I think we really benefited from an early(ish) night and wake up feeling refreshed.  After breakfast Peter bumps into an old friend of his Hamada, who he used to work with years ago.  Hamada works in one of the shops in the hotel.  I can see how they embrace that they are good friends and delighted to see each other.  We are invited to his shop to drink tea.  They reminisce about old times and talk about the terrible state of the country.  I become adept at putting the appropriate expression on my face depending on the tone of their voices.  With only basic knowledge of Arabic I could come a cropper if I don’t pay attention!  Another man enters the shop – yet another old friend of Peter’s.  They greet and then he tells Hamada that the ‘Big mother’ has phoned.  I ask who the big mother is.  I’m told that she is the mother of the owner of the hotel.  She phones every day to see who has turned up for work  - even though there is hardly any business.

We are to go to Garagos later that day.  Hamada offers to drive us.

We go back to the room and pack (yet again) – enough for a few days.  Hamada picks us up and we set off again through the rural landscape until we reach Garagos.  Being in a new air conditioned car people stop to look.  Everyone watches everything and they want to know who is entering their village.  Herds of scruffy goats scatter and children skid to a halt on their bikes.

We arrive at the house again – family from several houses come to greet us.  Peters father invites Hamada in to drink tea but he declines – he has to return to Luxor.

We settle in again.  It’s late afternoon and Peter, his father and I decide to walk down to the farmland before the sun sets.  The twins Sara and Susanna come with us.  We firstly call to see the waterbuffalo – a mother and her baby – well no longer a baby.  She was a baby when I saw her in December but is quite a size now.  The buffalo are kept in a mud brick walled area that is shaded by date palms.  On one corner of the space is an old fashioned water wheel that used to be driven by cows or buffalo.  Near the entrance  is a motor pump that draws water from underground – the source being the canals which are fed by the Nile. 

We then walk to another area surrounded by mud brick walls.  In here is a date palm, a banana tree and a mango tree.  Also growing is mint and basil – a slightly different basil to the type we have in the UK.  The Egyptian basil (rahan) grows into a bush – it’s more shrubby and the taste is different.  We did grow it in England from some seeds that Peter brought home but it didn’t survive the winter.

After this we follow the irrigation channel down to the farm land.  All the farmland in this area belongs to various members of Peter’s family and has belonged to them for as long as they can remember.  Through the generations the land is left to the children and some plots divided between them.  Not all of the land is together – it is spread out over the village.  Not all of the children want to remain in the village and work the land, so the responsibility is handed over to another member of the family.  I wonder how many of the younger generation will stay in the village in the future to work the land.  I know this is a passion for Peter’s father – he loves working on the land.  I don’t think this will be a passion for the next generation.

As we continue walking along the irrigation channel we come across Ebanob who is working the land.  He wields a large heavy hoe and strikes the earth with all his might.  Peter draws my attention to the hoe and before he speaks I think back to our garden and when Peter told me that we needed a strong tool to dig our heavy clay soil.  I knew the tool he was looking for so bought one from B&Q.  When I got it home and showed it to him he laughed.  Now looking at the size of the implement that Isaac is holding I can see why the B&Q hoe amused him. 

Zakir – the brother of Peter’s grandfather (but known as his grandfather not great uncle) is with a young boy Makarios who I remember from a previous visit.  They join us – everyone greets each other with a handshake.  Peter takes the hoe from Ebanob and begins to strike the earth.  He hasn’t laboured on the land since University so doesn’t keep it up for long. 

The sun is now setting.  A short distance away is a single story house that has just been built adjacent to the irrigated land.  The house has recently been built and belongs to Zakir’s son Stefanos and his wife Fikria.  So Stefanos is the cousin of Peter’s father.  We are invited to go to the house and drink tea. 

Mats made from woven date palms are laid out on the mud track that divides two plots of land, one growing sweetcorn and another green plant that is grown as animal feed.  More family members have joined us now – about 15 in total.  Everyone is seated on the mat.  Children play in the field, Sara and Susanna delight in tormenting a grey kitten.  When fed up of this they come and join the adults feeling equally comfortable with any of the uncles, aunts or cousins.  Whatever the differences are here between the roles of women and men, it doesn’t apply to playing with the children.  In fact when the men aren’t at work they are more likely to be making a fuss of the children.  Fikria brings out a tray of tea for everyone.  Sugar is generously spooned into the glasses – expressions of surprise when I don’t take any.  Everyone chats until the sky turns black – a deep dark black that is only seen in remote locations not polluted by artificial light.  It would be an unusual day if the night sky was clouded – the stars are bright and the crickets in the field are the loudest I’ve ever heard.  At one point a cricket flies out of the field onto my shoulder – I jump and scream which everyone finds hysterical.  I feel a bit of a fool but take some comfort when one of the other women sitting with Fikria also makes a fuss about the flying insects.

