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September 2003

September 13th 2003 Saturday

Today I arrived in Cairo. I have already noted several waves of shock passing through my brain. This is definitely the weirdest and boldest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’ve not slept in several days- this hotel, the Berlin, is incredibly awesome. I need to eat, drink, and sleep, then I’ll write more. P.S. Things to do-find water, flip-flops, and cut off my hair. Ma’as Salehma.
    Night-I walked around and ate some crusty pasta type dish for LE 2.50. I notice everyone stares at my hiking boots-apparently these are very weird here. Everything here is so old and beautiful. This hotel has ceilings easily 18 feet high, insane exposed wiring, weird dark alcoves filled with rubbish, an ancient elevator, several cats, a lizard in the shower, and it smells like an old book. The toilets are brilliant-no T.P., just a stream of water to spray the anus. Very sustainable. There are almost no foreigners on the streets. Some people stare at me, but most seem friendly. The traffic is wild-totally anarchic and perilous. The market I walked through had what appeared to be a living turkey vulture shop.
    Flying in from Switzerland, across the delta, strange forms appear below, all shrouded in a yellow fog. I glimpse the step pyramid at Saqarra, the vast megalopolis. As soon as the plane touched down, all the Egyptians got up and started rummaging through the overhead compartments, causing the Swiss flight attendants to throw a serious spazz. Waiting then in a long line with tourists and other Arabs, most women in hejab, some with full black burqa. Saudis (?) in brilliant white robes. I tried without luck to find the bus and took a taxi instead, enduring long hotel toutage-but the two drivers dropped me off at last. I went up into an exceedingly dark and mysterious building to find my hotel. The owner is very nice and gave me much gentle advice before I set out to find dinner. Everyone seems to shout “Ya Achmad!” I wonder what that means. Many children beg, selling packs of Kleenex. A cute girl aged about 4 sits in the gutter with no legs, begging. Very weird signs. A mysterious stencil with a skull. Many people selling car window handles. People riding very burly old bikes in traffic. A man mentions my mustache. All the rooftops are covered with rambling squatter shacks. Horn use is constant. I’m still buzzing after my short nap. Tomorrow I will lay in some stores and relax more.

September 14th, 2003 Sunday
    This morning I explored downtown, got sort of lost, but found my way back. I also bought some slippers for LE33.5. Probably this should have required bargaining, but I just didn’t bother, because it’s like $5. I saw lots of cool stuff on the street today-animals and posters. The Koran is everywhere here- civil servants and shopkeepers read it all the time, and recordings of recitations are played constantly. I really want to learn the Arabic, but when I try to speak the little I know, it seems to cause confusion- people are more comfortable with their bits of broken English. Another thing to consider- I seem to go too fast in every way. I need to slow down and let things develop and play out. I figured out about the skull “graffiti”- it’s a warning sign on electrical boxes. Most have a lot of writing and a skull and crossbones, very scary, but some have a happy face and cross bones-an awesome design. I wrote some emails today. Tomorrow I’ll visit pyramids with another guest at the hotel. Then Tuesday I’ll try to contact IH Heliopolis. Meanwhile, I like to listen to the radio- there is all sorts of weird stuff on. Sort of Arabic restaurant music, LA hip-hip, Koranic chanting and really cool dance music. I don’t exactly seem like the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I tried to use a 50pt note as a LE 50 note. Jeez. But this is something that can be overcome. I’ve always been bothered by obsessive, involuntary memories of embarrassing situations and stupid things I’ve done, and I seem to rack up an inordinate amount of these while traveling. However, I’ve decided to not give a shit about this anymore.

