Two months of living in Egypt

I’ve been in Egypt just over two months now and I’m getting to know the neighbourhood. I'm still not a huge fan of Roushdy (where the post office is) but the Wingat area to the east is pleasant and starting to feel more familiar. I’ve adopted a local coffee shop, baker, market and produce vendor. When I walk to and from the school I often exchange a small wave or head nod with a boab or a vendor who recognizes me. It’s a small thing but it makes me feel more like a part of the community. 

Many of the folks who used to stare at me appear to have gotten bored, since I pass by them four or more times a day and I am really not that fascinating to look at. Venturing further out of my regular area I do still get some looks. Sometimes I pretend that I am a super famous actress trying to be incognito. Next time I’m considering wearing a headscarf, sunglasses, high heels and bright red lipstick. Not sure if I would get more looks or less looks that way.

I’m still not great at discerning who is being genuinely friendly and who is being weird. I chatted with an old man today who seemed friendly enough and asked me to take his photo. Later he called me over and insisted I take a photo of a dog, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck until it whimpered. I yelled at him to stop and he did, but I was left a bit shaken. 

I think most Egyptians are genuinely friendly though. It helps that I’ve been taking Arabic lessons. I’ve noticed that since I started using Arabic in the open-air market the prices have dropped by about one third. Egyptian vendors seem to be very trusting. Often if I don’t have small change they will say I can pay next time. When "next time" arrives and I try to pay, they seem to have completely forgotten about it. 

Kids are much loved in Egypt. They are welcome anywhere, including restaurants, and tend to get fussed over. Oscar, being 6-years-old and blond, attracts a lot of attention. He (and I) have gotten used to having his hair ruffled by strangers. If I ever want really good service I bring him along. There is a dour bread baker near my apartment but when I get Oscar to buy the bread he actually cracks a smile. Oscar loves coming to the grocery store with me because someone will often sneak him a candy.

We rode the tram to the mall the other day and Oscar had a bit of a meltdown when there were no seats available. At the next stop, some Egyptians saved a seat for us so he could sit down. Then when Oscar was getting off the tram forgetting his toy on the seat, a man ran after us and gave it back to him.

The biggest surprise about Egypt is how safe it feels. Before I arrived I was very concerned about terrorism and local attitude towards foreigners and women. I’ve had a few… uncomfortable moments, but I have never felt unsafe. I’ve walked around by myself at night plenty of times with no issues at all. It’s probably safer here at night then many western places because there are no drunk hoodlums around.

I post here when I have something to say, but I've started posting daily photos on instagram. If you want to see the random things that take my fancy, you can follow me.

Post office fail and the Egyptian wave

Last week was great. I had a fantastic day at the beach, unexpectedly enjoyed water polo, listened to Oscar’s dance teacher rave about him, did some design work that I’m proud of and had a fun girls night on the town.

I’d had a string of good days so I guess I was due a bad one.

It started with a walk to the post office to mail a letter. I’d made this attempt before but when I reached the location indicated by google maps it looked like the building had been abandoned for centuries. Turns out the post office was closed (it closes at 2pm) and that’s just how it looks.

Today the post office was there. It looked like the entrance to one of those secret clubs you see in the movies, where it doesn’t look like anything from the outside but it has a lavish interior full of laughter and cocktails. In this case, the dimly lit interior looked like a post office from the gold rush era, but much rougher. Everything was a shade of brown and the post office workers ignored agitated customers from behind dull metal grates. A few neglected rusty chairs were scattered around. Arabic wording was scrawled on crooked signs that lined the walls. 

Everyone in the building avoided eye contact with me. There was a line of ladies and a line of men so I joined the line of ladies. I was in no particular rush so I figured I’d just see what happened.

Unfortunately I’d forgotten that the concept of the “line up” or “queue” is literally a foreign concept in Egypt. “Those who shove the hardest shall be served the soonest,” seems to be the local proverb. It became apparent that it was each man for himself. A small-town Canadian girl like me stood no chance. 

Several men and women had shoved in front of me and I began to doubt my chances of successfully mailing this letter. Also, I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to be at the front of the line with frantic post office goers leaning over me and shouting.

Staring at the multiple signs in flowing Arabic was no help to my plight. I hadn’t realized that most signs I’ve come across in Egypt have English on them. Not so at the post office. For all I know they read “Get your toes pierced here,” or “Poisonous spider adoption sign-up today.”

I held up my letter and asked for help from anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact with me, however brief. My Arabic training has not yet delved into the murky world of post office dealings, so my pleas were in English, but fairly obvious nonetheless given my location and the addressed, unstamped letter in my hand.