It’s so much cooler out in the fields.  The dry crinkled leaves on the sweetcorn rustle in the light breeze.  Apart from the crickets and the chatter of voices it’s silent.  It’s almost as though the fields absorb the sound of any external noises or a vacuum has surrounded us.  I defy anyone to sit where I’m sitting now and not feel a sense of peace – around them and inside.

Ehab now joins us – Sara and Susanna run to him.  I think the rest of the family are expecting us at his house.  We say thank you to our hosts and goodbye to family and head off back down the path, following again the irrigation channel and back out onto the street.  It’s only short walk around the corner to Ehabs house.  A lively scene greets us.  Everyone is sitting outside this large house that opens out onto yet another field – again it’s cooler out in the open that indoors.  Several of the men sit around a table playing dominoes.  Others and family members from neighbouring houses sit on one of four palm sofas chatting.  There is also a large stone mastaba covered in hand woven rugs.  We shake hands, embrace those we know, get kissed by female relatives I haven’t met before.  One of the ladies I haven’t met before is introduced to me as Sister Rita.  Sister Rita is a warm and engaging young lady.  Her English is excellent and she tells me that she is belongs to the Comboni Mission.     a Catholic mission named after Daniel Comboni who came to Egypt in 1857. 

Rita has recently been working in Kenya and Dubai and the following day was to leave for Ethiopia to continue her work.    I enjoy talking to Rita.  She asks me about our trip to Cairo and I tell her how the family tried to feed us so much food.  She laughs and says that there are two things that go hand in hand with Egyptians.  They love their food and they are very loud.

Ehab approaches us.  He says that he want to challenge Andre and Zakaria to a game of dominoes but he doesn’t know whether Peter is a reliable partner.  He says that Peter is out of practice at playing dominoes and he really wants to win the game.  I told Ehab that he couldn’t have any better partner than Peter and that he should put his faith in his brother in law – they will easily win.  Peter and Ehab join the rest of the men at the table and I continue chatting with Sister Rita.

Unfortunately she is called away to see to something and I expect that may be the last time I meet her.  I felt drawn to Rita and wanted to talk to her more and find out about the work that she does with the mission.  Hopefully another day.

Various members of the family come and go, some are new introductions, some people I already know.  Andre’s wife Marmar and her daughter Lola sit next to me on one side and Margreet sits on the other with Sara – Susanna still has bags of energy and is running from adult to adult.  Marmar who speaks a little English asks me if I remember the chicken that she cooked us last time we came to stay.  I did remember the chicken and the meal we had had.  Ehab gives me regular updates on the dominoes match – he and Peter are winning so far – the outcome will be decided on this last game.

A cheer goes up and Peter and Ehab have won the game of dominoes.  Ehab and Zakaria laugh in disbelief.  Ehab tells me that I was right and he should have had more faith in Peter in the first place.  Margreet goes into the house and brings out a tray of cold cans of beer which is received gratefully by everyone.

We chat and laugh a little further into the evening (Egyptians always seem to be laughing apart from when they are discussing politics or religion).  The laughing echoes up and around the houses that form an L shape around one corner of the green land. These large houses are 3 stories high ­– a floor is built as a flat for each of the sons of the family and their wives.  In this case both Margreet and Marmar live and work in the house together with the mother of Ehab.  I can’t imagine living in such close proximity to two other families.  Although the young wives have their own flats with kitchens, most cooking is done on the ground floor in the kitchen of the mother.  I’m sure that this semi communal living has its benefits but as for me I love my solitude, my downtime where I can please myself when I cook, when I clean and what I do. 

The children begin to fall asleep.  People begin to drift off, wishing “Tispah all kheir”.  We also say our goodbyes and Ehab walks us around to Peter’s father’s house.

They have arranged for us to stay in another room in the house with a balcony. Hopefully with a bit of ventilation and the ceiling fan the night will be a bit more comfortable.  Tispa alla kheir.