September 15th 2003 Monday
    Today I went on a big trip to various pyramids with a nice French couple. We shared a taxi, which took us to Giza, Saqarra, Memphis and Dashur. The first sight of the great pyramid, rising too huge over the squalid concrete hovels, was astonishing. It was much bigger than I had imagined- meticulous, inscrutable, terrible. What the hell prompted people to construct this vast mountain, and to accuracies of less than 1mm is something I’ll never know. Examining the fitting of the blocks, I found it perfect, with no gaps-straight lines, as if of one solid block. And this accuracy was in the interior limestone blocks, not the casing. Entering the King’s chamber, I found about 40 sweaty people meditating. The sheer size of the thing is astonishing. -I also had the opportunity to practice my French, which was very enjoyable. The red pyramid at Dashur was most interesting, with three sequential corbelled chambers. Perhaps as interesting as all the ancient piles of rubble was the taxi ride through the countryside South of Cairo. I observed a huge date palm plantation lining the road for miles, with corn planted underneath. The road paralleled an irrigation canal, which featured the bloated, rotten carcasses of many cows. Kids were swimming and fishing in it. Along the more urban parts of it were smoldering piles of rubbish and people sleeping wrapped in mats. We also saw a funeral outside the Memphis museum. In a temple near the small pyramid of Pepi we observed carvings on the wall. I detected something brutal, repetitive and alien about them. Scenes of animals being slaughtered repeated on and on, people bearing heaps of food, smelling flowers, the name of a king repeated endlessly. The shattered remnants of this civilization are disturbing to observe, as if in them we see the familiar aspects of our world in their atavistic reduced form. The glorification of the mighty, power and control, bureaucracy, engineering, the erection of hubristic follies. Of course, these spare remnants will probably endure long after our civilization has been reduced to a stratum of plastic bags and bottles. Of the great pyramid, an older monument, I feel differently. I cannot understand it, but I feel that it clearly has some profound purpose or meaning, if only because of its mind-blowing scale, and the perfection of its craftsmanship. It is clearly a level above the other pyramids, which seem to be composed of loosely piled blocks and stones. Also inescapable is the fact that it is so far superior to anything that the millennia of Egyptian history following it were able to produce. So many things in our world seem to spring at once into existence, reach perfection almost immediately, and then lapse into interminable periods of decay and decline.

September 16th, 2003
    This day I walked through packed streets to the museum of Islamic art, but it was sadly closed for renovations. I then walked around the Khan Khalili, and up to Hakim’s mosque and back, stopping for a wonderful glass of pomegranate juice. These stupid shoes I bought were killing my feet, even after I modified them. I came back to the hotel and had a shower and a nap. I’ve been keeping up a lively email correspondence with Martha and Jesse. I had a beer at the Stella cafeteria, then walked up to Midan Ramsis and had a chat with two expats about Cairo. Tomorrow I’ll have a job interview out in Heliopolis at the ILI, so now I’ll listen to the radio for a bit on my walkman, then try to get some sleep. I’m still not entirely adjusted to the time here, and I tend to get very sleepy at about 4 in the afternoon, and it soon becomes impossible to resist the urge to sleep then.
   
September 17th, 2003
    This day I traveled out to Heliopolis to do an interview at the ILI school there. The interview went well, and I observed a long class taught by Anne-Marie, a very expert teacher. Apparently, they are desperate for teachers. I have a demo lesson to do on Sunday afternoon from 4:30 to 5:45. My one reservation is that Heliopolis is one of the most horrific places I’ve ever seen. It has all of the pollution and traffic of Cairo, with none of the exciting mad energy or sense of history. Actually, the traffic is considerably worse, as there are no pedestrians. It is the rich part of town- either a sort of dusty, cheesy poshness, or just degraded concrete Stalinist apartment blocks. The school itself seems like a really excellent place- everyone is friendly and sympathetic, and the resources are ample, however, I think living out here would totally suck. Its about 30-40 minutes to Cairo from there. Later, at least before Sunday, I will try to go by the ELS center in Dokki. This evening I hung out in Midan Orabi, a place I really like. It was packed with all sorts of people, and continual, unabating total mad chaos. Vendors burdened with every sort of crap, (lamps, balloons, belts, bread, tea, inscrutable plastic objects) kids and cats swarming around, everyone sitting on the corroding concrete ledges. Then I bought a Stella beer for LE5 and went back to my room to drink it and read this book I got: Rousseau’s Reveries du Promineur Solitaire.

