CAIRO

CAIRO

DEPARTURE FROM LUXOR

Travelling anywhere these days seems to involve getting up at some absolutely ungdly hour of the morning, making your way to an airport with a taxi, for which you pay twice as much for the 2- minute journey as you have paid for your flight to somewhere exotic three hours away and ending up at your destination so tired and disorientated that you spend the next day in bed to catch up.

Well, maybe not quite, but this mornings flight from Luxor airport to Cairo left at 6.30 and so, to be safe … something I am worryingly giving more attention to that I used to, I was picked up at 4.45am having walked down the path to the wonderful sound of the Adhan and saying good morning to the donkey on the way past.

The flight was full … mainly of a Mexican tour group and I got sat next to the largest Mexican I have ever seen. You have to admire their near constant state of euphoria and hilarious wonderment at everything that happens to them, but at 5 in the morning it can be a bit trying!

DRIVE INTO TOWN

I was picked up quite efficiently by the driver sent from the hotel I was staying in and before long we were out in the Cairo rush hour … 8.30am. I have to say that traffic interspersed with humour, like donkeys, or carts or even cows doesn’t worry me in the least …. This was just lung clogging traffic and was most unpleasant.

Every car without exception was bashed and scratched and the experience was not pleasant. All the houses seemed to be huge, but were crumbling and the ubiquitous beige. Every single house was beige! In Bourton on the Water that is very pretty … here Im afraid it wasn’t. 

WINDSOR HOTEL

I arrived at my hotel – called the Windsor and written up about with varying degrees of hysteria on TRipadvisor as being a ‘legacy’ hotel … a hotel which harks back to the times when the Brits ruled Cairo … it had a wonderful lift … and an even more wonderful bar, with the most ‘famous’ bar in Cairo etc etc. 

What confronted me was simply a fly-blown fleapit of a hotel which should be condemned on the spot and pulled down.

From the recipetion area, under about 2 inches of dust to the lift which surely has not been tested by health and safety since it was installed in 1892 to the dingy rooms with filthy bedcovers to the bathroom with no hot water … it was just appalling.

The only time I get despondant when travelling is when I am tired and so I lay on the bed and immediately booked my return flight to Luxor for tomorrow night. I have to say 24 hours later nothing I have seen has made me think my action was impulsive.

EGYPTIAN MUSEUM.

I walked to the Egyptian Museum. That I have to say is incredible … if you are into any form of `Egyptology.  My interest in Egyprian culture always has been to do with the art rather than the history and some of the art on the artefacts in the museum is breathaking.

The highlight is of course the Tutenkhamum room on the first floor. The funerary mask is truly one of the most amazing artefacts I have ever seen in my life and I do remember when I was in Cairo last, some 35-40 years ago, once could actually touch the mask if one asked the guardians to let you. I am thus one of the few people who have actually touched the funerary mask of Tutenkhamun! Now of course it is hidden behind plate glass and a bewildering array of security gadgets.

I was able to play to take ‘my own’ photograph of the mask too. I had, for E£50 bought a photographic pass to the museum, meaning you can go round photographing everything. But it appears you cant use your camera in the Tut room. As soon as I entered I made a B line for Tuts mask and snapped it before hthe guard pounced on me and told me to desist! 

But Ive got a photo pass I protested … apparently it doesn’t count in here. But I had my photo and so was happy!

The rest of the displays in the Tutenkhamun room are eqully wonderful and are laid out so well and clearly. It really is one of those experience everyone should do once in their lifetime!

CAIRO ITSELF

AS for the rest of Cairo … well, I cant say I have seen a huge amount but what I have seen I have found quite awful and have little appetite tomorrow to go out and see a whole lot more. 

It is by any standards absolutely filthy dirty with a disregard for squalor which is appalling. The rubbish and little that you see everywhere you go, the dirt and grime, the awful street food sellers with their wares looking as if it already had every bug known to man on it … my dinner consisted of a visit to KFC as at least I was assured of a semblance of cleanliness and hygiene .. is not attractive, or edgy as some people might think …. It is just rather most unattractive.

I went for a lateish (8pm) night walk in search of the famous Al Khalili market which is famous for all its Islamic artefacts and drew a blank, despite comprehensive directions.

All I managed to do was to delve ever deeper into the local ‘tat’ market with acres and acres of Chinese made products on display as far as the eye can see. No quality, no interesting things to see, just a mass of people buying a mass of cheap goods. I got as far as I dared go and then returned back to the hotel.

The only thing I found interesting is that for the entire 1 ½ hours walking I did not see one single other Westerner. I was quite literally the only on out there. Neither did I see another westerner one my trip on the underground …. Either I am doing it all wrong or there really are few tourists about other than the ones than little all the tourist sites having stepped off buses.

By the time I returned to the hotel it was past 9 o’clock and whilst I was tempted to go out again with a driver and go to the proper Al Khalili market, I settled into the bar of the Windsor Hotel instead.

