life in the narrows

Egypt Time

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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Egypt Time

We booked Egypt in the summer, when things were happy and light. In the fall, things dimmed. I caught a cold in September, and coughed viciously into November. A heavy snow fell in early October. How odd it looked, the still green leaves collapsing into the snow. The holidays came and went. And suddenly, it was Egypt time. We should have been elated. But Trump started saber rattling, taunting Iran. Would there be a war? Would we be targets in Egypt? Was it safe? Things felt ominous, imminent. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon; ill winds stirred. I reckoned it was a cocktail of worry for my parents, for us in our old age, for the environment, for the world consciousness.

Waiting for the el the night we left, we debated whether or not to even go to O’Hare. Walking onto the plane, we considered a different final destination–maybe Paris, or maybe just stay in London. We stood in the Harry Potter shop at Heathrow examining the wands and joking how it felt like the death eaters were hovering. We needed a Patronus charm to protect us. But, we said the important things on calls home, and got on the overnight plane to Cairo.

We landed at the empty Cairo airport at 3:25 a.m., Egypt time, on January 9. It would be a day of rest after 20+ hours of travel and many days of worry.

After a nap, we headed to the banks of the Nile on our first walkabout. The life-sustaining, illustrious NILE. The longest river in the world! The storied River Nile–market of nations, where a touch of a staff turned the river to blood, where 14 cows walked forth–seven fat and seven gaunt–predicting feast and famine years, where Moses was pulled from the bulrushes. The NILE…IMAGINE!

 

The River Nile

Yet, I did not imagine the traffic, the pollution, the haze from the Sahara’s sand, the congestion and chaos of a 3,000-year-old city inhabited by 17 million people. It is said that “he who has not seen Cairo has not seen the world.” That magical sentiment missed me. Cairo is like every other big city. Cars. Trash. People. Fast food. Desperate stray animals. Noise. Pollution. Crime. Concrete high rises shade the beautiful old buildings with turn-of-the-century craftsmanship.

We crossed 4 “lanes” of traffic along the corniche and a sidewalk chalked with 100 years of dust, to stand at the river’s concrete barriers. Trash collected beneath trees and bushes all the way down the bank to the brown water. We walked up the chipped concrete steps of the October 6 Bridge –an overpass highway built in a massive circle around the city–above the narrow streets and alleys that for eons defined the madness and majesty of old Cairo. And there, we could see an expanse of the river, the notorious, nourishing Nile. I felt sorry for her. Dammed, tamed–ORDINARY. I had expected something grand and profound–like I’d felt at the Ganges. This could have been Tennessee’s Cumberland River.

Nile River in Cairo
The 4,132-mile River Nile as it flows around Gezira island in Cairo, as seen from the October 6 Bridge.

 

Expectations and Reality

We made our way back to the cafe next door to the hotel. Middle Eastern techno music tingled our table as I watched an Egyptian girl nurse a hot tea, read her book, and smoke sweet-smelling shisha. Christmas decorations still lit the front of the cafe. I took hot tea with mint and lentil soup, warm and comforting in its foreignness.

Months before leaving, I’d absorbed the 1860s Cairo of Twain, the 1900s Cairo of Mahfouz, and the 1920s Cairo of Carter. Magnificent tales of early eras. I’d expected to see the Nile of the Pharaohs. Of course, those days are gone. The world IS Babel–more homogenous, more McDonald’d every day. Fading away are the days of “exotic” travel–where the imagination’s romantic notions aren’t interrupted by “progress”. It occurred to me that weird night, that perhaps I’m best left to the type of traveling done in an armchair, time traveling of sorts.

But, here we are. In the real life Cairo. Time to dust off, adjust my attitude to the “see” position, and carry on.

