Summer Break: Escaping the Heat: Part One.

July 7, 2023

It is a cacophony of dog barks that jolt me into awareness.

The sound of my neighbour’s air con whirls like a monotonous drone, and birds punctuate the stillness on this Eid holiday - each having their own turn - crows with their guttural call, sparrows and other smaller song birds call in the day.

It’s Thursday. Normally by now I would be standing in the local cafe laughing with the barista about my Arabic and straining my eyes across the street for signs of work colleagues who gather on the street corner where the work bus collects us for the 25 minute shuttle into New Cairo.

But not this morning.

This morning, I have woken early anyway despite the freedom of no alarm, thanks to the dogs. What the heck are they barking at anyway? One starts and they all chime in - territorial wars, like the gangs of New York, keeping packs of dogs to certain streets, and the ensuing chase if one happens to venture near that which does not belong. Or perhaps a pet dog, on a leash - pity dog owners in Cairo having to contend with the strays. Two days ago while walking the downtown part of the Nile Corniche, a stray dog latched itself onto my friend and I, and walked no less than 4-5 km with us. I warned my friend about the strays under one of the bridges as we navigated the pillars supporting the expanse of concrete across the Nile. No sooner had we burst back out of the shadows, than half a dozen or so angry dogs took flight towards us, teeth bared, drool trailing in the breeze and the ears tucked back like some aerodynamic fighter jet.

Fuuuuuuuuucccccccck!

The wee stray dog carried on beside us rather non-plussed, meanwhile the dogs were approaching with rapidity. I knew they could go for either of us. Some local lads hurled rocks at the dogs and they backed off slightly but not util they had tried at least three more times to snap at our heels. It wasn’t us of course, it was the dog they were bothered with - one of the chasing marauders had young pups. I figured it was good practice for Albania, where I was soon to travel for hiking, given I had heard stories of the shepherd dogs in the mountains being hungry for a bit of human calf-muscle.

The dogs stop barking and a cat squawks - all sounds I had grown used to and even though it is Eid, and a public holiday, I can hear a street sweeper outside and the familiar rasping of the straw broom against the road.

I sit in amazement that I have made it to the end of my first semester in my teaching job - my first ever in an international school. I remember coming to Cairo six months ago - overwhelmed and second-guessing myself.

Now, I am in that place of giving advice to any new arrivals. Six months may not seem like long enough to do so, but Egypt has a steep learning curve and if you are still trying to figure it out after six months, then you haven’t been paying attention.

I have packed a lot into my time here so far, including a brief trip back to New Zealand for my daughter’s graduation. Tomorrow I head back to the UK and Europe after 30+ years. There is so much I want to see and I being to wonder if I could be going to Belgium, where I spent a few years of my early parenting life, but realise it isn’t going anywhere, and I can visit sometime, given that Europe is so close (and so cheap to fly).

You can go to Europe for a long weekend from Cairo; or even deeper into the African continent; something I also wish to do. For now, I head north to escape the heat of Cairo for 10 weeks. I wonder how I will make my money last that long, but it is just going to have to. I am collecting experiences, not things - although I do have an urgent Dr Marten requirement I need to fulfil while in London, plus I need to buy some KASE filters, given mine were ‘lost’ in my bag debacle on the way here in January (still unresolved, and no closer to seeing any compensation).

I have felt a great sense of anticipation as I have planned my escape north to slightly cooler climes. “Bring a jacket” my UK-based friends tell me. You have no idea how I long for something less than 30 degrees. I am not good with heat and have noticed my energy levels disappearing as the temperatures here in Cairo have climbed. Existing day to day with 24/7 sweat is both uncomfortable, and part of life. But no one shows much skin here - so people adapt, I guess.

It is a dry intense heat though - not like in New Zealand where you can feel a bit of moisture in the air; here when the sun hits you, you can sense your skin cooking through every single layer.

I have zero desire to be out in it.

On this morning, I am heading to a spin class at CSA. A hangout favoured by Egyptians and ex-pats alike. I will kick-start my day and continue my migration to the next door apartment which will be my abode until I leave Egypt next June (if I do!). I will not actually spend my first night in this new abode until September when I am back from summer break, but I fly out tomorrow, and so luckily for me I can literally walk my things three m away and dump them until I return.

Airports are funny places. People are on their best behaviour and usually that behaviour includes trying not to attract too much attention. Cairo airport is OTT with security checks - a check to get into the departure building; another after you check your bags and yet a further check to get you to the gates. Goodness knows how you are meant to become a threat between the first and the last check. It is with trepidation that I check my backpack. Paranoia about ever seeing my belongings again after my rough introduction to Egypt and the loss of a bag with no compensation, have left me with little trust for the system here at the airport. But I submit and accept that if iI want to be away for 10 weeks - more than carry-on is required - especially as I am taking my sleeping bag, mat, camera gear and hiking shoes. I have two changes of clothes - ten weeks is a long time - I even wondered about that! Before I packed, I meant to buy bags of almond-stuffed and chocolate coated dates. These are a real delicious treat and one I like to give to people back home. Unfortunately being Eid, the shops were all shut so I was unable to stock up on the said goodies. In the airport, Abu Auf (the date supplier) sold bags in the duty free stores, for $9.00 USD!!!; these same bags cost $2.00 USD in Maadi. I silently kicked myself for not being more organised and buying these dates weeks ago. I painfully bought one bag in the terminal as I didn’t have enough EGP for any more - needing what little I had for my driver pick-up on my return to Egypt in two months time. I will know better next time. Life continues to send its little learning lessons my way, reminding me that I always need to keep on my toes. The other last-minute-dot-com upset was a Ryanair flight I did not make, being attached to my Ryanair app. A quick frantic phone call to Ireland 15 minutes before I was due to depart for Cairo airport, soon sorted the quandary out. Hopefully my original flight will still stand - they are ‘on it’ the heavily accented Irish woman told me reassuringly.

What else could go wrong. I hate to think.

My biggest challenge will be surviving ten weeks on very little money. The upside of this is I may lose the nearly 10kg I have beef-caked on since being in Egypt! I also plan on sleeping in the mountains with the wild-life; running for my life may also help with the weight-loss plans. I am prepared to keep a very open mind.

For now.

Well, its a great day for flying to the UK, and my flight calls us now to board the British Airways flight that will catapult me into a different world yet again - but a strangely familiar one.

I am looking forward to a decent beer and some red meat!

Local

June 11, 2023

Some photos taken

on one of my jaunts up the Nile Corniche, around my neighbourhood, in some palaces (just the usual) and peeking around some mosques. When it gets hot and sticky, and I am living off ice cream in order to cope while I swear and curse at the heat, I pause to remind myself to be in the moment, to look around and to breathe it all in (and I don’t mean just the dust!).

Click in to open these images in a new window.

IMAGES ARE:

Row One left to right:

Open door, Maadi/Street scene Maadi/Flowering Bonsai Trees Nile Corniche/Stray catnon the Nile

Row Two left to right:

The Gayer-Anderson Museum - all images

Row three left to right:

Cairo’s own leaning tower (joke)/Street scene Old Cairo/Mosques from Ahl Azhar Park/Ibn Tulun Mosque

Street Dogs and Dust: and the reality of "it is what it is"

May 28, 2023

I barely notice the call to prayer anymore.

Has it stopped happening five times a day? No. I have just become so used to it that it now goes unheard by me.

It feels as if suddenly I have settled right in. I feel comfortable. A child screams at the top of her lungs outside my dining room window and I know it will be the woman on the street corner her gives her wee ones a swift hard swipe around the head if they do not beg for money from strangers or manage to sell a bag of lemons to them. When I feel as if I am ‘settling in’, I remind myself not to settle in too much - because to do so would be to accept that mother’s using their wee children for income, is actually ok; when it’s not.

The child keeps crying.

A dog barks. A motorbike zips by. Horns toot. Birds sing. A plane roars its take-off over my apartment building. A cooling wind blows dust through my kitchen windows and coats my freshly cleaned dining room table with yet another microscopically fine layer of ground up ancient history.

Who knows what that dust contains.

Everyday I simultaneously pinch myself that I am here at all and roll my eyes with some mental crazy-as thing I have just witnessed.

This is Cairo. Cairo does not speak for all of Egypt - but I imagine that it certainly whispers a good part of it.

A bike locked up on the Nile Corniche belongs to a sleeping man

It has been a while since I have written a blog so I thought I would make one out of an email I recently sent a friend who was considering coming here for a visit. My email to her outlined some of the nuances of Egypt, so that she had a ‘heads-up’ on what to expect.

Since that email, I have visited the Sinai and also have much to say about that wander into the mountains; and I have also been to New Zealand and back for my daughters graduation - a long heinous drawl across half of the planet; a punctuation in my otherwise unimportant life, so that I can share one of her more important moments.

My daughter with her batman cape flapping in a brisk Wellington breeze.

I have finished my teaching for the academic year and will be using my time to solidify my 2023-2024 lessons so that I can then relax for 8.5 weeks, hopefully in some cooler climate than the unearthly hot promise of Cairo. So hiking it is in the UK for me - maybe - and I am actually chomping at the bit for some greenery, some tent life and some simplicity.

Also some Dr Marten sandals.

I went to Giza Zoo recently. I had intended to go to the Wadi Degla but as my right hand is in a state of disrepair due to my frisbee v thumb incident, I thought it safer to stay away from possible scrambling requirements - and so I Ubered to the zoo with high hopes and my 100-400mm lens.

The zoo was depressing; dirty; unkempt; over-crowded with both people and animals and antiquated.

People threw food to the caged prisoners; gosh, someone had even managed to throw a toilet cistern into the baboon pit - and I just needed to get out of there as soon as I could. I felt supremely annoyed by Egyptians during that time; firstly for allowing the zoo to get into such a state of disrepair, and secondly for their wanton disregard for nature: I am SO sick of the litter, rubbish, trash - remnants of 15 million people casting their cast-offs into an ‘out of sight out of mind’ place and using that same mentality in of all places, the zoo. Occasionally I ask myself what I am doing here when some things frustrate me so much; other times I make myself marinate in the actual moment so that I can appreciate where I am - in one of the planets most oldest civilised regions; especially when on the way home in the work bus, I catch a glimpse of the pyramids in the background - their trigonic shapes juxtoposed against a mish-mash of satellite dishes and balconies. .

Cairo is special.

It is an open-air museum.

I thought about when I first came here and how soon I realised if it wasn’t for the ex-pat Facebook pages I had joined, I would have been lost. There was no “How to Cairo” manual; it really was a matter of bungling along.

Now that I have had five months of bungling, I can unpack some of the quirks and nuances of living in Egypt. Some people may find this info useful for if they ever plan to come to the top of Africa, for others, who knows - maybe it simply provides some entertainment.

On arrival - it is all pretty straight forward arriving into Egypt via Cairo (I understand it may be different if flying into Sharm El Shiek); the immigration folk are pretty laid back and you should consider yourself lucky if you get your bags searched!

Visa: You can buy a visa on arrival at Cairo airport - $25 USD (have the cash ready). It’s easy and no problem, if you know where to find the visa place. Its actually a bank payment! The visa is handed over in exchange for $25 US dollars at one of several small bank counters just before you go through passport control.

Cash: Egypt runs on cash. I now know to bring some USD to exchange for EGP - enough for an Uber from the airport and a sim card. Most credit cards will work here over the counter and in ATM machines. Best not to exchange too much for EGP as you cannot exchange it back into USD or Euro or anything else useful when leaving.

Sim card: There's a Vodafone booth in the airport. Egypt will allow people to use a local sim with proof of identity - usually it lasts 4 weeks only which is pretty much the coinciding with the tourist visa anyway. There are vodafone stores everywhere - the bane of my existence, because communication is shocking. Grab a sim - its cheap, but a pain as you need to fill out paperwork. You cannot use your NZ number here even with roaming. I do not know about numbers from other countries. The airport has free wifi, which you may be able to use with an NZ number - not sure. If ordering an Uber then make sure to have a sim installed first.

Vodafone: While we are on the subject - I use this company and have to endure the monthly experience of ‘topping up’ which is more like an exercise in tearing my hair out as it involves going to yet another tiny place and taking yet another number and sitting on yet another sticky vinyl seat and then attempting via sign-language to talk to yet another person who thinks I am an idiot, in order to beg for more data. Please. It always runs out right when I need an Uber.

Taxi v Uber: A taxi driver will try to fleece you because you're a foreigner. The fare from the airport to my place in Maadi, in an uber, should be no more than 150 EGP ($7.50 NZD). A taxi driver will charge you 3 x that - or at least try to. If you get in a situation where you cannot for whatever reason, order an uber, negotiate FIRST with the taxi driver (they don't speak english usually), so use your phone calculator to type in the EGP and show it to them. Start low - at 100 EGP, they may be ok with that. I usually only pay around 100 EGP for an airport uber. Depends on time of day. But at least with a taxi, if your phone has a flat battery or whatever, you can always just get a taxi - have the address written somewhere that you need to go, so you can show them. If you get hassled say "La!" (short "A") not like "laa". It means ‘no’. By the way, most people don’t use seat belts here. Women sit in the back on the right. Men can sit in the front (seat belts in the front so def put it on!). If there’s a rear seat belt, use it. Drivers here are nuts. Don’t freak out about that - I’m used to it now but if you’re not you will shit your pants if the road is super busy and how they drive here. They all seem to be vying for some sort of Uber world land-speed record (usually whilst on their phones…).

And there’s always tuk-tuks!

I wasn’t fast enough to click this tuk-tuk veering around a corner of two-wheels just seconds earlier.

If getting an Uber at the airport come out of the building, go down to the parking areas below and head to a clear area like 3b or 3c well beyond the Arrivals hall. It’s CHAOS when it’s busy and this makes it hard to find the Uber. Look at the number plate when it shows in the app and try to memorise the shapes! If nothing else you will at least learn the first ten Arabic numbers!

Uber App: The single most useful app I engage with several times weekly. It makes me wonder how Cairenes survived before smart phones. I Uber everywhere thats a decent distance away and so rely on my data being active through Vodafone AND Uber being reliable - which it is (at least in my experience).

Driver: I have often toyed with the seemingly luxurious option of having a private driver and I know several people who do. My neighbour uses one for airport arrivals; some people use them for big road trips - I may use this idea at some point, but for now I am happy Ubering and striking up broken Arabic-Englizi conversations conducted whilst being shuttled at break-neck speed.

Language: Some Egyptians speak good English, most speak one or two words, many speak none at all. My Arabic is growing but it’s an exercise in frustration (probably more for my Arabic teacher than for me!).

The watermelon truck has broken down, spilling melons onto the road.

"Egypt Time": Everything takes ages here. I always allow extra time for any travel. Traffic jams are shocking between 4-7 pm. Somehow things work out but it seems impossible at the time. Cars and motorbikes engage in relentless horn beeping; often I am left wondering why - everyone is attempting to funnel their vehicle into some bottle neck and no amount of horn tooting will change that.

And yet they honk. And yell at each other through open car windows. And gesticulate. It’s a carnival of body language and car horns.

Consequently the majority of cars are dented and scraped. Various colours of masking tape festoon the curves of car bodies; some have bungee cords holding bumpers on; rear lights hanging by a wire or two or totally missing. I am not sure what the laws are here regarding the condition of vehicles but some are super dodgy looking.

People also seem to possess an uncanny knack of napping wherever they are - and it’s not unusual to see people kipping in the afternoon under the shade of a tree or even literally on the side of the road. They are not always homeless folk either! But there’s plenty of people living on the streets, alongside the dogs and cats.

The other thing I love about Egypt is the way they live their lives on show. If chair sitting was an Olympic event, Egypt would be the world champions. On every street corner; in every doorway; in every alley or sidewalk, outside any church, mosque, public building, park … you name it … will be some dude sitting on a chair. usually accompanied by another guy sitting (and sometimes sleeping) on another chair. I am constantly amazed at how many people they need to do the job of chair sitting. This is paralleled in grandeur only by the number two pass-time, of looking at weird things that are going on. There seems to be an expectation of watching someone do something like dig a hole in a random place - plus have another guy watching the first guy to make sure he’s watching the guy digging. It’s a crazy old time here in Cairo.

It is what it is.

A homeless person sleeping in the early morning alongside the Nile on the Maadi Corniche

Trains: I once took a train to Alexandria so it is only fitting that I include a short section on train travel. The trains do not run to time. They may LEAVE on time but they sure as shit will not arrive on time! The glorious thing about train travel is that train tracks generally take you through the least glorious parts of any town. Usually the litter-strewn train tracks set the scene for the back parts of houses - where people casually biff their junk out of a kitchen window, or off a balcony - just so long as it isn’t inside the house then we’ll be alright, Jack. And so great plies of collected life waste build into colourful papery, fabricy, plastically mini-mountains. And the dogs and cats come to rifle through the disgorgement of people’s lives, looking for the teeniest morsel.