I wake up early again to the sound of beeping horns – I think I’m almost beginning to expect it like my morning alarm call for work each morning.  I open the balcony doors and sit on the sofa writing up my notes for the blog.  Peter wakes up and takes a shower.  As he comes back into the room we hear two loud bangs from below - they definitely sounded like gunshots.  Peter goes onto the balcony to look.  After a minute or two he tells me that the place is swarming with police – I can hear multiple sirens in the distance.  I tentatively make my way onto the balcony and pluck up enough courage to look down.  There are 3 large police trucks and at least another 3 police cars on the roundabout next to the hotel.  We both take turns in videoing the spectacle below.  I imagine it was an attempted bank robbery as the police seemed to be concentrated around the Faisal Islamic Bank.  The furore dies down and we decide to get our act together and get ready to go out. 

Once we’re ready Peter calls me from the balcony.  He tells me that he can see Abdul waiting outside the hotel.  I feel bad but we decide to go out via the coffee shop at the back of the hotel.  Maybe we should at least have told Abdul that he hadn’t been fair with his prices but on the other hand both Peter and I felt let down by him and taken advantage of.  We had known him for over four years and he was even a witness at our marriage.  Abdul is from a relatively middle class family and all of his family are in good jobs so we make the assumption that he is pushing the limits as he would with any other tourist.  Anyway, that is probably the last time we will see Abdul as we are told that the Sheraton is due to close shortly for refurbishment.  This particular Sheraton we’re told is owned by the Libyan Government.  Not sure where we got that nugget from so I’m unable to verify it.

Once out of the back and onto the street it isn’t long before we pick up a taxi.  Our first stop today is Al Ain Gallery in Dokki not far from the hotel.  Taxi fare 10le.  The gallery is owned by Randa Fahmy a master metalwork designer who showcases her own designs and also that of other local craftsmen.  This is a beautiful gallery.  For sale are Randa’s own metal work designs, beautiful copper lanterns that take their influence from the traditional designs.  But Randa gives a modern twist to her work.  There were also substantial pieces of wooden furniture that were deeply carved and adorned with arabesque features.  We also saw pottery from Fayoum, embroidered wall hangings and charming cloth dolls from Siwa.  A section of the gallery houses a jewellery collection by her sister, acclaimed jewellery designer Azza Fahmy.  We buy  a couple of pieces of pottery and as we leave this beautiful gallery I try to take mental pictures of the way the products are displayed.  http://www.randafahmy.com/index.php

We are out on the street again hailing a taxi.  We are now going back to Zamalek to the Alef Gallery that we failed to find a few days earlier.  The traffic over onto the island as usual is hideous but it isn’t long before we arrive at our destination – cost 15le.  This again is an absolutely beautiful gallery.  It is made up of themed rooms that display the most beautiful products – all handcrafted, all based on traditional styles but again with a modern twist.  One room displays fabric, fabric made of cotton and silk and really exquisite patterns.  We are told that the gallery has been open for 20 years and that they employ all of the craftsmen who produce the work.  This gallery is very well located to benefit from the wealthy residents in Zamalek.  Definitely worth a visit – even just to admire the wonderful handcrafts.  http://alefgallery.com/

We leave the gallery and decide to walk down the street.  I’d read that there was a shop that sold handmade products from Siwa around the corner.  We had timed this with the end of school – clearly a private school.  Children emptied out onto the quiet street into waiting cars and mini buses.  Groups of children approached us trying out their English with “hello””how are you?” “I love you”.  We find the shop and take a look around.  Again another beautifully designed shop.  The walls are decorated with panels of rock salt mined from Siwa itself.  The shop has a range of lovely embroidered cotton tunics, shoes and handmade jewellery.  Children knock on the shop window to try and attract my attention.  We say our goodbyes and make our way to a Costa Coffee that we’d noticed earlier – again another opportunity to take a bathroom break in surroundings that you know will meet a minimum standard.  After tea and chocolate gateau we go out and find another taxi.  Here we meet Sami the taxi driver who we actually spend the rest of the day with.  We ask him to take us to the Abdeen Pottery in El Fostat village, Old Cairo.  I’ve got my bearings a little scewed but if I’m right we’re not far from Coptic Cairo.  Sami tells that we are in a local area, an area where tourists don’t come too often and that everyone in the neighbourhood looks out for each other.  As we drive into the Fostat village we can see that the style of the houses is different to what we’ve seen anywhere else.  The buildings look as though they would be more at home in a coastal village somewhere.  Many of the houses are decorated with tiles – very charming.  All seem to be in the business of making pottery as huge pots and jars are piled up in front of each house.  We are looking specifically one pottery that we read about in Cairo 360 – a what’s on guide for Cairo.

We are greeted by the brother of the owner of the pottery.  We are shown around the pottery and get to see the artisans at work.  One man does the hand painting, he is currently decorating tiles in a traditional Turkish design. 

