My first extended trip of the year – I discount the week arguing with Latino Americans in Orlando – is to Cairo.
I’m scheduled here for just under three weeks. This is my fourth day, and frankly I can’t wait to get home. My project manager has been here three years – he deserves a medal for perseverance above and beyond the call of duty. In England people have received knighthoods for less. But then he is German and they tend to do things like that all the time.
So I’m taking a deep breath (but not out of doors: I’ll explain that in a minute) and getting on with it in true company style – you do what you have to do and get the hell out as quickly as you can.
I am counting the days…..
* * *
Getting here was challenging.
There are direct flights here from Warsaw but not every day. Only LOT can explain why the days they do run bear no relationship to the Islamic working week where the weekend is Friday and Saturday and Sunday is a working day. Faced with the choice of awkward midweek arrival and departure that would have been unacceptable to the client, I’m taking the scenic route. Outbound, via Frankfurt with an unpleasant early morning (as in 2:30 a.m.) arrival, and home via Brussels – a daytime departure that will mean leaving the hotel at 6 a.m., and a wonderful five hour connection time in Belgium, to arrive home late in the evening.
Now, I should have expected no less – over my 12 years travelling the initial trip to a new destination is always a bit of a problem, especially when the journey takes me through Frankfurt. Other posts on this blog have told of painful journeys to Almaty and Beirut and elsewhere through Frankfurt, and less than enjoyable first times to the Gulf through Paris and London. This trip was, then, par for the course.
It started ok. The usual efficient on-line check in on Friday and an equally painless bag drop at the airport 45mins before boarding Saturday evening. I just had time for a quick coffee in the newly decorated Business Lounge and onto the plane for a simple hour and 20 minute hop to Frankfurt that lifted off bang on time. Which is where the fun started.
We went into a holding pattern over the city – after the third circuit I, at least, noticed we were going nowhere, even if no-one else did. After about 20 minutes of aimless meandering around the sky, the captain finally came clean and explained the situation: unexpected bad weather passing through, we’ll be doing this for another twenty minutes or so – but don’t worry about your connections, nothing is taking off either so you won’t miss it. Now that sounds like fun….
It was. The landing was very scary, the worst I’ve had in 12 years, like riding a rollercoaster in torrential rain, thunder and lightning. We made it ok, the pilot thoroughly deserving the round of applause he got from the passengers (an odd Polish tradition that, for once, made sense). We were bussed in to the terminal, and I got to my gate 10 minutes before boarding.
We got on the plane. They closed the doors. We sat there 15 minutes. The pilot came on and announced Bayern Munich were a goal up, oh and by the way we’re held here for at least another hour and a half because of the weather, sorry about that. Five minutes later: it’s 1-1, extra time. And no change, we still have no slot for take-off…..and still the thunder roared and the rain poured down.
We were given water and magazines. I listened to Jimi Hendrix and read my book. At 11:30, we were told that there was still no take-off scheduled but it would have to be soon because the airport closes at midnight…..oh, and Chelsea won. Clearly, he was no longer a happy man. At a quarter to 12, the engines started, and stewardesses started running around telling everyone to sit down, switch off that laptop, do your belt up, we’re off…… and we were, in a hurry, despite the continued downpour. Clearly someone had decided that trying a take-off was better than putting another hundred or so people in a hotel for the night….. As it turned out, the take-off was fine, as was the flight to Cairo. Due in at 2:20, we actually landed at 3:35……..
I got into the terminal, bought my entry visa at a branch of AlexBank, joined a short queue for passport control, and was through in 10 minutes – pretty good. The baggage came through quite quickly too – except for my bag. Despite there being the best part of two hours to do so, it wasn’t transferred between flights in Frankfurt – presumably someone didn’t fancy getting wet. Brand new bag, too, never used before….. So another hour passed while I filled out forms and got a receipt for the key (that was needed so the contents could be cleared through customs when eventually the bag arrived) and off I went. Now then, ATM….. No problem, got some cash, then followed by half a dozen competing cab drivers I wandered across to a limo hire desk – I had been told not to risk the locals as the cars were crap and I wouldn’t get a receipt. The limo desk was closed – by now it was nearly 4:30…… So I had to take a local. He demanded 250 pounds. I offered 150. We agreed on 200 with him giving me a receipt. Welcome to Egypt where haggling is expected for every damned thing.