Back to the trains: There are many trains daily that go to Alex. Cost is expensive - about $20 USD each way. Bus is about half that. It's expensive because we are foreign. Locals pay a fraction - like $5! You cannot book any tickets online with a foreign credit card here in Egypt. You need cash. So what you do is front up at Ramses Station in Ramses Square (Uber may spell it Ramsis), and take the LEFT elevator up, and turn left. You will see a big sign saying something like "Foreigner tickets". Follow that to the end of the hallway and turn left. There is a small room there. Always carry your passport and have USD for the train (actually it IS worth having a wee bit of USD for some things). Book your return ticket to wherever you want to go (VIP First class) and don't lose it. Then try to find the correct train (good luck - remember - life is a journey!). In my case I went to “Is-kan-dray-ya”. This is Arabic for Alexandria. There is a huge sign which should have English every 30 seconds but when I have been there I have never seen anything but Arabic. Ask at the central kiosk info booth thing on the ground floor, show them your ticket. They will sort you out. Look for your train car number (count from the front engine!). Numbers are sometimes written in English. If you're lucky you could book the Talga - the new fancy train. And FYI - VIP First class is still a shitty train with a gross toilet! If you don't mind spending the money, a private driver from Cairo to anywhere and back could be another option in terms of lower stress levels. The guy who writes these blogs gives some train times. The Egyptian railway website is useless and SLOW. However this guy's blog is outdated in terms of where the foreign ticket office is. Ramses Station is a bustling conglomeration of noise, dirt, voices, people, bad food, old rusty trains and opportunists. Keep your wits about you.

On my return trip from Alexandria, the conductor took great delight in giving my train ticket a tour of the entire car - showing each passenger the price I had paid in USD - laughing loudly, I was clearly the butt of the joke, as he gaffawed to people about the “American” (no doubt the word ‘idiot’ was tacked onto that), and the price I had paid. What a dick. I’m not even American …

Two women in an upper story Cafe in Alexandria

Google Maps: This is my best friend. I have found my way around Cairo and Alex with google maps, although I have a very good sense of direction anyway, but it's been brilliant. I do need to make sure I always have a charged battery bank with me if I plan to be out all day or away for days - I used my phone a gazillion times more than I did in NZ, due to location services and this just vampire-ishly sucks the life from my batteries faster than Count Drac in a blood bank. I also take my charger with me now wherever I go.

Street hasslers/hawkers/vendors: It's a shock when you first arrive in Egypt how aggressive some of these people can be. I didn't like Alexandria much for this reason - I was hassled relentlessly at first. I got so pissed off. I just walk straight ahead, avoid eye contact and ignore them. If they really annoy me I scream "La!" at them, or Kefaaya - (enough!), or Khalos (stop!). I felt liked I needed to watch my bags in Alex, there's a lot of gypsy kids there as it's so close to Turkey/Greece etc. It's just got a different vibe to Cairo. I like Cairo.

I feel quite safe here.

When I first moved to Maadi, the locals here stared a bit; but foreigners in Maadi are a common sight due to the number of international schools which attract teachers and many foreign embassies. Now they don’t stare so much but every now and then someone hard-core stares. This still gets to me a bit - usually solved by flashing them a broad smile or pointing my camera at them.

Dust: It's super super dusty. It covers everything. No sooner do you wipe the dust off everything that it’s back again, so if you are susceptible to coughing, it may be irritated by the dust. You will get filthy just walking around outside. You bring that filth into the house; the floor gets covered in dust; the table; anything you leave out. Now that its summer and my windows are open all day, things are even dustier. I also turn flannels brown every night when I shower. It’s gross. Sometimes the wind grabs piles of dust and whirls it right up the height of apartment blocks. Its especially gorgeous to see this in an evening when the sun is setting, but best viewed from indoors through a window!

Internet: There's no fibre in Egypt, so internet is either absent totally in some places, super slow or a mix of unreliable and slow. Most cafes have wifi but you have to put in an Egypt phone number - that's normal. And then you sit there drinking coffee with terrible wifi. It is what it is! Wifi in my apartment is one of the baneful aspects of my existence here. Every month at least once, WE (the provider) stops providing, and we all get chopped for a few days (but still have to pay for the honour of no internet). It’s always ‘maintenance’. Then miraculously it comes back; then it goes again because while it was off your monthly date turned over and now you need to go sit in a tiny room, take a number and plead for more.

Street Dogs/cats: There's thousands of these animals everywhere. Cats are mostly ok, although some are timid as heck. Dogs are usually very friendly but will be tick-ridden. I like to be cautious about patting any dogs or offering my hand. Most dogs are generally asleep and chilled out during the day but can become super feisty at night. They hang out in packs and these packs can number as many as 20-25 dogs. Thats pretty intimidating. Just be wary. You don't need a rabies jab - some dogs here are vaccinated and even if you do get bitten you STILL have to go get a course of shots. Thats always one of my worries. I have also been told to go get shots if I get scratched by a cat. I have been scratched up by cats here and I’m still alive (just). Oh and mind the dog shit. Dog shit is everywhere here.

The street dogs here are pretty handsome and vary in colours

Pharmacies: These are not like in NZ. They sell every drug under the sun though. I love them. They look as if some dodgy cartel from Mexico runs them. Numerous nefarious looking blokes will hang around outside on doorsteps (as is the Egyptian way anyway - to live on the footpaths), and stare at you intensely as you eyeball up your possible drug haul. You can seriously buy so many things over the counter that you would need a doctors prescription for in NZ.

Water: I only ever use bottled water. Although I did drink the water in the springs coming through the rocks up in the Sinai mountains. I survived. Even for brushing teeth at first I used bottled water then gradually my cast iron gut accepted tap water for teeth. When I look at the state of the Nile, I avoid all water droplets splashed from the road, or hoses, like crazy.

Street food: I guess it would be common sense to avoid all street carts at first, no matter how good it looks. Bakeries with Egyptian bread is fine because it's usually super fresh but only buy if under a cover. It's delicious! The amount of wee bread bakeries perched next to filthy roads is insane. Nothing like a bit of lead to go with your bread, or other heavy metals (and dust - of course).

Local fresh bread stand, directly under the dusty overpass onto the Nile Corniche

Eating at cafes etc: Dirt cheap and amazing food is one of the biggest pluses for me about living in Egypt. I never eat at home or I order out online, for door delivery. Insanely cheap. Insanely delicious as well. It’s so good and I have become a ‘foodie’ again - really savouring flavours and taking notice of what I am combining. Plus the sheer riot of colour that food is here. Aghhh! Its to die for. (well - please don’t literally DIE from eating street food).

Coffee: There really is something about the milk here in Egypt that gives coffee a weird taint. It has taken a while to get used to but, good coffee IS alive and well in Cairo, along with superb cafe ambiance - you just have to know where to look, or be prepared to experiment. Coffee is expensive by Egyptian standards at anywhere from 35 EGP to 70EGP, but still much much cheaper than NZ.

There’s no shortage of good cafes in Cairo. Its just knowing where to find them that is the issue!

Alcohol: You can bring in one litre if you come to Egypt from outside - but we are in a Muslim country here, so alcohol isn't served at most cafes. You need to go to a bar if you feel like drinking. You cannot buy it at supermarkets either. I miss this a lot as I loved a glass of wine in NZ on a Friday night. Recently I brought in a litre of gin from NZ, and at the border control in Cairo they never even asked me the contents of my bags OR if I had alcohol even though I literally carried the duty free bag in my hand. I so wish I had brought in more!

Footpaths and road crossing: There are none - pretty much. Well; sorta. Footpaths are missing in many places so people just walk on the road. There is no such thing as a zebra crossing in Egypt. You just have to start walking and be bold about it, walk with the traffic flow to get across. Car drivers even though they come at you like a lunatic, will (probably) never hit you, unless they are texting and don't see you. They all text and drive here. So I guess the odds could be high ….

The good thing about most roads here is they have a centre strip that is like a mini footpath, and many roads are one way. So you can get across quite happily half way then do it again for the other side. Roads don't bother me any more, but I don't dilly-dally on the big ones. Also I have realised that the speed bumps which punctuate the bigger roads to force drivers into slowing down actually become a good place to cross as well.

Poverty: I wasn't shocked at the poverty here because it reminds me so much of Nepal. There are some areas of Cairo that are really really poor (like Mokattam). There are also some areas that are very swanky and rich (like El Rehab and other areas in New Cairo). Some people literally sleep along the Nile river on the banks under cardboard, while others can’t decide whether or not to stay in the Downtown apartment or the New Cairo apartment because the lip filler appointment is closer to one or the other. Such is life. What does piss me off a LOT though is the mother’s who use their kids to beg for money. What mother does that? Even a poor mother should know better.

The underpass seems to be a place where poverty collects.

Street cats rummage through bins for a nibble to eat in one of the poorer parts of Maadi

The Egyptian 'way': They're a funny bunch, the Egyptians. They talk really animated; everywhere you go there's weird shit to see that is just normal to them - like four kids, Mum and Dad on a motorbike (no helmets of course); fires just burning away on the motorway and some old guy there making a pot of tea; sheep on the side of the highway in the middle of Cairo; tiny kids running around without parents; some guy holding watermelons inside a car boot while going down the motorway; donkeys and carts amidst traffic; kids driving tuk-tuks and vans(!); police and security EVERYWHERE; x-ray machines at every tourist attraction, large store, some supermarkets, malls etc. This is normal. I have come to appreciate the Egyptian sense of humour - they are warm, funny and open people. Like anywhere - there is the ugly side and the beautiful side.

Horse and cart shares the Nile Corniche with cars

Purchasing things in stores v markets: The price is the price in a shop. There is no tourist v local price (although if it's not marked you can guarantee they will add something on!). However if you go to the markets or somewhere like Khan el Khalili, they will haggle with you and let you know they're giving you a good deal when actually they're still fleecing you. I always approach all my purchases with the attitude of asking myself how much I am willing to pay for something. If it's too much I say no thanks and walk away. Silver jewellery here is quite cheap compared to NZ. I have amassed quite the silver earring collection!

My Place: I live in a nice ex-pat area called Maadi. I am one min walk from a wee supermarket; five mins from Vodafone; WE (internet company); gorgeous bakeries; cafes; bookstores. It's a lovely area for walking around. In the evening everything comes to life. It's nice to go to the Nile in the evening to the Mamsha Ahl Misr and eat there. It's 20 EGP to go onto the two km area but worth every penny (that's NZD $1). The view is drop dead stunning. I love the freedom of being in Egypt compared to what I have heard about some countries in for example, the Middle East. Cairo manages to capture that sense of the ‘in-between-ness’, of being on the African continent but right next to the start of Asia (the Suez canal is the official line). I am about a 20 minute walk to the Nile and I love walking up to the Maadi Yacht Club then cutting back into Maadi and walking home via Road 9. Right now the trees along the Nile are utterly gorgeous and the roads and sidewalks are well looked after down this popular stretch of the Corniche. This is where you will find the felucca rides, Nile river cruises, cafes, hotels and more. The Nile Corniche has the ambience of an era gone by. It is the epitome of a city that is furiously trying to insert its modern persona on its inescapable history. The evidence of grand era’s gone by, is everywhere. Dilapidated yet ornate Corniche footpaths and walls guide the walker towards a more modern heart, yet the entire city looks as if it is under construction. Constantly.

A street cleaner stands outside an empty building that would have once been grand to look at.

Our felucca sailor from last weekend. To hire the boat for an hours its 400 EGP. Splitting this cost makes it a nice way to relax for an evening on the Nile watching the sun go down and the river boats light up.

Photography: Everyone knows I live for my photography. I was so chomping at the bit to go everywhere with my camera here, but it is only in the last year or so that Egypt has relaxed strict photography rules. Drones are still illegal - so don’t even try to bring them in. Long lenses are frowned upon and I suspect this was the fate of my ‘lost’ luggage. Do not take any photos of police, army and any military or official buildings. Common sense. So my photography has had to be more discreet than back home. Also, I discovered they do not like you photographing along the Nile towards Zamalek if you are on the Mamsha Ahl Misr. I was followed for four km by a cop because of this once!

I thanked him for his service.

And so, the dust storms blow in and coats everything again. My bedsheets are covered, along with any clothing items left out to dry on the rack. I wonder about the state of my lungs, on the inside of me, if the outside of everything looks this bad. I cannot believe the grime that rinses off my body each night. I feel as if it is so engrained I can not scrub it off.

But this is Cairo. And I don’t really want Cairo to scrub off.

Dust and birds fly about in a breezy afternoon

The Nile is a stunning drawcard for an evening meander

Weekends In: How I Spend My Time in the City

April 1, 2023

When I lived in Fairlie, I appreciated the ability to just jump in my car and head to the hills; or to head anywhere for that matter.

That luxury is a no-go here in a city of 15 million people.

Even though I am living close to a desert corridor which stretches from just outside Maadi to the Gulf of Suez on the East Coast of Egypt, the lure of hiking in the Wadi Degla day after day, lost its sparkle after the third time when I had a free sand face exfoliation, courtesy of the wind and was fishing sand out of my camera for a further two weeks.

Consequently, my exercise now consists of walking to the nearest cafe or bakery! (actually I do indulge in yoga).

To get my nature fix, I usually head out for a weekend away. The cost to travel within Egypt is cheap and there is so much to see.

The Wadi Degla is practically on my doorstep - a 15 minute Uber drive or if I owned a mountain bike (as may expats do here), a short 30 min ride through the back streets of Maadi.

But what do I do when I decide to spend a weekend ‘in’?

It’s been a few weeks since I ventured out of Cairo for a weekend.

I had planned on being in Luxor this weekend, but my up-coming trip to New Zealand is putting me off going too far at the moment, as I deal with last minute things such as housework and end of term school work.

Where has that time gone? One thing for sure - it’s gone, and fast.

There is nothing I enjoy better than sleeping in, in my own bed, starting slow on a Friday morning (the Egyptian weekend is Friday/Saturday); wandering to my favourite cafe for a coffee on what is always inevitably a gloriously sunny morning, and spending time contemplating how I will fill my day while I sip on that rich dark solution of goodness.

As my radius for wanderings increases, so too does my discovery of great cafes tucked away in quiet back streets. Dark Solution in Maadi is one such place. This cafe won Egypts barista of the year - and I can see why. hands down the best coffee I have had yet in Egypt and actually rivals the best of any I have had back home.

Living in an apartment in Cairo means dust is constant, and the task of de-dusting is a pretty big one, involving sweeping and then mopping my tiled floors. This is usually top of my list for the weekend, as the accumulated dust covers everything extremely quickly, coating everything with a fine layer that quickly thickens if not mitigated. I am especially mindful with my camera.

Dust and cameras are not a good mix.

Removing dust from my rapidly increasing pottery collection is an almost daily activity!

On a weekend at home I always usually take an Uber into the city in the morning - about a 20 to 30 minute drive from where I live in Maadi - and take in some of what Cairo has to offer.

I like to leave early enough to avoid people.

Friday mornings are ideal for downtown visits, as it is prayers day and no one seems to surface too early and certainly do not show themselves in vast numbers until after prayers.

Al-Azhar Park offers pleasant surroundings for a sense of ‘getting away from it all’ not far from the city centre.

There are numerous museums here; galleries; the Nile promenade; cafes; the architecture; Islamic area; Coptic Cairo; Old Cairo; the markets; the Mosques; the Citadel; Al-Azhar Park and then there is also just the simple joy of wandering around my own area of Maadi which is a leafy quasi-suburb to the south of Downtown Cairo, on the East Bank of the Nile.

The Egyptian Museum in downtown Cairo houses a massive collection of Mummy and Sarcophagi.

Maadi is a favourite destination among locals, expats and tourists alike. With its quaint cobbled walkable streets, multicultural residents, crammed with classical style architecture,

arts and culture venues and an innovative dining scene, I can see why expats from all over the world chose to live in this area as opposed to the more modern areas of Cairo. (Images above borrowed off the inter-google-web. The big house is actually about 5 mins walk from where I live and has a restaurant on the ground floor).

One of my favourite things to do on a weekend is to head to Khan el-Khalili (especially in this, my first experience of Ramadan when it is quiet) to take photos and browse with less people congestion.

I love wandering through the Khan - I love ‘getting lost’ and seeing where small alleyways take me.

I love my senses being invigorated with wafting smells of spices, the vibrant colours of textiles, the gentle aroma of perfumeries; the sounds of nearby mosques, people bartering, kittens calling and motorbikes bending through the narrow streets.