After being ignored by the first few people, I got, what I call, the “Egyptian wave.” Based on my observations I believe it is a method for locals to get rid of you without actually helping you. It usually involves a loose hand flap in a vague direction and very little eye contact. I once spent fifteen minutes searching a section of the supermarket for garlic that did not exist due to this wave.

Regardless of the validity of the direction of said wave, I headed that way, only to be shoved aside by someone, I suppose, with an urgent need to mail a letter immediately. Maybe it was a scientist rushing to warn of an impending earthquake, or a reporter with a scoop on a breaking news story. It became clear that in the letter mailing category of Egyptian life, I was severely outmatched. My frustration with the situation and the anxiety that was building up in the hot, crowded, noisy room outweighed my desire to send the letter and I beat a hasty retreat.

Outside the building I gulped down some fresh(ish) air and the panic subsided. Not to be completely beaten, I decided to take some photos on the way back. I started taking a photo of a pretty tree with a white balcony behind it and got scolded in Arabic by a finger-waving Egyptian man. Why, I have no idea, but I heard of people thrown in jail for accidentally photographing a military installation so I briskly continued on my way.

And almost got hit by a taxi.

At this point I was feeling quite defeated and I just wanted to go home and lick my wounded pride. To be honest, I was fighting a strong wave of homesickness. 

I was almost at my apartment when a gentleman I often wave to outside of a nursery school on my street waved me over. He asked if I would take some photos of children. Odd request, yes, but maybe this was my failure of a day about to turn around. As he led me to the supervisor I thought to myself that maybe I could take some nice photos, email them to the school and make some friends in the neighbourhood. 

“What do you want,” demanded the supervisor. I felt a strong urge to leave. I tried explaining that I was asked here. She and the gentleman got into a heated debate as I eyed up the exit. I was handed off to the another lady.

“What do you want?” said the lady. Sweet lord in heaven. Once again, I attempted to explain, edging toward the doorway. “We don’t need any photographer,” she said adamantly. I got the feeling they thought I was giving them the hard sell and the other two jumped back in the fray. While the discussion continued amongst the three of them I made my escape. 

Finally, I got home, shut the door, shut out Egypt, shut out the feeling of displacement, incomprehension and failure. These are small things, not mailing a letter and having a misunderstanding, but I feel like it adds up and some days its just a bit much. Some days everything seems so very hard.

I know there are more good days than bad. The gesture of the taxi driver who refused to let us pay is a blessed reminder of the good people out there. There are lots of them that I’ve met and interact with all the time.

In the end I searched my soul and I believe I’ve found the way forward.

Email.

Getting lost in Alexandria

I spent the morning purposefully getting lost and exploring some areas of Alexandria I've never been to before. To my chagrin I found a market about two minutes from my apartment (with really good prices). There was also a coffee shop, a Syrian restaurant I'd heard about and an "iPhone" store. Here are a few random photos from my exploration.

I can't wait to see what is in this "iPhone" store when it is open

Laundry day

Outdoor plumbing

Lobby decor

A life lesson from an Egyptian cab driver

Yesterday, after staring at a month's worth of dirt on our rug, we undertook a mission to buy a vacuum.  This involved a 25-minute cab drive to the Carrefour City Centre and so we summoned an Uber.

The drive was an experience. First, the driver couldn’t find us and we had to get someone who spoke Arabic to give him directions and he was about 20 minutes later than he should have been. The car had no seatbelts, which, combined with the driver's disturbing habit of alternating between slamming on the gas and slamming on the brakes, gave us quite an ab and grip workout.

Then we were passed by a police car with sirens wailing and lights flashing.

It may be a Canadian thing, but when I see a police car (even without sirens or even any vehicle that looks like a police car from at least two chevrons away) I slow down to exactly the speed limit and give police a wide berth. It seems that in Egypt, a mere police emergency is not a good enough reason to change their aggressive/erratic driving habits. On this occasion their only concession was to swerve just enough so they didn’t actually make contact with the police car without actually slowing down.

Our Uber driver took this emergency situation as a great opportunity to get to Carrefour faster. We tailgated the police car for a several miles, weaving through traffic. If anyone tried to steal our prime spot he simply laid on the horn. The tailgating only ended when our driver determined the cruiser was going too slow and passed him.

And headed straight in to a parade of scooters.

After we whizzed past about 50 scooters we were stopped for 10 minutes as, one by one, they all turned into the road in front of us, much to the annoyance of our driver.

He then followed the scooters onto the road, which was not the entrance to Carrefour and had to weave through several of them and get through a barricade before we eventually arrived, frazzled, but safe.