* * *
The cab was indeed crap, at least 15 years old and falling apart. The driver wasn’t sure where the hotel was and had to ask directions. It was a long drive, maybe 30km across town, on terrible roads that even at this ungodly hour were busy with trucks and mini buses, motor bikes and horse drawn carts full of vegetables – and all of them without lights. But at least it was getting light now.
My hotel is listed on its website and elsewhere as 4 Star. It’s within sight on the Pyramids at Giza, and offers “excellent views” of these wonderful old monuments. It has a couple of pools and a health centre, and a range of restaurants for guests’ pleasure.
Well, yes – if your criteria for awarding stars to hotels are very generous.
For a start, right outside the front door is a huge flyover that carries traffic 24 hours a day on the city’s ring road. At ground level, and parallel to this road, is the approach to the hotel – and a more filthy and unpleasant thoroughfare would be hard to find, even in this dirtiest of cities. My taxi pulled up outside and I paid the guy my 200. He gave me the receipt and told me to fill in the amounts myself as he couldn’t write – I presume he mean English. He then demanded another 20 pounds to pay a toll (that was way back at the airport exit). I told him to piss off, as I’d already paid over the odds and frankly, at just after 5 a.m. after a long and tiring journey I was in no mood to haggle further. I got out and left him to it.
The place was deserted apart from the guy at Reception. He checked me in efficiently enough and took me to my room. The hotel is in three buildings that form three sides of a square. I’m on the top floor of a side building, overlooking the pool area – a quiet room, as I asked for. It’s no more than average. The “king sized bed” is actually a standard double, but is comfortable enough. There are only 6 hangers in the built-in double wardrobe, but at least it has adequate shelf space and the safe works. There is a fridge I assumed to be the mini bar but it turned out to be quite empty. The tv is a nice enough Sony flat screen, but the choice of viewing is, shall we say, limited – a selection of Arabic channels, a couple of movie channels showing English language films with sub-titles, and two news channels. Not the usual suspects (CNN and BBC World) but NHK Hong Kong and CCTV Beijing – both English language but heavily Asian (well, actually China….) slanted so of little interest. Then there are a couple of comfortable but shabby brown armchairs, a grubby and threadbare carpet , a small coffee table and a desk with internet connection at a cost of 50 Egyptian pounds for half an hour (that’s about EUR6.50, or nearly PLN30) – very expensive and not what you would normally expect in a 4 Star hotel. There is a separate WiFi connection in Reception that is free however……I tried it and it’s very slow and unreliable.
Anyway, I sent a message to the PM and told him as I had no clothes I wouldn’t be in the office and settled down to a good sleep. I woke at lunch time, and explored a bit. My room does indeed boast a view of the Pyramids – across the flyover and between a couple of tatty looking apartment blocks. I would guess only rooms on the top floor would have the view, and not all of them – so the claims on the website are little exaggerated. There are a couple of ludicrously expensive shops flogging jewelry and local clothes and souvenirs and guide books. The Thai restaurant it turns out has closed down because the tenants running it had not paid the rent (a pity – I quite like Thai food). There is also a scruffy looking Italian restaurant that is closed during the day, a couple of pool side snack bars and room service. The health centre turned out to be a ladies only spa and wellness centre – so no exercise bike for me. I tried room service. The “service” wasn’t, really – it took half an hour and four attempts before someone picked up the phone, and the food was no more than acceptable: I had a steak sandwich with fries – the steak was cold, the melted cheese hadn’t melted and there were perhaps 20 chips. But I ate it anyway. Monday night’s offering was not much better – chicken Gordon Blue (I think they mean cordon bleu….) with fries: a few more fries this time, but the chicken was very tough and unpleasant. Last night the Italian place was open and finally a decent meal – minestrone soup and ground beef calzone plus a beer – Stella: the local one, not Stella Artois, Belgium’s finest.