There is nothing like this place to make you feel truly aware of your surroundings - it is a visual and aromatic feast.

I have learnt to be far more spontaneous since being in Egypt.

Yes I like to plan what I will do in a day, but once somewhere, I am happy to let my feet lead me where they wish to go. I am curious - I always want to know what is just around that corner.

This is the best kind of wandering that leads to truly exploring.

I discovered the stunning book binders shop (Abdel Zaher) this way - but I do not know if I could find it again in a hurry - Khan el-Khalili is a labyrinth of hundreds of small shops and cafes, (set in extremely narrow darkly lit alleys), including a diversity of offerings ranging from small engineering, to silversmithing, leather, textiles, lamps, rugs, clothing, spices, perfumes, books, shoes, sheesha, bread, meat, fruit, veges, and so much more.

Abdelzahar Bookstore is a family-owned business that makes paper, binds and embosses books by hand.

Parts of the Khan el-Khalili is very touristy, but the back alleys are much more authentic and devoid of crowds.

There is always a visual feast awaiting those who look, in the old Souks.

Its the back alleys I love to wander through and the upstairs stalls which people tend to forget exist. This is where you will meet the old wizened men who have been honing their trade for decades, often handed down through generations, who will invite you in for sweet mint tea and a yarn (often geared towards selling you something, but also often geared towards plain good old kindness). I met a Spanish independent journalist this way (foreign correspondent). She lead me through the Khan and introduced me to her favourite jeweller. She had lived in Cairo for ten years and had impeccable Egyptian Arabic.

I wondered if I would stay ten years and be as comfortable as she was here.

If I stayed.

As the Khan is in Old Cairo there are also several stunning old mosques which are open for viewing. I decided last weekend to see these also. I found myself on Al-Mu’ez Street (El Moez) without too much effort. It’s a 1 km long pedestrian street, and to quote the UN, it has “the greatest concentration of medieval architectural treasures in the Islamic world”.

This area of Cairo is known officially as Historic Cairo, but we locals refer to it as ‘Old Cairo’ (masr el adeema in Arabic).

Some history!

Cairo was officially founded in 969 AD by the Fatimids (a North African Shi’ite Muslim caliphate) and the modern-day area of Old Cairo contains stunning remnants of the pre-Cairo cities (Fustat, Al Askar, Al Qatta’i), as well as Coptic Cairo and Islamic Cairo. Moez Street is named after the 4th caliph of the Fatimid dynasty.

Historic Cairo Map, showing places of interest

Old Cairo/Historic Cairo was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979, and it was called "one of the world's oldest Islamic cities, with its famous mosques, madrasas, hammams and fountains" and "the new centre of the Islamic world, reaching its golden age in the 14th century."

Egypt was conquered by Arab Muslims in 641 AD, led by Amr ibn Al-As, who proceeded to build the first mosque in Egypt and all of Africa (the reconstructed mosque still stands in Cairo today).

Although the capital of Egypt at the time was Alexandria, on the Mediterranean coast in the north, Amr ibn Al-As created a new capital where his mosque was, and named it Fustat.

Fast forward 300 years to 969 AD, the Fatimid Caliph El Moez Li-Deen Allah Al-Fatimi built his new capital Cairo (Al Qahera in Arabic) north of Fustat, and later absorbed it. When Cairo was first built, it was a walled area for the royal caliphs, and part of that wall still remains today -- El Moez Street runs between two different gates of the wall.

Part of the old city walls run beneath the grounds of Al-Azhar Park.

History aside, it's one of my favourite places to wander and I always know I will marinate in true Cairo culture here.

The mosque I love the most in this stretch of Old Cairo, is the Qalawun Complex. It is utterly gorgeous inside and provides an intriguing mix of colourful islamic tiling and high ceilings, with narrow steep winding hidden staircases and tiny rooms with wooden shutters. The history is tangible. You can stand on the roof (if you slip the doorman some money), and grab a different perspective of the thousands of minarets piercing Cairo’s skyline.

I have been to the Khan el Khalili enough times now to know I am best to walk back up to Al-Azhar park in order to order and find an uber home or to my next destination.

After mid-day this area becomes bedlam with bumper to bumper traffic as people negotiate their way along the main street which divides Khan el Khalili from the Al-Azhar markets and Al-Azhar mosque. My sense of direction is now becoming more dialled in to where I am in Cairo.

I know I could find my way back to Tahrir Square very easily if I needed to walk, or to Al-Azhar Park; these landmarks became staples in my uber drop-off/pick-up life.

Not far from the congestion of Khan el Khalili, (about a 30 minute walk or 10 mins by uber), is the calming oasis of Oldish Cafe.

I really love heading to this delightful cafe on the weekends and having a refreshing lime and mint juice, especially after being amongst lots of people on a warm Cairo day.

The food and coffee here is also very good although I have to say I come for the ambience rather than the coffee. This old cafe is gorgeous, and has a rustic colourful brick-lined outdoor eating area along with an indoor area which has hands down the most beautiful cafe toilets I have ever been in; although like nearly every toilet I have been in so far in Egypt, it's often BYO toilet paper here. What the heck is it about toilet paper here? I used to wonder why so many women sat on the roadside selling small packets of tissues. Does everyone in Egypt suffer from perennial colds? Do people spill their drinks down their fronts all the time? What? Then I realised once - when caught short - what the tissues were all about, and now I never leave home without some! Anyway, Oldish Cafe is my go-to in Downtown (until I unearth some other new delight).

Another wonderful way to spend the time in downtown is to wander along the Nile Corniche - this is the road that follows the river through the city. Along most of this road is a wide footpath directly alongside the Nile where you can get amazing views during golden hour across to the city of Giza, or to Zamalek, depending on where you are along the way.

It provides those classic views of felucca’s cruising effortlessly along in the late afternoon breeze, or the dahabiya lit up brightly at night, along with all the city lights reflecting in the water. Simply stunning. It is also an easy spot to get an uber.

The dahabiya can often be seen under sail along the Nile and lit up at night with lights. Image from google.

Connecting the Cairo city side with Zamalek and Giza are several large bridges which are a popular spot for photography and I am always amused at how open the egyptians are about getting their best pose sorted for IG - pouting their lips and ensuring there is more face than view in the frame. Especially the women here who seem to be happily posing wherever they can. I feel in New Zealand we are much more discreet about this sort of thing - an odd thing to say when I live in a somewhat conservative Muslim country.

If I am desperate to find something I need for my apartment, such as a household item, my preference is to try to find it in the downtown markets rather than one of the massive suburban malls. But if the need is there, on a weekend I will head to CFC - Cairo Festival City Mall.

This sprawling city within a city is located in New Cairo and has a footprint of 206,000 sq metres - it is a beast of a thing with three levels. It houses all the top name brands and the usual mix of cafes and a huge Carrefour supermarket. It is a place I avoid unless I really know that what I need to get will be there. The mall is heavily guarded and like anything of value in Cairo, you have to put your bags through x-ray and yourself through the metal walk-through machine, to get inside. This is normal anywhere here including at any venue such as museums. I hear some people head to CFC just to walk around it for exercise. Hmmmm… if I get THAT desperate then it's time to join a gym!

Whilst I miss my big outdoor backyard in New Zealand, I am enjoying the semi-colon that Cairo has become, in the story of my life. The abrupt change to what I knew and enjoyed, has had to be exchanged with other offerings - and these are the sensory ones of a different kind.

An impressive storm lights up the sky above the Cairo American College in Maadi.

I enjoy my wanderings in Maadi; the local store keepers I have shopped with regularly now standing in their doorways and yelling out to me “hello!” as I wander by - “you come for tea?”. I have found a home in my neighbourhood and have enjoyed the exploration and discovery of where I fit in all of this madness.

And so, as it is the last day of my weekend, I will first head to my local for a coffee and stick my finger into the breeze to decide if a wander in the wadi is on the cards for later today (late afternoon after the heat has waned a bit) or an uber to the city to walk the Nile, visit a museum and grab a lime and mint juice at Oldish Cafe..

Desert Bliss: White Meringue in a Fairy-light Landscape

March 24, 2023

The 4.30 A.M wake-up call after a fairly sleepless night was ambitious at best,

but I knew I had to meet my pick-up at Go Bus in Downtown at Tahrir Square at the joyful hour of 0540. This meant I needed to be on my way by 5.10 from Maadi, according to Google maps.

I was apprehensively excited - I did not know who I was going with or what the next couple of days held in store for me, other than I was going to see the Black Desert, the White Desert, Crystal Mountain, some cave and camp in the desert.

I needed a nature fix and I was also hoping for some hiking; to move my body was top on my list.

I had stagnated, almost crawling to a complete halt since I arrived in Cairo.

I met Yasmeen the tour organiser from Travelya and together with four others we boarded a luxury van and headed inland - Western Desert bound.

Cairo is sleepy on a Friday morning, so the empty roads meant we cleared the city boundaries quickly, and soon apartment blocks gave way to sand and dead-straight roads, seemingly headed into nowhere - forever.

The Western Desert of Egypt is an area of the Sahara that lies west of the river Nile, up to the Libyan border, and south from the Mediterranean Sea to the border with Sudan. To put it simply - its a massive expanse of sand and rock.

The surreal landscapes of the Western Desert

Every now and then a mosque would punctuate the empty landscape, or a fuel station with promises of toilets and bottled water.

The toilets were worse than disgusting in some places, but beggars can't be choosers. The more inland we went, the worse these basic amenities became. I learnt when I arrived in Egypt the importance of taking a pack of tissues with me everywhere - public toilets, if in a usable state, almost never had toilet paper in them.

I also started to wonder if hand sanitizer should be in my bag also.

As we progressed further into the barren wasteland ocean of sand, every stop in small villages became an opportunity for the “stare at the foreigner” game. I hated that game. There was only ever one winner and didn’t appear to be any rules apart from they get to stare and laugh and gossip about me, while I scurried about quickly gathering necessities, avoiding eye-contact and offering shukran’s and other time-of-day appropriate greetings. Most of these places were totally devoid of females, so not only was I a female, in a sea of testosterone, but I was a LONE western female wearing pants out in the middle of nowhere with a group of clearly not western people.

I found myself at times become quite irritated by this.

Also everyone assumed I was fresh off the boat and would proclaim “American! Welcome to Egypt!”.

I know they meant well, but I just wish my Arabic was good enough to say “hey, I live here!”.

Not wanting to be rude, I didn’t poke my camera in anyone's face and held off taking photos. So many wasted opportunities to capture life here - old men attached by hose pipe to the Sheesha; puffing away in their long bedouin attire with cloths wound atop their heads; flies swarming around plates of traditional Egyptian food while a smoking indoor kitchen divests glorious smells of spices which waft through a tin shed “cafe”; fuel stations with no fuel; tick-ridden dogs looking longingly at some guys pile of bread; backgammon games inside dark stain-walled rooms between men on low chairs and tables and lets not forget the obligatory 7-year old boy running the local store whilst smoking a cheap cigarette, with filthy long fingernails and yellow teeth, eye-balling me while I shopped for chocolate. Cadbury’s none-the-less.

Hazem’s weapon of choice - the trusty Toyota!

The van trundled on with loud what seemed like prayers played on loop, until we pulled up at another of these mid-desert roadside ‘pit-stops’ strewn with garbage and tangles of machinery. Yasmeen told us all to get out and to put all our things into the heavily laden 4-wheel drive we had parked next to and to all squeeze into the seats along with our packs and bags.

At this point I felt like that useless tourist who turns up with the biggest most awkward bag to stow. Yes, I was that person. I had brought a backpack (only a quarter full) and my camera pack.It was proving a right pain in the arse and I saw Hazem eyeing up the roof-rack to attach my pack to. “Oh no ya don’t”, I thought, with imaginings of personal paraphernalia flying down the road out of my pack, behind the vehicle as we took off at what I expected to be break-neck speed. The pack ended up in its own seat and I ended up nursing my camera bag on my lap.

All good.

It was a squeeze though and no sooner had the driver Hazem (what an awesome name), shut the door than we were off and no time was wasted in making haste either.

A sea of solar panels in the outskirts of the Black Desert.

By the time we had swapped vehicles it was late in the morning. We stopped in at a small village where we ate breakfast along with several other tour groups. Sitting on the floor around low tables draped with colourful cloths, we ate lunch and chatted.

Amongst the chatter my ears suddenly tuned into a familiar twang.

I went over to a group of three and knew instantly I was amongst Kiwi’s. Two were over from Wellington visiting their friend (the third person) who just happened to be the consulate at the New Zealand Embassy in Zamalek. He gave me his card and said he was happy to help if I ever needed anything. Of all places - in the middle of nowhere in a branch covered mud shed. Coincidences.

After food, we were off on a fast camel - so to speak.

Hazem had his foot right in it down the highway and then a sudden veering off the side onto the sand took us into the Black Desert. Even though Hazem was telling the other passengers all about this place in Arabic, I got the gist.

Volcanic remnants from a millennia passed.

It’s one of the natural parks that make up the Saharan area in Egypt, (we were by now about 4 hours from Cairo) and tends to be considered a bit of a ‘passing through’ area to get to the much better known and possibly more highly regarded White Desert, where we would be camping for the night.

According to experts, some 180 million years ago –in the early Jurassic- the region was under the sea, but the intense volcanic activity which affected the entire planet changed its geology, raising ocean land, from where peaks gradually emerged, resulting in the formation of basaltic rocks.

During that process, what was later known as the Al-Marsous Mountain emerged, a magnificent crater covered by volcanic veined marble, whose layers fill wrinkles marked by time, in its old rocks. It certainly made for a mars-esque landscape and also oddly reminded me of the organ pipes in Dunedin, with basalt columns emanating all the way around the sides of the ancient volcanic mounds. It was a geologists wet-dream.

The next stop saw us pulling up at Crystal Mountain, an unusual formation thought to be a subvolcanic vault, which emerged probably during the Oligocene age, resulting in Barite and Calcite crystals protruding from the earth in such a manner that they can be broken off - another bucket list place no doubt for geology aficionados.

It was amazing to see these crystals literally sitting on the ground, rather than buried deep in some subterranean cavern. I quietly stowed one or two in my pants pockets and wondered if I would be struck by bad ju-ju.

After some interesting excursions into surreal topography via narrow steep-walled canyons and precipitous sand dunes (which were used for a short sand-boarding ride), we arrived at the White Desert (Sahara el Beyda).

Gradually smaller tufts of white chalk and limestone gave way to larger animalistic rock formations, taking on different characters as the sun became lower in the sky.

The white rock formations of The White Desert

As far as the eye could see, white outcrops were dotted throughout the terrain like irregular apostrophes. The White Desert is a National Park and covers an area of 3,010 km2. The highest point in the park is at El Qess Abu Said at 353 m (1,158 ft) above sea level, and the lowest is at Wadi Hennis at 32 m.

It was hard to imagine how any life could ever exist here - especially in the searing heat we had experienced that afternoon. As the sun slunk away though, so too did the temperatures. Life does indeed manage to eek out an existence here, with the park serving as a refuge for various animals, including the endangered Rhim gazelle and the vulnerable Dorcas gazelle, as well as Barbary sheep; jackals; Rüppell's, red and Fennec foxes; and the sand cat.

It was also going to be home to the endangered, hungry and tired Kiwi wanderer for the next 24 hours.

Assigned a pop-up base for the night, I gratefully parked my sweaty body onto my sleeping roll and gazed out at the view from my door. A large lion-shaped rock dominated the scene as the sky changed from golden light to pink to blue. The first star emerged. A clear sky promised an uncompromised cast of pinpoints and I began to get excited about what the heavens would look like from Egypt compared to the bottom of the planet in New Zealand.

Our group had joined another and the two bedouin guide drivers began to organise the area for dinner. A fire was lit, chairs emerged from inside one of the vehicles, and various blankets, port-a-loo and other basic comforts were set up ready to experience a night in the desert.

The sky grew darker and I wandered away from the camp in order to take some shots before moon rise, which was expected to be around 9.30 pm. I was hoping to capture some Milky Way but alas that wasn’t to be as dinner intercepted my planned photography time. Dinner - a WONDERFUL feast - won out and we gathered around the fire to be entertained by drumming, clapping and singing. What an awesome vibe.

The moon appeared HUGE above the horizon, lighting up the entire vista, and the chalky outcrops took on an iridescent glow as if someone had turned the lights on, reflecting the moon's light out into the void. It was so bright that headlamps were not required. I felt as if I was in a meringue landscape with fairy lights dangling above. It was surreal.

I cursed not having my astro lens, but decided to make the most of where I was - in this incredible terrain - and capture what I could anyway.