September 18th, 2003
    This day I moved to the very fancy Carlton Hotel, in order to compose my Demo lesson in air-conditioned comfort. I can’t think in the heat. My room (#51) has a wonderful balcony. I also visited Zamelik and the market at Bulaq. The entomology museum was however closed.

September 19th, 2003
    This day I visited the Egyptian Museum, Coptic Cairo, and the very nice Nilometer. The Akhenaton colossal hermaphrodite statues were most impressive. The Coptic museum was, like the Islamic Museum, closed. I did buy some funny Coptic stickers for the Delta. The Copts seem to go in for kitsch much more than the Muslims. Did I mention I shaved my head? I ate in a fancy restaurant of Chinese type tonight.

September 20th, 2003
    This day I walked down Sharia Muhammad Ali to the 876 AD mosque of Ibn Tulun. This walk involved getting lost for a considerable period of time in strange markets and alleys, but I eventually found my way there. It was pretty awesome. There were thousands of archways, each with its own intricate pattern of interlocking geometrical tessellations and organic, floral designs. I was reminded of molecules and chemical structures, as well as the Koran’s references to there being signs in plants. Unfortunately the spiral minaret was closed. I walked back to my nice hotel and had a nap. Then I reviewed my lesson plan for tomorrow and went out and had a really excellent Egyptian pizza called Fiteer, and a Stella at the cafeteria Horreya. All the streets here are named stuff like Sharia Mansheit Horribile Nazi Ghonorrhea. As for the traffic, I’ve observed that although it appears totally chaotic, it does work, i.e.: everyone knows what to do, and it has its own rules. Strange rules may seem like chaos to a stranger.

September 23rd, 2003
    Now I’m staying at the Dahab Hotel. Very nice. This day I walked to the British Council and dropped off my resume there. Then I walked to the Al-Azar footbridge and bought my third pair of shoes there. These ones suck too. At least I learned the Arabic word for flip-flops- shib-shib. I’m sure my problem of finding a decent pair of sandals here is somehow emblematic of my failure to get grounded, or something. The past few days I’ve felt angry and today I had a vision of a snake inside every person. The snake can be a black, clotted coil of wrath, or a smooth sinuous flow. I realized that one can control one’s own snake. Later today I realized that this was of course the Kundalini serpent. I guess my lesson on Sunday didn’t go over so well. It seemed sort of so-so to me, but the teacher didn’t seem too impressed. They already knew the second conditional into the ground, and that’s what the lesson was about. I have learned some key Arabic phrases: A- da- what’s this called. Now I can always ask people what things are called. I visited the used car part market in Bulaq today. Far fucking out. Also a long market street. Women selling rotted piles of fish covered in flies. I felt sad to see that. I also bought a roasted ear of corn (eh da –DoDi) and only moments later a pick up full of cops screeched to a stop and the cops poured out and seized the corn roasting stand (this consisted of a metal box with some coals and a stack of corn piled on some baskets) and burning rubber taking off. I’m curious why they did that. It seemed really weird. All the other sock and watch-strap vendors packed up at evening call to prayer, so maybe its illegal to sell shit after then. I don’t know. As for general progress, I really need to find a job here. Tomorrow, I’ll visit the AUC, perhaps.
   