My bag arrived from the airport about 8 on Sunday evening. I asked at Reception for an iron and ironing board so that I could press my shirts that had been stuffed in the case for over 24 hours. There are no irons, the guy said, you must use our laundry service. This is off-site and of course costs money. I told him to forget it, and I’m now wearing slightly rumpled clothes to the office. But for a 4 Star hotel that is just unacceptable service – as I told the bloke.
So far, then. I’m not over-impressed by the place.
* * *
And what of Cairo?
Well, safe to say it’s the dirtiest, noisiest, smelliest city I’ve ever been to. If Beirut looks unfinished, largely due Israeli inflicted damage in various conflicts, at least the roads and pavements are (generally) swept and washed clean. Any city in the world with a significant traffic problem – be it London, Almaty, Beirut or wherever - has less than fresh air to breath, but they all pale when compared to Cairo.
On the way in from the airport, we followed the flyover for three or four kilometres before we reached the hotel (yes, it’s that big), and along the whole of its length below the structure are piles and piles of dirt, broken rock and concrete and assorted trash, perhaps three or four feet or more in height. For much of the distance the road we were on was narrow and unlit, with scruffy and unfinished-looking (but nonetheless occupied – you can tell by the washing hanging over every balcony) apartment blocks. The gutters alongside the road are clogged with dust. I had put this down to unfinished roadworks, from the relatively new construction of the flyover, but it’s not – it’s city wide. Abu Dhabi is a dusty city, despite the efforts of legions of migrant workers, but the dust there is mostly sand blown in from the desert or from the beach. In Cairo, it’s fine grey concrete and gravel dust, so it looks just dirty.
The buildings, as a consequence, are also dirty, covered in a coating of the stuff. Like buildings everywhere in the Arab world, they all have an unfinished look about them: big blocks of grey or sandy concrete with no plasterwork or paint to improve their appearance, with small balconies festooned with washing lines, and the usual proliferation of tv aerials and satellite dishes. They make the city, any city, look slummy and uncared for. In somewhere like Beirut or Gaza, Homms, Jerusalem and so on, it’s understandable, since they are all (or have recently been) conflict zones, but it’s difficult to find an excuse for it Cairo. Despite the disturbances last year there wasn’t any wide-spread military activity to cause the sort of damage that characterize the other cities I listed. It just seems to be very badly built and ill-maintained.
There is little point in cleaning your shoes because a ten yard walk along the footpaths (that are as bad as the roads) covers them equally in this crud. Windows are grimy and dull, and to add to it all is the stinking petrol fumes from the worse traffic I have seen in my life. I had read that Cairo traffic is bad, but I wasn’t prepared for how bad. Beirut traffic was fun, in a way, heavy on most roads, particularly the highway from hotel to office, as I’ve written here previously, but at least there are road markings and traffic lights there (even if everyone ignores them). Kiev was bad in places, but that’s down to the amount of development going on in the city. London and New York and other major cities have high traffic volumes, but generally speaking it’s managed efficiently (more or less) by road markings, traffic lights and strictly enforced codes of conduct. Plus drivers in those cities tend to know what they’re doing.