Gazing high, I could make out what I knew as the Matariki cluster in New Zealand, only it was flipped up. We do not see this cluster until winter, down in the Southern Hemisphere, so it was novel to see it so high in the sky. I also noticed Pleiades, or the Iron Pot as we call it back home - again flipped up (something I had seen numerous times in USA).

The sky was not especially black, due to the large moon, but with no light pollution apart from the moon's light, it was a sight to behold - almost as good as the night sky in the South Island of NZ - almost - especially against the whipped egg-white environment around me.

Even though we had experienced searing temperatures during the day, then evening rapidly became cold, and I donned my puffer jacket - which I ended up sleeping in. I also brought my own sleeping bag which I was thankful for, as I needed it! The safari provides a sleeping bag, very thin bed roll and a heavy blanket. I was just right with all this layering AND my puffer, but one German man from the other group complained that he was cold all night and didn’t sleep as a result.

I woke at the fart of sparrow (or I should say, the cry of fox), to wander in the glow of a pre-dawn colour-fest. The sun took its own time to get high enough to poke over the edge of the planet and an instant temperature change penetrated out over the surrounds when the first rays poked through the gaps in the eerie landscape.

I knew I had slept well when the German told me the howling and barking dogs had kept him awake, along with being too cold. I had stuffed my ears full of earplugs and didn’t hear a thing. I slept well, for about 6 hours - enough to claim back some energy for another day of feasting upon the stunning sights.

Dogs? Hmmm… I knew there were foxes out here but we were an awfully long way from civilization to attract dogs, I would have thought. I did though spot some prints in the sand before we vacated the camp site though.

Heading back to Cairo we had one detour which was to Djara Cave. This cave was literally an unassuming hole in the ground - a dark pit in an otherwise pancake landscape.

You would miss it if you blinked - or fell into it! We were able to walk almost upright though into the entrace and once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see we were in a massive cavern pierced by stalagmites and stalactites. It was approx 30m wide, 60m long with a high ceiling of around 8m high and various off-shoots that receded into darkness like the mouth of some undersea monster.

Looking up to the entrance of Djara Cave

Our driver had taken in some candles and placed these around the outer edges of the cave, casting an ethereal glow about the void. I cursed not bringing my tripod down with me to capture the beautiful light (hence the borrowed image below).

The cave is the natural result of pure water coming in contact with the dry desert climate, over millions of years. It also contains animal engravings dating back from the Neolithic Period. It was discovered twice; initially by the German explorer Gerhard Rohlfs, and then forgotten for a millennia, and recently re-discovered in 1989 by the German adventurer Dr Carlo Bergmann, who was exploring the area by camel.

This cave remains as one of the most stunning examples of the effect of chemical activity over millions of years, and a unique treasure of nature's own version of cave art, with its natural version of hanging chandeliers. It felt like being inside an ancient cathedral, as shafts of golden light penetrated the spaces. Archeological study concluded the cave was inhabited at some point in history. You can read more about that here if interested. Today it is classified as the second most important Stone-Age settlement in the Western Desert after Nabta Playa, by the German Archaeological Institute.

It was a welcome respite from the pressing heat outside and we lingered, savouring the cool haven. Outside the cave, just prior to piling back into the car, we spotted a Fennec Fox - a female, as evidenced by her full teats, attempting to scavenge any titbits of food she could. I wondered how any creature could survive in such dry desolation.

At least there’s one good thing about driving in the desert in Egypt; the roads are dead straight - there’s no wasted driving energy on turning corners or negotiating mountain passes.

I did worry though that our driver would nod off - it was almost hypnotising, it was so straight.

I tried to follow along on google maps, becoming excited when I saw an intersection, but then slumping back into resignation when I was told we had another four hours of the same. We rolled into Tahrir Square (which is a circle), at around 8pm; the throngs of noise, taxis, people, smells, horns beeping, lights, and general civilisation reminded me how much I needed a shower, and I hurriedly found my uber - apologising for being stinky - and fell into the backseat, happy to be heading home to running water and a soft bed, but with my cup full of amazing pinch-myself experiences.

Stunning Dahab with the mountains of the Sinai Peninsula looming behind.

Dahab Blue; my new favourite colour.

March 21, 2023

If ‘laid-back’ could be defined by a place, that place would be Dahab.

And if a definition of ‘luminous blue’ was required - Dahab too would fulfil that.

This small sea-side town sits some 80 km north-east of Sharm-el-Sheik and around 120 km south of the border with Israel, on the golden-sanded South Sinai peninsula of Egypt. It is world-renowned for its reef that attracts diving enthusiasts and is a popular location for dive training - as evidenced by its over sixty dive schools. The former Bedouin fishing village, with its idyllic setting is nowadays a popular destination for adventure enthusiasts and those looking for a mellow place to relax in hippie-style in year-round sun, with breath-takingly clear waters to dip into when the urge takes over.

**A kite-surfer holds on in strong winds on the Gulf.**

Home to stunning translucent aquamarine beaches, with a view across the Gulf of Aqaba in the Red Sea, to Saudi Arabia, Dahab also offers up furious winds at times, which of course brings in wind and kite-surfing fanatics. For anything water - Dahab is the place.

**Dahab sits in a small bay which is protected by a coral reef providing ample diving locations around Dahab and along the coast north and south.**

The backdrop, however, is the stunning golden mountains of the southern Sinai region which offers rock-climbing, hiking and also treks into Moses Mountain - Mt Sinai (2 hours away).

It is the perfect place from which to launch from for adventure-seekers, or those simply wishing to do the most famous recreation activity in Dahab - nothing (preferably with a good book, a beach chair and an umbrella, on the waterfront).

The most dangerous diving spot on earth is located in the reef at Dahab - Blue Hole. This spot is 102m deep and is considered extremely dangerous. Most of the diving though is accessible directly from the beach.

I arrived in Dahab with two vans full of friends who were excitedly headed across for a weekend of diving. My plan was to get high (hike into the Star Wars-esque Wadi’s and hills), and chill. Diving would come later, for me. Dahab and its natural wonders welcome everyone. It’s a place for everyone with an open mind and heart. The Bedouins in the Dahab area are called Muzeina. In the past they had a self-sustaining lifestyle which was based on fishing and traditional goat herds. Today they give Dahab much of its unique, relaxed atmosphere. The Bedouins are proud people with a strong sense of identity, having preserved their sense of community and their excellent hospitality. It is extremely important to the Bedouins to maintain their original traditions and ways of life. Sadly in some ways, this is being eroded as tourism shifts up the coast away from Sharm.

**My first ‘proper hike’ in 6 weeks, took me high above Dahab into the Wadi and ‘Small Canyon Walk’.**

At night Dahab becomes a different beast - lights, music and cafe’s turn the sleepy town into a hub of activity. After a day of adventuring, myself and my work-mates were ready for food and drinks in one of Dahab’s many sea-view cafes. Drinks were cheap, with many two-for-one deals, and in a country where you cannot buy alcohol in a supermarket like back home in New Zealand, I was more than happy to down two Mojito’s thank you very much!

The main beach-front street also houses, besides hundreds of cafes, numerous shops selling clothing, beach attires, jewellery, bags, musical instruments, perfumes and other interesting things. This main street stretched for several kilometers and made for a wonderful early morning walk when no one was about, in order to watch the sunrise or catch a glimpse at least, of golden hour before the rest of Dahab woke up. I got the feeling that wasn’t happening early!

Image above: The main walking path that divides Dahab from the beach, goes for literally kilometers and is the perfect way to get some exercise in the mornings before sun-up. It is also a great place for cycling, running and roller-blading.

Some keen people though, and a few street dogs and cats, wandered lazily about as Dahab began to stir. Some keen divers were already in the water and a couple of joggers bounced passed.

I walked 15 km’s before coffee.

Hard-going for a girl addicted to caffeine.

I didn’t miss it in that moment, but when I did find someone who could make an ok latte, my plan was to make the most of it while I could.

I breakfasted on the water-front in a colour cafe strewn with vibrant rugs and cushions.

The waves outside crashed close to the white-washed windows letting in the warm Gulf breeze.

Cats of all ages and markings acquainted themselves with my breakfast and I, making it known they were happy to receive any small offering that might happen to fall onto the floor next to me. I obliged - knowing all well this wasn’t helping the cafe owner at all. I’m a sucker for a small cat.

Actually I’m a sucker for a big cat too.

The drive to Dahab from Cairo takes about 6 hours each way. It involves going under the Suez Canal by way of a tunnel, and through many checkpoints where you may or may not have your bags and travel documents checked (so always carry passport with you) and where you will travel under some seriously hardcore x-ray machines.

Images above (click in!): The view out the driver window; under the Suez Canal; sunset on the Gulf of Suez close to the canal. You can see big ships in the horizon.

I opted to leave the vehicle rather than remain inside as it went through the x-ray. It is vitally important to not photograph anything at all at these points when police or military are visible. Egypt is a heavily militarised country with police and military vehicles visibly present around strategic points in Cairo (particularly in the area where I live, as it houses the Israeli Embassy which was attacked in 2011). This gives a clear message that people must tow the line, but also adds to feelings of security - in a way … I think? It is hard to forget though, that in the Sinai, just a few hundred kilometres away, the Northern Sinai is a heavily conflicted area with travel there pretty much out of bounds.

**The unique shapes of South Sinai mountains.**

Egypt and Israel have worked together in this area to tighten the reins on Jihadist insurgents, but it is still important to remember that many Egyptians do not support increasing relations with Israel and so therefore tensions remain somewhat high. It is an interesting region to say the least, especially heading through Sharm-el-Sheik and the massive walls around the city. One has to wonder why.

Apparently it's to stop people “wandering into the mountains”.

There are two ways to get to Dahab; the shorter way involves cutting through the bottom third of the Sinai Peninsula on a winding road that takes you near St Catherine, through the mountains, and the other skirts down the Gulf of Suez, around the bottom and up the Gulf of Aqaba, via Sharm-el-Sheikh - a flatter, longer but faster route. The latter also involving more checkpoints.

Anyway … with the Red Sea on our left as we headed home to Cairo after a weekend of gratuitous lolling about, and the rugged mountains of the Sinai on our right, I knew I would come back to Dahab, as two nights simply was not enough. The lazy rolling in of the waves, the sun, the cats, the dogs, the cafes and eateries, charming shops, walkways, buildings and impressive Queenstown-like mountains pushing up against the clear luminous blue of the Red Sea, had me feeling like this was a place I could spend more time in.

The call to St Catherine and Mount Moses is also strong and I will attempt to make this trip at some stage; sooner rather than later as a proper mountain fix is much needed. I am used to having autonomous access to mountains, lakes, rivers and nature - there's none of that in Cairo - at least none that makes me feel I can touch nature. I have become a couch-sitter. A watcher of the world outside my window. The urge to inhale exhaust fumes, in the name of exercise, is not big in this one, Obi Wan. Roll-on the next Dahab adventure so that I can exhale.

Click in to the images above to view full size.

Morning sun casts a golden light over Tunis and Lake Quaron

The Artisan Village: Tunis

March 4, 2023

I was tired after a day in the desert.

I wanted a shower, some food and a good nights sleep. I had high hopes of somewhere beautiful to spend the next two nights. Making a Booking.com reservation had proved slightly dodgy in Alexandria, as the hotels usually put forward their best images on the website, and the reality couldn’t be further from the truth. I think they also write their own reviews.

I had booked at the Zad El Mostafer Guest House in Tunis. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I hoped like heck the place was as gorgeous as the photos. My mad four-wheel driver took me at break-neck speed to Tunis from our lake-side lunch and I was surprised at how relaxed I was at donkeys, tuk-tuks and children whizzing by mere millimeters from the wing-mirrors. Arriving in Tunis, we ambled down a crowded narrow lane lined with quaint stone houses and signs for horse-riding and pottery lessons.

Hidden in the back with a spray-painted sign on the fence, was my accommodation. I gathered my backpack, said my Shukran’s and Ma’aslama’s to Hamed, dodged a massive hole in the road and a pile of horse-poo, and wandered into the yard like the stinky weirdo that I was, in search of reception.

A stunning courtyard, resplendent with bright bougainvillea and grass (actual grass!), greeted me along with the usual cigarette-smoking gang of fifteen males that seemed to accompany any form of tourism. One to do the booking and the other 14 to offer suggestions; input; stares; puffs of smoke and goodness knows what else. I was getting used to being the centre of attention, but it still didn’t sit totally happily upon my shoulders.

I was taken to my delightful bougainvillea-framed room, and soaked in my glorious surroundings. At last - a Booking.com that was accurate! I exhaled and could not get the grin off my face. I was going to spend two nights somewhere beautiful.

The small village of Tunis (‘izbat Tunis) is located in the oasis of Fayoum , on the way to Wadi Al-Rayan. Located on a hill facing the large salt water lake, Lake Quaron, the village commands a stunning view of the edge of the desert on the other side of the lake; the lake itself also being home to a variety of over 100 birds, including Flamingoes. It is one of the most beautiful places in Egypt. It was a landscape of contrasts and a village of bright colour and creatives.

Flamingo’s litter the northern edge of Lake Quaron

Until recently, the village of Tunis

was an unknown farming and fishing community on the southern shore of Lake Qaroun.

Though it looked like thousands of average Egyptian Villages, Tunis has its own colourful and unique charm; very small, extremely beautiful and surprisingly peaceful. It was the 1980s when a Swiss potter – Evelyn Porret – visited Fayoum with her Egyptian friends. She visited Tunis and fell in love with it, deciding to make it her home, building a house and pottery studio/workshop there. At the beginning, the village children would come – out of curiosity - to see what Evelyn was doing. Some of them appeared very interested in her work, which encouraged her to help them unearth their talents. Most children had no education, so the opportunity to learn pottery also gave them an opportunity to earn an income. The more people that learnt to create pottery, the greater chance they had at a life that was different to previous generations AND it did not involve having to go to Cairo. Consequently, Evelyn established a pottery school.

Some of the stunning pottery I purchased in Tunis.

Gradually, the ordinary village turned into a reputable center of a modern pottery and an open air museum of both eco and traditional rural buildings, which attracted investors and entrepreneurs who began to provide the village with different facilities to meet the increasing tourism demands on the place. The most important of such facilities are some eco-lodges which house stunning organic gardens and facilities for yoga, horse-riding centers, many guesthouses, cafes, in addition to guiding services for bird-watching and Safari into the deserts. Evelyn lived in Tunis for over 30 years and passed away in 2021, leaving a remarkable legacy which is the village’s drawcard today. I could see the attraction. I felt an instant at home feeling, amongst creatives, nature, the lake, the architecture, the attention to detail, the colour, the vibrancy - it all came together with a wonderful synergy fit for any design book gracing a coffee table.

It was simply divine. .

I decided on my second day in Tunis, that I wanted nothing more than to wander its streets and discover what gems I could in the narrow labyrinthic alleyways. I stopped for a coffee at a street cart, and was charged premium prices for Illy coffee and badly steamed milk that had been in the sun for hours. I sat with the men as they chatted and we all watched the world go by for a while, together, just like that. When I stood up to leave the cart owner insisted on a photo with he and I together. I photographed him then promised I would put it on my instagram page. He was thrilled.

#BestcoffeeinTunis.

You’d be silly, not to ask for the Illy - since that’s all there is ….

Farmers wandered by with their animals; heavily laden carts hauled by donkeys click-clacked down the street; young lads on motorbikes; kids on bikes; women in the Niqab; some German tourists and even some Australians, all wandered by while I sat and watched. The minute details of the daily ‘mundane’, became fascinating studies of colour and texture.

Everywhere was a photo - everywhere.

Towards the end of the main street I saw a sign “Saj Leather’, so naturally (missing my @littleleafcreative days), I wanted to see what this was all about. It was this turn to the right - Yemeen - that brought me to the lovely bright leather store of Ahmed, a lovely Egyptian man who has spent 22 years living in Italy learning how to create beautiful items out of leather. His simply designed and crafted bags, hung around the store and he carefully described the qualities of each bag to me.

Of course I had to buy one, and then I told him about my own business back in New Zealand and I showed him my photos. He called me “his sister in leather” and we discussed opportunities to somehow work together in the future. Ahmed had an infectious energy and pure passion for what he was doing.

I briefly entertained the idea of life in Tunis …

Tunis is rich with opportunities for visitors to the area. It offers:

Pottery lessons (of course)
Horse riding
Wind surfing
Bird watching
Yoga
Safari tours
Eco lodge stays
Astro photography

My short stay in this utterly stunning region, had opened my eyes to an appreciation of how different things were outside the hustle and bustle of Cairo. To be in a town so embedded in its creative history, was also refreshing and alluring. I knew I would be back - next time for longer.

