Protest, Shmotest! I Got Mandarins to Sell!

The streets of Cairo this time around were ominously calm; most people abiding by the afternoon curfew and staying home. I almost didn't recognize the corner where my favorite pide guy's cart sits; he, like all the other vendors, was no where to be seen.

We returned to Naila's neighborhood, arriving in the evening, though learned en route that she had decided to leave the country and was already out at the ariport. Her two roommates (two guys, one being a Fulbright and the other on a similar American program) had been evacuated days before. Unfortunately, that left us stranded and unable to reach our bags and newly acquired hookahs. Through a stroke of only-in-Egypt coincidence, the landlady's perscription to this problem was to hook us up with another set of Americans who recently moved into the building, until we could figure out how to get a key.


Cairo is a melange of old and new

In toe behind the landlady's sister, we knocked on the Americans' door and politely introduced ourselves, awkwardly asking if we might crash on their floor for the night. It felt a lot like being a small child whose parent walks them to the schoolyard kids and asks if they can play. Fortunately, the young couple generously welcomed us inside, arranging a place for us in the spare bedroom. Our foursome of straggler expats hit it off well-- Chris and I were fascinated to learn how they've come to live in Egypt,working and studying, and how they've fared during the protests, while they were curious about our impression of the rest of the country. The couple, Anna and Chris, had been in Cairo a few years already, and longer in the region, so they shared a wealth of experiences and knowledge of the political situation and such. We ate dinner together and watched Al-Jazeera English, which was by this time airing footage from around the country, all of us speaking and questioning endlessly during the broadcast. Neither of them felt in terrible danger, laying low and abiding by the curfew, frequenting Tehrir less this week. Our unexpected knocking only spooked them a little, lest we be the authorities...

Our saviors! Anna and Chris, Cairo expats

The next day Chris and I raced to the airport, where it turns out Naila had been stranded for the night. To get there we had to very systematically follow directions first via metro + transfer, navigate a winding path through a market and university campus, cross over to the urban busses and flag one heading in the right direction, which spit us out at the freeway entrance, and finally walk the last mile to the third airport terminal. Eventually we arrived and found Naila nestled in among a swarm of others, a loud melange of people from all over the world. Out front a canopy was set up to cover huge loads of luggage, which seemed to belong to an enormous swarm of African families. I can't even guess which country they were heading to.

Life and traffic go on, despite the protests

It became clear Naila would be going nowhere anytime soon, so instead we all returned to the city and went to stay for a night with her friend. This guy, an Egyptian man who lives mostly in Algeria but came home for vacation (good timing!), is refreshingly well educated and speaks English perfectly, so we spent the night eating delicious food (we tried to dine out, but couldn't find an open restaurant, so instead we cooked), watching YouTube videos, and generally hanging out talking. I will let it be known that, although Chris chides me for reporting there was no chicken in the store (he insists I'm inciting the belief that there are food shortages), factually, there was no chicken at the grocer. There, I've said it.

Natural loofahs in the market (but no chicken)

The next day Naila passed us her key before heading off again to the airport. We took the metro to her apartment, where we were able to stay the night and extract our belongings. Chris and I had tickets for the following week to Athens, and decided to wait out our time tying up loose ends and finalizing our trip. We had a mess of bikes to magically shrink down into teeny, tiny boxes and a load of hookahs to pack carefully. Funny thing is that there are cardboard boxes everywhere, but men come around to snatch and recycle them so its a little tricky to claim the good ones. We spent a few nights in the apartment, hanging out with Anna and Chris by day and getting their latest news-junkie reports, making regular fhuul-eggplant-pickle sandwhich trips and chomping down copious galaxy (chocolate) bars.

Street vendor selling sweet koshari, this time with couscous-like grains, raisins, powdered sugar, and shredded coconut

Bikes are tiny without their wheels!

In the morning Chris and I returned to Khan al-Khalili market, surrounded by street life that seemed completely normal. At least during the early hours people are out working and shopping. Markts are open and traffic is heavy. Another round of scrutinizing in the hookah shops; this time Chris bought a set of basic, less expensive hookahs.

Another load of hookahs from Khan Al-Khalili

Carrying loot through the Spice Bazaar

I was excited to peer around the spice streets and pick up giant sacks full of chamomile (oh Albania! You hooked me on the drug!) and habiscus tea, as well as sniff around, enjoying the bulk non-packageness of the mystery burlap sacks, and pungent odors.