So far here I haven’t seen a single white line or traffic light. The sheer number of vehicles on the roads, of all kinds, is horrendous. There are huge numbers of cars – taxis and private vehicles – and the majority of them are old and poorly maintained. There are fleets of Volkswagen, Toyota and Hyundai mini-buses that serve as a sort of bus-cum-taxi hybrid: again many of them have seen better days, and drive around with their bonnets open (these are mostly at the back of the vehicle) to keep the engines cool-ish – or at least try and prevent them overheating. Then there are the buses themselves – old and in the usual Egyptian state of disrepair. There are motor bikes, some converted to sort of three wheeled trucks for carrying stuff – I saw one yesterday piled ten high with plastic cages containing live chickens. The (very) occasional bicycle wobbles along. Carts piled high with vegetables or assorted junk, or merely empty, being hauled along by horses and donkeys, and pushed by some poor perspiring kid. Then there are pedestrians crossing the road, weaving around traffic that is often stationary because the buses and taxis just pull up to pick up or drop off passengers wherever they are asked to do, with no attempt to pull into the side of the road, thus blocking every other vehicle. As well as the pedestrians there are desperately poor people selling packets of tissues, matches – anything to raise a few coins to live on, or simply wandering between rows of traffic asking for donations. Most of them are old, men and women, but there are young mothers carrying infants too. Little kids, the age of my two (so 6 and 4) play on the concrete strip between carriageways while the parents and grandparents do this. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everyone is trying to weave from line to line to overtake, squeezing through non-existent gaps, leaning on the horn all the time. It is complete and utter chaos, and only seems to quieten down after midnight (and then only briefly).
All this traffic spewing out petrol fumes, added to the dust being kicked up everywhere, and the reek of horse shit (and other stuff that doesn’t bear thinking about…..) is added to by everyone smoking and adding to the fume. It’s too hot to drive with the windows closed, so as a passenger you’re exposed to this lung-busting shite as you pick your way through the traffic, windows open in the hope of generating some air circulation to cool you down – but rarely travelling fast enough to do so. The cars have nothing remotely like air-conditioning fitted, of course. Then your taxi driver decides to have a quick puff and lights up some foul and cheap local cigarette, and adds the smoke from that to the general fug in the car. It’s no good asking him to stop, because he’ll look at you as if you’re insane, shrug his shoulders and ignore your request, probably blowing smoke at you as he does so. It’s his car and his choice to smoke, and tough luck if you don’t like – you’re only a fare paying passenger after all.
The 7 kilometre drive from the hotel to the office or back in the evening can take well over an hour with all this – and by the time we arrive I am feeling physically sick from it all.
* * *
So all in all, I’m not too happy with my lot.
Work itself is fine, the people are friendly, both ours and the bank’s teams, and at least I have a desk and all the connectivity I need – and all set up within an hour of my arrival: a pleasant change to the usual new site experience. The office is a dump, probably one of the more modern buildings, but still a mess and dirty everywhere.
It could be an interesting couple of weeks, too. Today and Thursday see the first Presidential election since the Arab Spring last year, and I had an e-mail from the Foreign Office about it yesterday, basically warning me to stay away from crowds, be vigilant and on no account go near a Polling Station. As if I would….. The taxi passed half a dozen Polling Stations on the way in today, and there were queues around the building at all of them – separate lines, of course, one for men and another women. Clearly they are taking it seriously here, though, and a high turnout is expected. Then next week the verdict in the Mubarak trial is expected. Civil disorder (for which read violent demonstrations and cops wielding clubs and tear-gas) is expected, at least if you are to believe the Foreign Office’s prognosis (which I don’t; they have a tendency to over-exaggerate potential issues – according to them nowhere is safe to travel). It may well be that once all the political uncertainty has been put to bed and life returned to something like normality things will improve. But that will take years. In the interim, Cairo will remain a dump.
I plan a stroll to the Pyramids at the weekend, to take a load of pictures and ignore the beggars that throng all the tourist spots here. I can remember visiting them some years ago – I wrote about it here, in Egypt: Ancient meets Modern. There were huge numbers of beggars then, and mostly kids I remember: I wonder if they’re still there? I also plan to spend as much time as I can in the pool, or lying on a couch beside it working on the tan. I hope to find some decent food and beer by then as well. I have my music and a couple of books to work through. And a magazine to finish.