The Beauty of Barren

March 1, 2023

“You must pay police $100!”

My young driver had pulled off the road into the Wadi Al-Hitan and was waiting for the policeman who had gestured he needed to stay there. Why? because he had a foreigner on board. “You need to pay police - pay police - $100” he repeated. I threw my hands up in the ‘what for’ gesture and said “what for?”. “Why?”. He looked at me and smiled, checked behind him, gestured to me to put my seat belt on (even though it didn’t actually retract into its housing), then he put his foot down and floored it, right off the side of the sealed road and into the desert.

I swear he was doing 100km/hr on two wheels by the time we hit the first sand dune, a minute later.

I sat there thinking, jeepers, if he is going to drive like this all the way into Whale Valley (some 40 km away), I am going to throw up.

I looked back for police - “no police!” he exclaimed, laughing and smiling broadly. He fist pumped me - a universal gesture that required no translation. It was throw up or pay $100 USD to corrupt police who figured that because they could, they would. I liked my guy at the wheel already.

So we drove for about 15 kilometers off the official road, and soon caught up with another tour company and this side by side driving soon erupted into a full-on race to Whale Valley. Never mind us scared shitless passengers - you guys go right ahead and drive like rally drivers.

His name was Hamed. He told me he had no wife. I told him I had no wife either. He laughed.

I don’t think he actually understood - I found out later he did not read Arabic, but could recognise some word shapes, which is why one of the google translations came out sounding like a pick-up line;

“I very good man chicks, eat you”.

I had figured he was either desperate, or had no idea what he was telling google translator.

Turns out he was trying to tell me he would cook chicken later, by the lake and he was a very good cook and I could eat the food he would make me, for lunch. Phew.

Lost in translation.

I was able to exclaim “gamila” and “helwa” and also “tohfa” from time to time, to express my general awe in what I was seeing. He was suitably impressed. And what I was seeing, did leave me in awe.

Unusal shapes of element-hewn landscapes, in the Wadi Al-Hitan

Whale Valley

and its globally important fossils in the Western Desert of Egypt, provide dramatic evidence of one of the iconic stories of evolution: the emergence of whales as ocean-going mammals, from their previous life as land-based animals.

The World Heritage property is a strictly protected zone and is an exceptional global reference site because of the number, concentration, quality and accessibility of the evidence of the earliest whales, often in the form of complete skeletons, and the record of the environment that they lived in.

Wadi Al-Hitan is the most important site in the world to demonstrate one of the iconic changes that make up the record of life on Earth: the evolution of the whales. It portrays vividly their form and mode of life during their transition from land animals to a marine existence. I wandered around this large site which took about 1.5 hours, whilst Hamed and his racing rival caught up (literally) in the car park to exchange vegetables out of the back of Hamed’s four-wheel drive. I needed the walk after weeks of inactivity and was also grateful for the chance to be by myself. The area was drop-dead stunning - a stark barren landscape punctuated by bizarre rock formations of sandstone.

Stunning sandstone rock formations dot the Wadi Al-HItan and are a prominent feature of Whale Valley.

There is considerable evidence which indicates that the basin of Wadi Al-Hitan was submerged in water some 40 to 50 million years ago. At that time, the so-called Tethys Sea reached far south of the existing Mediterranean. The Tethys Sea is assumed to have retreated north and over the years deposited thick sediments of sandstone and limestone visible in rock formations in Wadi Al-Hitan.

hamed drove back out of Whale valley the same way he drove in…

… like he stole something.

My next adventure was to the edge of Magic Lake where he would cook me a bedouin style lunch of chicken, traditional salad, bread and tea. The location involved driving up near vertical sand cliffs, and down massive sand dunes, to the edge of a picturesque lake that formed part of the greater oasis of the Fayoum area. He seated me on a colourful carpet that he extracted from the back of his vehicle, and told me to sit, while he coaxed a bag of charcoal remains into life, in order to cook foil wrapped chicken thighs. The wind was howling and sand blew everywhere including into the chicken and my eyes. Ah well … it adds grit.

At the moment the wind picked up, a solo ant the size of a bus ambled by my carpet dining room. I had seen some big ants in Australia, but this one took the prize for BLOODY big ants.

The lake was busy - a group of men were receiving some sort of teaching in Islam, to my right and to my left a family with three young children were blissed out listening to music and sheltering from the sand-blasting, while the children played at the waters edge. Bedouin kids raced by on skinny horses; random camel-towing men walked by in traditional garb (cell-phone in hand), a sole man in a boat heaved his way across from shore to shore ferrying people, battling against the fierce wind and begging children toting jewellery wandered from person to person.

Click in to see each image below:

The lake glistened and my chicken sizzled. I sat and watched as people sand-boarded down the impossible sand dunes, too afraid to get my camera out to capture this sight, due to the sand versus camera potential. The Fayoum Oasis area is seeing a rise in touristic visits due to its proximity to Wadi Al-Rayan and Wadi Al-Hitan; also for its picturesque villages and being home to the largest waterfall in Egypt (which by New Zealand standards was nothing spectacular but I could certainly see its potential for a night time capture under a milky way). The Fayoum (as it is known) is the only artificial oasis in Egypt, created not by water springing forth from the ground, but by a long canal, naturally formed by the flooding Nile, that dates from Biblical times, called ‘Joseph’s canal’. Apart from the tourism potential (particularly of 4-wheel desert adventures), life in the area remains relatively quiet. Egyptians travel here for weekend getaways from Cairo and seek out opportunities to relax close to the lakes. I could see the attraction. There is something ethereal and haunting about the barren landscape of deserts.

As I downed my delicious fresh organic chicken, full of juices and flavour, coupled with traditional bedouin salads, I was happy to watch the happenings around me.

I knew I needed to see more.

I would be back - for more crazy 4-wheel antics and expansive desert views.

ALEXANDRIA: CASTLES, CATACOMBS AND COMING HOME.

February 20, 2023

A DEEP DIVE: Alexandria Part Two

A tuk-tuk jostles for space in Alexandria’s morning rain. Viewed through the taxi window.

I knew it was raining. I could smell it.

A sudden wave of nostalgia coursed through me and for a split second I thought I would cry. Funny how these things hit you. Funny how the smell of rain triggered a transportation to another place. The smell was different in Alexandria though - it was everything mingled in with it that I think made the difference - petrol fumes; dog shit; cooking smells; Turkish coffee; cigarette smoke; street fish stalls; Sheesha; the ocean … all creating an enforced marination for everyone around. The smells in Egypt get right into your skin - along with the dust.

A fish-monger selling the early morning haul.

I opened the french doors to my quaint little private balcony and cast my eyes over the street below.

Vehicles drove at their usual frantic pace spraying everyone who walked either side with filthy dirty water. I took note. It seemed to somehow add to the unease I had felt since arriving in Alex, that I could not shake. I needed coffee so donned my puffer and stepped out into the blustery weather in search of that miracle liquid.

Weather.

Ahhhh, W E A T H E R! There was not really any weather other than sunny in Cairo, so it was refreshing to experience a change and interestingly it felt oddly familiar and somewhat comforting.

I knew Starbucks opened at 0800 and so I headed there for comfort coffee and to plan the day ahead.

Street cats began to emerge and preen, stretching and meowing for any morsel of food, sheltering under the relative dry of shop verandas. It was not a warm day by any means.

Slippery wet marble tiles made every step an act of delicate balance - mixed in with dodging the enormous puddles that were forming in gutters containing all manner of litter that was being pulled toward the Mediterranean Sea by the downpour. Cafe chairs were stacked neatly away, waiting for the chance to adorn the generous sidewalks once the rain abated - if it did - and some vendors began to uncurl umbrellas and other spurious methods of keeping the rain off their wares.

My plan for the day was to visit the Catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa. I had known about these since I studied classics at school, and had seen many photos. To actually go was a long-held bucket-list item for me, so I wasted no time devouring food and coffee, then sorting an Uber to get me to the site.

And what a site … sight.

At first glance it appears to be a haphazard collection of various artifcacts uncovered in the area, carelessly splayed about a small enclosed area. Security guards watch the entrance and there is the usual x-ray machine. I am so glad I got there early; within one hour the place was crawling with tourists and buses lined the small narrow roads that surrounded this historic area.

The catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa is considered to be one of the ‘Seven Wonders of the Middle Ages’. A circular staircase, which was often used to transport deceased bodies down the middle of it, leads down into the tombs that were tunneled into the bedrock during the age of the Antonine emperors (2nd century AD). The facility was then used as a burial chamber from the 2nd century to the 4th century, before being rediscovered in 1900 when a donkey accidentally fell into the access shaft. To date, three sarcophagi have been found, along with other human and animal remains which were added later. It is believed that the catacombs were only intended for a single family, but it is unclear why the site was expanded in order to house hundreds of other individuals.

This was one of the most incredible places I had ever seen.

A maze of tunnels leading to larger chambers which contained burial compartments, was also in places adorned with ornate carvings; and all of this accessed by a spiralling staircase around a central atrium of what looked to be at least 100 feet high.

I was mesmerised by this. It was warm as well - a surprise - the mud walls providing insulation from the winter rain outside.

I could not believe this existed under the feet of people and further more that it was tucked away in a scruffy, litter-lined narrow street, without fanfare or fuss.

The rain continued to fall and I needed to get a taxi rather than an Uber as my phone battery had died. I figured I needed to give the taxi driver a land mark he would recognise, so I chose the Alexandria Bibliotech - the new modern library on the waterfront as my drop-off point. The taxi ride ended up being ‘tour-de-cat” as the guy veered down random streets seemingly no where near the direction I needed to go, emptying bags of sardines onto the streets for hungry Alexandria street cats.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said with a lift of his hands in that classic “what to do” pose.

We made no less than eight stops for cats. Bless his cotton socks. (Egyptian cotton, of course).

I did not get inside the Bibliotech this trip, as coffee was more urgently required than a foray into the modern wonder that is Alexandria’s new library, so that will wait for another time.

I opted to walk to the train station, a lovely 30 minute wander deeper through the streets of Alexandria, passed empty Roman Theatres and crowded Sheesha bars. I was on the 3.30 train to Cairo - a trip in First Class (which just meant a shitty train but a bigger single seat to myself), which was to get into the city at 6-6.30 pm. I collapsed into my seat and watched the interesting musical chairs of train seats unfold for the entire trip back. Seemingly people can purchase a stand-by ticket super duper cheap, but they do not get a seat. They have to stand up and if a seat becomes available they can take it until the ticketed person at the next stop, comes to claim it. I watched with interest as several arguments broke out over seats. Great entertainment! Egyptians pay next to nothing anyway for tickets, and foreigners pay through the nose. The conductor took great delight at taking my ticket around the entire carriage, proclaiming loudly in Arabic how much I had paid - great gaffaws of laughter broke out like a Mexican wave as he paraded it around. I laughed along - inside seething; I could only imagine what he was saying. I guess tit for tat in terms of train entertainment.

The train rattled into Ramsis Station at 7.45, a respectable hour and a quarter late.

Egypt time.

I fell out into the familiar smells of Cairo and the relentless battlecry of taxi drivers. “Taxi! Taxi!”

“Taxi?”

“La’a”; “Ana Asfa”. I knew exactly where I was going and how to get where I was going. Now I could read the Arabic number plates, and I eagerly waited for my Uber to peel through the crowds outside the station, in the dark. Somehow we found each other. I opened the door and climbed into the back.

“Masaa al-Khair”

“Masaa al-noor” the driver responded.

“La Atakalam Arabi”

“No problem!” he said gleefully.

I exhaled.

I felt an instant weight being lifted. I oddly felt a ‘coming home’.

Something had shifted and suddenly I knew everything would be ok.

The magnificent Mediterranean Sea graces Alexandria’s facade.

Alexandria: Castles, Catacombs and coming home.

February 15, 2023

Part One: Day One. Alexandria the Great

I settled into my seat on the VIP train - in second class, headed to Alexandria.

One of the many towns named by Alexander the Great, after himself.

Whose an arrogant sod then?

I was seated next to an elderly man who sat in my window seat ( I couldn’t be bothered drawing attention to myself by haggling for my seat back, so I plonked myself down in the aisle seat); whilst a couple with two young children occupied the two seats to my right.

Two small boys - no more than perhaps 4 years old - twins maybe- were squirming their way under their parents legs, wriggling and giggling. Mum and Dad were exuberant in their slaps to the boys cheeks, muttering what I could only assume were commands to sit still.

Boys will be boys.

I smiled at one and slid my tongue out - he duly responded and slipped me a wide grin. Throughout the duration of the trip, he kept a solid eye on me in between nodding off to sleep, rocked by the click-clack of the train as it swayed its way towards the Northern African coast, his beautiful big dark brown eyes occasionally making contact with mine.

At one point he reached a grubby hand towards me, and just as I reached across to him, his mother pulled him back to the centre of the seats, wrapping a protective arm around his thick head of wavy hair and pulling him into her chest with tisk-tisk sounds.

I don’t know whether they were intended for her son or for me.

Stains of fluids probably spilled a decade ago, discoloured the seat back in front of me, and old food scraps wedged between the arm and foot rests made me realise that even the VIP train second class, has no class at all. The toilet was disgusting so I decided I needed to hold on for the three hour saunter to ‘Lower Egypt’.

Outside the window, we left the dry landscape of Cairo and entered the lush green corridor that sits either side of the Nile River. I watched this fascinating world pass by as the man next to me snored and snorted; all the while wishing I had insisted on my actual seat. What a waste. Never mind - the wide windows afforded me enough of a view, but they were very grubby - so photos were not going to be an option.

Farm land along the Nile is nurtured mostly by hand - with the help of camels and donkeys, from what I could see as we cruised by on our narrow tracks north. Bright green fields being tended by people, hand-picking crops - no evidence of sprays or mechanical help anywhere. Horses and carts, and donkeys and carts seemed to be the norm, with fields of green punctuated by small mosques, dirt roads and filthy waterways.

Litter collected in streams and canals - a forever collection of plastic water bottles, bags flapping in the strong breeze, old shoes, car tyres and whatever else had made its way to these natural collection points with the help of water currents, and people dumping where they found a space.

I saw one woman, as we roared through a large town, standing at her window several floors up, tip a bucket of trash into the vacant area of land on the other side of a fence below. The fence line was a metre high with litter - dogs picked through looking for something - anything, and I could see cats joining in on the hunt for survival. I wondered what would change this very engrained culture around littering. I knew I faced an uphill battle even in my classroom - kids were reluctant to take responsibility for their own trash - I was teaching them though. Baby steps.

When the train finally screeched its way to a stop at the top of Africa, I emerged into the frenetic central city area - this city of 5 million people being Egypts second largest, also had an active sense of hassling anyone that looked like a tourist - the walking ATM machines in their view. I called an Uber to the hotel I was bedding down at that night and stated loudly “La’a” (no!) to anyone looking to annoy me into aquiescence.

All I wanted was to drop my bags and get out and walk. Walking was something I had done very little of since arriving in Egypt, and I was aware of how bad it made me feel. I just needed to get off my chuff and move my legs, and I knew Alexandria had the perfect cure for that - (my studies on Google Earth of this city had me well-informed as to what I could expect); a promenade (or a ‘Corniche’ as they are called here), extends approximately 16 Km’s in one direction right along the water front, with the glorious Mediterranean Sea, right there. Like … RIGHT there. I was in the mood to move.

I extradited myself politely from the overly enthusiastic (but very sweet) red-headed blue-eyed hotelier, and headed the 100 meters up the street to the strip of aquamarine blue I had spied from my third floor balcony.

The narrow streets acted like a wind funnel and as I got closer to the sea I could feel the bitter cold blast coming at me - a most unexpected thing I had not really thought about! Fortunately I had my puffer jacket and pulled the zip up around my neck. I emerged onto 26 July/El-Gaiche Rd (Yes they have roads named after dates in history), and was instantly catapulted into a frenzy of noise, traffic, people, wind, dust, noises, litter and ….. the ocean. Ahhhhhh … the ocean!

I bolted across the road - dodging traffic as I went (it hasn’t taken me long to master the necessary art of road crossing!), and landed on the wide, tiled sidewalk that makes up the corniche. People were roller-blading (lots of people were roller blading - it was like I had arrived at the roller-blade capital of the world); walking; congregating for photos; eating ice cream; sitting and watching the views - all around me something was happening. And then the beggars noticed me and sent their children tugging at my pants pocket - managing to get the zip halfway down - revealing an empty prize, sadly for them. I had tried to swipe these kids away - they’re persistent - men laughed, making a weird whistle crossed with a click sound. What the heck was this!

Calling after me and shouting “Hey Ameri-can, Ameri-can!”