We then go through to another room which is set up with several potters wheels and a couple of finishing benches.  We watch one artisan throwing tiny perfume pots.  These are made by piling up a tower of clay about 15 inches high and then working the top section into a small perfume bottle.  We have several of these bottles at home already though the contain holy oil from the church and not perfume. 

We are then taken to an artisan who is cutting patterns out of clay lanterns which are then left to dry before firing in the kiln. 

We are then left to browse the products which are displayed in various parts of the pottery.  We select 4 pieces to buy – a tile and a ceramic plate decorated in a Turkish design and a tables protector for a teapot and a soap dish.  We don’t ask the prices of anything – Peter goes to pay.  We say goodbye and are back in the taxi with Sami.  I ask Peter how much it cost for the products and he told me 200le.  This was way over the true value of it.  They knew we were looking for suppliers of handcrafted items and yet they still overcharged us – perhaps Peter should have haggled a bit – after all he is Egytian!  

As we leave Fostat village we stop at the Amr ibn aas mosque to take a few photos. Sami asks us if we would like to see a crystal factory.  We didn’t have anything else planned so we agreed and then left it to Sami to drive us there.  I think I was expecting to be taken to another small workshop where everything is made by hand.  I could see that the area we were approaching was getting more and more industrial.  One and a half hours later we arrived at the factory of Crystal Asfour one of the worlds largest crystal making factories.  This particular branch employs 28,000 people – there is another factory in Cairo which is even bigger.  I wasn’t sure what type of place we were coming to.  As we walked into the building we walked up some steps and then found ourselves in a massive showroom adorned with crystal from floor to ceiling.  There must have been hundreds of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling – some so huge they could only be designed for large hotels or palaces.  We spent about forty five minutes walking around looking at the crystal – I’m not actually a fan of crystal and the only thing that I bought was a crystal bracelet.  Peter tells me that when he went to pay he was given a discount – without asking!  Excellent! 

 

It was now about 7.30 and it had already turned dark ages ago.  We were now going to visit Peter’s Uncle Samaan in Ain Shams – Sami takes us there.  We have been with Sami for half a day and we are charged 100le – Peter gives him 120le.  When we arrive in the street Uncle Samaan is already waiting for us on the street.  After introductions we are taken to their flat on the first floor of an apartment block.  The wall between their flat and the neighbours is smeared with the red brown bloody handprints.  This Islamic custom is carried out as a form of celebration  for weddings, new baby, graduation, new car.  A lamb is usually brought to the door of the house/flat and slaughtered - either by the butcher or the woman of the house.  Blood is imprinted on the doorstep or doors or near to the entrance of a house and is a sign of protection for whatever change has happened.  

Uncle Samaan and his family have a lovely apartment, decorated in bright blue with carefully co-ordinated sofa’s and drapes.  The walls are adorned with Christian pictures and statues of Mary sit in display cabinets and on sideboards.  I am introduced to his wife Agabi and daughters Monica and Veronica.  Monica is at university studying German and English so she temporarily takes over from Peter’s translation duties.  We talk about lots of things.  We talk about the traffic in Cairo and how taxi’s are a law untothemselves.  They tell me that both Samaan and Monica go by taxi everywhere – Samaan because he is a lawyer and needs to get to different parts of the city quickly and Monica because it is unsafe for her on public transport.  I ask why it is unsafe for her.  Agabi tells me that since the revolution, some boys think they are given the right to behave how they want to.  On public transport they grab at girls and make inappropriate comments – it isn’t safe for girls to go on public transport in Cairo.  Freedom they tell me, for some people means freedom to behave badly - I recall this isn't the first time I have heard this comment.  I tell Monica that in England it can also sometimes be unsafe for women travelling alone – I tell her about the pink taxi’s for women only – maybe they need  pink buses for women only in Cairo.

It isn’t long before we are invited to eat.  Agabi apologies that she hasn’t cooked a home meal for us but she was unsure when we would be visiting.  She brings out a selection of bread, cheeses, fried chicken and salad. It was exactly what we needed.  Samaan left to pick up some cola from the shop below.  I noticed that everytime he popped out of the flat the door was locked immediately after him.  I got the sense that this was a family that didn’t feel too safe at home but I didn’t want to ask why.  It is now 10.00pm and it is time for us to go.  We say goodbye as we leave we are told that we must visit again and next time a special meal will be prepared for us.  Uncle Samaan walks us down and waits with us until we find a taxi.  We arrive back at the hotel exhausted.  Tomorrow is our last day so we pack and then go to bed.