Whilst sitting in the dark and dingy bar I wrote a review for Tripadvisor on the place which I am afraid was pretty scathing. 

I submitted it to the site and then thought no more about it and went to bed.

Next morning I was up at about 9 and went downstairs for a ghastly breakfast (is there ANYTHING this hotel can do properly other than live on its past) and caught a taxi to the Al Khalili market.

AL KHALILI MARKET

I set off next to a mosque and dived headlong into the market. I walked down the alleys and walkways ever deeper, and seemed to delve ever further into a market which whilst somewhat more interesting than the one I had visited yesterday, which was just plain unattractive, was still pretty uninteresting when compared to come of the other markets I have visited both here and elsewhere.

The thing that one becomes most aware of is the utter filth. Unkempt and dirty can be ‘atmospheric’ or ‘typical’ or whatever, but this was just disgusting.

Whatever you passed which might have been interesting to look at, you had to have one eye constantly on what you were walking in or on. On and on I went taking photos where I could and interacting with the people as best I could. As usual the friendliness of the people was overwhelming and as usual the lack of one single other Westerner in the market was also very noticeable.

My interest was to find a leather holdall to take my stuff back to Luxor. I have bought a large suitcase with all my 6 weeks worth of clothes, but I had nothing but a wicker basket in which to transport it.

I got talking to a delightful English speaking man who offered to show me around. I am in no doubt he was an official guide, but his way of introducing himself was subtlety personified and so I was delighted to avail myself of his services.

He really was utterly charming and took me all over the parts of the market I had not seen, including a visit to an old boy who makes those boxes one buys and then has no idea what to do with, and the spice market, where, as usual saffron was the thing they pushed hard! 

It simply wasn’t saffron. They can say what they like, but it wasn’t. Just because it ledt a red mark on some paper (and ‘this one doesn’t”!) it doesn’t mean I am taking in by it. `nd anyway, I always buy saffron on Ebay!

I HAGGLE FOR A BAG

I was lastly taken by my new friend to a leather factory, or emporium, which mainly consisted of a large room in his house where a vast number of leather bags were stored.

I was introduced to the son of the owner who plied me with tea – one sugar please – and biscuits, and promptly started to unload all his wares around my feet.

I always get a little embarrassed when they do this and head, for about 10 seconds down the “im feeling guilty” path as they go to so much trouble.

But I soon recovered and explained exactly what it was I wanted and said I didn’t really want to see anything else.

More tea followd, and more biscuits! We sat on the ground looking through all his stock (which was prodigious!) with me admiring of dismissing all that he had to show me with good humour! 

Finally he produced a bag of about the right size, a nice colour (sort of terracotta) and so I seized on that and made it the topic of negotiation.

I always find it best to chose what it is you actually want and then stick to it, however hard they try and make you lose your bottle and choose something else. It just confises everything and you tend to lose your concentration in the haggling process,

We started off at E£570 (an odd price) and so I rolled my eyes, smiled and made the usual “Oh My God” sort of ‘you must be joking” comment.

“But if you go market you will find them for about 800.  Here we factory”

“Well, quite … that’s why I am here … I want to deal with you direct rather than a trader. Market sells rubbish”

I finger the bag a bit, throw it around a bit, bend the leather back and forth

“It very strong!!” Say something nice about it

“well, yes, but you have no idea how much stuff I put in a bag” as I fiddle with the handles.

“Yes, but I it break you bring it back!”

“What, all the way to Cairo!! You had better give me a discount so I can pay for the flight” (Good one that!!)

“OK, I give you 550”

“Flights to Cairo are more than that”

We actually remain on this tack for a while and the price comes down to 500.

“More tea (Vicar?)!?”

“So what your price?” Give me good price.  What you pay?”

At this point I put on a look I have ppractised for years … a sort of mix between despair and confusion with maybe a little pathos thrown in for good measure  (your usual look! Ed.) and take some time to answer, looking intently at the bag and then at the ceiling, or anywhere but the man I am dealing with!

I then dramatically turn by head to the man, look him straight in the eyes with as serious a look on my face I can muster and say “Ok, I like it, but I pay you 300”  

I actually mean I am prepared to pay 350 and that is that, but I have left myself a little wiggle room

At this point an equally well practised look comes on the face of the trader … along the lines of “This man really is an idiot: and he laughs!

“You crazy man!” he says, to which I normally say that indeed I am … in more ways than one. I also throw another practised look … rather reproachful, resigned to the fact look … as I say this!

The process now carries on over a period of time as I step up in increments of 5 and he descends in decreases of 25’s until we meet somewhere around 400 with three more cups of tea inside me!

I think the idea here is that they know at some point I am going to have to ask for their loo at which point I will ‘owe them one” so I tighten every muscle I can , determined to stay the course for as long as possible.

Well, in the end I haul out my wallet (commitment!) and fish out my E£350 and slam them on the ground.

I am afraid it usually does the trick, the sight of real notes on the floor!