At that point I felt decidedly uncomfortable.

But the wonderful view of the ocean separating Africa from Europe, was right there, mere metres from my toes, buoying me on.

An array of colourful boats, remind me that this was a city dominated by the sea.

I walked quickly towards my iconic target - the Citadel of Qaitbay located at the western end of the city; an impressive fortress that once was used to protect the city from attacks by the crusaders in the 15th century. As I walked I noticed the buildings that faced out towards the ocean - the ‘face’ of Alexandria. It has the air of a once-impressive city; you could imagine people enjoying a luxurious life here in the 1930’s - once decadent and opulent - the buildings now look run down and dilapidated; dull, dusty, dirty, yet somehow rustically quaint.

Paint peels off the shutters; wires hang from balcony dangling into cracks of the level below; washing hangs into the void collecting dust just in time to be worn, everything looks heavy and tired - as if the town has carried a burden it cannot shake. I too felt that burden - the main pace of Alexandria had taken me by surprise, and I felt anxious and grimy.

It was 4pm by the time I got to the Citadel and it closed at 5pm. A few people lined up at a small booth and then we entered via the standard bag inspection through the x-ray machine, whilst disinterested police sat and smoked, ate and looked the other way. Much like my entry into the country - no one really seems bothered yet they make a big song and dance if you dare to show a camera around any area of political interest.

Stepping through the magnificent gates that allows entry into a courtyard area followed by an impressive archway, I felt an unloading.

I could exhale and enjoy the calm and the peace away from the fevered pace of Alexandria’s main strip.

I luxuriated in wandering the halls and dungeons of that fantastic place - a lot of which has been carefully and accurately restored. I marvelled at the intricate weaving of tunnels and narrow corridors, imagining a life lived by people in this once cold and impregnable place.

I looked for blood stains - for surely much blood was shed here.

Not only was the castle used as a fortress, but once a massive lighthouse stood here. The Lighthouse of Alexandria, sometimes called the Pharos of Alexandria, was a lighthouse built by the Ptolemaic Kingdom of Ancient Egypt, during the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphus.

It has been estimated to have been at least 100 metres in overall height. It was connected to the mainland by a 180m long causeway. The Citadel now sits on this land and there is no longer an island there. It has a combining view back to the city and I was imagining how impressive the view would be at night.

The sun begins to sink over Northern Africa

I stayed right until the very last minute at this place - I had so much joy in discovering the nooks and crannies of the stone structure; gazing out beyond the walls to the ocean and a slowly sinking sun, imagining in my mind what life was like when it was built, and also the people who had used this land before it even existed. Alexandria housed such a rich deep history; but also a history with much pain. This pain could be seen in the dirt and grime of the modern Alexandria of today. It feels like there is a desperation to be something great again - yet it is instead somehow missing the mark.

I felt like I needed to wash it off at the end of just a few hours.

So I walked - I walked well into the night, a total of around 24 km, up and down that wide shiny footpath. I walked into the dark because I wasn’t hassled in the dark. I could walk without being worried about being seen as different. I could also pull my jacket hood up over my head to shield my ears from the cold, and ‘blend’ in a little more. I walked to enjoy Alexandria under my terms.

That night, I was so worn out that despite the raucous noise rising from the street below, and the failure of thin rickety French doors to hold the noise beyond my hotel room walls, I slept like a log, even on that pillow which was as lumpy as a camels back, I slept.

Part Two, coming soon!

Ahhhh….my internet finally got connected, after writing this post, but I thought it was a story worth telling anyway. Here is a photo of my internet electrical connection. It is as tenuous as the connection itself.

The Gestation of Connection

February 14, 2023

We like to think we have it made, in New Zealand,

when we ring our internet company and speak to a customer service representative based in Mumbai who can sort out all our internet woes.

Yesterday I signed up with ‘WE’, one of the major internet service providers in Egypt. It was simple matter of turning up at the store - which looked like a WINZ waiting room - taking a number, which flashed up on a screen with a corresponding monotone that periodically blurted out said number, and a person would creak out of their chair and shuffle toward a vacant booth and smiling customer service attendee.

On this day, my friend Amr was my interpreter (again) and we sat together waiting our turn, while people smoked and two guys on a ladder were fiddling with something in the ceiling.

There was an orange extension cord on the ground and multiple other hazards such as ceiling tiles falling every now and again from above where the workmen were trying to install themselves into the small space above them (and everyone else). Amongst this chaos a small child, barely walking, was toddling around drunkedly while the mother was engrossed in her phone, glancing up periodically.

The monotone voice remained stoic in calling out customer numbers, and the room grew smaller in people. It seems we had come at a busy time, but our number was called and Amr babbled away with poetic rapidity, seemingly hooking me up to the greatness of Yellowstone once again (assuming I could access Neon from Egypt). To get a modem, plus 250 gigs a month, it would cost me $60 all up. After that $12.50 a month for the internet and I could take the modem with me when I moved apartments in June. Egypt doesn’t have fibre yet, so we will see how it goes, I thought. I paid the man in cash as my debit card would not work, (cash is way more normal here than eftpos), and had a quiet giggle to myself as he pulled some change out of a desk draw scattered full with different Egyptian notes. I guess it somehow balances up at the end of the day.

Amr pointed out the ceiling swallowing the body of the guy highest on the rickety ladder - even he was amused at the ‘health and safety’ (he was an electrical engineer so had a few clues about this stuff), and gestured to me that we go and wait outside while the modern receipt was printed ( we had been told to take a number again), so we could collect it from somewhere else in the room.

Out on busy Street 9, the world was rushing by. Vendors walked by with stacks of bananas somehow strapped to bicycles; a lady was selling knock-off Calvin Klein bags and really ugly slippers; across the road a rug store with its wares displayed to the dusty street, was also collecting the neighbourhood dogs who decided it was the best spot to sit, and a guy selling fresh Egyptian bread had his piles of the warm soft deliciousness displayed on a rusty looking metal rack - also open to the dust and grime of the passing traffic, pollution, and goodness knows what else.

Ahhhh … Egypt, you beautiful thing.

Back inside ‘WE’ the power had suddenly gone out - customer service reps sat with folded arms behind dim screens in an even dimmer room, whilst the roof danglers continued on. No internet for the internet shop - not even any power.

We decided to go to another ‘WE’ store on the other side of Maadi - who knew how long a power outage was going to be - to pick up the modem. We had no time to sit and navel-gaze at ‘WE’; none the less, people sat and did just that.

Once home the modem was ‘hard wired’ into place and plugged in for that joyous moment. And …..presto!

Nothing.

Ah well; Amr suggested it could take a couple of hours and it will be on by morning. ‘DON’T turn it off!’ He barked - “yes Dad” I responded. He understood the irony.

Morning came and I got myself ready for work all the while thinking how I would watch Yellowstone when I got back, glancing enthusiastically at my modem! And ….

Nothing.

Still no internet.

Ah well, I thought; its bound to be on by the time I get back from work and the Cairo festival Mall (remembering I had a major shopping trip I needed to undertake). I got home at 7.30 pm grappling with four big bags of crap, so looking forward to disgorging myself of the paraphernalia I was amassing for my new abode, and I so looked forward to sitting down and putting my feet up for a dose of Rip and Kevin. And ….

Nothing. I looked at the wires twisted around each other and willed them into life. I also made a mental note not to touch them given there was no insulation around the exposed copper.

Ah, Egypt! You crazy, beautiful place.

Ah well, there’s always tomorrow I guess.

About wandering and wondering, in the Wadi

February 5, 2023

It wasn’t until I was nearly halfway back to the main gates after walking most of the way with a group of Egyptian Hikers I had connected with through Facebook, that it hit me.

Here I was wandering in the Wadi Degla- a veritable desert; like Tatooine from Star Wars.

At any moment a Jarwan Tusken Raider would appear - I was certain of this. My feet ached from the over-sized blisters that I crafted during the first five kilometres of the hike, in brand new shoes - an acquirement which being absent of my luggage, had forced upon me. My new found friends assured me I would be ok - but they did not know that I had the blister mother-load forming on the heel and toes of my left foot. They don’t have a word for “foot” in Egypt - they call it the same as a leg. A detail that I told my friends, would be one to get correct if you happened to be an orthopaedic surgeon.

They roared with laughter.

I have found Egyptians to have a really good sense of humour so far - they love to laugh, and they seem to get the kiwi sense of humour also, which is a bonus.

The Wadi Degla (Wadi means dry valley) covers around 60 square kilometres of desert land from when much of Egypt was covered by the Mediterraemean sea, near the edge of Cairo. For me it was an easy uber ride of around 15 minutes from Maadi. The sheer stratified limestone cliffs were created some 2-5 million years ago by sea-bed levels dropping and there are also side canyons and interesting rock formations. There are fossil remains of fish and shells that can be found in the Wadi Degla also. This area on the edge of the smouldering mass that is Cairo, was designated a protected area back in 1999, and people pay a small fee to enter which supposedly goes towards ensuring the area remains protected.

You didn’t have to look far however, beyond the ornate entrance area, to see how Cairo could not be kept from this spectacular wilderness area - as I sat on a stunning arched window I looked out onto litter scattered everywhere.

Plastic, sadly, is a common feature of the wonderful Wadi Degla Protectorate.

Why would people do this, I wondered? It is meant to be a protected area, but still there is rubbish. I could not imagine this in a New Zealand national park - this Wadi Degla, was the equivalent.

The Wadi Degla is popular on weekends with families taking an outing, hikers, runners (I saw an expat running group there), climbers, mountain bikers, festival planners, campers.

I saw all these things while there.

My invitation to the Hiking Trails of Egypt outing, was by accident really (as I had joined another group - The Wadi Clan, and they referred me to the Hiking trails group as they were not doing a hike that weekend) and I mused about the good fortune of this as I sat amongst my new friends around a camp fire brewing fresh Egyptian mint tea after we had walked for a couple of hours.

I was amused at what my friends had brought along for this day hike, but also grateful!

Hashtag ‘pinch myself’.

We chatted about politics, bodies, health (as the guys in the group lit up cigarettes - as ya do, in Egypt), education, the wilderness, animals, climbing, mountain biking.

What a great day with great people. Who cares about the fact that my heels are peeling off.

One guy explained to me I needed to come when it rains as the Wadi becomes littered with waterfalls. The area also has two dams within it, a testimony to how much rain can be captured when it does actually fall (only a few times a year).

My friends - a great sense of humour made this a fantastic day.

We wandered up into valleys, over ridges, down steep shingle spurs, dangled our legs over the edges of canyons into the void, drifted into dried river beds, poked our heads into caves, scrambled up shingle walls and marvelled at dry waterfalls. We soon would part ways, as my back-pack was being delivered to my apartment and I needed to be home for that, so it was planned that we would walk together to a certain point where the group would climb up to the opposite side of the wadi, and I would continue the fastest way back to the main gates - directly down the middle of the Wadi.

As the old-lady of the group - a group with ages ranging from 15 to possibly 35, I felt well looked after and respected. Everyone invited me to share their food and teas.

As I sat at that camp fire, I was amused by the array of paraphernalia they had opted to bring along. From the outset, I was intrigued by the lack of suitable hiking attire! Flat converse shoes, sandals, hijabs and handbags all accompanied the group.

At the camp fire, three different tea pots emerged from backpacks along with a Turkish coffee pot.

One guy even brought along his ceramic coffee mug, carefully wrapped in newspaper., which amused me greatly

Instant noodles were consumed with gusto, along with boxes of fresh dates, giant bags of mandarins and bags of Cheeto-style crisps. I wondered how on earth they had fitted all this stuff into their small day-packs! One woman had a whole cucumber, several tomatoes, olives and fresh herbs and proceeded to construct a salad right there - she had a cutting board and knife.

The group leader insisted I have some - “its healthy!” He announced; “yes it looks amazing”, I responded and then watched as he consumed it, chasing it down with a cigarette.

I sat and marinated in this experience. How incredibly lucky was I, to be in this place, this ancient ancient land that the western world calls “third world” yet is one of the oldest points of civilisation on the planet - where they constructed pyramids over 4500 years ago! It was once rich beyond measure. What had happened? I was now rich beyond measure.

I was grateful in that moment to be around people who like me, loved the outdoors and nature.

I was grateful in that moment to be in that place. With those people.

It didn’t matter that they brought everything but the kitchen sink with them - this is Egypt; it didn’t matter that they were dressed as if they were going to work. One woman wore a Niqab - she is a mountain bike racer as well. I had visions of her clothing getting caught in the chain or wrapped around her rear wheel; her face covering catching in the front brake or it riding up over her eyes so she couldn’t see.

Respect.

After our break, we walked together for sometime until I said goodbye to my tribe, and then headed directly down the main valley trail for a 7km hike to the main gates, with shouts and arm-waving from them above me on the edge of the canyon they had climbed to, in order to complete the longer version of the hike.

Waves and shouts from the opposite side of the wadi.

The three dogs that had decided to join us for the day looked confused as to who they should follow - one black one decided I was a good bet, but then seeing that her two friends had chosen to stick with the group, she left me to join her tribe also.

See ya desert dog - thanks for the company!

I continued on down the trail, my left foot reminding me it was there and I tried out a few alternative walks in order to preserve as much skin as possible. I probably just looked weird.

The stunning natural architecture offers shadows and light in a constant dance across the Wadi.

I was completely alone in this baron wasteland of a place; this desert wilderness so close to the wild rawness of Cairo. A plane screamed over head as it came in for its approach to the airport which was just a few kilometres away; golden sand grew deep beneath my feet in places, making it more painful and more difficult to walk without wincing. There were patches were the sand had shifted enough to reveal the white patches of smooth limestone beneath - a feature I had seen before in some river beds in New Zealand. Smoothly carved out channels of white limestone ran in parallel lengths; or was it marble? I had heard there was a marble mining operating near the Wadi. Perhaps it wasn’t limestone. Beside me towering canyon walls preserved the valley temperature even though a breeze grew in strength, picking up sand and empty snail shells with it. I put my camera away - sand and cameras do not mix.

After I had walked for 3-4 km, I started to hear voices and see cars.

Cars were allowed to drive into the Wadi, and people would do this - finding a small hollowed side canyon, they would park up and spend some time, have a picnic or a BBQ, play ball, take a short walk. What they didn’t take however, was their rubbish away with them.

As I came closer to the main gate, the cars and people grew in number and so too did the proliferation of rubbish.

Plastic bags of every colour decorated the bushes and rocks; broken glass; plastic bottles; torn fabric - everywhere some telling sign that people had been and left their mark. I was appalled at this.

Could people not see how wrong this was?

About 1km before the entrance gate, I heard the unmissable sound of tiny puppies crying for their mother, to the left of the trail. Two teeny pale coloured pups and one darker one, terrified of me, ran to the side of the rock they had emerged from. They were crying loudly - wailing - for food, for momma, for water, for love, for what? These babies were small - I would say five weeks at the most.

Tiny puppies wandered the Wadi, wining for food.

Egypt dogs were going to get to me - I could sense this.

People will carry on as they always have - the rubbish will become worse, the puppies will keep crying, the cars will pile in and the Wadi Degla may struggle to contain itself from Cairo’s encroaching swallowing boundaries.

Let’s hope people start to care enough to ensure that doesn’t happen.

Click on the images below for a full sized image.

The crowded narrow streets of Khan el-Khalili are a feast for the senses.

Bond ... James Bond

February 3, 2023

There’s a scene in a James Bond movie

where he is being pursued by some nasty looking guys who are after him.

James Bond is running through the Souks of Old Cairo - narrow alleys filled with clutter, impeding his chances of a smooth getaway, but he is James Bond, and we know he always will get away.

I always figured this was a set - certainly not real, until I came to this part of Cairo today and experienced for myself, the labyrinth that is the Khan el-Khalili.

I did not come to buy; I came to look, to soak in the colour, the sounds, the people and the architecture of this part of the city.

Reminiscent of Thamel in Kathmandu, (except more claustrophobic!), the souk has been running since the 14th century, and is a maze of small narrow streets, some no wider than an arms width.

Some streets are cluttered with all kinds of paraphernalia - from brassware to jewellery to textiles to leather goods, spices, and food.

A banquet for the senses; and absolute gluttony for my camera, I did not know which way to begin as the area is vast and is separated by a highway, under which a tunnel allows access between the two main parts to the Souk.

I expected to see more tourists here - a small group of what looked to be Japanese or Korean people wandered around - bags clutched close to their chests, with a tour guide speaking in English; a tall fair-haired young woman walked past me, clearly ‘not from around here’, making eye contact with me as she went by.

We were ‘they’; we were ‘them’ - those tourists. We knew we were targets; we knew we were different. I started to wonder if donning a head scarf around these parts would make life easier.