Spice Bazaar, where we picked up some colorful hibiscus tea and chamomile

Bags o Spices

Our final days were spent in the southern (expat) neighborhood of Maadi, where we were invited to crash with a couple we had met in Jordan. Some months before we struck up conversation with them in Little Petra, while drinking tea, and had swapped emails. I wasn't sure if they'd still be in-country, but luckily for us they believed life was endurable outside of Tehrir.

With our Maadi hostess, Monica

Chris and I hadn't really spent time in Maadi, which was a little too foreign for our tastes (however beautiful, the merchants here seemed used to "serving" people and the prices were inflated five-fold). Instead of having markets there was an air-conditioned grocery store, selling imported goodies we had no interest in. However, we scored a bottle of date-flavored camel's milk, one thing I desperately wanted to get my hands on (camel's milk, didn't even occur to me until after we left Jordan). I enjoyed it vicariously through Chris, who reported back that it tastes like a bowl of cereal-milk. Get ready, America! I vote swapping oil for camel's milk!

Pickin up some Date Milk in Maadi (check out that beard!)


Maadi is pretty with trees and shrubs

That pretty much rounds out our whereabouts during our final days in Egypt. It was both exciting and little nerve-wrecking to be here during the uprising. Street life has returned to normal, though by night shops close for curfew and men and boys stand by to defend their homes in case trouble brews. There are no more midnight gun shots, no tourists on the street, and it certainly feels like we are in the center of the world's spotlight. From our own experiences with the police here, I empathize for the millions of Egyptian citizens who have been hauled in "for questioning" with absolutely no power or protection. That is surely why Chris and I felt no fear- foreigners are treated with deference (as prized cattle really... kept in certain locations where their money can best be extracted) but these compounds full of men and guns coupled with the mentality of "just following orders" can only lead to brutal consequences.


Egypt's time to shine!

Internet is Back!

Yet another display of open generosity by complete strangers, this time by a pair of guys who met us as my camera drama unfolded. Despite their lack of English skills and our lack of comprehensive Arabic, they put us in touch with a friend on their cell, who guided us to a nearby hotel complex still under construction, where she works. They insisted we stay the night in a spare workers' room (not the nicest quality, but out of the rain), and promised to do all they could to get my camera back for me. In the morning they gave us a lift to Mersa Metruh, where we went to the police station to report the theft.

On that note, my otherwise awesome photos of Metruh cannot be posted.

The city seems the same, with more tanks and security forces, and everyone on edge. Funny how life goes on amidst the semi-chaos, people seem incredibly malleable to the circumstances. The street markets are open all morning when people come to stock up on produce and supplies, then curfew begins at 3 pm. Chris nor I feel unsafe personally, though slightly high on adrenaline due to the near-chaos that could potentially unfold at any time (we remain firmly in denial).

Tanks from our hotel balcony, Hotel Hamada

I did meet with several army officers (the police had disbanded at this point, and would be of no use to anyone), who put on their most formal airs as they assured me they would go to every length to find the camera. In such a place where secrets cannot be kept, and everyone is connected by less than 6 degrees of separation, it seems actually likely the camera would magically turn up, "found" on a street corner or some such agreeable excuse. To my face they were all extraordinarily polite and treated me with incredible kindness, though I could tell they did not want to deal with my silly camera loss during such intense times for the government.

Metruh itself is a summer hub that swells to an uncomfortably crowded place along with the heat, and with inflation to boot. There are plenty of hotels and restaurants along the waterfront, as well as the first 3 or 4 streets of town, though most of them are closed as this time. People are absolutely baffled to see us, first because we are tourists here outside the summer season, second because we are crazy enough to travel by bike, and thirdly because, hello! there's a revolution afoot!

We checked in to Hotel Hamada, where the owner, Joe, speaks English very well and is super friendly. His son lives in the US so he likes Americans a lot. But to be honest, I bet he likes all foreigners a lot. In other circumstances I would have been happy enough to enjoy his happy-go-lucky demeanor more, but my emotions were completely tied up in regret and sadness. I know its just a camera, an object, and replaceable (technically, although not anytime soon). But my memories are created with that black magic box and it feels like I'm missing part of me. Plus, I want to be documenting every moment, creating something that everyone everywhere can look at and understand more about what's happening at this little dot on the planet...

Lobby of Hotel Hamada, with the owner, Joe

So, after sampling pizza across the street (Egyptian pizza is so good!), Chris and I headed to an internet cafe and were surprised to find Egypt hooked back into the net. We signed online and immediately realized that our family and friends had been emailing, at first wondering our whereabouts, then gradually organizing themselves into a highly coordinated server list. Their emails no longer addressed us, but rather everyone else who may have an opinion or insight to our situation. Feeling a mixture of appreciation because we are loved(!), humor because everyone believes the media dramatization, and guilt for having obviously set off heart rate monitors across the US.... we very quickly wrote back to as many people as possible to assure everyone of our well-being.

