After the sandstorm, even though there's still a touch of morning mist partially obscuring the mountains over on the Side of the Dead, the air seems to be fresher somehow. I'm sitting here in the livingroom of our hovel at 11 o'clock in the morning, with the double doors wide open, and looking over at the King's Valley mountains, and it's just sheer heaven! For all the wonderful and numerous delights of our home in Windy Nook, this is what it never has; a temperature of 25 degrees centigrade (feeling just comfortable in my boxers) with clean air and the slightest of breezes and (of course) SUNSHINE!
During the sandstorm, our wriggly-tin-sheet roof was making some frightening noises! I decided to get in touch with carpenter Abdou, who did the roof for us in the first place, to see if he could get up there and check that the sheets weren't in danger of blowing off altogether. Perhaps fixing screws rather then just nails could be added? But then, I couldn't find his phone number. New phone, new number, somewhere along the way his number had disappeared!
Needing shopping, I deided to use the former troublesome Badawy brother Syed and his caleche, as I knew that he would be just down our street. He's actually quite a reformed character, no more drinking alcohol or smoking happy baccy, apparently! On telling him I wanted to go to the 40 Market, he swung the caleche around and headed the wrong way up our one-way street, gesticulating wildly and shouting at those fools of drivers who were in his way! Caleche drivers seem to have a tendency to do this, as they believe themselves to be the natural 'Kings of the Road', and thus allowed to do anything they please!
Shopping accomplished and safely back home in one piece, I asked him to take me to see the carpenter after I'd eaten. "No problem!" I knew that it would be useless trying to get to see Mr Abdou before 7 o'clock anyway.
We eventually trundled off to Naga T'weel (Long Village) it's at Karnak (pronounced Karranak). I knew, of course, that he wouldn't be there but that someone who was there (at the workshop, that is) would 'phone him for me. It was dark when we got there, and found two unkown blokes sitting with a shisha pipe, and the outside workshop space greatly reduced from what it used to be, as it had been mostly covered with block paving. No lights on either, which filled me with trepidation that the place had changed hands or something. These two fellahs had a small fire going, with an equally small black kettle in the middle of it. "Chai?" I was offered. Not for me, thank you. But Syed accepted the invitation. He complained that it was a bit strong, so I had a sip. AAAAAARGH! It was also sweeter than you can possibly imaginge, Dear Reader! When I asked how many sugars had been shovelled in to the small tea glass, the reply came with a hand gesture, "katierr" (many) with the gesture being a literal handful! It was digusting!
After a relatively short time (remember, this is Egypt, Dear Reader!) an elder brother turned up, and after much huggiing and kissing and other friendly greetings and rememberances, he rang the elusive Abdou, and I spoke to him to arrange a meeting at our home to assess the situation and see what he proposed. He's due here around the 3 o'clock mark, so I'd better get dressed before he comes, as he might be scandalised by the sight of my pristine white boxers!
The current exchange rate here is about 21 EGP to 1 Pound Sterling. Shopping is really quite ineresting.
I'm a fairly recent convert to paper tissues for nose blowing, so needed to have a good supply in the house. We get boxes of Kleenex from Tesco or Asda at home, but I haven't seen them here. What I have been getting (second packet in use now) are these:
Yes, that's 7 EGP per litre, or just over 33p per litre. (Actually 33.333333333333333333p recurring in the stupid decimal currency with which we're now stuck!) In the olden days it would have been a simple 6/8! Just to remind you Dear Reader, before the state sponsored robbery and con trick of UK currency decimalisation, 6/8 would have bought more than a GALLON of petrol. (OK, I'll stop reminiscing; for now!)
Just to mention,; there's a Police Point at this petrol station, and of course, you're not allowed to photograph any Police or Armed Forces personel or property. So, when one of the coppers saw me jump down from the caleche and point my (fancy, new) camera phone in their general direction, he was straight over. (That's the backend of one of the police pick-ups in the picture.) He and Syed had a few words, something along the lines of "He's just a daft tourist, don't worry", sort of thing I expect. I showed the policeman the resulting picture and he smiled, shook my hand and trotted off quite happily.
Time's getting on, and if I want a doze before Mr Abdou arrives, I'd better make it now.
That's a big 10-4 good buddy!
No comments:
Post a Comment