My friend capitulates, slaps his thighs and proffers a hand and we “high five” as the deal is done.

The bag is quite nice, but not up to much. It is a nice colour and camelskin is pretty strong, but I am under no illusion that within a month or so one of the straps will have broken.

But for now its all I need, I didn’t pay a lot and I can return home again without carrying my worldly possessions in a wicker basket!

After looking around another Mosque with a splendid view over Cairo and whose name I have forgotten, I head in a taxi back to the hotel.

I GET INTO TROUBLE

As soon as I walk in I can sense there is an awkward atmosphere. People are very polite and seemingly overdoing it with me.

Suddenly a rather nice elderly man appears around the corner and introduces himself as the owner of the hotel.

I know instantly what has happened. Tripadvisor has published my scathing report. 

Indeed it has, and the owner, very calmly and quietly explains he would like to talk to me about it and invites me for lunch.

We sit down in the bar and I am introduced to his 101 year old father (the son is 72) and am offered lunch.

My report has clearly surprised him and says it will badly affect his business.  I immediately offer to go on to Tripadvisor and remove my report (you can!) which seems to surprise and please him. He says I thus seem a reasonable man.

I then spend just the most delightful and interesting 2 hours discussing a variety of topics, including of course the state of his hotel.

Look, by any standards the place is a tip. An absolute disgrace. There is no doubt about that at all, with the public rooms and the reception the worst of all. 

My new friend explains that he is doing up the rooms slowly, and one by one. He shows me one and clearly this is true.

But I venture to suggest that I find it hard to understand why he is doing up the rooms when there are no visitors (13% occupancy) and that he has not touched the lobby and other public areas which are what makes the initial impression on guests.

“Well, we are waiting til we can put marble in the lobby!”

Marble!! Are you mad … if there is so little business now and in the foreseeable future, why on earth spend that sort of money on putting marble in the lobby, especially when there are marble effect tiles there already!!

He seems to take the point. I warm to my theme and suggest that for now, all he needs do is to hire some hard working decorators, buy a container full of whitewash, an industrial tin of Brasso and some lead paint and paint everything white and the entrance porch black!!

He is intrigued … I continue (I feel I do ‘legacy’ rather well!) … put some candles in the bar, make the lighting more interesting, put a couple of planters in front of your entrance, put all the old photos of “the past” together, in new frames, in one place, polish your famous lift til it gleams, buy 100 yards of red carpet, reprint the menus that are stained and old and, for now … hey presto!

He promises to do it all … but will he? 

Of course not!

Lunch ends at about 5pm (excellent fresh soup, grille chicken and rice … always a favourite) and I consider going back to meet my guide again, but decide against it. It’s too late and I am not sure I want to face all the crowds all over again.

RETURN TO THE AIRPORT

Instead we head to the airport early via the Iskland of Zamalek … meant to be the smarter end of town. All the embassies and expensive houses are there.

We flog over the bridge, taking ages because of the lung choking traffic everywhere – it is after all rush hour – and when we get there, it seems the place is not discernibly different to the rest of town, apart from the usual absurdly glittery shops that litter such places.

I get out of the car a few times to try and take a look at the Nile but we are pounced on my police or security people who insist we move on immediately. As they are armed you don’t argue.

We press on and soon are back on the main part of town heading towards Heliopolis and the Airport.

I haven’t enjoyed my 48 or so hour in Cairo. Seeing the Museum was of course a must and the absolute highlight. Wonderful, and something everyone should see. It is to my mind the epitome of ‘living history; and to stand there and consider everything that has happened to that little statue over 4000 years is quite remarkable.

I am afraid the rest of what I saw was plain disgusting. Squalid, fetid, dusty and unclean … there was, to be honest, nothing to recommend it.

I have been to many towns often described as the same, but always you see glimpses of charm and the presence of something special. Rajpath and that general areafor instance in Delhi, a town that if compared to Cairo.

No, Cairo isn’t in the same league, and one thing is for sure, I shall not be returning.

ONE LAST EVENT

As I mentioned I booked my return flight to Luxor more or less as soon as I arrived at the Hotel.

I may be stupid but when it comes to booking flights I think I am reasonably expert, and so I book a flight at 11pm which would suit a full day in Cairo before returning home.

I have to admit I didn't check the confirmation Email I received but as I was pretty sure what I was doing didn't really feel the need!

I thus arrived at the airport on time at 21.30 ... only to be told, upon inspection of my ticket, that I had booked a flight at 20.45 and that the flight was indeed already in Luxor! I couldn't believe it ... I was unable to take the flight I had originally book as it was full ... and so had to stay the night in a hotel near the airport (Novotel ... boring but adequate!) and return to Luxor the following morning!

Oh, the joys of travel! 

First few days

Rough text version but to be checked overnight and any corrections, bad grammar or bad text will be attended to. Photos will be added in due course. In the meantime photos should be available here - 

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GAP YEAR GIRL.