Some two hours later I stood up to leave, paid my computer fees, and was stepping out to grab some water, when the sudden entourage of policemen appeared, forbidding my exit. Apparently they'd been there quite some time, reading our emails and computer screens from the main computer. When Chris finished they insisted we load into their truck and drove us to their nearby compound, at this time blockaded and full of officers. The men were all young, wearing t-shirts and jeans, and armed with rifles, though completely unintimidating. We were led into a small room with a couch and chairs, asked to sit down, and "questioned" for about 5 or 6 hours by two men. I say "questioned" with some hesitation because really the men were friendly and for the most part our conversation was like any other, we learned about them and their families, they learned about us and our adventure.

Occasionally one or both of them would leave to "check up" on something, then come back and pepper us with demands such as "what do you know about the Muslim Brotherhood?" or "tell us about guns", as if they were following some sort of required protocol. We laughed the entire situation off, how ridiculous. After a few hours we began to grow tired, ready to go back to our paid hotel room, though they wouldn't let us leave quite yet and apologized. Then, they asked what sort of pizza we like, and ordered us a vegetarian pizza from town! Chris didn't feel too comfortable with them buying us dinner, but hey I say they stole at least 5 hours of my time, and I'm worth the $4 that pizza cost. Plus, like I said, Egyptian pizza is delicious.

Exhausted from a long "interview"

So we slept soundly in our little private room, upstairs at the Hotel Hamada. After checking out and saying goodbye to Joe, we biked up to the edge of town where the bus station is, hoping to find seats on a shared taxi van to Cairo. For some time the men at the station were cordial with us, agreeing to put our bikes up top of the van. Like vans all over the world, they don't leave until they are full, which can take all day. Ten hours later we were still waiting in the van, really hoping to believe they would still make the journey, even though of course almost no one is heading to the capital city.

Around 8 pm and well after sundown the men approached us and told us to get out, they weren't going to Cairo today. What?? We almost couldn't believe it. Luckily, a friend of the plain-clothed policeman who sat with us most of the day (and who we assumed was also police, especially since he speaks English perfectly) took pity on us and invited us to stay at his house for the night. The driver promised to reserve seats for us in the morning, claiming he would leave at 7 am. So we biked 5 km further out of town to our host's house, a modest and comfortable place. Khaled, we learned quickly, has a family of a wife and two children, who were both studying recitations of the Koran. We sat in the sitting space/guest area for some time (all homes seem to have a big room full of floor cushions, necessary for all of the family gatherings during holidays) drinking strong tea and nibbling on cookies his daughter delivered.

Dinner with our wonderful new friend who saved us from the bus depot

As it turns out, he's not a policeman, rather an English teacher who drives vans on the side for extra income! We were shocked and relieved to learn this, and now understood why his language skills are so good. We stayed up many hours talking, watching the news and commenting on the country's situation. He translated some of the Arabic programs, including the state-run TV network, which reported very differently from BBC and CNN.

In the morning we thanked Khaled and his family profusely, then biked back to the bus/van station, only to watch a van pull out just as we approached. Rats! We waited another few hours, really hoping to get out today. Eventually we had enough passengers to go, the engine began roaring, we took off.

Emblem on our service taxi, very creative

Several times along the highway our van was stopped, everyone ordered to disembark, and men with guns searched the group more thoroughly with pat downs and ID checks. Anyone without an ID could potentially be an escaped prisoner, and citizen militia groups took on the task of protecting their villages. Or maybe they were police. No one can say for sure. Traffic became very congested as we neared the capital, every vehicle waiting for a full search and more ID checks. No one gave us any trouble. Stupid tourists.

By late afternoon the sky was a cloudy, gray mess of haze. Our van pulled in to the station, we were all but kicked out, and immediately faced with Chris' flat tire. Feeling very jaded by the sudden turn of people, dirty and sick of our ragged attire, also exhausted and daunted by the task of crossing the city to find our friend's apartment, we weren't in our best light. In true Egyptian form, a crowd of men gathered around us, set on assisting with the tire repair, all but yanking the bike out of Chris' hand to do the job themselves. I can sit back and laugh at this, because in their hearts they obviously just want to help, or maybe are just bored, but either way its nice that people would take time from their day and are once again on our side.

As we biked away Chris and I noticed the tops of the pyramids poking up from behind a mess of hotels.