After our shopping trip, vacuum in tow, we attempted to call another Uber. The handy app informed us that there were none available so we flagged down a yellow cab. The driver didn’t speak much English and he listened to religious Arabic music during the drive. He offered to change the music, but it was quite peaceful and we didn’t mind. I directed the taxi in Arabic to our apartment and as we came to a stop we geared up for a battle about the price. We have been charged more than triple the regular rate by a yellow cab in the past, most likely due to our skin colour and language. We've heard this is a regular occurrence.

The driver helped us unload our items from the car and motioned us over to check we had everything. Richard, tired and hungry, asked driver “how much,” grimly prepared to argue.

Here’s the weird thing, the driver refused to be paid.

Rich was in the unusual position of insisting he take the money as the driver backed away towards his car making small bows.

We went into our building feeling a bit befuddled. During our month here we’ve gotten used to being ripped off, stared at and asked for money by strangers. Every day is a little bit of a battle. That, combined with the oppressive heat, can make Egypt seem like a hostile place. Without noticing it, we’d become a bit prickly.

Even though we did end up paying the cab driver, his gesture made our surroundings feel a bit more welcoming. I’m not sure why the taxi driver did it, maybe because it was Friday, the holy day. But it made us realize that there are good people out there.

I’m going to try to remember this man when I am out and about in Egypt. Often, the good hearted people do not stand out as much as hostile people, but it’s good to know they are there.

An ex-pat's review of Pete's Dragon

The map of the San Stefano mall in Alexandria Egypt is incomprehensible and does not seem to include the cinema. We ask a few people who wave us in the general direction of up the escalator eventually find it on the top floor. 

We stand at the ticket booth and are ignored for a few minutes by three employees who are busy chatting with each other until one of them acknowledges our existence.

“Three tickets to Pete’s Dragon,” says Richard with a bit of an indistinct accent. He seems to think speaking english with an accent helps non-english people understand him.

She waves us in the general direction of the opposite ticket booth. We dutifully head over and Rich repeats his question with a slightly heavier accent.

She waves us to the lady beside her. We shuffle over to the next window and Rich repeats the request for the third time.

Finally we get our tickets. The cost for three of us is 150 LE, which is about 5 pounds each.

“3-D glasses?” asks Rich, miming the action of putting on glasses. She waves us in the direction of the ticket taker.

“3-D glasses?” Rich asked the ticket taker and he waves us towards the concession stand. We get our glasses and popcorn after standing for a few more minutes, again politely waiting for acknowledgment from the bored employees.  The popcorn is only 10 LE, about a quid. It is flavoured with an abundance of salt and no butter.

“Where is theatre 9?” he asks. Another general wave in a direction, accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders.

Just as I am internally lamenting the state of customer service in this mall, a hunched round man with a remarkable resemblance to Gru from Despicable Me escorts us to the theatre, carries my popcorn for me and leads us by flashlight to our seat, all the while speaking gently in Arabic.

Appeased by this show of customer service I attempt patience as we sit in the theatre for 10 minutes after the movie was scheduled to start, listening to Arabic music, then another 10 minutes of silence. Eventually the previews start, a few decibels more than comfortable, among them previews for Martyr and Blair Witch.

I find myself channeling my dad by stuffing kleenex in my ears while Rich and I cover Oscar’s eyes and he crams his fists in his ears. The A/C is set to sub-arctic and I alternate between wrapping my scarf around my arms to quell my goosebumps and around my head to muffle the volume of the movie. The speakers occasionally let out a pained sound as if they are protesting being set to max too long.

Oh yeah, and the movie sucked.

Girls night in Egypt

I’m sitting on a rooftop patio with a cool breeze, sharing a shisha and (non-alcoholic) drinks with some new friends at the Paradise Inn Windsor Palace Hotel in Alexandria and over my shoulder are views of the Mediterranean and the city lights at night.

We are two Muslims and two non-Muslims, enjoying a peaceful night and getting to know each other. In this moment, our beliefs do not separate us. In fact, we have more in common than not. The factors and personality traits that led the four of us to leave our lives for the relatively unknown have common threads that weave us together.

In moments like these it becomes clear to me that people with different cultures and beliefs can accept each other nonetheless. I know from travelling around the world that people are good and bad and everywhere in between no matter where you go. My experience so far in Egypt has revealed that people here are like people anywhere. They live their lives, take their children to school, do their jobs and enjoy their free time. 

Our little group of new friends is not part of some noble effort to unite people and cultures across the world. We are just people thrown together through circumstance, drawn together through the urge to make connections and living life as best we can. 