I was approached at every store - “please madam, you come inside here”; “Look please madam - very best in here”.

This was a never-ceasing chorus of best offers, the best of something everywhere until the next best of something. I walked steadily on by, avoiding eye-contact and wondering if I should take my leather back-pack off my back and put it across my chest. I was warned of thieves here. I clutched my camera and my bag together as the throngs of people started to make contact with my body.

I felt claustrophobic and trapped. I could see how easy it would be to have your things stolen here by someone who had lots of practice on unwitting tourists. And knowing my luck so far, I wasn’t taking my chances. I walked quickly, turning corners, stopping in shop entrances every now and then to let people go by me, feeling the unrelentling pressure of close bodies as people were seemingly oblivious to personal space.

I hurried through the classic James Bond alleyways, with golden hues of light glancing through arched passages; lanterns and other hanging wares creating a mystical atmosphere as the daylight began to dim towards evening.

I had left it late in the day to visit the souk, mostly because I suddenly felt a lot better in the mid-afternoon after being ill for several days, and I was desperate to get out of my immediate area, as in typical Egypt fashion, the electrician and internet was being delayed yet another day - something to do with some national holiday - fair enough - but would have been nice to know yesterday rather than after enquiries as to when these people were coming!

The bazaars in this part of Old Cairo are open well into the night and some also put on a light show. I could see many people walking around with cameras and then some interesting light furniture was put out on display. I figured this was what it was all about but also realised being a national holiday, perhaps there was a more festive vibe in the air.

Mingled in with the shapes and walkers, were dogs, cats, motorbikes and cars. Cars attempted to squeeze themselves through the tightest of spots, sometimes mere millimetres between a car and a rack of freshly baked bread, or a shop-owners jewellery display. In one street, two cars were stuck whilst trying to pass each other in a road no wider than 1.5 car widths, and several motorbikes were attempting to squeeze by as well. People lined the sidewalk watching the unfolding verbal tirade as the two drivers waved their arms at each other main an effort to make the other submit. No one moved. Eventually one driver decided to reverse and back out to a side alley to let the other go past.

‘Crazy!” I said to a guy watching. “Normal!” He replied.

This was Egypt after all - where 20 Million people think nothing twice about living, moving, breathing quite literally on top of one another.

I continued walking and rounded a corner into an alleyway that was like stepping into a deep breath. It was quiet, not crowded, the shop owners were going about their evening and keeping to themselves - I exhaled and started to relax. I wandered slowly through this part, pausing to look in shop windows - not one vendor hassled me - it seemed it was a pastime in the more touristy parts of the souk. After wandering like this through quiet streets I soon realised the vibe had changed and I was now seeing more engineering tools, lathes, motorbikes being pulled apart, people making pots and larger items. Tiny spaces were packed with tools and welding equipment - no health and safety in this place; no masks to be seen for eye protection, as I rounded a corner taking the full brunt of a welder crackling away in the evening light.

Artisans worked in the subdued light of the approaching evening.

Tiny kittens wobbled across my path; kids walked with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders ahead of me (I was so tempted to photograph this); and men carried large trays of tea to some destination where it was needed.

Tea fixes everything.

I could have spent hours in the souk - as it was I had spent two hours and I do not think I walked the same street twice. There is so much to see and take in. I will go again. I will be more prepared this time - less nervous and more wiling to stop and really marinate in the atmosphere. I have read reviews on Tripadvisor where people give scathing reports on it being a waste of time as it is filled with vendors just trying to hawk their wares. Well yes, they’re in business, I expected that I would get hassled, BUT, a strong “NO!” Does the trick, or simply ignoring people. To focus purely on this is to loose the entire ambience of the area, it is like nothing else - similar as I said earlier to Thamel in Kathmandu, but it has its own special vibe.

Popping out of the confines onto a main road I was able to call for an uber. I sat and relaxed in the back seat while the fading light of day brought with it another whole new world outside the car window.

We drove past the Citadel, where I had been a couple of days earlier - only now it was lit up with different coloured lights.

The fortifications looked massive from the road underneath it.

How amazing, I thought, to be in this wonderful city that dates back thousands of years - where a fortress still stands today, and where an ancient market, once an important central trading point during the Mamluk era, is still a vibrant centre for artisans today.

I was starting to feel a little bit blessed.

Pyramids, Poverty and Police.

February 2, 2023

The Call to Prayer gave me an early start on my birthday.

I had in my mind decided I wanted to go to Luxor for this day - to travel upon a hot air balloon, marking the start of my 58th year, and my first year in Egypt; but moving into my apartment necessitated a last minute change of plans.

Asking Amr to help with something is like opening a treasure trove of delights.

Of course he knew someone who knew a very good guide, who could take me wherever I wanted to go - in this case I decided a trip to the pyramids would not be too shabby.

My idea was a sunrise trip - but the pyramids did not open until 0900, and so that idea was out.

My guide was Milad, a young father of a little one-year old girl - his face lighting up when he spoke about her. We exchanged parenting experiences on the journey to the pyramids and chatted about different things along the way.

It was quite a drive from New Cairo, where I had checked out from my last night at the swanky Helnan Landmark, to the pyramids which required crossing the Nile and driving to Giza - a separate city to Cairo.

Cairo and Giza together create a conglomerate with a total population of around 20 million, and boy do you see this squeezing of humanity onto the confined narrow windless streets as you head towards one of the most well known (if not THE most) tourist spots on the planet. Milad explained we would go by Manshiyat Nasser, or garbage city’, a place where around 60,000 people live in desperate poverty amidst the rubbish and garbage of the entire city of Cairo - this is where all rubbish comes to die. It also happens to be an area where concerted efforts are being made to produce something good from all this, in the form of recycling; whilst others sift through the garbage in the hope of findings items that can be on-sold in order to eek out an existence. It’s sobering. Check that story out here.

I could not believe what I was seeing - I had witnessed filth in Kathmandu, but nothing on such a vast scale as in garbage city.

Milad knew his stuff.

We parked in the near empty carpark at the pyramids and he told me what was going to happen, also exclaiming it was perfect that so few people were there.

An entry ticket into the grounds was 240 EGP, whilst one to go instead the great pyramid was 440 EGP - in total approx $35.00. Not cheap - but then again all the entry fee money goes towards maintaining this world heritage site. Who would begrudge that?

Security is extremely tight in Egypt. It is normal to submit your bags to scanning at every tourist attraction, shopping mall, hotel and even the main entrance to my school. The pyramids were no different. Thankfully cameras were allowed and no fee was charged for photography - as is the case in some places in Egypt.

Even though the pyramid of Khafre is often depicted as being the biggest, it sits on a rise giving it that appearance. It is though the only one that still has some of the smooth layer over the blocks.

I felt a welling over of emotion when I caught my first glimpse of the pyramids as we drove in, and could not believe the seize of them. On a hazy Cairo day, these surreal triangles jutted above the surrounding landscape, right on the edge of Giza, city on one side, and a vast desert which spread all the way to Libya, on the other.

The surreal triangles like something from a sci-fi movie, dominate the landscape on a hazy Giza morning.

Milad switched into tour guide mode - informing me of the history of the area with the assertive tone of a guy who had done this gig many times before. I appreciated his attention to detail. It is extremely over-whelming to see these pyramids in person.

They’re just there. Its weird. Its surreal. I wondered if people felt like this when they came to New Zealand and visited somewhere like Milford Sound for the first time. To say its breath-taking does these structures no justice at all. I expected them to be in the middle of housing but it is amazing to see they have kept the area devoid of urban sprawl to allow them to stand inter own ground - robust, strong, defiant, proud - against a desert backdrop.

Milad was concerned that due to my advanced age I would not be able to walk around this ancient area (!!). “Everything very far. Very far” he said.

“Very far” being approx 500m.

He insisted on driving me everywhere which was slightly frustrating - but I just let him be the guide and enjoyed the fuss.

Walking into the Great Pyramid I was struck by the cool atmosphere and the smell of stone.

An entrance tunnel takes you through to a very small and narrow steep stairway, where it requires you to crouch over in order to ascend around 50 m on a 45 degree angle. It is actually hard work doing this - as your chest touches your knees, its hot the higher you go and the wooden planking is slippery and steep. There are several tunnels inside this pyramid but only the main one to the burial chamber was open to the public. The Pharaoh’s mummified remains are in the National Museum.

A camel driver dwarfed by the pyramid of Menkaure, the smallest of the three at Giza.

The Great Pyramid was built by the Pharaoh Khufu (commonly called by its Greek transliteration of Cheops) and was known to the ancient Egyptians as Ekhet Khufu ("Horizon of Khufu"). According to Herodotus, 100,000 men worked on its construction for three months every year. Pharaoh would commence construction of their burial tombs once they had started their reign. All the workers were paid employees, by the way, not slaves as is commonly thought. It was an honour to be a builder on the pyramids for a pharaoh.

This mammoth structure's cubic content is staggering. Excluding the rock foundation and the interior chambers, the Great Pyramid is 2.3 million cubic meters. The base measurement is 227.5 meters, and the vertical height is 137.2 meters.

Its an astounding feat of engineering to have built these structures 4500+ years ago. I will just stick with the good old “the aliens did it” theory.

Ignorance is bliss.

My first glimpse of a camel brought with it a glowing sense of happiness. These be-humped creatures looked stunning in their blankets with brightly coloured ornamental weavings hiding their food bags which hung either side of their rotund bellies.

I felt slightly apprehensive about riding a camel - the camel owners were very persuasive, all trying to sell a ride.

Milad knew a guide who allowed me to take a camel for a walk so I could photograph it. It wasn’t long though, before I was on the camels’ back and riding the awkward lumpy creature back to the main area. A sunset ride though, is next on my to-do list.

The light in the haze on this morning, was simply stunning, but I can only imagine what it would be like as the sun sends hues of gold and pink into the sky around the pyramids.

A driver takes his camel into the ancient workers accommodation area.

I also walked to the Sphinx - this structure is over 50 m long and was carved out of a single slab of rock.

The Great Sphinx was carved out of a single block of stone.

I remember as a child pouring over my parents National Geographic books. I remember lingering over the issue about Tutankhamun - possibly the most famous of all the Pharaohs. His tomb of course was discovered in what is known now as The valley of the Kings near Luxor, but visiting this area in Giza took me straight back to those glassy-eyed days of being an eight-year old, in awe of ancient Egypt.

I was no less in awe today.

I also knew I would go back, for the famed light show at night, and the chance to photograph at sunset.

Milad suggested he take me to The Citadel after we had completed the pyramids visit.

This amazing structure has one of the most stunning interiors I have ever seen, with a ceiling that would rival the vatican.

The Citadel of Cairo or Citadel of Saladin (Arabic قلعة صلاح الدين, romanised: Qalaʿat Salāḥ ad-Dīn) is a medieval Islamic-era fortification in Cairo, built by Salah-ad-Din (Saladin) and further developed by subsequent Egyptian rulers. It was the seat of government in Egypt and the residence of its rulers for nearly 700 years from the 13th to the 19th centuries. Its location on a promontory of the Mokattam Hills near the centre of Cairo commands a strategic position overlooking the city and dominating its skyline.

At ever corner, there is an even more magnificent view of this incredible structure.

At the time of its construction, it was among the most impressive and ambitious military fortification projects of its time. It is now a preserved historic site, including mosques and museums.

I was greeted by various cats as I entered the grounds of this monumental historical site. To enter, bags must be scanned by gruff looking police guarding the entrance, but they did allow cameras. However, near the police station, I was categorically told “NO CAMERA!” by a group of men playing cards near an entrance way, that I was going to walk through. This command was accompanied by raucous laughter and chatter - no doubt about the idiot tourist. I glanced up and noticed several surveillance cameras. Ok - no photos in here. The men waved me on - pointing and gesticulating towards signs and laughing again amongst themselves. “Ok, Ok!” I yelled at them. “Say it once - I GET it! No need for ridicule”.

I knew this fell on deaf ears.

Welcome to Egypt, woman.

“Egypt is not a country we live in but a country that lives within us.
”

— Quote Source Pope Shenouda III

The site includes other historic sites, a fortress, an ancient mosque, and the Military Museum, plus numerous buildings, and a commanding view over Cairo. It is well worth a visit. The massive citadel itself is incredible inside - the ceiling alone is high decorative, reminding one of the Vatican or similar - painting with gold paint and intricate artworks. I was also reminded of the Basilica in Milan - San Marco. Simply stunning. This made me realise how young New Zealand was, and how vital it is to preserve history. I was grateful for Egypts commitment to this.

After my day of being a tourist I felt like I had completed bucket-list must-do’s. I guess though, I had never had a burning desire to even construct a bucket list, but after being there I had to wonder why the heck not. No one can go through life without visiting this place. Surely.

Now to see the treasures that were extracted from the pyramids. Museums that house items and Mummies from the pyramids are: The National Museum of Egyptian Civilisation and The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities. These will be a weekend excursion at some stage.

For now my cup was full - in fact it overflowed.

This stunning mosque is viewed from the Citadel.

I have found my local and taught them how its ok to put a latte into an 8oz cup (a cup they call “espresso)!

I need to find my groove.

January 26, 2023

I had my first cry this morning.

They say the good comes with the bad. I am yet to experience the good that comes with losing my luggage and as each day goes by I get more and more annoyed (and desperate to be around my own things), that I have to spend money on things that I already have in my luggage.

They say the luggage has no record in the system

Great.

I have woken this morning in the grip of a cold. My throat is sore and my nose alternates between blocked and running like Huka Falls. I feel lousy and the worst part is I don’t really know where to go to get the things I want, in order to help me feel better, like I would in New Zealand. I think its times like this when vulnerability creeps in.

So I sat in my bed in tears after a sleepless night as the rave on level three boomed away until the Call to Prayer started at 5.20. That seemed to stop the music - thankfully. So I start my day with about 45 minutes of sleep. I am meant to go to school tomorrow and then to the Red Sea; which I really want to do. I am not sure if I should sit in a van with five others, for five hours, when I am not well.

Bummer

My first job today is to tell this to Amr - that the guy lied about how loud he would play his music. Then get coffee.

Sleep is vital.

I will not last here if I cannot sleep, but mostly I want to break my apartment lease sooner rather than later if this is going to be an issue. I already like my apartment though on Street 14 in Maadi, Degla - I love the little balcony that looks over the cobbled courtyard that has various colours of Bougainvilia growing up trees in it. I have visions of having a wee table there; growing some herbs in the balcony pots that are currently being used as ashtrays, and opening the doors in the mornings to let the day in.

I love how cats hang out on the outdoor furniture there and how I get snapshots of people going about their day as they pass by the front gate, providing me with a framed view.

That’s some of the good stuff - but the bad stuff is what makes or breaks things.

Add to that the monumental cleaning job ahead of me today cleaning up after a (slob) teacher’s mess (think first year Dunedin student, but grown adult teacher at a posh international school - confused yet? I am). And these people stand in front of kids and tell them what to do - yet cannot seem to even manage their own homes. How do they manage a classroom?

I feel beaten down today. I have a sore neck from sleeping on pillows the size of suitcases. I think about attacking them and emptying out all the filling to an acceptable width.

Am I crazy?

So that’s the bad part. This too shall pass (unless of course I continue to live in a Rave venue for 16 months).

My second job is to find some shoes and clothes today - oh and a yoga mat. Shopping here is interesting - and think fashion ten years ago. Also think old European stores of 100 years ago when you would order your stuff and point it out and someone will get it for you then send you to a counter to pay, whilst your items miraculously appear by the front door.

It’s quaint. I guess.

I just need some work clothes and some hiking shoes. But where to even start. And then to get more coffee.

My day begins.

The Call to Prayer resounds through the emerging morning like an ethereal echo. I like it. Dogs settle down from their night-time barking ensemble and doves begin to coo-coo in the day. The sounds of traffic and horns begin to promulgate and outside I hear voices as people launch into their animated, heavily gesticulated conversations - usually in the middle of a road as cars squeeze around them, plus the dog lying there also.

I am reminded of Kathmandu; I am reminded of Nepalese people in fact - there is a weird similarity and I figure this is why I feel strangely familiar here in this vast country of sand.

There is also an off juxtaposition of rich living alongside poor - whilst there are many people riding in donkeys and carts these are vastly out-numbered by late model cars - Jeep, Tesla, Porsche, Chevrolet, Mercedes, BMW. Flash cars parked along the sides of the streets alongside some guy in a wheel chair who is genuinely messed up, right in the way of traffic on a corner, who I am told, is plonked there in the evening to beg. His handlers take the money and then bundle him into a car and replace him during the day with a different guy who just sits and begs.