Cleopatra's Beach and Thievery

Alas after 5 and a half months of biking, plus 2 and a half years living in Albania, plus 4 years at university, my camera is finally gone. My beloved Canon Rebel XT was the newest model when I purchased it and over the years we have traveled side by side around the world. Today someone stole that camera from me. Super sad face. The stupid thing is whoever took it won't be able to use it (the screen was busted but I know the controls well enough to sidestep that issue) and will only get the satisfaction of stealing a month's worth of my Egyptian memories. I regret not being able to share my beautiful photos even along the northern coast...

Chris and I woke inside our cave at Agiba beach, listening to the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below. We ate bananas while hiding from the wind, watching the sky illuminate from inside our cozy sleeping bag.

From Agiba cove we backtracked along the sand swept highway, stopping in several markets to look for food. I'd like to share pictures of the half buried summer homes, whose yards and doorways flood with soft white sand. The few shops seem to be wiped clean except for chips, chocolate, and a few rotten vegetables, though somehow Chris managed to guzzle milk from a dusty carton on a back shelf and choke down a stale Swiss roll.

Bike on the empty beach

After another brief stop at Saleh's house next to the bakery, where we witnessed near anarchy as the gas delivery truck ran out of canisters, Chris and I biked onward and down to the beach. En route we were waved and whistled at by several people, those we spoke with jokingly remarked American? Obama! Bush no! Mubarak no!

Saleh's son doodling while we drink tea and eat bread. My group photo is gone...

Random church with greek decor near Cleopatra

Cleopatra's beach, which is probably jam packed during the summer, sits completely barren in the winter. We walked past abandoned and broken refreshment stands, everything covered in pools of white sand, then along the strangely deformed sandstone beach cliffs. The water is cold and rough, but remains a beautiful aquamarine color, collecting in hundreds of shallow pools. Try as he might Chris could find no starfish.

Churning waters at Cleopatra Beach

One of many small islands along Cleopatra Beach's shore

A calm moment overlooking the "toilet bowl" at Cleopatra

We spent several hours wandering the beach, taking photos (how pointless!), building sand castles, and searching for another camping cave. All the while not another soul was out, except for some men from a nearby construction site. We saw them come take a look at us twice, not paying too much attention under the assumption that they were just curious. It's hard not to draw conclusions, but if anyone was suspicious or had the knowledge of what possessions we had, these guys would be the first I send the police after. Unfortunately for us there is a revolution afoot and the normally oppressive police have abandoned ship.

Just as my camera was stolen.... don't I look happy?

As a light rain began pouring we decided to take one last look at the water before departing. Not wanting to take my camera bag out to get wet, I tucked it underneath our bikes and bags, concealing it from view. We walked out to the coast edge for exactly 15 minutes (verified by the clock on the videos Chris took) and when I came back my bag had been pulled out, camera extracted, and zipped back up. We can only conclude someone was watching me and waited for the perfect moment. On the plus side they could have run off with my entire bag, which would leave me without my passports, money, and iTouch. Al Hamdulilah!

Agiba ('Miracle') Beach

Although Chris and I woke early we didn't want to leave before saying goodbye to our hosts, so we waited until 10:30 when Abu Rahmel woke and we could head out. Egyptians are not early birds! We biked further west, again seeing groups of military tanks and guards at random posts along the highway. We just smile and wave.

Some 25 km outside Metruh is Agiba, or Miracle, beach, actually a cove just below another army post. The cove is accessible by a steep staircase where we locked our bikes and took our bags down to the empty white sand pocket. Not exactly sunny weather, it was actually cold and windy, so I bundled up and focused on the beautiful aspects of winter beaches, which remind me of Oregon.

Chris spent his afternoon building a sand monastery along the rocky ridge down by the shore. The series of sand complexes stretched over 5 feet wide; however, a few hours later the sea swallowed it up.

We found a cave along the rocky path outside the cove, a spot somehow sheltered by the strong sea winds. We decided to set up camp there in the natural shelter. A few scraps of wood made for a short and difficult fire, and all our thoughts were drowned out by the rough crashing of waves only a few feet away.

From inside our camping cave at Agiba ('Miracle') Beach

(The only photo from Chris' card...)

Deserted Med Coast and WWII Battlefront

Another quiet morning following a long night of activity. The official curfew lifted at 8 though the streets were still in shock as our trio returned home, passing looted buildings, scattered garbage and papers, and dazed pedestrians.

From Shehab's house we packed and made our final attempts with the Internet. Still no connection. I wonder if our families have any clue what is happening around us because on international news Alexandria is hardly mentioned and there is no video footage of the protests except from Cairo.