September 24th, Wednesday
    Mostly rested today. I sat in Midan Ramsis for a long while today, listening to the evening call to prayer and watching people go by. At the Dahab I met a fellow Xander from Portland Maine. He went to Evergreen and knew some Reedies I knew-Reza, Dante, and John Otto. Had a good long talk with him about Islam and Egypt. He said to keep a record.
September 25th, Thursday
    I woke up wreathed in wrath and almost fought a man, but then calmed down. I realized that I don’t have to get a job here if I don’t want, and can travel anywhere on the planet. I once more visited Coptic Cairo to buy more of their awesome kitsch to send to Portland friends and to adorn this book. Then I came back to my hotel and took a nap. Woke up and studied the Arabic alphabet on the roof until sunset call. It’s nice to hear the call start up in various sections of the city. I had some dinner and a Stella at the Cafeteria Horreybile. I’ve taken to carrying around my jaw harp and playing it when playing it when kids ask me for money or people try to get me to come to their cousin’s papyrus shop. This is a lot better than pretending to be Russian or just telling people to fuck off.
    I went to have a tea at a local ahwa and ended up having an interesting conversation with a Coptic Christian. He had spent time in the states and was a systems administrator or some shit. He was totally pro-American and pro-Bush. In his view, America was the land of opportunity, as here in Egypt he was discriminated against for having a Jewish name “Samuel.” He was pro- war and said that Saddam had killed three million, and that nobody could talk freely in their ahwas during his reign, or else the police would come and beat them. He also said that Egyptians should be grateful for the massive aid they get from the Americans. Apparently, the sewer system was paid for by the USA. In his view, the Egyptians just didn’t have their thinking straight- they are intolerant, conservative, and very anti-US, but at the same time they are getting massive dollars from the US. I was almost convinced by his talk about supporting the war. It’s true that Saddam was an evil bastard, but the US can’t just go about launching unprovoked wars against other nations. In addition, Bush’s reasons or excuses for the war were absurd lies: the WMD and the implied connection to 9-11. Its all too clear that Bush’s puppet masters wanted the war for other strategic reasons: namely, to allow troops to withdraw from Saudi Arabia, and to generally increase our military, with its attendant expenditures. But anyway, its interesting to hear a pro-US voice here. I really want to talk to some Egyptians who oppose the US too, but everyone I meet seems to adopt at least a veneer of pro-US sentiment out of fear of offending me. Hopefully if I can learn some Arabic I can initiate these discussions more effectively.
     Currently, my plan is thus: to visit Alexandria and Upper Egypt for a while, then maybe come back to Cairo and study Arabic in some formal classes for a while before trying to find a teaching job. According to Xander, Damascus Syria is a pretty cool place too. Tomorrow I’ll try to visit this one school in Zamelik, and then imshahallah I might visit a mosque in Islamic Cairo.
    As I was walking around tonight, I suddenly realized why I didn’t get the job teaching at International House Heliopolis. It’s kind of funny how dense I can be sometimes. It took me four days to realize this. We were practicing the 2nd conditional used for impossible situations in the present, and we were saying sentences like “if I was a woman, I would do X.” One student said what sounded to me like “If I was a woman, I would be very expensive.”  I repeated this to the class “…you would be very expensive?” sort of trying to make a joke of it. Of course, all the women in the class were probably seriously embarrassed, as was the evaluating teacher, who wore hejab and was very serious. It might not seem like a big deal, as it didn’t to me at the time, but now that I’ve been here a bit longer, I realize it was probably considered really bad. It seems pretty funny to me anyway. Fuck em if they can’t deal with it. What seem interesting to me is that it took me so long to realize what I’d done. This points out a strange thing about myself: I can be very sensitive to certain things when I am in groups of people, like if another person catches what I’m thinking, or is upset or angry with another person, yet at the same time I can be just massively dense when it comes to catching on that I myself am being annoying or improper. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing, long after everyone else has realized I should have stopped. This seems to happen exclusively in school settings. Hmm. This characteristic obliviousness is something I’ve always admired in other people. Like I remember how this one time in 8th grade this kid Seth Hendricks picked a fight with me. It took me literally YEARS to realize why he’d done this: because I’d been getting way too friendly with his girlfriend Jen Peer. The reason must have been obvious to others at the time. But like I’ve always admired people who just go on doing their own thing regardless of what other people think. I’ll always regard this as a high virtue. I suppose my goal should be to attain awareness of what others think of me, but not to be concerned with it. At certain times it will be useful to understand other’s opinions about me, but it is more important to let my own spirit and destiny flow where it will without being at all concerned with what the other monkeys may happen to think.