A great pleasure to meet the daughter of some friends of mine over a croissant and a coffee in Jamie’s at Gatwick as she departs on her gap year trip to Bangkok, Vietnam and Cambodia. It is a trip I would like to do one day. 

Very composed, very excited and very organised, knowing exactly where she is going and what she is doing. Looks like an amazing trip in store.

EASYJET TO HURGHADA

After a delay due to a couple of ladies managing to lose their passports between security and the aeroplane (you left them at security!!) and thus being denied boarding and having their luggage ejected from the plane, we headed out of Gatwick’s rain and grey.

Uneventful journey sitting next to a couple of gents who insisted on plying me with sweets and crisps, but every time I tried to engage them in some sort of conversation, went shy and wouldn't talk.

Maybe they were friends with the group of ladies over the aisle, also of a certain age and from the Newcastle area, who spent the entire flight consuming miniature bottles of vodka, and then proceeded to blow up condoms they had bought with them and popping them, much to their (and no one else's!) hysterical amusement. Brits abroad .... 

NEW AIRPORT AT HURGHADA

One of the smartest airports I have seen in ages now graces arrivals at Hurghada with marble and glass as far as the eye can see. The visa process is no longer quite the chaos it was before and it wasn’t long before I was out into the warm night and meeting up with my friend/driver Mohammed. 

Charming, urbane and highly intelligent chap whose linguistic and communication skills seem totally wasted, but then that is a story so frequent with people from this part of the world. 

EL GOUNA

Thought I would try somewhere new for the obligatory overnight stay (it is far too late to leave for Luxor now) and so had booked a hotel at a ‘gated community’ some 40 minutes north of Hurghada called El Gouna.

Booked a hotel right in the middle of the harbour area called 'El Capitan' which was both inexpensive and comfortable and above all is right adjacent to the Marina in the middle of town.

Adequate room in pole position as far as the view was concerned overlooking an amazing assortment of Gin Palaces and oversized speedboats that look rather like the inside of fridges. No taste whatsoever but lots and lots of money on show …

Went in search of somewhere interesting to eat and found absolutely nowhere with more than 3 people in attendance and prices which were beyond belief. Ended up buying a hot dog from a charming vendor on the harbourfront and walked around trying to find something interesting to look at. Drew a blank and so went back to my hotel.

DAYTIME

The view from my room was wonderful and there were a few more people round than last night. But a few is a few!

Walked around a but more amongst the rather seedy, pseudo smart shops (I am afraid Egypt doesn’t do that terribly well!) before giving up and asking Mohammed to come and get me early. Just not my sort of place, at all

DRIVE TO LUXOR

It starts off nice, through mountains and valleys but in the end grates as you pass into the endless desert landscape with nothing to look at other than miles and miles of scrubby sand interspersed with the odd cement or steel factory.

We stopped at a roadside café where I drank some tea and ate some TUC biscuits and was chatted up by the local merchant who wanted me to buy some scarves. A little too soon for that.

The road however is excellent and in large part now dual carriageway. Mohammed allowed me to drive and spent the time fidgeting that I was going too fast.

Some excitement however crept into the journey as Mohammed wanted to travel on the ‘Desert’ rpad ostead of the much longer and heavily congested “agricultural’ road which meant we had to casually drive through security checks pretending to look the other way in case we were challenged. We made it through, though the desert road meant … more desert. In the end I fell asleep.

ARRIVAL AT THE ORANGE GROVE

The Orange grove, where I stay and set amongst the green fields some 3 miles outside Luxor is unique, certainly in Luxor and quite possibly in the whole of Upper Egypt.

An absolute oasis of calm with a huge, immaculate garden filled with orange and other fruit trees, bougainvillea, with burds chattering overhead.

The house – or mud hut as I call it as it is built from mud – is also beautiful and total modelled on the European style, with fully functioning kitchen and bathroom with lots of hot water.

Furnished almost entirely in the Moroccan style it makes considering going anywhere else an impossibility.

Regrettably and somewhat predictably it has become a victim of its own success …. And so is booked solid for all winter next year!

I left numerous things here last year, including a very nice table lamp which were out waiting for me, and which also included a bottle of Gin … and a gin and orange (fresh orange from the trees in the garden … what else!) was the first thing on the agenda!

A BICYCLE

Its pretty flat around here and so a bicycle is a good way to get around.

Its not a particularly dangerous pastime either as whilst many of the drivers are a bit crackpot, the cars parked by the side of the road act as protection against the cars coming up behind you.

I have also invented a new way to stay safe which may sound rather dangerous but actually works well. And that is to eh … cycle the wrong way up a road.

That way you can watch what is coming against you and leap into the ditch at the merest hint of trouble. When traffic comes up behind you  you never know quite what could happen.

A CAFÉ BY THE NILE

When crossing the Nile (by public ferry please) and walking up river you come across a series of small cafes right on the riverbank.