As Chris and I biked out of the city we cycled by smoldering buildings, charred buses and police vans, and the crumbling remains of the governor's mansion. Usually city biking is easy, however we faced more difficulty due to the blankets of shattered glass in the street, gangs of riled up citizens excited to scream and holler at us, and numerous civilian and military-manned checkpoints and roadblocks.

The western suburbs were even more congested with traffic, garbage, and people who by this time of day were nervously stocking up for the 3 pm curfew. Slowly the road emptied out and we found ourselves on the westward highway, surrounded by desert but no sea views. We had hoped the road would follow the seafront.

While taking a break at a set of crossroads two cars and a taxi van simultaneously screeched to a stop next to us. We didn't see the initial incident but were privy to the subsequent dispute between drivers. They formed a small mob, yelling and waving sticks at each other; one man pulled out a gun and began shooting the van's tires while another busted the widows with his two by four. We very quickly biked onward.

Eventually we hopped into a furgon (shared taxi van), tossing the bikes up top, and joining a group of guys to El Elmein, the WWII mega graveyard. There are over 80 thousand soldiers buried in the nearby cemeteries, and an unknown number of landmines still hiding under the desert sands. We followed the road into an unfinished housing development and found a cozy spot at the edge of a white sand beach.

Our tent sat guarded from the heavy wind just behind a low sand barrier. At sunrise we woke to see a red ball of flame rise above the Mediterranean waters. Then quickly went back to sleep. Yeah freedom! Not a human being in site.

By noon Chris and I were out on the highway, cycling toward Mersa Metruh, the country's summer magnet. It's a ghost town in the winter, which works out in our favor. After about 50 km or so we flagged down another van to the city, bypassing the endless stretch of uninteresting desert road. At the bus station the manager informed us there is a daily bus straight to Cairo, then added it may or may not be running in a few days. The entire country is waiting, either for more chaos or for another shut down.

In the normally carefree beach town of Mersa Matruh military tanks have blockades set up around the ballad (downtown) directing traffic up and down 2 roads. We had some difficulties trying to get through to the market and then finding restaurants, which are usually plentiful but had all been closed down for the 3 pm curfew. Several people went out of their way to help us and warn us of danger, though it's hard to believe anything will happen because all we get are welcomes and ahh America good! I'm only slightly on edge knowing that a lot of people are concealing guns and it only takes ones crazy to hurt us...

We eventually settled on falafel and chicken, then took off toward the west, hoping to reach Cleopatra's beach before sunset. Instead we got lost and ended up in a suburb, where we met Abu Rahmel who invited us inside. He set up a tv with satellite and we watched (for the first time) the reports from Egypt on BBC English, CNN, and Al Jazeera English. I'm amazed that the riots in Suez and Alexandria are not even mentioned! Local Arabic tv stations did describe the actions around the country, though due to Internet cuts no one has any footage. Only Cairo is spotlighted on international TV, and they barely mention the effects of Internet and cell phone cuts. Don't they see how Mubarak wants to quell the facebook groups and Twitter messages?-- by tightening his stranglehold he thinks he can crush the protests, but really it just provokes citizen's anger and proves he is a tyrant in their eyes.

We are staying the night here with the family, actually a compound of homes, each of 8 brothers and 6 sisters. We've only met the brothers, who sat with us for tea while the news played in English. We'll get to the beach tomorrow.

Alexandria Unrest

This morning Shehab and I went shopping for a day's supplies, planning to relax at home, and also in case chaos breaks out. Last night the internet and cell phone coverage cut out, leaving the country without communication to organize rallies (the "leaderless revolt" enabled by facebook). Great. People are upset by an oppressive demogog so he cuts off their phones and web access, as well as ATMs, call centers, and businesses relying on technology--that's gonna help the situation.

Eleven am and the streets were still eerily empty. At the register the credit machines and ATMs were out, and since we were short of cash we had to put half out groceries back. This would totally not happen in America- nothing can stop the flow of business. Especially not a government that wants to stay in office.

Afterward Shahab and I sat in his living room discussing Egypt's political history, then he went out for noon prayers. Just as he returned the protests began, so we ran downstairs to see what would happen. Flooding out of the nearby mosque were hundreds of shouting men (and some women), chanting Freedom Freedom! and Topple the Government! (borrowing from the slogans in Tunisia)

The street quickly filled with protestors and spectators (I wasn't the only one with a camera, dozens of people stood by with their cell phones raised). As I turned to take a photo of the police blockade a plain clothesed officer began screaming (in English) Get away! This is not your business this is ours!


