Egyptian Epochs Part 2

Or Alexandria is like Cannes with acne. Thanks to Michael Palin I knew what to expect.

Alexandria was the French Riviera with tones of Bombay thrown in. After all, Egypt WAS India, wasn’t it?

“Ah, so you are going to Alex!”, my teammate said.

I was a little confused. “No, I am going WITH Alex.”

“Huh?”

“Alexandre.”

“No. Alexandria.”

“Ohhh. Yeah we are going to Alex.”

But, we are getting ahead of the story. Let’s rewind to the day I tapped Alex (the person) on his shoulder in the hotel lobby. That was the day I reluctantly bid farewell to my plans of seeing the Pyramids of Giza & Sakkara and the Cairo Museum (cue sobs) over the weekend and shifted my gaze to the lovely Mediterranean port of Alexandria. Yes, the one with the Lighthouse of Pharos. Yes, the one with the Library. Yes, yes, Cleopatra’s capital- and those of all the Ptolemaic Pharohs.

Yes. the. bloody. selfsame. Greek-styled. city.

So, what ruins does this historical city have?

Nothing, ladies & gentleman. Alexandria has NO trace of ANY history older than the 19th century. If you want colonial architecture, you are better off near Flora Fountain or CST, trust me.

The lighthouse? Thy have built a castle (aptly named Citadel) over it.

The Library. Burnt down gazillion times. The newest avataar was opened in 1999.

Okay, so you get the picture- there are more than shades of Bombay thrown in. (On an aside, I keep yelling “Marine Drive” when I am riding along the Corniche El Nil in Cairo. Sigh) Where’s the Cannes?

Uhm. It’s not really Cannes either. There’s a 20 km long Corniche (read Marine Drive again) that runs from the ex-lighthouse of Pharos to the new Palace of the now-deposed king. Fancy.

So, it’s an extra-long Promenade d’Anglais. Yes, it’s kinda Nice.

But, I am being extra mean to Alex here.

It’s a lovely, lovely port city. The sea flashes blue-green. The yachts are moored off the harbour. And all is well with the world.

Postscript:

Insert random Egyptian ruin #1: Pompey’s pillar. A large free-standing pillar that was once part of a Ptolemaic temple. It is also surrounded by ruins of a piscine and a Roman bath.

Insert Catacombs: Old Graeco-Roman-Egyptian tombs for noblemen.

Insert Fish Market: The food’s good.

Insert Citadel: The port looks positively serene.

Insert Montezah Palace: Lovely gardens.

This blog wasn’t meant to end this way.

I was planning to tell you about the train journey to Alexandria (TGV meets Venad Express), the taxi ride at 2 AM to the hotel in peak hour traffic and the monotonous chant of the disco-Koran till we almost went mad, the women jumping into the water fully dressed, the prettiest lighthouse in the whole of the Arab world, the party in the North Coast we almost went to and the 42 degree Celsius heat.

Maybe later.

Next up: “How many chickens for her?” and other top Egyptian pick up lines in Luxor & Karnak.

Egyptian Epochs Part 1

“Cairo is like Bombay”, I decided the moment I walked out of the aircraft. The air had the same spicy tang that greets you in India, the heat was like a warm blanket- just uncomfortable enough to want you to take a bath, like, immediately. The airhostess had handed me an Arabic disembarkment card. Apparently, she’d thought I was coming home too.

Things were only getting more recognisable by the time I went into the Arrivals Hall and saw a sea of expectant faces greeting me. I had a happy feeling that any moment I would be accosted by a taxi driver who would proceed to fleece me of the few Egyptian pounds I had.

And there he was.

“Madam, where do you want to go?”

“Four Seasons… uhm… Nile Plaza”

“Four Seasons, yaani? Ninety-five L.E.”

I did some mental arithematic and decided it wasn’t too bad if he was bent on fleecing me.

“Okay.”

He looked surprised. Mentally, I was laughing. There is something hilarious about a cheap Indian tourist being swindled by some other nationality.

“Cairo is like Bombay”

Maybe not, Cairo’s traffic can make Bombay go to a corner and whimper. And, then, for good measure, yell for its mummy. The taxi guy made his way through a three car wide pile-up at the toll gate (which, coincidentally could accomodate only one car at a time) in super quick time. I was peering through my fingers, half fascinated by how the cars whizzed past without seemingly ever using their indicators.

I was relieved when we reached the hotel (which, in turn looks like the Leela Kempinsky in Bombay) and couldn’t wait to open the door… right in the face of an Alsatian who was enthusiastically sniffing the car to check for contraband.

Whoops. I am not sure I was paying enough to permanently disable one of their sniffer dogs.

“Cairo is like Bombay.”

They screened my bags. They flashed big smiles at me. They didn’t wish me good day when they left the elevator. I even watched the Simpsons on the T.V.

Next up: Alexandria is like Cannes with acne.