We are all just people.

The Park of Pan and its later incarnations

In the heart of Alexandria there is a place that was once called Park of Pan. In the time of Ptolemy, it was basically a pleasure garden with a marble-seated amphitheatre, Roman baths and lecture halls. Thousands of years and several dynasties passed and over time the luxurious history of this spot was forgotten. It became known by the less glamorous name of Kom El Dekka (Mound of Rubble). 

In the 60s the mound of rubble was removed to make way for a new building, uncovering ancient columns which lead to the excavation of the area. Under the rubble were some well preserved elements of the Park of Pan. Over 30 years the theatre was excavated and now it is one of the most popular monuments in Alexandria.

The Roman Theatre at Kom El Dekka was one of our stops on our tour of Alexandria. We had the place to ourselves, the only other people at the site were members of our tour. Our guide showed us around a small outdoor exhibition of Pharaonic and Greco-Roman era objects that have been found underwater at a nearby harbour. 

While exploring on our own, an Egyptian man directed us towards tunnels under the amphitheatre. Oscar darted into the tunnels first and we made our way after him, balancing on makeshift bridges made of loose boards, feeling very Indiana Jonesish. Then back out into the glaring sun where the man demanded money for showing us the tunnels and we once again felt like tourists.

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Oscar unhesitatingly darting off, his parents following closely behind.

My spell check insists Jonesish is not a word, but I stand by my choices.

The reset button

It’s amazing how adaptable human beings are. After two weeks in the Alexandria I had become used to seeing the sky in block shapes through buildings. The constant assault of city sounds had dimmed in my consciousness to a dull background buzz. Darting through traffic as I made my way through town was a daily occurrence. I didn’t even realize how accustomed I had become to the city’s onslaught on my senses until Friday.

Friday we went to the beach.

The teachers (and families) at the British School have a wonderful week-end routine. On Fridays (week-ends in Egypt are Friday and Saturday) we pile into a mini bus and head to the Iberotel Borg El Arab Resort on the Mediterranean coast. There are several pools, green grass, lounge chairs and a restaurant. The kids play in the pool, adults play water polo or chill or chat and we all have an enormous lunch. 

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The beach at the Iberotel Borg El Arab Resort.

This Friday was my first beach experience. In the afternoon I took an hour to myself and sat on a lounge chair looking out at Mediterranean Sea. All I could hear was the crash of waves. All I could feel was a gentle breeze and the light salty spray of the sea. All I could see was the shifting blues and white foam of the waves and the unbroken blue of the sky. 

I sat, almost completely still and time lost it's meaning. My mind slowed it's normal hectic pace and I almost felt like I was in a meditative state. I could have sat there for several hours but for the strong sun on my still-pale skin and a mother’s worry about a child out of sight.

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The beach at the Iberotel Borg El Arab Resort.

Back at the pool I spent hours playing with Oscar in the pool. I don't think I glanced at my watch once. It’s carefree day - or for those of us with children who can’t swim, it’s an almost carefree day. In any case, it’s a welcome reset button for the week. Looking into the endless sky, worries tend to drift away.

To the next week, I say “bring it on.” I have this to look forward to.

To the Borg El Arab Resort, I say this, "Resistance is futile, I have been assimilated." (If you get this - high five, let's be friends)

The truth about Pompey's Pillar

About 300AD there was a Roman Emperor called Diocletian who exempted his people from paying taxes and made sure they had enough corn during a time of hardship (to be fair he did cause the famine by besieging the city). So the people erected a memorial pillar in honour of him (it seems the city folk were of a forgiving nature). Then, in the middle ages, someone starts spreading the story that the ashes, or possibly the head, of Roman General Pompey were kept at the top of this pillar. So everyone starts calling it “Pompey’s Pillar,” (which was not even true) even though, it says quite clearly on the pillar:

*To the right and good emperor, the protector god of Alexandria, Diocletian, who has never been beaten*

To this day, the memorial is called “Pompey’s Pillar.”

Poor old Diocletian.

Birds, get your live birds

I’m not sure what was better today, the historical attractions or the travel between them. Our bus tour of Alexandria took us through several interesting areas of Alex including the Friday Souq or market. This is a photo of the “live bird” section of the market. The woman in the middle is about to crack a smile and wave at me while everyone around carries on with their business.