Men flowing out of the mosque after Friday's noon prayer

As the crowd of people moved down the street, passed the apartment where Chris took video footage from the balcony, we returned inside and began assessing the situation. Without internet or phones it is hard to know what is happening around the city. Even Al Jazeera was cut off from local journalists and couldn't get their video footage through.


Citizens fill the streets, ready for a peaceful protest march toward the city center

Watching the riots in Cairo and knowing they were happening here too was too interesting to pass up, so Chris and I went out to find the parades of people. tens of thousands of Alexandrians were marching down the main avenue; men and women, young and old. We first ran into a blockade of police near one of the stations, who suddenly charged and then stopped, eventually disbanning and getting back into their armored trucks.


Police blockade the street, armed with riot gear


Police assemble, then disassemble, not sure what we're going to do


Tens of thousands of people march down the main streets from the outskirts, chanting

Chris and I followed the crowds down the street toward the Italian mosque, where the meeting point was set. Along the way we were stopped by commotion at the central police station, which had exploded in fire and was spewing thick plumes of black smoke.


Looking down from an overpass, burning building up ahead

We carefully crept our way up toward the fire, almost constantly approached by people hoping we were international journalists. Several of them pleaded with us to tell the world, let their voices be heard, to help the Egyptian people be rid of this oppressive government. We could only promise we would be writing online and posting video to YouTube.


People eagerly run to see what's up ahead

Next to the station, which slowly filled with flames across the entire lower floor, a police van had exploded. Molotov cocktail I presume. Some (young men) were going crazy in the streets, setting fires, looting the station (throwing furniture out the upper windows), shouting, etc. A majority of others were quietly observing, filming with cell phone cameras. No police in sight though.


Smoke fills the street outside the burning police station


Police vans nearby were set ablaze


Occasional huge swells of people would stampede, in fear of an explosion

After several rounds of explosions and stampede scares, we were finally chased away from the area. Chris and I decided we had enough and would walk home. Hundreds of small groups of people slowly moved away from the scene. As we passed the police station from before more armored trucks began unloading shielded officers; one officer was shouting and waving at us but we didn't understand why. A nearby pedestrian also walking away told us they were initiating a curfew and we should get off the streets immediately. No problem we would be home by the time it started, but we soon crossed another large parade of protestors heading toward the fires. Police have no chance of emptying the streets- it's total chaos here!


No more cars around, so kids burn shirts instead

Shahab was waiting at home, ready with updates from local news reports. Since no phones or Internet are working there is no footage of the riots in Alexandria. Only a few scenes from Cairo; the National Democratic Party is on fire and citizens are guarding the National Museum (police have abandoned their posts) against potential looters. There are occaisionally short reports- calls from landlines- from people with details about Alexandria and Suez (the third major protest zone). However, Al Jazeera's signal keeps randomly getting cut. People are eagerly waiting for a speech by Mubarak, the Egyptian president from whom protestors are demanding resignation. Hilary Clinton is dubbed on Al Jazeera calling for peace and advising the government reconnects Egypt's communication network.

Chris and I went out again, this time to the nearby police headquarters, following a rumor that fire had broken out. We did see flames from down the street but by the time we arrived citizens with hoses had finished putting out the flames. Despite the curfew there were many clusters of people, and still no police.


Burning shirts as a symbol of the about-to-collapse-dictatorship

Late in the night Mubarak appeared on TV, calmly explaining he will appoint a new government, but not mentioning his leaving. We called it a night.

The next morning was calm. Shehab and I drove around town making note of all the burned out police stations, dozens of charred vehicles, toppled security booths, and armored tanks along the roads. Plenty of pedestrians and cars were also cruising to take photos of the damage. At every intersection a team of volunteer citizens directed traffic, rerouting drivers away from closed streets and keeping the flow moving.


Papers expelled from destroyed buildings covered the streets

Our main goal was to see the governor's mansion, we heard had been set on fire; the street was blocked by the burnt skeleton of a not so lucky bus. Next door is the American Center, which is empty save for the security guards who told me no one knows what's going on or what to advise. He did give me embassy numbers to call in case I have a personal emergency.


Tanks filled almost every street

Curfew today was moved up to 4 pm. We watched as the grocery stores and mini markets flooded with people stocking up on their own suppliesShehab, Chris, and I moved over to Ibrahim, one of shehab's friends, house. From his top floor apartment balcony we can clearly see the surrounding city streets and even glimpse the sea. Just below is an enormous sports club, with multiple pools, ball courts, gyms, restaurants, and a golf course.


Citizens came out the next morning to assess the damaged buildings

After sundown Ibrahim and Shehab were requested to come downstairs and join the men gathering in the street, all armed with clubs and sticks.