Used a lot by the expatriate community – mainly women of a certain age and demeanour – to meet up with friends or paramours they serve a good selection of drinks and food right by the river.

I chose the scruffiest one of them all – called Nile View – and enjoy sitting in the late afternoon after a scorching climb up the valleys or to the tombs and enjoy an absolutely brilliant Citron Pressé!

Coloured rugs cover the pleasingly rickety chairs and sofas and each table comes with its own tablecloth. The service is friendly and relaxed and Wifi is free.

THE CARTER HOUSE

Howard Carter was the man who discovered Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings.

By his own admission, and certainly by the comments from those he worked with, an awkward and rather remote man, his life and work was largely on the West Bank.

As is the form here, he built a rather magnificent house made of Adobe or mud … a construction very common in these parts who integral strength and heat resisting qualities are amazing. (I know … I am staying in one which even on the hottest of days remains pleasantly cool)

They have opened up the house to the public and whilst its furnishings and comforts are, to my mind and the mind of others, completely fake – i.e. imported from various places to reflect how he ‘might’ have lived, the house itself somehow completes a square. You go to the valleys and see the sights and then to see where and how the man who discovered them actually lived is rather interesting.

His desk, complete with papers, pens and inkstands, his bedroom and hos kitchen all look pretty genuine, if sparse.

Little garden to mention, bt magnificent views up to the Theban hills and beyond, which it night must have been wonderful.

THE WINTER PALACE

The most famous hotel in all of Egypt (unless you are a fan of the Old Cataract Hotel, Aswan … which I am not, other than for its location!) this wondersul hotel, where I ‘upgraded to’ at the time of the Egyptian revolution in 2011, has one of, if not the most beautiful garden I have ever seen.

Beautifully maintained, despite a huge fall off in visitors, it is both massive and stunningly beautiful.

Bougainvillea and Hibiscus plants flower, specimen shrubs and plants are carefully labelled, palm trees, all perfectly pruned with whitewashed bases, sway in the breeze, a simple fountain set in the middle of a pond tinkles melodiously and somehow cools the air around it and the white cushioned chairs and glass tables set around the garden enables one to sit and contemplate whatever there is to contemplate in total tranquillity.

When I stayed there an old lady, dressed in traditional robes, would fire up a bread oven set in the garden and make and bake bread which was used in the restaurants in the hotel. She once allowed me to bake a pizza in her oven which both she and I found very highly entertaining.

RAGABS SUPERMARKET

As a fan of Waitrose in particular and Supermarkets in general, I was delighted when, rather belatedly, I came across a good supermarket right in the middle of town.

The fist few visits however were something of a mystery to me, as well … they didn’t seem to sell a great deal. Cleaning products and lots of biscuits and some homeware seemed to be the sum  of things.

After a couple of visits I decided to offer them the benefit of my huge experience in using supermarkets and politely asked the checkout man why his supermarket didn’t sell everyday food, vegetables and meat.

He looked at me as if I was quite mad and asked me whether I had been ‘downstairs’

Well, I hadn’t … and after a protracted  search for the way to actually get ‘downstairs’, found a tiny set of stairs in the corner of the ground floor which I descended.

I arrived to be confronted by a huge sales floor selling just about everything you could imagine. I felt a little as Howard Carter must have felt on discovering the tomb of Tutankhamen and spent the next half hour acquainting myself with all the different goodies I could buy to eat!

I even managed to find Parmesan … and lamb … and fish …. It was wonderful, if a tad pricey!

 THE PUBLIC FERRY

Posh people cross the Nile at Luxor in a motorboat …. Commoners like me use the public ferry.

It costs an Egyptian pound …. Roughly 10p per crossing, but comes with a theatre which is almost priceless.

The West bank is regarded as the rough end of town, but to me, whilst I wouldn’t stay there for all the treasures in the kings Valley, is where the real Luxor is to be found.

Whilst it caters for tourists, it doesn’t do so as obviously as the main part of Luxor does.

The ferry is thus the bridge that links the rustic West with the cosmopolitan East.

Old, rusty and shaped like an old Egyptian river boat, it takes about 5 minutes to get from one side to the other.

The ferry carries maybe 200 people at one time and when full is just a heaving mass of humanity both on the top, open air deckm where the view is wonderful, and in the rather steamy below decks where people with no time or inclination for fripperies such as looking at a view they can see every day of their lives sit impatiently  til it is time to pile off.

The women are mostly dressed in black and keep themselves very much to themselves … the men, dressed in every imaginable colour, often wrapped in exotic scarves and wearing cheap if equally exotic sunglasses, wander about the boat in search of friends.

The ferry has captains of differing talents in terms of naviigations. If one is lucky one will come smoothly alongside (some of the ferries seem to be equipped with side thrusters) … if on the other hand the captain has had a row with his wife he will make extreme heavy weather of doing anythings, usually ending up with a bone jarring collision with the metal jetty which elicits much amusement amongst the punters.