5 Things I've Learned About Kafr Abdou, Alexandria

Kafr Abdou is the little area of Alexandria we live in. It encompasses the British School, the British Consulate, parks, villas, apartments, shops and restaurants. After a little over a week this area has started to seem familiar and we know our routes around town pretty well. Between our own experience and what we've heard from other ex-pats, here are 5 things we've learned about Kafr Abdou:

1. The area has fairly recently exploded with restaurants. One of Richard's colleagues told me that few years ago there were only three restaurants and now it seems like there is one on every corner. So far almost everyone gives their location in relation to a restaurant. Our playdate last night was beside Olé (a Spanish restaurant), we are above Bamboo (Indonesian) and the headmaster is near Bruxies (cafe and burgers). There are also plenty of shops selling chocolate, ice cream and sweets. Unfortunately I have yet to find an Egyptian restaurant but the International food has been scrumptious and affordable.

2. It's a small tight-knit area and everybody knows everybody. Apparently we would have been noticed straight away for three reasons; being new, being white and having a small child. Knowing this has actually made me feel more comfortable. I'm already feeling like part of the community. The bread guy even let me owe him three pounds when I didn't have enough change to get Oscar cookies as well as a loaf of bread. He put the cookies back in my shopping bag and said something in Arabic which another customer translated as "for the boy."

3. They loooove children here (and all over Alex). Our second day here I saw a lady ruffling Oscar's hair in the supermarket and soon discovered it's not unusual. When we were setting up our bank account the procedure was temporarily suspended so the customer service lady could engage in conversation with Oscar. This kind of thing happens all the time and Oscar eats up the attention. Plus you can take kids everywhere at all times of day or night, very different from Whitehorse where we have been kicked out of several potential lunch spots for having a child with us.

4. It's safe. It's really nothing like the media portrays it, at least in Kafr Abdou. Based on my research I was ready to walk around in a head scarf and sunglasses with my head down to avoid harassment but it's really not necessary. In fact, kids can often be seen playing outside by themselves, something becoming more rare in Canada. Being a white woman I do get a lot of stares but I dress very conservatively here and so far nothing has tingled the spidey senses. We did get a bit worried once when we heard some loud, harsh-sounding Arabic shouting coming from speakers outside our apartment. I apprehensively rushed out to take a look, imagining ominous black flags and machine guns. Turns out it was a guy riding a donkey pulling a cart of watermelons with a microphone and sound system peddling his wares.

5. The people are friendly... and helpful. Today was the first day I went to the open-air market without Richard and I had a much easier time than I anticipated. Egyptians jumped to my rescue several times translating and letting me know how to get a better deal. I can say "Bikam da?" in Arabic which means "How much is it?" but when I'm answered Arabic I am quite lost. There has always been someone to help out, either a merchant or a customer. I've had Egyptians greet me on the street with "Good Morning" or "Welcome" and seem pleased when I understand them and answer in English (although I am working on my Arabic.)

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Our own little piece of New York in Kafr Abdou.

The outside of Qaitbay Citadel

So my determination to dip my toes in the sea was crushed by human weakness. Namely, a head cold. I spent yesterday on the couch mopping up the copious amounts of mucous exiting my nose and feeling sorry for myself. A day at the beach was not super appealing in my feverish state so we decided against it. 

This morning I felt like I was on the mend so we went to the Qaitbay Citadel, a 15th-century defensive fortress on the Mediterranean coast, about a half-hour drive from our apartment.

We used Uber for the first time and it was a success. We were picked up within a few minutes and the fare was only 24 LE (about 4 CAD). 

When we arrived at 3:45pm we learned the Citadel closes at 4pm. Of course. So instead we went for a walk along the sea. Another. Long. Hot. Walk.

For me, the best part of the day was successfully directing the Uber in Arabic on the return journey using my handy dandy Phrasebook.

So, strike two for planning outings. One of these days we will get it right. For now, here is a photo of the outside of the Citadel.

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The outside of Qaitbay Citadel (which closes at 4pm)

A trip to the beach... sans beach

Yesterday we joined another family to explore the beach, about a 15-minute walk from where we live. The busy streets on the way to the beach were lined with fancy air-conditioned shops, open air convenience stands, food trucks and corn roasting stations. Vendors shouted over the cacophony of car horns. Colourful billboards towered over us and monochrome buildings over them. Every where I turned my senses were overwhelmed with colours, sounds and smells. 

Crossing busy roads was like a twisted version of frogger. To cross one must confidently step in front of a car while fervently hoping they actually stop. The right of way does not seem to be dictated by traffic rules, but by boldness, whether pedestrian or car. It is a world away from the Yukon where cars slow down if they even think a pedestrian is considering crossing the road. Miraculously none of us were hit. On the way back we creepily stalked an Egyptian woman to get across El Horreya at a zebra crossing and in order to traverse the last lane we had to squeeze through two cars and pray they didn't accelerate.