September 26th, 2003 Friday
    This day I walked over to Zamelik to look for a job at this one school, but it was closed (being Friday I guess). Anyway, it looked like a school for kids. There were many embassies in the area, and the streets were lined with cops of every variety and description. The amount of police here is astounding. Anyway,  I wandered around the island for a long time. I seem to have this problem where I just keep walking forever. I’ve been doing it for days, walking all around Cairo endlessly. As I was walking around the upper West side of Zamelik, I heard this strange garbled babbling coming across the river from Imbaba. It sounded like hundreds of different rants were being played simultaneously at very high volume on very poor sound systems. When I got to the Northern part of the Island, I could hear  this weird babbling coming from all over Cairo. I guess this was sermons. Xander told me that all the sermons are issued by the state. Walking around Zamelik, trying to find this one restaurant named “Al Dente,” I came across streets blocked by people praying on rolled out Astroturf. At last I found my restaurant and had some good pasta. The I walked back along the corniche and read a funny newspaper called the Egyptian Gazette. At last I made my way across endless lanes of traffic to my hotel and wrote some letters. I had a nap, then studied the alphabet some more. I’ve learned various letters so far. Then dinner and more hours of aimlessly wandering around the city. A crazy man pretended to attack me with wooden blocks. A cop distracted him. Later I saw him attack a big African in a white galabiyya. I bought two Stellas and came back to the Dahab Hotel. Tomorrow I will try to visit a mosque, an ATM, and consolidate my shit. Sunday I’ll go to Alex for a few days. Perhaps I will sacrifice a goat to the mighty god of weirdness and obscurity.

Fun facts about Cairo:
1. If all the belts in Cairo were stretched end to end, they would reach from Earth to Jupiter14 times.
2. If all the replacement watchstraps in Cairo were connected, they would reach from Midan Tahrir to Shubra. The average Cairene man replaces his watchstrap 27 times each year.
3. If all Cairenes turned into millipedes, there would still be 500,000 extra shoes for them to wear, in the stores along Qasr El Nil alone.

September 27th, 2003
    This day I visited the awesome mosque of Qaitby in the Northern Cemetery. I walked out past the Khan and into the weird rubble strewn cemetery. The people there seemed nicer than the more urban Cairenes. The mosque itself was in two parts, each much taller than wide. The back part where Qaitby and his sisters are buried next to the prophet’s footprint was particularly amazing. The dark dome towered vertiginously overhead, illuminated  by small, brilliantly colored glass windows. A single chain hung from the apex. The guard and I made echoes. The carved Koran stand was inlayed with intricately inlayed ivory panels. The guard then unlocked the door to the minaret and let me climb up alone. I went up to the roof and observed geometric intricacies. Then I continued up the dark twisting staircase to the top of the minaret. The inside of the minaret stones was carved with suras. From the top the view was amazing. I could see the whole cemetery, the hills, the Citadel, and downtown far away. Wires trailed in the staircase, leading to speakers. While I was up there, the noon call began. I listened for a while, then descended. I walked around the roof some more, and observed the endless piles of trash and rubble far below. This rubble seems to be uniquely characteristic of Cairo. The streets and storefronts are meticulously swept, but any other space, be it rooftops, vacant lots, alleys, or ledges, will accumulate deep layers of plastic bags, broken pottery, water bottles and indescribable rubbish. I then went down and the guard showed me a well. I used the word Maya (water). As I descended the steps, a blind man was led up. He wore a sort of fez and seemed to be a holy personage. I passed under an archway and saw a young man loping along on all fours. I retraced my path back downtown and to my hotel. On my walk I came to perceive that the outer universe we perceive is a direct reflection of our inner state. Yesterday, or rather the day before, when I was so angry, I encountered and created anger in the people I met. Being in this giant city has made me realize with especial force, that the polarity of our inner state, over which we can exercise control, radically determines the nature and content of all we encounter in our experience. I think that if I were to spend all day in my room meditating on millipedes, I would go out at night and find them everywhere, in books, advertisements and conversations. Were I to do the same with darkness, light, happiness or wrath, or any other subject or mood under the sun, that same thing that I chose to cultivate in my mind, I would meet in the world.