Younger men bounce aboard on motorcycles and then have trouble heaving them off up the ramps on the other side, enlisting the help of others to drag the bike, often with the ending running and wheels spinning on a hand clutch to give them a hand.

I have carried my bicycle across often and am always given a hand, sometime by women, to get the thing off.

On the other side one meets a phalanx of hawkers trying to sell you everything from alabaster sculptures, to a taxi, donkey, camel or bicycle ride … all of which I have to say leaves me cold as I have invariably made my arrangements for a driver or whatever before I have left home.

“ARABIA” COFFEE HOUSE

A sort of Disneyland for the coffee culture of Luxor.

Located slightly on the outskirts, and the posh end, of town, this coffee garden, which is the best way I can describe it, is a sort of oasis for those wanting to escape to a rather convivial and well ordered place to go and relax.

Comfy chairs and tables are scattered about in  distinct areas … family, men, women and mixed, and there is a well ordered children’s play area at one end, where parents can take their little ones and twirl the around on swings and slides.

There is a bewildering array of drinks on offer – all non alcoholic of course – with some exitic milk shakes and mocktails to boot which come in hallucinating colours with straws and twirly things on the top.

You can order a wonderful shisha pipe which they will bring to your table and you can sit sucking on the damned thing (never really been able to make the work) for all you are worth.

There is a large TV area at one end where the locals come and watch their favourite team (Al Ahly from Cairo) play and the kids and teenagers can gawp at their mobile phones courtesy of the free wifi.

PRETTY LADY

I cycled to the Colossus of Memnon the other day and stopped to take a look at it, as it is both huge and stands impressively with a backdrop of the Theban hills behind it.

The place was littered with Chinese and Japanese whose herdings instincts and total disinterest in what they are looking at continually amazes me.

They arrive by the coachload, the guide alights first to make sure there are no evil spirits around, and then the group alight, walk in a precession to whatever it is they have come to look at … are photographed continuously infront of it, beside it underneath it and in every conceivable position they possibly can … barging other people out of the way in doing so … and then get back on their coach for the next stop, without a look to the left or the right. 

Frankly I hate the way they do things … which takes me closer than normal to hating them.

They do no good for the country they are visiting as they steadfastly refuse to go out of their hotels and visit the markets and souks unless it is in a guided tour and spend little if any money whatsoever. Tourism without a purpose.

I (of course) am much better than that (haha!) and spend as much time as I possibly can amongst local people.

As I got off my bicycle the fakirs and  hawkers surrounded me trying to sell me their awful tat. I am unfailingly polite but tell them to take a hike!

A little man approaches me with something wrapped in a newspaper … one has to be careful with this sort of thing as sometime they are selling you a genuine relic they or their friend has ‘alf inched from a tomb and if one is caught you are in very serious trouble indeed.

But this was clearly not such a thing but attracted my attention immediately. Made of alabaster it was the figuring of a girl, painted very subtly and, at least to me, rather attractive. I had to have it.

I am I’m afraid after so many years of practise something of a fearsome haggler. My method is usually to name some preposterous figure in response to what the opening gambit may be  (maybe 1/4 or even less) and broadly to stick to that at all costs and in all eventualities.

It has made me lose things as there is always a price under which a seller will not go, but in this case I decided to open (and close) my offer at I£75 (£7) in response to an opening price of  I£450!

Things came down to I£200 without too much trouble and down further with a little cajoling and statements about how poor I was …. How small the item was …. What sort of appalling knocked about condition it was in (untrue … it had character) …. The fact it was only half painted (untrue … it was painted with subtlety).

We passed the I£150 mark a little frayed, at which point the police arrived and we were accosted. The thought I was haggling for a genuine artefact passed my mind again, bit all they wanted was for us to move away from where we were and continue out negotiations in the middle of the busy road. The hawker I was dealing with wasn’t licenced!

At E£100 we got stuck and I thought all was lost. I was being called a hard man … a mean man … a man who didn’t know the true value of beauty … a man of dishonour … a complete bastard.

I feigned to cycle off at which point the man hared after me and said OK OK … E£75. It had been a bad day and so he needed the money to feed his family.

He invited me over to the safe side of the road to complete the transaction and wrapped the head up in newspaper. I gave him his money and then an extra E£25 for being such a good sport. He told me then he knew he had me when I made the mistake of saying how much I liked the head …. I am after all putty in these peoples hands!

EVENING CONCERT AT LE JOILIE VILLE

The chinese government have agreed to pay for the building of an opera house in Luxor. Great idea … who will come remains to be seen, but if they want to spend their jeans and t-shirt Yen on building an opera house then who is the stop them. But you can sort of maybe, just see the logic in their thinking.

Any Opera lover will know that the most famous Opera of all, apart from maybe Carmen, is Aida by Guiseppe Verdi. It is set in the historical city of Thebes, which these days is know as … you guessed … Luxor!

So was their thinking? ..

“We’ll give these Luxorites some culture, about which we know everything.