Mercifully there was a pedestrian tunnel under El Cournish Road (the main road along the sea). By then I was very hot and eager to dip my toes in the cool sea. We approached several entrances to the beach but we were turned away because they were members-only beaches. Eventually one of our companions discovered that to get a spot on the public beach you need to be there at 10am and it costs 200 LE (about 20 British pounds or 33 Canadian dollars) per adult. Alternatively there was another beach 6 miles away where we might have better luck. At that point I could feel the rivulets of sweats making their way down my legs slowly gain the momentum approaching a small creek and opted to head back, once again facing the gauntlet of traffic, trains and vendors.

We haven't given up. Tomorrow we've decided to take a taxi to a beach further from the city where the teachers usually go on week-ends. I'm determined - my toes will meet sea this time!

Exploring the market in Kafr Abdou

Today we went into the market district to stock up our kitchen. The first stop was arranging the delivery of a couple of cases of water. It was supposed to arrive 30 minutes ago but hasn’t yet, so the jury is still out on that purchase. Then we shopped for fruits, vegetable and freshly cooked bread from crates stacked up on the side of the road. There was a lot of yelling going on between various vendors and customers, all part of the experience I guess. We just payed and moved on without attempting to bargain, possibly getting royally ripped off, but maybe not. In any case, it was not very expensive. The bread was the cheapest, six Egyptian pounds (about 60 pence or 1 CAD) for three croissants and four bread rolls.

First impressions of Alexandria, Egypt

I’m listening to the call to prayer coming in through our apartment window as evening sets in while eating spoonfuls of fresh mango we bought from an old lady on the street. It’s the second day of two years we will be living in Kafr Abdoul, Alexandria, Egypt.  

We finally set foot in Egypt during the wee hours of yesterday morning having successfully navigated the Istanbul Airport (lots of walking), acquired tourist visas (25 USD per person from a kiosk at the airport after queuing whilst carrying a sleeping child) and navigated passport control (another queue).

By 4am a group of us were being driven to our hotel in a bus. In the dark, all I could see out the window was a few feet of desert on either side of the road. The air smelled of flowers and herbs and occasionally manure. After about half an hour we came to the sign for the Panacea hotel and travelled up a sandy road edged by crumbling walls. I exchanged looks with one our bus mates, both of us a bit dubious, and mentally prepared myself to spend the night in "rustic" condition. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop the smile that came to my face. If nothing else, it was an adventure. I may have been ever so slightly disappointed when we were ushered into a modern, high-end hotel lobby. We had a view of the pool and gardens from our room, but alas, we were to be picked up at 11am that morning.

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Outside of our hotel (it looks much worse in the dark).

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The pool at the Panacea, inside the courtyard.

The next morning the bus drivers were about an hour late to pick us up but I’d read about “Egyptian time” so I kind of expected everything to be  bit late. I glanced out the bus window to see a cow wandering nonchalantly down the street. Once we got moving we passed a large expanse of desert occupied by rich-looking dwellings and ruins, often side-by-side. Traffic consisted of cars, trucks and donkeys. I saw a man shucking corn beside an outdoor oven while another sold roasted cobs to people stuck in traffic. The city itself was quite busy and if the is a rhyme or reason to the rules of traffic (both cars and horses), it is beyond me. 

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Local traffic outside of Alexandria.

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A view from the bus while heading into Alexandria.

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Parking "Alexandria-style"

When we reached the British School where Richard will be teaching, our host Manal gave us a tour of the area. The streets of Kafr Abdoul are dusty and busy and there is a nice supermarket and several clean and cool cafes and restaurants with good food and coffee. Oscar started pointing out every piece of litter he saw, but eventually gave up.

When we got to our apartment I have to admit I had a period of adjustment. The kitchen is extremely small and the door didn’t open all the way before it hit the stove. Our view is of another apartment so close that I could probably hop to opposite balcony if I had the inclination.  I couldn't help thinking about our beautiful house in Whitehorse with the huge kitchen and back deck, mountain views and miles of trails out the backyard. Hot and tired, I indulged in about an hour of lying on the bed staring at the ceiling thinking “What have I done?!?!”

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The view from our apartment.

This morning, having finally had a good night’s sleep, everything looked brighter. I realized I would have to be quite the acrobat to actually "hop" to the facing balcony. Mina, from the British School, came to our rescue and had the door removed from the kitchen which is an improvement (although he was an hour late). In fact, the main area of the apartment is quite big and everything was very clean. There was even fresh milk, eggs and bread in the fridge, tea, coffee, biscuits, new pots and towels. Also a plus, no cockroaches or ants! At one point I did think we had birds due to an incessant chirping noise. It turns out the chirping is our doorbell and a man was at the door offering to take out our garbage.

