Friction and fruitless foraging in flat-finding frenzy

So we are now settled into our very own 3 bedroom apartment just off Fouad Street, near the university and a quiet, slightly overgrown park in the centre of Alexandria. The process for finding a flat in this country is a bizarre one. There are no estate agencies per say- simply brokers ("simsar") and doormen ("bawab"). One has only to find a suitable area, approach the nearest bawab and inquire as to the availability of flats in the building. Within 10 minutes you can be inside an empty flat with the contract drawn up, handing over a wad of cash to a hairy but happy landlord. The key to finding the perfect flat is more or less this- be lucky. As is the Egyptian way, it helps to ask anyone and everyone you know and meet for leads on nice apartments, until somebody calls you randomly with an opportunity to have a viewing. Given the cultural disparity, the following factors also need to be considered:

• location (near a mosque/ school/ embassy/ gas station or mechanic- hot spot for creepy men)
• neighbours (super orthodox/nosy/noisy/creepy/foreign- can make for more relaxed bawabs)
• landlord (not crazy/relaxed about visitors of the same/opposite sex/egyptian/non-egyptian)
• rent (egyptian price/tourist price)

And so your life will become a mad opportunist scramble for a few weeks until you manage to find something which ticks all four boxes. A few beauteous apartments slipped through the net for failing to fulfill but one of the necessary criteria. One flat in particular still haunts my memories, its full wall of windows overlooking the harbour and western kitchen with bar attached floats obnoxiously through my head from time to time. Lamentably, the landlady was a psycho bitch.

We were blessed eventually with a comfortably sized flat in a prime location with a flexible landlord and accommodating bawab. The bawab is more or less the egyptian equivalent of a bouncer, for aparments and businesses across the country. They spend their days sitting watching the world pass by, socialising with passing citizens and other bawabs. They are responsible for the cleanliness of the foyer and rubbish disposal for the entirety of the apartments in their building. All we have to do is dump our bin bags outside of the door, and within a couple of hours those nifty garbage elves have removed everything. We have two bawabs, one old, one young (which is quite unusual from what I've seen) and we're supposed to tip them/ bring them slices of cake/chocolates every so often- something which as of yet we have failed to do, save in Eid al Adha last week when Anais, my flatmate, tipped them some change, as is customary during this time. They deserve at least a bit of cash, to compensate them for their tolerance of what can only be described as sometimes bizarre behaviour...last night we snuck past him in full costume to go to a belated halloween party- perplexed, I think, is the word he would have been looking for had he wished to express his reaction...

So all is well for us in the real estate realm once again, hamdulilah. 

There is never a dull moment in this country.

The bawab outside of our institute. A merry fellow.

Back on the grid!

My sincerest apologies for the lack of commitment to this here blog...I could very well make my excuses (stressful flat hunting/culture shock/sporadic internet connections cough cough) but I shan't. I shall just simply carry on, and try to adequately fill you in from where I left off. More posts to come...

Desert adventures on the border of Libya

After deciding to take a break from the big city we bought four tickets on an overnight bus to the Siwa Oasis- an amazing pharonic pre-islamic settlement made entirely of sand- imagine a hill made of caves fresh out of star wars. The bus journey was pretty surreal, having originally planned to plug in to my music and catch up on some rest, we were kept awake by a rowdy group of young egyptian men who had evidently never laid eyes upon a european female and took the opportunity to inspect our every feature, make themselves more than comfortable, heads on legs and all (and help themselves to two of Rosie's bottles of water). One of those pinch me moments. We've spent the day drinking tea and learning more aalmeya vocab (the colloquial dialect), but only the useful stuff: -
"I don't understand"
"3 sugars in my coffee"
"Piss off and leave me alone"
To set the scene currently, we're chilling on the cushions of a roof top internet cafe as the sun sets around us, the call to prayer echoing off of the hills, shisha and turkish coffee in hand. Man I love this country. Planning to stay here for 5 days or so, to spend the days refreshing our arabic before the course starts (due to the midday heat, it just stops you from expending unnecessary energy), camping in the desert, swimming in the hot and cold springs and eating our collective weight in falafel and fresh fruit. People are willing to give up their time to help you practice your arabic here out of pure hospitality, it's so refreshing in comparison to the big city vibe where there's always a commercial expectation. Pictures to come...

Standing on the roof of our hostel

Ancient settlements

Ad-lib arabic lessons

Perfecting the art of tea-pouring

Hip hop, humus and hope

handstand cascade

el rap eskanderee

We were lucky enough to stumble upon an underground arts street festival last night. We walked out away from the city centre led by one of Tania's potential flatmate's Khaled, a student/part-time musician involved with a local film symposium, a pretty lively guy to say the least. The bass was the first thing I noticed as we turned the corner, weaving our way through patchy football matches towards a busy stage surrounded by crowds of Egyptian students, both male and female. Beyond the music 10-15 guys were break-dancing in canon almost, with one leader at the front directing the other members of the crew. All of a sudden you looked to your left to find a crowd of men mid-handstand keeping pace beside you. Further beyond that still lay a plethora of ramps and jumps covered by swarms of boys (and girls!) flipping and bailing consecutively...I could not believe this stuff happens here...racist? perhaps, naive? perhaps, but I truly underestimated the power of the youth movement in Egypt, which has apparently emerged dramatically since the revolutions now that kids no longer fear the same retribution from oppressive authorities and have more wiggle room to expand creatively. GO EGYPT.

Dusty Dusty Arabia

So after several careless stamping mistakes from sleepy Egyptian passport officials, a demanding check-in desk man requesting my father's credit card and a very strong and frankly overpriced filter coffee in the joy that is Sharm El Sheikh airport, we touched down in Al Eskanderia. I was picked up by a beautiful, bubbly chemistry Egyptian professor from the city's university, a contact from my auntie's arabic year abroad "back in the day" (apologies for that one). She gave me a whirlwind tour of the city and its surrounding area, before dropping me off at the hostel where my classmates had already installed themselves in one of the most enchanting, decrepit, yet majestic buildings I have ever slept in. All of the buildings seem to be on the brink of collapse, crumbly and precarious, yet exude a charm which pulls you into their endless winding alleyways, I'm going to stop there before I go fully blown Thomas Cook on you all. 

Bags dumped, grabbed two 20p falafel sammiches and jumped in a taxi for a rickety, adrenaline-rocketing journey to the institute where I'll be soaking up the ancient language 4 days a week. It's a bit of a hidden gem, a peaceful haven of air-conditioned classrooms and quiet gardens away from the murderous traffic of the city, off a desert highway about 30 minutes outside of the city centre. We spent the rest of the day wandering about, earning some free chocolate samples from some chatty iraqis and rehearsing a speech about nationalities/that we're studying arabic, but only "shweeya shweeya" (loophole/escape strategy for any overly complex conversations). The Corniche looks stunning as the light fades, street vendors blasting arabic pop across the pavement offering candy floss and ice-cream flow past, and I admit it felt like a bit of a chaotic dream. Finally here, and already enchanted by this confusing place. 

Off for some fried fish and traffic dodging. x

Intro...

Hello all, or should I say "marhaban" and welcome to my humble blog.

It's purpose is to keep you up to date with my recent adventures, near fails, minor epiphanies and local happenings in the land best known internationally for its pyramids, hospitality and dates (remember thats the fruit kind now).

I'll be boarding a metal bird to Egypt, and Alexandria specifically, on the 12th September (my visa has arrived so there's no going back...damn). Ramadan, Red Sea and Revolution here I come.