This is life here.

People hustle for the last pound yet walk around with the latest iPhone.

Dogs laze about in the sun all day only to come to life and form packs as the days heat tempers - barking and roaming the streets - puppies in tow. They are harmless to people but I can see how they could be intimidating. There are many locals here who feed the local dogs. People seem to care. I saw a guy yesterday at the Citadel in Cairo, giving lots of food and loves to a group of dogs there. Cats though, out-number dogs (unlike Nepal where I barely saw any cats).

Cats and kittens, skinny but always optimistic about securing a random ear scratch and then perhaps a cosy knee to sit on and share their ticks, fleas and lice with. I think of my fur-boy in the cattery for another few weeks yet until his new owners come to collect him (and how I feel so bad that he is locked in cat prison) - but then I see these animals here who just want a home and some love.

“Cafe Cat” at the Caribou Cafe in Maadi.

People in Egypt conduct their lives very publicly, it seems to me. They don’t go to bed at what I would call a ‘reasonable hour’. The evenings are a time to be social, and people walk the streets, sit on the side walks (if there is one), on the sides of the roads, in cafes, in shop doors - and they talk; they hangout; they drink coffee; they smoke (cigarettes are $1.50 a pack here - everyone smokes!); they laugh; they gesticulate; they shop. Shops stay open really late - some until the early hours of the morning - so me shopping for sheets and blankets at 10 pm last night was not unusual.

I don’t know how long it will take me to get settled in. It is difficult without my things around me - my clothes; my stuff - so it makes it hard to get into the grove of food shopping to stock my fridge or to even think about the things I need to exist in a house here - simple things like that darn cheese slicer that was in my freebie garage sale when I left New Zealand. Having to replace the mundane items of life, is tedious and uses way too much energy. Speaking of energy use, I have not exercised since leaving NZ -and this too gets to me as I ease myself in here. I have found my yoga family at Osana Yoga here in Maadi and I will be there as soon as I can, but to have to take someone with me to go walk in the Wadi Degla is not something that fills me with great joy. I want to walk alone - especially in a demanding job like teaching, being alone is a vital way for me to recharge. The Nile River is a 15-20 minute walk from my apartment - I can see I will be going there after work as my go-to if I don’t do yoga. Just something to offer me a short respite from the chaos.

I guess I will find my groove.

At least I have found good choices for coffee - I cannot say yet I have found coffee that equates to NZ standards, but its a start and there are plenty of choices to be had here in Maadi.

In fact I have consumed barely any coffee since leaving and even resorted to Turkish coffee the other day. Never again.

Some clouds gather overhead and yesterday I asked my guide how often it rains in Cairo - he said four times a year.

I wonder how the trees in Maadi can survive with so little rain - the vibrant bouganvillia which is prolific here - how does it hold onto water? I am guessing people water their plants frequently, and in fact people are really into plants in pots here - indoor, outdoor, and they’re cheap! I have ordered some plants to pick up today and five big potted plants cost me $6 each. These are BIG plants, not the small starter plants you find at Mitre 10.

I look at the clouds through my bedroom window and the colours of the morning reflecting off them, throwing hues outward which creates a glow on the surrounding buildings.

I can hear people talking loudly below and the faint sound of traffic. Maadi is far enough away from the chaos tat it feels quiet in comparison.

Coffee is calling.

First Impressions Do Not Always Last

January 22, 2023

It wasn’t a great start.

It was a new day in Cairo, 12.30 in the morning actually, and I was standing at the baggage claim area with the other people who flew from Jeddah to Cairo waiting for that glorious moment when your bags appear (like a new born baby through the birth canal), through those split plastic curtains.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited until a guy brought out the last few remaining items off the baggage trolly.

No bags for me. No glorious celebration of the arrivals I had been gestating in my mind whilst travelling over from New Zealand - none of that. No celebration. No exhalation of breath.

Just that horrible sinking feeling and the reek of your smelly lived-in clothes mixed in with the lost baggage guy’s cigarette smoke (which by the way he sucked on voraciously) whilst me and the other person to lose bags on the same flights as me from New Zealand, stood and filled out flimsy lost baggage forms. Oh great - I thought - another piece of paper to get lost in “the system’.

Fortunately for me, the other person who had travelled the same flights as me, was a lovely Egyptian guy who had been living in New Zealand for 13 years. He and I had found each other at KL airport transfer desk, and we were both assured our luggage would be in Cairo (as we had both been re-booked at the last minute to Jeddah due to Malaysian Airlines being 3.5 hours late in leaving Auckland). We made polite comments intending good luck to one another and then didn’t see each other again until Jeddah (a nine hour flight from KL).

I have to say the bonus of the flight to Jeddah was getting to fly with Saudia Air. This flight was like being in first class compared to Malaysian Airlines. I also had the luxury of a bulkhead seat. Bliss (its the little things!).

Jeddah is a MASSIVE airport - and I mean massive. It is a popular airport to fly to for Muslims making their pilgrimage to Mecca, a short bus trip from Jeddah in Saudia Arabia. Being the only ‘weird’ person on the flight - I was noticed by everyone; women eyeballed me through slits in their Niqab; men stared at me suspiciously. I made a mental note never to accept a teaching job in Saudi Arabia.

Somewhere in the massive airport, I think my bags got way-laid.

The arrival in Egypt wasn’t one of great anticipation and excitement as I was expecting with my initial landing time of 5.30 pm - this landing was instead, 15 minutes past midnight.We were offloaded onto a bus and ferried to an obscure looking terminal which I thought was rather drab for such a massive international airport to one of the oldest cities on the planet. I paid my $25 USD for a visa (it reminded me of arriving in Nepal) my passport all the better for it, as this alone was a stunning piece of artwork, and I trundled through to the baggage collection area for that joyous moment.

And here we are, back at the lost baggage counter with the guy smoking, wearing what looked like a thick military style jacket that made him appear as if he had 6-foot wide shoulders. He didn’t smile.

I also wasn’t smiling.

He made me fill out a claim form which was written in Arabic (my new-found friend from New Zealand going home to visit his family, was of amazing help here; I so wish I had gotten his phone number as I would really like to know if he got his bags). Anyone out there know an Egyptian guy who works for Google NZ? If so get in touch!

We both exited the building, he had family collecting him and he disappeared, waving me goodbyes and good lucks and ‘perhaps we will meet again someday in new Zealand”, and I supposedly had the school principal collecting me. Well I waited.

And waited.

And got hassled by taxi drivers.

And I saw nowhere to buy a sim card as I had been told I would be able to, so I could make a phone call.

In fact this was the most bizarre looking airport I had ever seen - it was a huge vacant building with locked doors. There were no typical arrival shops; places to exchange currency, not even a toilet - it was out of order. I was the last person to leave it and this was via a customs guy asking me “do you have anything to declare?”. My response - ‘no’.

His response - ‘welcome to Egypt’.

Welcome. No bags; no one to be seen.

Where the f**k did they take us to!!?! I started to look around to see if I could hunker down on the concrete somewhere for the night. At least even though it was winter, it wasn’t cold. I felt like crying. I felt like I didn’t have the mental capacity after 30+ hours of travel and no sleep to even think let alone try to figure out what to do next.

But, I asked a taxi driver if I could use his phone - he allowed me to and I soon connected with my pick-up, plus established that the arrivals building was a ten minute drive away and by now it was two in the morning and I was beginning to lose the plot. This was really not going well. I will walk there, I thought (I had no Egyptian currency), but the taxi driver said he would take me there and I figured my pick-up could pay him. When we got to the main terminal of Cairo International Airport, I could see it was a HUGE modern airport - why on earth had we been taken to some weird small terminal ten minutes away from where the aircraft had landed? No wonder bags get lost.

At three in the morning Cairo is still and quiet. There is little to no traffic; dogs wander lazily across the highway and everyone is free to drive in the middle of the road. I sat in the back of the van and took in what I could in the pitch black. Construction everywhere; piles of red sand like material everywhere; illuminated signs along highways selling the latest product.

I was deposited at the Helnan Landmark Hotel in New Cairo - not far from the school I would be working at. This hotel is F L A S H. Right now, I needed flash. I was smashed. This would be home for the next three days while I found a home for the next 16 months.

Missed Planes and Pussy-Cats

January 19, 2023

The cattery sent me this photo of Tika yesterday. Miss this puss so much!.

It’s a silly thing, perhaps, to have a flight depart at 1.10 in the morning - but admittedly its do-able and the notion of falling asleep as soon as the plane departs, can sustain one through the tedium of airport departure lounges.

That was until I walked into the airport and saw my flight was now delayed significantly, by two hours, and I would absolutely miss my connecting flight from Kuala Lumpur, and would therefore also miss my flight from Muscat to Cairo. I was so tempted to have a hissy-fit. But I didn’t have the energy.

Great start.

And so, here I am esconced in the clutter of white round tables and plastic chairs, outside the McDonalds, while various limbs poke out from gaps as people recline further and further along their make shift two-chair “beds”.

Delayed flights suck the big turnip.

There is not much one can do about these things though, and maybe the silver lining is a day in KL or not as much lay-over in Muscat. Usually by that point I am beyond caring. The big leg of this journey up to Cairo, was through to KL - at nearly 12 hours. The others were short hops of 6 and 3 hours respectively. Spending an additional 5 hours (and having not even left the country yet!) in an airport is my idea of hell. Especially after a long day.

I wish my cat were here. I miss that guy. I keep wondering if I will somehow be reunited with him one day, and if so, whether he would still remember me. I have never loved an animal so much. Why I am even thinking about my cat at this point is also a sign that at this juncture, I am tired, cranky and already over it. A guy speaks in Hindi at the next table - animated and gesturing to no-one; a cleaner scoots around with one of those long broad mop things that never seem to leave a trail but miraculously make everything disappear. There are sporadic interjections announcing calls to action for people whose bloody planes ARE leaving on time - “flight blah blah is now boarding at gate blah blah”. Lucky buggar’s.

The guy in the table next to me accumulates more chairs upon which to extend his long lanky frame - he is now fully reclined along three plastic chairs.

No one gives a shit.

I wonder if these people, like me, are on the delayed KL flight. I had grand intentions of finishing three articles but then realised I left all my hard drives behind - all except my new SSD (which I must now try to format), so I have no access to images and therefore no way to complete my articles. Ah well - there is always April, when I get to go through this thrilling torture of travel, all over again on my short two week ‘holiday’ in the Antipodes to see my daughter graduate with her Honours Degree. Well worth the pain, I say.

I glance over at the departure board and notice the flight is open for check-in just as my phone pings me a notification of the same. Let’s get this darn show on the bloody road.

I pack my things back onto the trolly and I cannot get downstairs fast enough.

Hopefully Malaysian Airlines can inform me as to the damage at the other end - will I get to Cairo on January 20; will the world continue to spin? These and many more questions will be answered soon.

The sandstorm before the sandstorm

December 27, 2022

I didn’t sleep more than a few hours that night.

That tormenting restless feeling of knowing you should be sleeping, but that you actually can not.

It is torture.

I was in that space.

At some point in the early hours I must have finally slept; woken with urgency by my alarm, reminding me of my obligations - get up, get dressed, get in the car, do the daily commute (which in my case was 140km a day), attempt to facilitate some mind-opening, and then go home to crash on the couch.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Yawn.

The Zoom interview had gone well (or so I thought), a couple of weeks earlier, but I did not for one minute believe that an international school would hire me - ME! A 56-going-on-57 year-old slowly decaying invisible woman.

But they did.

And because of that offer, I could not sleep. I could not sleep, because after much deliberation; googling possible dangers in the country I was looking at living in; checking out the creepy crawlies; the temperature; the living costs on Numbeo - I had accepted the offer.

And my mind was swirling.

What the heck had I just done?!?

I got up that night after hours of tossing and turning, to construct a list.

It was a ‘must do’ list.

With the list complete (and it was a long one), I felt somewhat relieved of the weight of all those thoughts on my mind, and went back to bed reassured that I was at least sifting through the bedrock of my imagination about every conceivable thing I should, could and would do, before I left New Zealand.

I was headed for Cairo. I could not get the song “walk like an Egyptian” off my mind.

I had about 8 weeks to practise that walk.

What would I do with my cat?

I read that Egypt is largely desert - a land of shifting sands and with that, seasonal sand storms. I had visions of “The Mummy” movie in my mind - fleeing frantically from an impending and fast-approaching sand-slash-sandmonster storm. After some intensive hunting on the facebook page I had just joined “Expats in Egypt”, I learnt the sandstorm season lasted for two months. Sheesh! Shifting sand, creating an ever-changing landscape, reinforcing the notion that nothing was static - everything changed, and if we tried to resist it and stand against it we would simply be sand-blasted. Best to lean in and be flexible whilst doing so - like a blade of grass or a toi-toi that I saw doing just that on my daily cycling commutes to and from work up the Dunedin harbour from Port Chalmers, when I lived there.

More recently I had lived near New Zealand's Southern Alps. A great up-thrust of jagged peaks that reminded one constantly of the seasonal changes wrought upon the landscape. The tips of snow-clad mountains all year round, with a thicker, longer deeper coat during the cooler months, constant pulling me closer - a yearning to be there, in the thick of it all - nature, my safe happy secure real place - tantalisingly close as they flirted with my sense of adventure.

What was I going to do in

all … that … sand?

The process to work in a Canadian school in a North African-slash-Middle Eastern city, has not been without its frustrations.

Bureaucracy!

Cannot live with it … cannot kill it.

Original copies (is that not the biggest oxymoron EVER?!) of my qualifications; Police criminal checks; letters of recommendations from previous schools; proof I haven’t had my teachers registration revoked; proof I pay my taxes (yes - copies of my 2021-2022 financials were requested!); proof of life … basically.

I also applied for my teachers registration in Ontario, Canada, seeing as it was a Canadian school.

This would mean higher pay.

Yes please.

And then, the pack-up began; the endless sorting of what stays and what goes. It is amazing how things suddenly take on meaningless value when left to sift through what really does get to stay in storage for my return some 18 months later.

If.

And what really is “valuable” anyway? I knew that what was valuable to me was what would not fit in my suitcase - my kids; my cat; my maunga.

The uncertainty of change and the "here we go again".

December 6, 2022

change is a funny thing;

We tend to either embrace it or attempt to push it away - it can be invigorating or exhausting; exciting or stressful - either way, it is there to remind us that things really (and rarely) stay the same.

Four years ago I came to the small rural town of Fairlie (South Canterbury - or more aptly The Mackenzie Country) - famous for its pies. I originally thought I might come for a year. Instead I came for four.

Imagine being a town famous for its pies! But here was I, in that town, famous for its good ol’ pies.

Of course the Mackenzie opened up all sorts of dreams in terms of missions - most of which I never got around to doing, but hey, it’s not going anywhere, is it. As a keen photographer, the opportunities for backcountry exploration left me always salivating for being near those wafty peaks, even if I didn’t get ON them - being around them seemed to be enough.

Now here I am about to make a massive scenery change. Mountains will be swapped for the pyramids (yes, the pyramids - as in Egypt); alpine tussock will be swapped for sand, sheep will be swapped for snakes and winter snow will be swapped for scorching heat. Apparently change is as good as a holiday.

Right?

As I pack my life away into boxes, I keep telling myself it is a great opportunity to have a good dung-out. I come across old family photos; nic-nacs from travels past; books I don’t want to forget about; that lost sock down the back of the couch and piles of papers I have zero use for. Why did I even keep them …

I dig my heels in somewhat and insist the ‘real packing’ cannot begin until I have finished my school marking - the marking being an imperfect distraction - but also secretly wishing that all of my stuff could be magic’d into a safe place somewhere to save me the pain of deciding what stays, and what goes.

And so I don’t sleep as a result.

I toss and turn at night with the voices of those well-meaning folk in my head uttering “what the f**k are you going to Egypt for?” I try to sort it all out into boxes I can put the lid on long enough to allow me some shut-eye, but it’s been weeks now, and the sleep isn’t coming. I am an impeding train-wreck.

But that’s ok.

It is what it is. That’s change. That’s my sensible logical rational brain telling me that change is strange and surreal and scary and tiring. It’s my playful, adventurous, searching, inquisitive and curious brain telling me that new experiences are just around the corner!

It’s also my tired, exhausted, worn out brain telling me I probably quite liked being in one place for longer than a year, especially after ‘the year from hell’. Man, it’s been one hell of a year.

I feel ready for the challenge - to tackle those sand storms and snakes;

and

to capture something new in my frame.

There are two kinds of people - those who go with the flow; and those who flow with the go.

I’m ready to go.

To go to that town famous for its triangular shaped lumps of sandstone where they buried some people yonks ago.

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September 16, 2022

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