Enter Wikipedia … ‘Luxor” … Ah yes … Thebes …. Oh look … Opera in Thebes …. Aida …. “We’ve heard of that and can even pronounce it more or less Italian-like and so, I know, lets build them an opera house where Aida can be staged every week and twice on Thursdays.  The world will thank us and give us kudos for out indepth knowledge”  Bless ‘em

Well, whilst we wait for the opera house to be built (I bet it never will) we have the sunset concert at the wonderful Jolie Ville hotel which is just a stones throw away from The Orange Grove.

At about 5pm every evening they blast wonderful classical music from large speakers on their terrace which faces the setting sun and has been the scene of some of the most wonderful sunsets I have ever seen.

It attracts all sorts and to sit there with a cold beer and listen to the music as the sun goes down over the Nile and over the palm trees and fields beyond is one of life’s true pleasures.

The music is different every night ranging from Mozart, to Beethoven. Every instrument is catered for, but of course the hightligt if the weekly performance of Aida.

The music has often to contend with the evening call to prayer, the passing of the odd Nile steamer, fishermen who bat their oars on the water to attract the fish and the 6pm passing of the mosquito machine which belches out carcinogenic white smoke and invariably provokes a coughing fit amongst the elderly.

I am there as I write this. The sun is in the process of setting behind the fields over the Nile, the terrace has just been ‘swept’ for mozzies and dinner is being served to a few couples sitting here. A more romantic place for a valentines day dinner I simply cannot imagine.

NEW OM HASHEM RESTAURANT IN THE SOUK

I come to experience Egypt and things Egyptian and so when I come I try and immerse myself as far as I can and as far as is prudent into the life here.

That includes the food, and therefore it always staggers me the number of restaurants dotted around the town that shout out loud and clear that if you have no interest in integrating whatsoever, or are frightened of so doing (in which case don’t come!) you can go and eat every selection of repulsive English fare you care to name. From Fish and … Burgers and … Eggs and … chips! It is shouted from the rooftops … written about in often incoherent prose how wonderful it is to find ….. well, no thanks!

I stumbled on the New Om Hashem restaurant quite some years ago. It is what one might call a BBQ and grill with a selection of fresh accompaniments,

Grilled chicken or lamb … or spicy koftas are cooked over open coals which glow bright red, in a stainless steel structure that belches smoke into the skies above it.

The place is pretty rudimentary, with tables strewn around haphazardly outside in the dusty street, and a few plastic chairs attached to them.

There is an inside eating area, somewhat more organised and formal but who on earth wants to eat inside when you can eat in the street with horses, donkeys, people in a hurry to get home after work, children shouting and screaming past your table, the odd alleycat rummaging around your legs? I am afraid I thrive on such situations and therefore there is always a slight look of alarm when I bring friends here for the first time. But they are soon won over by the sheer exuberance of the place and …. Once it has arrived which can take some time, the brilliant food!

I will typically have a kebab of chicken (they’re happy to add onions and peppers on the skewer) which are well blackened, juicy and absolutely delicious.

A series of fresh salads and dips can accompany the meal and the piece de resitance is a glass of fresh orange juice to wash it all down.

Life carried on as normal as you sit there, in the middle of the market, eating dinner and no one, other than the curious children who come and stare at you, bats an eylid that there is a tourist sitting in what is predominantly an Egyptian restaurant eating a meal

THE NUBIAN CAFÉ

In the middle of the ‘tourist’ Souk … a differentiation from the ‘local’ souk, where the scarves and jewellery and lamps and trinkets are sold at somewhat inflated prices and which buzzes with people (and other things like motorbikes carriages and animals!) most evenings from about midday to midnight

In the middle of the busiest part is a café with chairs outside where you can sit, drink a mint tea, smoke a shisha pipe and watch the world go by.

And what a world it is! Opposite the bar is a bakery set behind a metal grille that churns out flatbreads by the hundreds and where the queues of people are prodigious, loud and impatient. 5 flatbreads cost E£1 and come out so hot that you just cant hold them.

Opposite is another café where locals go to smoke pipes and play draughts and argue about politics …. They sit there with their djallubahs wrapped around their legs, feet tucked up beneath them, the mouthpiece of their pipe clamped between their teeth and shouting the odds at all the others in the bar!

Again on the other side of the street there is a spice shop where the man who runs it used to be married to an English lady (and now isn’t … very Luxor!) with every spice imagineable  up in brown wooden round stands neatly into multi-coloured sharp points.

I once went in there to buy some saffron …. Only to be disappointed when I got it home to be told it was nothing of the sort! I learned quickly …. I now I buy my saffron on Ebay!

Next to the bar is a street food vendor selling falafel sandwiches … ususally a staple at lunchtime he is still there in the evening and does a roaring trade.

LAMB WITH HIBISCUS

The other night I was given what I thought was an excellent lamb dish. Wonderful chunks of perfumed meat that had been simmered for a long time in stock.  It really was quality meat and was one of the best lamb dishes I have had. I was genuinely impressed!