Throughout the city these citizen militias are forming to protect buildings and property from the roaming band of looters. Cell coverage has returned so everyone is on their phones coordinating and sharing updates from reports around the city. Rumors are flying high and wide; tales of gunshots at Shehab's building, multiple burning buildings, ransacking looting mobs, and the takeover of the water company. After a few exciting scares but overall emptiness we decided to go upstairs and watch from the balcony.

Port Town Alexandria

Our train pulled in to Alexandria's station in the late afternoon. From there we met with our couchsurfing host Shehab, whose name actually translates to Shooting Star Peace Wood. Awesome. Egyptians are hippies at heart! He later renamed Chris and me Besem and Hanaan respectively, meaning Smiling One and Caring One. Wish we had thought of these names 6 months ago and saved ourselves from so much confusion (Courtney is absolutely incomprehensible in the Arab world).

Alexandria, the illustrious port town founded by Alexander the Great in the 3rd century BC, stretches in a thin strip for 30 km or so along the coast. Archaeologists speculate the flambouyant Macedonian general is buried in a tomb somewhere deep below the modern streets. Over the centuries the city has been shaped by a hodgepodge of cultures, influences, and epic tales including that of the Greeks and Romans, Cleopatra's politics and trysts, Turkish pashas and Ottoman trade, and the more recent heyday of the British occupation. It remains an international and religious blend of Muslim and (Coptic) Christian peoples and architecture (there was also a thriving Jewish population, all but 8 of whom have moved to Israel).


Waterfront apartments a la Egyptian art deco


Trolley passes by a worn, early 20th century apartment building


Colorful walls of a mechanic shop

One of Alexandria's great claims to fame is the ancient Biblioteca Alexandrina, built by Ptolomey I in 331 BC, which housed the largest collection of written works until it was burned down - possibly- by Ceasar in his 48 BC conquest and then again later by invaders. In its glory the Biblioteca served as an academic Mecca, attracting scholars from around the world for lectures, debate, and research. In 2002 the library was completely rebuilt and is slowly being restocked with materials from around the world.


Inscriptions of languages from around the world


Alexandrina Biblioteka, surrounded by a cool reflecting pool

Most of the library is actually underground, shielded overhead by a triangular glass roof surrounded by a calming reflecting pool. A collage of foreign scripts are carved into the outter wall, representing the original decor of languages from every known source on earth (at the time). Inside are several climate controlled levels of books and museums, as well as crowds of respectfully silent university students busy with research. We spent several hours exploring the books, many of which are in English.


Interior of the Biblioteca Alexandrina

On the west tip of Alexandria's bay sits the Citadel of Qaitbay, built in the 1400's. It lies directly atop the crumbled ruins of the world's first lighthouse, the Pharos of Alexandria, a 400 foot-ish red granite pillar. It was commissioned by Ptolemy I in effort to guide sailing ships away from the dangerously rocky shore. The pillar was later fitted with a gas-fed oil lamp and copper reflecting boards, so impressive it has been deemed one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Unfortunately, the pillar tumbled during an earthquake in the 13th century, and much of the remains were either quarried for the construction of the citadel or remain sunken in the water's depths.


Boats along the waterfront, citadel in the background


Cafe de la Paix, staging a century of stories along the waterfront

Alexandria's architecture also alludes to the large bourgoise class of the early 20th century. The city had grown in importance and wealth throughout the reign of the Ottomans thanks to its strategic port, drawing in entrepeneurs, businessmen, artists, and laborers from countries around the Mediterranean. Classic, dark wood cafes line the seafront, such as Athenos, where well to do Greek ladies used to congregate with their Turkish suitors. Nearby sits one of the city's grandest mosques, Abul Abbas, is another testament to Alexandria's long history of immigrants: built in the 17th century by Algerians, it sits atop the tomb of a 13th century Andalusian sufi saint whose family fled Spain for religious freedom.

Abul Abbas dome

Teak carved windows of Abul Abbas Mosque (Ottoman style of the 1700's)

El-Mursi Abul Abbas Mosque

Nearby is the Cecil Hotel, probably the finest and oldest accomodation thriving over the last century. The early wooden elevator boxes are still in use, connecting patrons to the terrace where a Chinese and Thai restaurant dishes up exotic foods. Awesome view of the seafront and adjacent park from the top.