I’ll be ok. But I’m still counting the bloody days – 15 now.
I’m scheduled here for just under three weeks. This is my fourth day, and frankly I can’t wait to get home. My project manager has been here three years – he deserves a medal for perseverance above and beyond the call of duty. In England people have received knighthoods for less. But then he is German and they tend to do things like that all the time.
So I’m taking a deep breath (but not out of doors: I’ll explain that in a minute) and getting on with it in true company style – you do what you have to do and get the hell out as quickly as you can.
I am counting the days…..
* * *
Getting here was challenging.
There are direct flights here from Warsaw but not every day. Only LOT can explain why the days they do run bear no relationship to the Islamic working week where the weekend is Friday and Saturday and Sunday is a working day. Faced with the choice of awkward midweek arrival and departure that would have been unacceptable to the client, I’m taking the scenic route. Outbound, via Frankfurt with an unpleasant early morning (as in 2:30 a.m.) arrival, and home via Brussels – a daytime departure that will mean leaving the hotel at 6 a.m., and a wonderful five hour connection time in Belgium, to arrive home late in the evening.
Now, I should have expected no less – over my 12 years travelling the initial trip to a new destination is always a bit of a problem, especially when the journey takes me through Frankfurt. Other posts on this blog have told of painful journeys to Almaty and Beirut and elsewhere through Frankfurt, and less than enjoyable first times to the Gulf through Paris and London. This trip was, then, par for the course.
It started ok. The usual efficient on-line check in on Friday and an equally painless bag drop at the airport 45mins before boarding Saturday evening. I just had time for a quick coffee in the newly decorated Business Lounge and onto the plane for a simple hour and 20 minute hop to Frankfurt that lifted off bang on time. Which is where the fun started.
We went into a holding pattern over the city – after the third circuit I, at least, noticed we were going nowhere, even if no-one else did. After about 20 minutes of aimless meandering around the sky, the captain finally came clean and explained the situation: unexpected bad weather passing through, we’ll be doing this for another twenty minutes or so – but don’t worry about your connections, nothing is taking off either so you won’t miss it. Now that sounds like fun….
It was. The landing was very scary, the worst I’ve had in 12 years, like riding a rollercoaster in torrential rain, thunder and lightning. We made it ok, the pilot thoroughly deserving the round of applause he got from the passengers (an odd Polish tradition that, for once, made sense). We were bussed in to the terminal, and I got to my gate 10 minutes before boarding.
We got on the plane. They closed the doors. We sat there 15 minutes. The pilot came on and announced Bayern Munich were a goal up, oh and by the way we’re held here for at least another hour and a half because of the weather, sorry about that. Five minutes later: it’s 1-1, extra time. And no change, we still have no slot for take-off…..and still the thunder roared and the rain poured down.
We were given water and magazines. I listened to Jimi Hendrix and read my book. At 11:30, we were told that there was still no take-off scheduled but it would have to be soon because the airport closes at midnight…..oh, and Chelsea won. Clearly, he was no longer a happy man. At a quarter to 12, the engines started, and stewardesses started running around telling everyone to sit down, switch off that laptop, do your belt up, we’re off…… and we were, in a hurry, despite the continued downpour. Clearly someone had decided that trying a take-off was better than putting another hundred or so people in a hotel for the night….. As it turned out, the take-off was fine, as was the flight to Cairo. Due in at 2:20, we actually landed at 3:35……..
I got into the terminal, bought my entry visa at a branch of AlexBank, joined a short queue for passport control, and was through in 10 minutes – pretty good. The baggage came through quite quickly too – except for my bag. Despite there being the best part of two hours to do so, it wasn’t transferred between flights in Frankfurt – presumably someone didn’t fancy getting wet. Brand new bag, too, never used before….. So another hour passed while I filled out forms and got a receipt for the key (that was needed so the contents could be cleared through customs when eventually the bag arrived) and off I went. Now then, ATM….. No problem, got some cash, then followed by half a dozen competing cab drivers I wandered across to a limo hire desk – I had been told not to risk the locals as the cars were crap and I wouldn’t get a receipt. The limo desk was closed – by now it was nearly 4:30…… So I had to take a local. He demanded 250 pounds. I offered 150. We agreed on 200 with him giving me a receipt. Welcome to Egypt where haggling is expected for every damned thing.
