Alexandria - Cairo

Sunday, 7th March 1999

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Alexandria, Egypt
1999-03-07

We weren't sad to wave goodbye to our cockroach infested seaside abode this morning, but breakfast at the Brazilian coffee bar more than made up for it. Firstly we took the backpacks up to the station and paid the freight office to look after them. They stood out like a sore thumb next to the chickens and other wildlife on their way to Egypt's far corners. The rest of the morning was spent visiting the Graeco-Roman Museum and Royal Jewellery Museum down by the emerald waters and clean yellow sand beaches of east Alexandria. The small Graeco-Roman Museum is well laid out and contains a plethora of relics from as early as the 3rd century BC, such as busts, statues, mummies, sarcophagi, pottery, and best of all, an astounding collection of coins. My favourites were the silver coins in almost mint condition from the reign of Alexander the Great.

A decrepit blue tram packed with locals took us on a 6km journey to the east, taking a lengthy hour! The line ran a block from the beach, breaking a combination of dirt and tar roads in two. The usual shops, dens and mud brick houses took up every available space. I even recall seeing a sign outside one home saying "the Headquarters of the Palestinian Liberation Army", which funnily enough was unguarded. Suddenly the problems of the Arab-Israeli conflict no longer were just visions on a colour television. Unfortunately the conductor told us to get off a kilometre too soon but instead of following this cluttered and chaotic road we walked along the beachfront and seaside. Here lay a different Alexandria, one of serenity, relative cleanliness, and the bright colours of summer untainted by dust storms. A lonely fisherman sat in a chair by the rocks and emerald Mediterranean waters, lost in the serenity of the lapping waves. School children ran across the beach, laughing, cheering, and having the time of their lives. "Hamdu lillah" or "thanks to God" as they say in Islam.

Mohammed Ali's and King Farouk's palace was difficult to find, hidden between all the shades of poverty. This is one of Alexandria's favourite attractions and very interesting, as it was home to Egypt's last king. It houses a collection of royal jewels, watches, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, a diamond-studded chess set and even a garden tool studded in precious stones. Although they are in need of a clean and don't compare with the crown jewels of western kingdoms. The most interesting part is the palace itself, decorated in a kind of Victorian style, where English women dance in the stained glass windows, tiles with chickens and farmyard paraphernalia decorate one of the bathrooms, and nude English women dancing in the fields adorn the tiles in another. It was interesting to see how the other side lived.

We then made our way back to the waterfront and caught a minibus back in to the centre of town where we had just enough time to race back to the station, pick up our packs (instead of the chickens) and make our way on to the train. Unfortunately the carriages weren't as modern as the last ones, but still comfortable, except for the smell of bad B.O. and foot odour coming from the more weathered Egyptians. Another annoying feature of Egyptian public transport is that they're full of no-smoking stickers, but not a soul adheres to them, and often you find yourself choking on the fumes. The same rural scene along the fertile Nile past us again and before we knew it we'd arrived in Cairo in the late afternoon.

The Ismailia House Hotel had a cheaper room "just for us", looking out towards the Citadel and Islamic Cairo. Before leaving the station we bought a ticket on tomorrow's 7:30am train to Luxor, then made our way back to Midan Tahrir on the squeaky clean metro. The owners of our favourite kushari restaurant were pleased to see us again as well as the juice bar proprietor. For one last time we went home along the ritzy shopping street, stopping in for sweet cakes and ice cream. Our heads hit the pillow before 10pm and tonight I felt assured that we would not be visited by cockroaches.



All text copyright Anita Pacanin. Images copyright David Jennings. No unauthorised copying permitted.
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