Entering an elegant, wooden elevator at the Cecil Hotel


View of the park and waterfront from Cecil's rooftop

Cecil is set a the edge of Saad Zaghlul Square, and the Turkish neighborhood, whose entrance is marked by a park and statue of the politician, Saad Zaghlul. On the back of the standing effendy sits a mysterious woman with a Coptic cross. (no one could explain to me who she is)


Cecil Hotel and (silhouette) statue of Saad Zaghloul, an Egyptian politician


Coptic lady adjoined to Saad Zaghloul's statue

In one of the nearby neighborhoods is another park, Muhammed Ali square. Its central statue depicts the great Albanian commander who, after declaring himself ruler of Egypt in the early 1800's, actually stole the throne by inviting all of the current Mamluk leaders and nobles to a lavish banquet and then murdering them en masse. Such gumpshun!


Muhammed Ali statue


Statue of Muhammed Ali, Alexandria's Albanian tyrant


My bike, heavily laden with mahmoul (date cookies)

Chris and I spent two days wandering and cycling around town, visiting sites, shopping in the street markets, picnicing along the waterfront, and sipping coffee in style. In the evenings we went out with Shehab, who showed us some of the best spots in town. I am such an advocate of couchsurfing, especially when it brings us into the lives of wonderful people, and changes our whole experience from feeling like outsider yuppie tourists to that of visiting a long-time friend. Shehab also introduced us to some of his equally amazing friends, with whom we shared several rounds of delicious juice concoctions from an outdoor stall.


Cappucino from Cafe Brasil, where chic Alexandrians sipped imported beans in style


I will miss these glorious, run of the mill produce markets


We stopped off for some cheese, next to the cured olive buckets


Loading up on bananas and oranges!

With Shehab, Ibrahim, and friends, slurping mango drinks at the juice bar

The first night we were 'surfing' with a young guy from New Jersey, who currently studies in Israel. Together we went out to an iconic fish restaurant, something Alexandrians pride themselves on. Although we chose entrees, our table was already full of delicious appetizers- a half dozen plates of cheese and vegetable dips, salads, and fresh rolls, so we were stuffed before the main course arrived.


Fresh fish! Right from the sea!


Dinner with Shehab and Jeremy; a tableful of mezzes (dips and salads)

Another night Shehab took us with some friends to eat Egyptian pizzas, before again slurping several cups of fresh juice. Egyptian style pizzas are the same as Turkish style, a thin pastry rolled out, topped with cheese and veggies, then folded up and baked. The regular pizzas are amazing, big pies with thick crust and almost always less than $4! Take THAT Dominoes!


Eating Egyptian pizzas with Ibrahim and Shehab


Sheep and goats eating fodder in the city!

One of my favorite past times while traveling is always to explore the markets-- including regular street markets where people do their day to day shopping. I love the activity here- people bustling around with produce bags, greeting friends and shopkeepers, lots of bright colors... We came across dates from the nearby Siwa Oasis, set up on a pedestal with a bowlful of frankinscence burning to keep the bees away (which also makes the dates smell nice). Crowds of people waiting for bread from the goverment bakery. This is always a spectacle, because people fight to get to the front before the bread runs out. Once claimed, people lay out their bootie on the sidewalk or cars to let the pides air dry, lest they get damp with condensation.


Typical street, people out shopping and chatting


Yummy strawberries! 4 EP per kilo (roughly $1.15 per pound)


Dates from the Siwa Oasis, curing in frankinscence smoke...


Always heavy crowds outside the bread shop


Freshly baked pide is spread out so that they don't get soggy with condensation

Rabbits and eggs for sale at the market (I think they are both eaten)

Hidden among one of the market streets, Chris and I came across an old spice shop. Outfront were bags of dried teas and seeds, with rows and rows of canisters and bins inside, full of mysterious herbs and powders. This is the type of place you'd find a monkey's paw. I went to great length to explain to the keeper that I wanted frankinscence, using elaborate and goofy hand gestures to break our language barriers. Eventually, we found the right sack and I loaded up on a bagful of sap crystals. Supposedly it comes from Saudi, however I suspect there are varieties from all over Africa that find their way to these bazars.


Hibiscus and other dried herbs for sale along the market street


Dried herbs in the spice shop, where I found a bag of frankinscence


Only Chris can eat ice cream for breakfast and not feel guilty...


School boys on break, also excited for ice cream

Chris and I enjoyed 3 days peacefully in Alexandria, simply being tourists and exploring the city. I can't get over how many layers of interesting history have been smashed together in such a small area! I love the mix of ancient, classic, and modern, and the extreme diversity that the city has seen, making Alexandria one of my favorite cities in the world. I envy anyone who studies/lives over here, moreso than Cairo because life is more relaxed here. Definitely hope to come back soon!