September 28 2003 Sunday
    This day I took a train to Alexandria and signed into the hotel Acropole. The train ride was rather relaxing, through the delta. The man sitting next to me recited the Koran for about an hour before falling asleep and snoring loudly. I read the English newspaper Al-Ahram. Its treatment of THE PRESIDENT  Hosni Mubarak was kind of funny. Apparently anything he does is a priori good, and any problems with the government are caused by his minions or other minor officials. The papers will say things like “As everyone knows, Mubarak was correct in his summary of…” or “world leaders echoed Mubarak’s call for X.” This slavish bootlicking is vaguely amusing. There are also huge posters of THE PRESIDENT which one can see on the street from time to time. One of these induced a minor revelation in me as I walked to Ramsis train station this morning. I came cross an enormous new building which was apparently some sort of Ministry of Truth headquarters. The names of various government owned newspapers were emblazoned on it. On one side of the building a huge image of a very smug looking Mubarak, complete with sunglasses, was depicted at least six stories tall. The image of Mubarak overlooked small images of newspaper printing apparatus, and small figures of workers. This image appeared to me to be frankly but unconsciously Pharonic. The vast scale of the depiction of the leader, overseeing minute workers carrying out their daily tasks, was obviously analogous to ancient Egyptian art. It was at this point that I realized that the Egyptians, after having thrown off 2222 years of foreign rule, re-established the pharonic succession interrupted millennia ago. It now appears that Mubarak’s son will succeed him when he dies. While there is certainly something reassuring in this tenacity of national characteristics, there is also something grossly revolting in the contemplation of these vast millennia of subordination and submission, veneration of rulers and unquestioning, doglike slavering. This pharonic tendency to veneration of the Pharaoh, and of subordination of the self, of course brings to mind the topic of Islam, which means submission, but to Allah, not the Pharaoh. It is odd to see men who have developed dark calluses on their heads from praying. I’m not really sure what I think of this.
    Anyway, once in Alexandria I had some dinner and then walked out along the corniche to the site of the pharos. Here is a fort built by the same Qaitby. Then I came back to my hotel and drank a Stella. Fortunately, the beer store is located in the same building as this hotel. Tomorrow I’ll try to visit catacombs.