This afternoon, just as I'd decided that "Egyptian time" meant about an hour late and was mentally chastising the rest of the group for being late to our outing, the few of us that were "on time" discovered that our iPhones had automatically set to the wrong time and we'd been an hour early for everything. Apparently Apple disagrees with the rest of Egypt about the current time of day. In hindsight, everyone so far has been remarkably on time.

We did some more exploring today. Wandering the streets is an experience in itself. Today I saw saw a group of men smoking shisha in a large open doorway, an old women selling produce on the street using an old fashioned scale and weight system and posh people sipping cappuccino in fancy cafe patios. I've found overall the people are very friendly but we haven't encountered any of the harassment I've been warned about. The food is very international in this area. Weve eaten at a European-style cafe, a Spanish tapas restaurant and the Indonesian restaurant just outside our apartment building.

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Oscar enjoying a Boston Cream doughnut at Bruxie's, supplied with a knife and fork.

Tomorrow the mission is to find the beach and the outdoor market.

Last minute travel jitters

One more night and we’re off to Egypt. Yesterday I panicked that I had nothing appropriate to wear in a conservative yet very hot country. I envisioned get off the airplane and being pelted with rotten tomatoes for my disgraceful western garb or alternatively arriving with copious amount of sweat dripping from every uncomfortable crevice. In reality I doubt locals are waiting around for their tomatoes to spoil so they can pelt disrespectful tourists disembarking in Egypt at 2:30am (which also has to be one of the coolest times of the day). Nevertheless I made a short trip to the local charity shop and I kitted myself out neck to ankles and wrists in beige linen. Only problem is I look a bit like an Arabian prince. Fortunately my mother-in-law did a little shopping on my behalf and I have some lovely light ankle-length skirts to wear if I want to look like a normal human being from this century.

The Eden Project - Cornwall

Just down the road from the ancient stone circles of Bodmin Moor is the Eden Project, a place that looks like it came straight out of a sci-fi novel with bubble-like biome domes composed of hexagons and surrounded by over 20 acres of gardens.

Step into the rainforest biome and suddenly you are surrounded by the heat, humidity, sights and sounds of the rainforest. If it wasn’t for the dome visible overhead you would think you’d been suddenly transported to Southeast Asia, West Africa or Tropical South America.

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Inside the Mediterranean biome. Photo by Christa Galloway.

Entering the Mediterranean Biome, the cooler air smells of thyme and jasmine and paths meander through various gardens from the Mediterranean, South Africa and even California. At the centre of the dome is a terrace where you can grab a bite to eat or listen to old-fashioned storytelling.

The outside gardens feature a myriad of plants from around the world that don’t need a dome. Amazingly, the outdoor gardens and the biomes are located in what was, 20 years ago, a huge sterile china clay pit.

Adventures in Bodmin Moor

There are places in the UK where you feel like you’ve stepped back hundreds, or even thousands of years. We’ve just returned from one of these places. Bodmin Moor in Cornwall is one of the spookiest, history-drenched places I have ever visited. 

One of the less narrow roads in the Cornish countryside. I would have gotten a photo of one of the narrower roads, but I'd be taking my life in my hands.

The edges of Bodmin Moor are webbed with narrow one-lane roads lined by tall hedges. The few breaks in the hedges show glimpses of farms and a rugged barren landscape. During our first experience on one of these tracks Richard was convinced we were heading up someone private drive but the SatNav insisted it was an “unnamed road.” Sure enough, we did eventually arrive at our destination, a gypsy caravan in a place called “Lost Meadow.”

Our host mumbled genially but unintelligibly as he guided us around. Vine and moss-coated tree branches reached from the edges of the forest over the meadow. The woods were so thick that the trail and the creek were both covered by a canopy of trees.

Our 100-year-old restored caravan was detailed and gorgeous, plus we had a solar powered outdoor kitchen and a chiminea. The shed housing the toilets and shower was a bit of a hike from the caravan, but with all the Cornish tea* we consumed, the exercise was not necessarily bad thing. (To tell the truth, I eventually stopped drinking liquids past 7pm once I discovered that walking the trail with a torch** at night was embarrassingly scary. Even so, during the morning hike to the shed I did heartily wish I'd kept up with my Kegels.)