I decided I wanted to try and do the same and so went off in search of some lamb, which here in Egypt is not the same as going into a butchers in the UK!

Unless you are a complete coward and go and chose in the supermarket to buy your lamb, which in fact is something I would highly recommend … you firstly need to get up early. At least early by holiday standards. 

You then have to search out a good butcher … one who has fresh lamb which has been hung for a while. Here they sell meat just like anything else oh, and fridges are for poofs!

The meat will be strung up on a hook in the street, open to the elements … and the fumes, and yes, the flies …  and people will wander by, as will cars, buses, lorries and donkeys … and will come and prod it and poke it, and of course it’s first come first served with the best pieces.

Whilst there are weighing scales and a rough per kilo price (at the moment it is about 7 UK pounds per kilo) you tend to buy here by pointing to a piece that takes your fancy on the hook and ask the butcher to slice if off. 

He will of course try and include portion of lesser quality and so you have to be on your guard.

I have seen a few fierce rows break out as the female customer gives the butcher hell for ‘trying it on’ and passing a better bit off together with a bit of lesser quality.

I ended up with a medium quality piece … it was 4 pm … which was duly wrapped in a plastic bag.

As soon as I got it home I put it in some stock, added lemons, hibiscus flowers and a nutmeg and simmered it for about an hour on very low heat. I have to say that the smell that slowly pervaded the house was quite wonderful. I then let it stew for 24 hours.

Next day I ate it and have to say it was utterly delicious with quite a strong flavour, but not as good as the one I had had the other day. Nice and tender and well flavoured.

I had intended to put it on some flat bread but didn’t realise that flatbreads,  at least where I am on the outskirts of town, stop being made in the afternoon and so had to serve it with yoghurt and chopped tomatoes on some lettuce.

BUYING ALCOHOL

As in any Muslim country alcohol is frowned on but in Egypt at least it is available freely to those that want it. The hotels and restaurants serve it largely without issue.

But if you want it at home there are about 3 or 4 shops in Luxor where Egyptian alcohol is sold. They are located in the centre of town and are arranged a little like a bar itself with the various bottled arranged in neat rows behind the vendor. 

In the shops in town foreign alcohol is not really available and therefore one is left with the choice of a wild array of Egyptian made wine (frankly revolting apart from the famous Omar Khyam, and spirits which to say the least are bracing.

I bought a bottle of Egyptian Gin the other day and much to my regret had to throw it away as even diltured with either orange juice or tonic water it was quite undrinkable!

I didn’t buy any spirits but I did buy some bottles of absolutely excellent Egyptian beer which were packed for me in a black plastic bag and which I loaded into the panier basket of my bicycle and were rattled through town back to The Orange Grove. They now are deposited in my fridge and are a wonderful treat after a long day in the sun!

FAKE WATCHES

I have always loved watches and have been staggered over the years at the prices some fetch and so will never be able to afford a real one, but coming to a place like Egypt enables you to indulge your watch fantasies with good quality fakes, as in `Europe they are simple unavailable in any shape or form, so good is the job the watch companies have done in stamping out the fake trade.

Last year I bought a good quality but naturally fake Rolex which I have worn regularly and, of course with certain exceptions, is hard to tell the difference from a real one. It has the sweeping second-hand action, weighs to the gram exactly the same as a real one and has a very chunky and well made feel. It also keeps perfect time!

However there is always one way to tell the difference …. And that is to drop it on a hard floor which I did accidentally a few days before coming. Whilst upon picking it up expecting the worst it still was ticking away perfectly … all the numbers on the face had fallen off!!

Upon my return to Luxor I took it into the shop where I bought it …. And within a day they had had the numbers expertly stuck back onto the face and the watch continues to work faultlessly!

I have been in negotiation for the past few days with a rather attractive A. Lange und Sohn watch with a leather strap and a very simple design …. And today, on my late night return from the centre of town on my bicycle I stopped off at the shop to see whether my idea on what I wanted to pay and my friend the shopkeeper’s idea were any more aligned than they had been the other day.

I was offered tea and we sat down. We talked a bit about this and that and during this process I played the diversionary tactic of admiring a completely different watch in his display, whilst still occasionally alluding to the watch I really wanted.

This process continued for a while until I suddenly announce, rather dramatically and in mid sentence about something ele 

“OK, I am going to give you E£xxx for the Lange watch” …. And get out the cash which I just extracted from the wall and slam it with a not very convincing look of finality on my face on the table … the sum is (somewhat) under the figure we have (somewhat) tortuously arrived at over a few days!

The man look a little distressed – a REAL professional therefore – and nods his head. I hand over the cash and we shake hands. I am now the proud owner of a nice, understated and very fake A. Lange and Sohn watch!

And no, I’m not going to tell you what I paid (because you were done! Ed.)

Now … that Cartier Tank watch I saw on the way out looked rather nice….!