September 29th, 2003 Age 26
    This day I arose and had a breakfast at my hotel. During this repast, which consisted of an egg, boiled, bread, tea, and a wedge of cheese, enclosed in an aluminum wrapper, I espied a member of the fly clan, of enormous proportions and dignified demeanor. I wanted to kill it. Comply the fly did not, but flew away. After this encounter, I set out for the Serapeum, and managed to get gloriously lost in a dense network of goat-clogged alleys. At one point I came across a huge tent set up in the street, carpeted and filled with folding chairs. Perhaps a festivity was planned. Chickens and huge gnarly turkeys scrabbled amongst the piles of rubble. Ornate wooden doors, ancient and warped, gave access to obscure interiors, or held back mountains of trash. At last I found the enterence to the catacombs I sought. Huge tour busses, tinted and air-conditioned, towered over the local conveyances. I entered a small dusty field filled with Roman remains, and crossed to a spiral staircase descending far below the surface. This led to a deep warren of Roman tombs carved out of the sandstone. To the left was a triclinium, or banquet hall. Apparently these Alexandrians held funeral feasts far below on the occasion of a death. These must have been splendidly morbid occasions for gluttonous slurping of soups and ripping of roasted flesh. Farther along and deeper lay the main tomb, flanked by unflattering miniature statues of the deceased. The interior was decorated with a fascinating mixture of Roman, Hellenistic and Egyptian death iconography. Strangest of all were carvings of serpent beings wearing the armor of Roman legionaries. I wandered deeper into the back parts of the tombs. I was immediately overcome with a deafening sense of preternatural silence. Although tourists and their guides were talking loudly a ways off, I could not hear them at all. A sort of negative echo swallowed any noise I made. At this point I called on the god Serapis.
    Later I observed that many of the lower loculi or tombs were filled with water. This certainly was a spooky place. The slanted grain of the sandstone was visible on the vaulted walls. I wondered where the dead were. Passing into other parts of the tomb, I saw wall paintings and a glass case filled with bones. Perhaps these belonged to the famous donkey who discovered the catacombs. I resurfaced and exited the area. Next I visited “Pompey’s Piller” and the Serapeum. This pillar was truly massive and very impressive. I wondered very much how its erection was effected. It was located on the peak of a sort of ruinous Acropolis. This was the Serapeum. A network of tunnels was worked deep below it. Perhaps here some sort of ceremonies were carried out, or initiations undergone. Leaving this ruinous heap, I lunched in town.
    Next I went to the truly excellent Greco-Roman museum, where among masses of ancient statuary I observed two particularly interesting examples. The first was a bust of Demeter, looking powerfully imperious, yet coy and alluring. She had small moon-horns on her high forehead. The second was a statue of a totally bizarre and unrecognizable deity, some unlabeled syncretic nightmare from the miasmic depths of the Helleno-Egyptian unconscious. The head, although largely obliterated, showed a huge gaping mouth filled with toe-like teeth, and was surrounded by a pointed corona. The thing had four wings, a hairy body, and its feet terminated in cloven hooves. I stood before it for many minutes, dumbfounded. 
The legs suggest the Greek god Pan, the wings some sort of Egyptian minor spirit, and the halo, perhaps a fallen angel. As far as the mouth, all that suggested was Lovecraft. Was this Satan? Who knows? I left it wholly mystified, and returned to my hotel. Altogether, I find Alexandria a far more salubrious locality than Cairo, not least because its proximity to the ocean affords actual air to breathe, rather than the mixture of diesel exhaust and burning plastic found in Cairo. The people here seem perhaps a little more friendly as well. I think I’ll stay here another day. After resting at my hotel for a while, I ventured out for dinner. This turned out to be ta’miyya and soup at a small diner type place. Next I wandered a bit in the souq adjoining Midan Tahrir, but exited, fearing the unusually dense crush of bodies there. I then consumed two Stella and some calamari at a truly wonderful bar called the cap d’or. Leaving that locality, I walked down to the corniche overlooking the wide harbor. Here I observed the waters and briefly contemplated my future which, seems unusually wide open at the moment.

September 30th, 2003
    This day I arose and breakfasted at my hotel, the illustrious Acropole. Although unembellished by fresh fruits as guava, strawberries, bananas, pomegranates, or melons, and further lacking waffles, pancakes, bacon, sausage, or a selection of fine cheeses or roast meats, was nevertheless distinguished by the notable inclusion of a plastic canister, sealed with foil, containing a circular gelatinous disc of apricot jam. Thus fortified, I ventured fourth. Not before remembering, however, that the strange statue that I viewed yesterday in the Greco-Roman museum did indeed have arms. These were crossed over the chest, and each terminated in a hand holding a large key. This recollection adds a further dimension of weirdness to the recollection of this statue. Although aware that the ancients had locks and keys, I did not know that they so closely resembled modern examples. Perhaps this then was some sort of chthonic gatekeeper.
    At any rate, I wandered the town some more and had my photograph taken. In the afternoon, I made my way up into the old part of town called Anfushi. This area was really beautiful. The vast market there included heaps of living seafood, in addition to all variety of fruits, olives and cheeses. Many horses were pulling carts there. The ancient buildings lapsed into glorious crenellated decay. I felt like this was a really good place. O, and earlier I visited the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, but this was closed. The guard said it would open tomorrow. The architecture was quite amazing though. Anyways, towards sunset, I came across a Midan filled with little amusement rides for children, which led into an area between two beautiful white mosques. I noticed the young moon between two minarets, and the sunset called to prayer began. This call was one of the most eerie and beautiful I’ve ever heard, as it seemed to come from many places at once, and to be more clear and slowly reflective than others. I walked up more narrow streets and to the site of the pharos, and watched the darkness creep up over the sea. Men fished with long reel-less poles. I walked back to town and had a beer at a strange cluttered bar called The Spitfire, then a small koshari and brought two Stellas back to the Acropole.

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