Yes, it's two weeks since we arrived in Egypt and two weeks tomorrow since we finally arrived in Luxor. Though to be quite honest, it feels like we've never been away! How strange life is, eh?
We've spent nearly all of our waking hours cleaning, and we've just finished our upstairs hovel, and are now embarking on the guest apartment.
It seems as though I'm going to have to give Joseph the Amoun man (Remember Dear Reader, the street cleaners used to be Amoun men and the name has stuck, even though the company didn't!) some extra training in cleaning the stairs etc. He landed last Sunday and I asked him to just brush down all the stair walls and then the stairs themselves, no washing that day. When he appeared back at the top of our stairs, I had the kettle on for his glass of chai. Now then, was it 2 or 3 sugars, I couldn't recall. "Arrbah, Mr Adwar!" (That's 4 to you and me!)
Here it is, before adding the boiling water:
Yes, 4 teaspoons of sugar in that small glass, but only half a teaspoon of black dust tea, as he prefers it khafeef (weakish). Mind, he also gets a biscuit or three, as well as his wages. He also scores for lots of stuff that we don't need or use any more, like (this time) a pair of Egyptian pretend Crocs (which were too hard for my dainty old feet) an Iranian tablecloth which we have duplicated and some other (women's) stuff for his wife.
It wasn't till we went down the stairs on our way out, that I realised that he'd only done about half of what I asked. He excused himself by saying that the bottom half was Dr Al Malak's responsibility. Mind you, that was through our resident interpreter Mr (Coffeeshop)Adam. I laughed, of course.
As well as cleaning, I've been sent out every day on a shopping expedition. You remember, of course that we use the local service buses (Arabeya), but now with our added masks. The supermarkets (using that word relatively loosely) which we usually frequent are all still there, with mostly the same or similar sorts of stock. But I tramped around them all, plus a brand new one, to no avail in my search for Temmy's porridge oats. The lovely Freda had to make do with Temmy's Corn Flakes instead. Luckily, I had brought the remains of a box of Tesco's pretend Shreddies and also the remains of my box of Lidl's pretend Shredded Wheat bite things, so I was ok for a while. (I slid the packets (stapled closed) into the case at the last minute, in case I was caught.) On the way back from New Hospital Street (the 40 Market) the bus driver decided to terminate at the railway station. Trying to remonstrate with him was pointless, and it's only a 5 minute walk from there anyway. The GoBus (whom we travelled with from Hurghada) office is just past the station on the way home. Outside was parked this magnificent coach. I had to stop to have a good look at it. No driver around, so I couldn't have a proper shufti inside though.
Looking at it again, it must be the 18 metre variety, a Mercedes engined MCV 800, Egyptian built. and very nice! Of course, Mercedes Benz is a German company, and their products are renowned for style and reliability. At home, our 19 year old Merc estate car has everything still working! It's astonishing, what can be achieved on the back of a bit of forced labour just a few generations ago!
I have another German success story to relate, as well. Since I packed in working properly in 2007, most of the tools which I've bought have been from either Aldi or Lidl. Obviously not automotive stuff, which I still have plenty of from yesteryear, but DIY stuff. I've had two battery drills from Aldi, for about £14.99 if I remember correctly. One stayed at home and the other resided in Luxor. The one at home eventually gave up the ghost a year or so ago, after much use, but it had been pretty good value, I think. The Egyptian one needed a new battery after only about 20 hours of use, but they replaced it without any fuss.
Well; when I came to put back up the roof terrace chandelier after washing it under the shower, I needed to screw something into the wood to hold the weight of the lamp whilst I reaffixed the wiring. I reached for the battery drill to put it on charge while I did something else in the meantime, and blow me if it didn't still have charge in it after at least 20 months of lying dormant!
I could hardly believe it! After driving a large screw into the undrilled wood, I put the battery on charge, but I was astonished, to say the least.
I was also astonished not to see my mate Ahmed the Caleche Man knocking about the town during the week we had been here. I eventually came across his wayward brother Syed, who told me that as there was no tourist work, Ahmed was staying at home until someone rang him for the caleche! Obviously, I rang him as soon as I got my new phone number. What a sorry tale he has to tell!
Elder brother Samir, whom we would normally ride with, was unavailable as he was now in Cairo!!! "In Cairo?" Yes, as there were too few tourists in Luxor to be able to make a living with the caleche, Samir had decamped to Cairo, where (apparently) the streets are paved with gold! All I can say is that I sincerely hope that he finds some worthwhile employment and gets himself straight with his debts etc. Poor b****r!
Anyway, Ahmed is the same as ever, skinny and underfed but full of love for his horses and fellow men. He seems to have been obliged to temporarily adopt a little boy! The kid was on the caleche when he came for me the other night. About 2 or maybe 3, he's a canny little thing, and not a pick of trouble. I never quite got to the bottom of just who he belongs to, but his mother telephoned to speak to him and make sure he was OK while we were trotting along the Corniche. He eventually dozed off to asleep on top of the driver's seat, with his head on Ahmed's lap, after polishing off a Mandolin chocolate biscuit.
He's called Rye-ann (that's just phonetical, obviously!) and I think I've quite taken to him.
I'm off now, as the kettle is calling. TaTa!
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