looked over to the two small islands in the centre of the Caldera, one with a dormant volcano. Over three thousand years ago, someone may well have stood on the same spot, being enchanted by a similar view, blissfully ignorant that all too soon their Thera would become a place of Legend....

.