* * *
The cab was indeed crap, at least 15 years old and falling apart. The driver wasn’t sure where the hotel was and had to ask directions. It was a long drive, maybe 30km across town, on terrible roads that even at this ungodly hour were busy with trucks and mini buses, motor bikes and horse drawn carts full of vegetables – and all of them without lights. But at least it was getting light now.
My hotel is listed on its website and elsewhere as 4 Star. It’s within sight on the Pyramids at Giza, and offers “excellent views” of these wonderful old monuments. It has a couple of pools and a health centre, and a range of restaurants for guests’ pleasure.
Well, yes – if your criteria for awarding stars to hotels are very generous.
For a start, right outside the front door is a huge flyover that carries traffic 24 hours a day on the city’s ring road. At ground level, and parallel to this road, is the approach to the hotel – and a more filthy and unpleasant thoroughfare would be hard to find, even in this dirtiest of cities. My taxi pulled up outside and I paid the guy my 200. He gave me the receipt and told me to fill in the amounts myself as he couldn’t write – I presume he mean English. He then demanded another 20 pounds to pay a toll (that was way back at the airport exit). I told him to piss off, as I’d already paid over the odds and frankly, at just after 5 a.m. after a long and tiring journey I was in no mood to haggle further. I got out and left him to it.
The place was deserted apart from the guy at Reception. He checked me in efficiently enough and took me to my room. The hotel is in three buildings that form three sides of a square. I’m on the top floor of a side building, overlooking the pool area – a quiet room, as I asked for. It’s no more than average. The “king sized bed” is actually a standard double, but is comfortable enough. There are only 6 hangers in the built-in double wardrobe, but at least it has adequate shelf space and the safe works. There is a fridge I assumed to be the mini bar but it turned out to be quite empty. The tv is a nice enough Sony flat screen, but the choice of viewing is, shall we say, limited – a selection of Arabic channels, a couple of movie channels showing English language films with sub-titles, and two news channels. Not the usual suspects (CNN and BBC World) but NHK Hong Kong and CCTV Beijing – both English language but heavily Asian (well, actually China….) slanted so of little interest. Then there are a couple of comfortable but shabby brown armchairs, a grubby and threadbare carpet , a small coffee table and a desk with internet connection at a cost of 50 Egyptian pounds for half an hour (that’s about EUR6.50, or nearly PLN30) – very expensive and not what you would normally expect in a 4 Star hotel. There is a separate WiFi connection in Reception that is free however……I tried it and it’s very slow and unreliable.
Anyway, I sent a message to the PM and told him as I had no clothes I wouldn’t be in the office and settled down to a good sleep. I woke at lunch time, and explored a bit. My room does indeed boast a view of the Pyramids – across the flyover and between a couple of tatty looking apartment blocks. I would guess only rooms on the top floor would have the view, and not all of them – so the claims on the website are little exaggerated. There are a couple of ludicrously expensive shops flogging jewelry and local clothes and souvenirs and guide books. The Thai restaurant it turns out has closed down because the tenants running it had not paid the rent (a pity – I quite like Thai food). There is also a scruffy looking Italian restaurant that is closed during the day, a couple of pool side snack bars and room service. The health centre turned out to be a ladies only spa and wellness centre – so no exercise bike for me. I tried room service. The “service” wasn’t, really – it took half an hour and four attempts before someone picked up the phone, and the food was no more than acceptable: I had a steak sandwich with fries – the steak was cold, the melted cheese hadn’t melted and there were perhaps 20 chips. But I ate it anyway. Monday night’s offering was not much better – chicken Gordon Blue (I think they mean cordon bleu….) with fries: a few more fries this time, but the chicken was very tough and unpleasant. Last night the Italian place was open and finally a decent meal – minestrone soup and ground beef calzone plus a beer – Stella: the local one, not Stella Artois, Belgium’s finest.