*Cornish tea is part of a secret plot to get tourists so fat they can’t leave. It’s tea served with scones, jam and clotted cream. I believe Cornish ice cream is in on it as well.

**Torch is British for flashlight

In keeping with Galloway tradition, it rained or drizzled for almost our entire holiday. This is not entirely surprising considering it rains about 180 days a year on the moor and has an average humidity of 86%. 

The rain did not slow our exploration of the area. Walking on the moors as the ancient standing stones of the Hurlers gradually appeared out of the mist was pretty incredible. 

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The Hurlers near Minions, Cornwall with an abandoned mine in the background. Photo by Christa Galloway.

The Hurlers are a set of three stone circles from the later Neolithic and Bronze Age. There are also two standing stones called the Pipers, also know as the gateway. A local Cornishman told us the folklore surrounding the stones. Three groups of men were playing an ancient game called hurlers, while being entertained by two bagpipers when they were all turned to stone. In truth, no one really knows the purpose of the Hurlers in the Bronze age except that they probably had some ritual significance. More recently, we do know they were used by cows as scratching posts, one the reasons that not all the stones are still standing.

There are cows, ewes and horses all over the moor, and there has been since about 2500 BC when the area was settled. There are ewes and horses meandering all around the Hurlers and our only traffic jam was caused by a group of sheep crossing the road. We stopped once to take some photos of horses wandering on the moor near the road. Many of the horses were friendly and curious and it was all very magical until one turned it’s backside to me. Having some experience with horses I quickly retreated. Shortly afterwards the beast kicked both hind legs into the spot I had just vacated. We also came across some Highland cows, but wisely carried on driving.

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The second day we went to the Hurlers the driving rain was occasionally interrupted by blue skies and sunshine, giving us a nice view of the Cheesewring, a granite tor on Stowe's Hill. These natural formations look like precariously balanced piles of flat stones but were actually formed by wind erosion.

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Cheesewring on Stowe's Hill. Photo by Christa Galloway.

Bodmin Moor is peppered with historical sites for those brave enough to tackle the narrow roads. All the places we explored, we had pretty much to ourselves. We stopped in at Trethevy Quoit, a Neolithic dolmen burial chamber and King Doniert's Stone, 9th century remains of a carved Celtic cross.

Besides the moors we found plenty of interesting places in Cornwall, including a domed rainforest, an underwater throne and a museum of magic… but those stories are for another day.

The road north is almost at an end.

After two years of supply teaching in the Yukon, Rich has finally been hired as a full-time teacher.

The job is in Egypt.

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Giza, Egypt during our visit there in 2004. Photo by Christa Galloway.

I know, right? From one extreme to the other.

I haven't experiences temperatures above a high of 24°C in three years, and that was HOT. Alexandria, Egypt is nine time zones and almost 10,000 km away from Whitehorse. We will be going from north of 60° to a latitude of 31°N. 

Our flights are booked from London to Istanbul to Alexandria in August. Just staring at this sentence give me chills. (The good kind, in case you are wondering.)

When Rich and I got married we wrote our own vows. The part of our vows that has stuck with us the most over the years is the vow “to be a friend, comfort and companion for adventures big and small.” When we arrived in the Yukon we thought we’d found our place, our last adventure. It turns out the world isn’t done with us yet. Or maybe we are not done with the world yet.

Rich will be teaching Year 4 at the British School in Alexandria. As for me, I’m going back to my roots. More than 20 years ago I decided I wanted to be a photojournalist. I don’t think that has ever really changed although I’ve been through a gamut of careers. It’s time for me to really give it a go.

So, I know what you’re thinking… What about the blog title? “The road/mostly flight path south-east” doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Any ideas?

Wildlife viewing on the Alaska Highway and Haines Road

One of the exciting things about living in the Yukon is the possibility of seeing some of the resident wildlife population. There is no shortage of magnificent creatures roaming the great northern wilderness. We've seen bison, bear, moose, caribou, lynx and bobcat. This week-end, travelling from Whitehorse to Haines along the Alaska Highway and Haines Road we saw our first elk.

An elk just off the Alaska Highway west of Whitehorse. Photo by Christa Galloway.

Haines, known as the "Valley of the Eagles" has an influx thousands of eagles during the fall and winter. Many eagles can be seen on the flats of the Chilkat River along the Haines Highway between miles 18 and 24 where they fish for salmon. We stopped a few times to photograph the regal birds on their high perches and even saw one making several passes over the river before scooping up fish.

An eagle fishes on the Chilkat River. Photo by Christa Galloway.

An eagle keeps a watchful eye on it's high perch just outside of Haines, Alaska. Photo by Christa Galloway.