Cairo Time

I have just watched then opening fifteen minutes of "Cairo Time". I love the gritty finishing, it would often indicate the work will be a little art-house gem. But I know this one is going to be a chick flick. How? Because it is just like the catchphrase says: "Sometimes you need to forget the rules and follow your heart.", a floaty fairytale fantasy and set in a Cairo that exists only in other dimensions and the minds of romantics.

On Boxing Day 2009 I had taken my eldest son, and met my sister in law (nick-named Happy) in preparation for my greatest journey into the ancient world. I had left the 25-person mess from the previous day for my husband to clean up. I had been upgraded on Emirates, which had just plopped me into Silver on Skywards. I had soothed my hangover with Champagne. One would think the holiday would be a good one with omens such as this....



Patricia Clarkson's character, Juliette, stepped into a shiny new airport devoid of grime and hustle. I have heard whisper of this fabled other terminal, but it's not where Emirates Airlines lands. The movie's vision is an entirely different Cairo to the one I walked into. She is met by Tareq, a lean, dark and handsome Egyptian (Alexander Siddig), the polar opposite to my guide (chosen for us by my Happy's daughter) Tommy, who apart from the same initial and ethnic background, share absolutely nothing. Tommy was a 150kg Bouncer wearing a black leather bomber jacket and a preconception of all things "woman" and "tourist" (that were in many ways, wrong)

We were thrown in the back of an ancient minivan as pockmarked as Tommy's protege's skin, and the man himself departed, probably because he didn't want to get into a vehicle that appeared destined for very very bad things. We travelled on roads with all of the mania but none of the charm of India. Six lanes, no eight, no five, oh who cares, there's no road markings, the signs are coated in soot and all indications are verbal and accompanied by abuse and the occasional nudge. Juliette and Tareq seem to walk streets that cross the Nile yet where the traffic drives neatly and noiselessly in two lanes. My only explanation is that they must have shot it at 4am in mid summer.

We were dropped at Tommy's recommended hotel, The Sheraton. Where Juliette walked over persian rugs and split the gossamer curtains to reveal a perfect Nile sunset, I stumbled past the polyester bedspread and slid back the grimy door to reveal a blackened shell that was supposed to be the swimming pool, and the Nile I viewed was obscured by a thick murky blanket of toxic gasses. That combined with the traffic noise prevented any desire to give it another go. I've now had it up to my armpits in Sheratons, so won't bore you with the nitty gritty, but let me just say that 5 star in Egypt = 3 star and dirty in any other country. And no minibar. Juliette complained of being woken by the muezzin at the mosque every morning. Possibly the mosque was in the room next to hers, because I was only woken by traffic. At 3am, 4am, 5am, 5:30 am, 5:33 am etc. etc. etc.

Tommy would join us only to walk us through the streets past the thugs and gropers, and then deliver us to one of his various underlings. One was "Nubie", christened purely because he was as black as a Nubian, and our guide to Giza. He would scream out "Orlah!" every time Lion tickled him, just as Tommy had warned him. It was always with a swerve and a toot and a yelp from my mouth as we careered towards cement mixers or tourist busses. We drove past 10,000 council flats, all only partially built but entirely inhabited. Both concrete reinforcement wire and washing lines sprouting from every rooftop, children hanging from glassless windowframes like baby birds in a nest, unable to fly but lacking any sense of mortality.

Juliette saw the Giza pyramids at twilight from some swanky marqueed event with lawn and fairy lights, and this simply does not exist as far as I know. The night viewing area for the pyramids of Giza that I visited is concreted and coated in filth, the only official adornment five hundred rusty white chairs and duct tape. During the day though it is worse. They decorate their national treasures, our last vestiges of the ancient world, with trash. They allow complete sheisting of tourists to proceed unchecked, and I had to get off our carriage in disgust because the driver whipped the poor horse till it bled. Although I will admit the pyramids do rock. And are rock.

Ah, now she has just walked into a bar full of men. It looks like something out of Venice with paintings on every inch of wall space, but serves shisha and has a distinctly Arab feel. They must save these things for the men, because I never saw anything like it. The men laugh with her, she plays chess, she is not involved in any uncomfortable staring - it's a fantasy. The closest I came to that was a restaurant around the corner from Tommy that seemed to be his second home. It had a charcoal pit and a few pipes and was not completely without charm, but I've had better in Dubai. And then we had the leering, not just at me and Happy, but quite unfortunately a lot more at six-year-old, blonde Lion.

Now she has found some grassy oases out of the city, and the palms look like fans, just like they are portrayed in art deco prints. This is one part of the trip I do remember with joy. Coming from Dubai, it was a pleasure to see that the lushness beside the Nile is just as I imagined and studied at school. A trip south of Cairo is in more ways than one a breath of fresh air. In the film, they also found my exact carpet place with the exploited children (or actors?), but don't linger at Saqqara or Memphis, where I remember having a wonderful lunch beneath the palms, and seeing Pyramids and other ancient wonders in a more protected and epic state.

Just before she realises she is starting to fall for Tareq, Juliette takes a ride with him on a sweet covered little putt-putt on the Nile. This had been one of the things I had looked forward to - it is possible to take a "Feluca" ride on the Nile - teeny-tiny little sailboats fit for an impressionist painting. But I had saved this for the last day, which I unfortunately spent with my bottom on the toilet and my head over the bidet, thanks to Tommy, and his "Best seafood in Cairo" experience on our last night. While they are skimming about in golden light and peace and quiet and a bubble of romantic loveliness, Tareq says "once you have drunk the water of the Nile you will always come back". Hmmm. No thanks....

The amazing thing is, that as hideous as I found Cairo, I would go back if my husband said he wanted to go. Maybe I would do it better, on Cairo Time, or maybe it wasn't a piece of dodgy fish that left me with salmonella on the last night. Did Tommy perhaps slip a little Nile water in my wine?

So here are my tips for going to Cairo:

1. Get out of Cairo immediately
2. If you must stay in Cairo, don't stay at the Sheraton. If you want five-star, there are only two places to go - the Marriott, and the Four Seasons. Everything else is NOT five-star, despite what the brochure says.
3. Visit Old Cairo, and the Coptic area. The Alabaster Mosque rivals Hagia Sophia, and the view of Cairo from up on the hill is about as good as it gets.
4. Visit the pyramids of Giza, but expect to be let down by how they are presented. Get a camel, not a horse and cart.
5. Go south to Saqqara and Memphis and visit everything down there you can.
6. Go to the "White Desert" north of Farafra - salt plains and mushroom formations - Juliette went there but I didn't. It looks out of this world. (It would be a very long day trip from Cairo though)
7. Go much further south for the real treasures. Happy stayed on while I went back home for family duties, and went to Luxor and Abu Simbel. That is where the real magic happens.
8. Don't travel by car, bus, train, boat or plane - it's all far too dangerous, and tourists get killed every year in transit. I think less get killed on planes and trains, but don't expect Singapore Airlines service or cleanliness.
9. Don't eat smoked fish that smells like socks.
10. Do it, do it, do it.

PS. The photos were mostly taken by Happy because I only had a cigarette box sized Pentax at this point. She came along with her SLR and inspired me... And the top one is the feature photo for the movie.