My bag arrived from the airport about 8 on Sunday evening. I asked at Reception for an iron and ironing board so that I could press my shirts that had been stuffed in the case for over 24 hours. There are no irons, the guy said, you must use our laundry service. This is off-site and of course costs money. I told him to forget it, and I’m now wearing slightly rumpled clothes to the office. But for a 4 Star hotel that is just unacceptable service – as I told the bloke.
So far, then. I’m not over-impressed by the place.
* * *
And what of Cairo?
Well, safe to say it’s the dirtiest, noisiest, smelliest city I’ve ever been to. If Beirut looks unfinished, largely due Israeli inflicted damage in various conflicts, at least the roads and pavements are (generally) swept and washed clean. Any city in the world with a significant traffic problem – be it London, Almaty, Beirut or wherever - has less than fresh air to breath, but they all pale when compared to Cairo.
On the way in from the airport, we followed the flyover for three or four kilometres before we reached the hotel (yes, it’s that big), and along the whole of its length below the structure are piles and piles of dirt, broken rock and concrete and assorted trash, perhaps three or four feet or more in height. For much of the distance the road we were on was narrow and unlit, with scruffy and unfinished-looking (but nonetheless occupied – you can tell by the washing hanging over every balcony) apartment blocks. The gutters alongside the road are clogged with dust. I had put this down to unfinished roadworks, from the relatively new construction of the flyover, but it’s not – it’s city wide. Abu Dhabi is a dusty city, despite the efforts of legions of migrant workers, but the dust there is mostly sand blown in from the desert or from the beach. In Cairo, it’s fine grey concrete and gravel dust, so it looks just dirty.
The buildings, as a consequence, are also dirty, covered in a coating of the stuff. Like buildings everywhere in the Arab world, they all have an unfinished look about them: big blocks of grey or sandy concrete with no plasterwork or paint to improve their appearance, with small balconies festooned with washing lines, and the usual proliferation of tv aerials and satellite dishes. They make the city, any city, look slummy and uncared for. In somewhere like Beirut or Gaza, Homms, Jerusalem and so on, it’s understandable, since they are all (or have recently been) conflict zones, but it’s difficult to find an excuse for it Cairo. Despite the disturbances last year there wasn’t any wide-spread military activity to cause the sort of damage that characterize the other cities I listed. It just seems to be very badly built and ill-maintained.
There is little point in cleaning your shoes because a ten yard walk along the footpaths (that are as bad as the roads) covers them equally in this crud. Windows are grimy and dull, and to add to it all is the stinking petrol fumes from the worse traffic I have seen in my life. I had read that Cairo traffic is bad, but I wasn’t prepared for how bad. Beirut traffic was fun, in a way, heavy on most roads, particularly the highway from hotel to office, as I’ve written here previously, but at least there are road markings and traffic lights there (even if everyone ignores them). Kiev was bad in places, but that’s down to the amount of development going on in the city. London and New York and other major cities have high traffic volumes, but generally speaking it’s managed efficiently (more or less) by road markings, traffic lights and strictly enforced codes of conduct. Plus drivers in those cities tend to know what they’re doing.
So far here I haven’t seen a single white line or traffic light. The sheer number of vehicles on the roads, of all kinds, is horrendous. There are huge numbers of cars – taxis and private vehicles – and the majority of them are old and poorly maintained. There are fleets of Volkswagen, Toyota and Hyundai mini-buses that serve as a sort of bus-cum-taxi hybrid: again many of them have seen better days, and drive around with their bonnets open (these are mostly at the back of the vehicle) to keep the engines cool-ish – or at least try and prevent them overheating. Then there are the buses themselves – old and in the usual Egyptian state of disrepair. There are motor bikes, some converted to sort of three wheeled trucks for carrying stuff – I saw one yesterday piled ten high with plastic cages containing live chickens. The (very) occasional bicycle wobbles along. Carts piled high with vegetables or assorted junk, or merely empty, being hauled along by horses and donkeys, and pushed by some poor perspiring kid. Then there are pedestrians crossing the road, weaving around traffic that is often stationary because the buses and taxis just pull up to pick up or drop off passengers wherever they are asked to do, with no attempt to pull into the side of the road, thus blocking every other vehicle. As well as the pedestrians there are desperately poor people selling packets of tissues, matches – anything to raise a few coins to live on, or simply wandering between rows of traffic asking for donations. Most of them are old, men and women, but there are young mothers carrying infants too. Little kids, the age of my two (so 6 and 4) play on the concrete strip between carriageways while the parents and grandparents do this. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everyone is trying to weave from line to line to overtake, squeezing through non-existent gaps, leaning on the horn all the time. It is complete and utter chaos, and only seems to quieten down after midnight (and then only briefly).
All this traffic spewing out petrol fumes, added to the dust being kicked up everywhere, and the reek of horse shit (and other stuff that doesn’t bear thinking about…..) is added to by everyone smoking and adding to the fume. It’s too hot to drive with the windows closed, so as a passenger you’re exposed to this lung-busting shite as you pick your way through the traffic, windows open in the hope of generating some air circulation to cool you down – but rarely travelling fast enough to do so. The cars have nothing remotely like air-conditioning fitted, of course. Then your taxi driver decides to have a quick puff and lights up some foul and cheap local cigarette, and adds the smoke from that to the general fug in the car. It’s no good asking him to stop, because he’ll look at you as if you’re insane, shrug his shoulders and ignore your request, probably blowing smoke at you as he does so. It’s his car and his choice to smoke, and tough luck if you don’t like – you’re only a fare paying passenger after all.
The 7 kilometre drive from the hotel to the office or back in the evening can take well over an hour with all this – and by the time we arrive I am feeling physically sick from it all.
* * *
So all in all, I’m not too happy with my lot.
Work itself is fine, the people are friendly, both ours and the bank’s teams, and at least I have a desk and all the connectivity I need – and all set up within an hour of my arrival: a pleasant change to the usual new site experience. The office is a dump, probably one of the more modern buildings, but still a mess and dirty everywhere.
It could be an interesting couple of weeks, too. Today and Thursday see the first Presidential election since the Arab Spring last year, and I had an e-mail from the Foreign Office about it yesterday, basically warning me to stay away from crowds, be vigilant and on no account go near a Polling Station. As if I would….. The taxi passed half a dozen Polling Stations on the way in today, and there were queues around the building at all of them – separate lines, of course, one for men and another women. Clearly they are taking it seriously here, though, and a high turnout is expected. Then next week the verdict in the Mubarak trial is expected. Civil disorder (for which read violent demonstrations and cops wielding clubs and tear-gas) is expected, at least if you are to believe the Foreign Office’s prognosis (which I don’t; they have a tendency to over-exaggerate potential issues – according to them nowhere is safe to travel). It may well be that once all the political uncertainty has been put to bed and life returned to something like normality things will improve. But that will take years. In the interim, Cairo will remain a dump.
I plan a stroll to the Pyramids at the weekend, to take a load of pictures and ignore the beggars that throng all the tourist spots here. I can remember visiting them some years ago – I wrote about it here, in Egypt: Ancient meets Modern. There were huge numbers of beggars then, and mostly kids I remember: I wonder if they’re still there? I also plan to spend as much time as I can in the pool, or lying on a couch beside it working on the tan. I hope to find some decent food and beer by then as well. I have my music and a couple of books to work through. And a magazine to finish.
I’ll be ok. But I’m still counting the bloody days – 15 now.
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