First Impressions of Cairo

Christmas decorations in Cairo, Egypt
Christmas decorations on the streets of Cairo. Egypt is 85-90% Sunni Muslim and 10-15% Coptic Christian.
Saving a parking space
Parking attendant “office”. Cairo, Egypt. In Chicago, we’d call this “dibs”.
Sampling shisha
Bryan sampling the shisha in Cairo’s market, Egypt.
Cairo balconies decorated
Cairo balconies decorated with wallpaper, laundry, and satellite dishes. Apartment buildings are often left unfinished in order to expand if necessary. When children marry, parents can add units to the top for their growing families.
Cairo satellites, skies, and a lone dog in muezzin scaffolding
Cairo:  the city of a thousand minarets…and maybe a million satellite dishes. Hazy skies and a lone dog in the minaret’s speaker scaffolding.
Signs of Cairo.
Signs of Cairo.
Mint bouquet
Egypt time is best savored with hot mint tea and lingering in a seat with a view.
Santana Hotel in Cairo, Egypt
Santana Hotel in Cairo, Egypt

 

A welcome taste of the past at the Egyptian Museum

I’d read that the Egyptian Museum was relocating. The grand old place was said to be in need of modern security, better lighting, some organization and labeling, and more space for her collections spanning thousands of years. The desert rose-colored building, opened in 1902, holds unmarked ancient relics in hundreds of original wooden curio cabinets, stacked and jammed into dimly-lit rooms. Sarcophagi and statues crowd into other rooms, lit by dusty sunbeams. The old museum is a treasure trove to wander through, and thousands more artifacts are said to remain packed away in basement rooms. I’d read that the fancy new museum was opening soon near the Giza Pyramids. When we discovered that the legendary old pink lady was still receiving guests, well…you can imagine what that meant to me and my romantic travel notions. It was like stepping back in time.

Sunbeams, statues, sarcophagi, and security lines at the old Egyptian Museum
Sunbeams, statues, sarcophagi, and security lines at the old Egyptian Museum
The Egyptian Museum is being packed up, like Indiana Jones' house being prepped for a move.
The Egyptian Museum is being packed up, like Indiana Jones’ house of treasures being prepped for a move.
A duplicate of the Rosetta Stone.
A copy of the Rosetta Stone. Written in 196 BC, and discovered in 1799 by Napoleon’s army, It was a decree, written in 3 languages: hieroglyphics, ancient Egyptian/Coptic, and ancient Greek. In 1803, Jean-François Champollion realized the cartouche for Ptolemy was outlined in all three scripts, thus breaking the code for how to read hieroglyphics. Currently, THE Rosetta Stone resides in the British Museum. Requests for repatriation to Egypt have been denied.
Canopic jars of alabaster
At embalming, canopic jars individually stored the stomach, intestines, lungs, and liver. The heart was left in the body so it could be weighed against a feather. Lighter than the feather, the dead person became eternal. Heavier than the feather, and he/she would be fed to the monster.
sarcophagus at Egyptian Museum
A stone sarcophagus at Egyptian Museum. In the 1850s, so many mummies were ousted from their tombs by grave robbers that the wrappings were sold for paper and the mummies were rumored to be burned as locomotive fuel.
Moon goddess on the inside lid of the sarcophagus
Egyptian moon goddess on the inside lid of the sarcophagus
Dwarf sarcophagus casket top
In ancient statues, people are represented as Gods perfected. On the sarcophagus, truth is depicted.
A golden nesting shrine from the tomb of King Tutankhamen, protected by four 3-4 feet tall goddesses.
A golden nesting shrine from the tomb of King Tutankhamen, protected by four 3-4 feet tall goddesses.
A room of wooden curio cabinets filled with relics at the Egyptian Museum
A room of wooden curio cabinets brimming with relics at the Egyptian Museum
At the Egyptian Museum.
At the Egyptian Museum.

 

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Wandering through the Dog Days

Posted by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com
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Here I am.

Wandering, again. Daydreaming. Bemused by random ideas and the weight of options. Doing nothing of consequence. Wasting time. Creating little.

I’ve been trying to sort out life. What it means to be mid-50s with an all-consuming career behind me. What it means to be post my life goal of taking an extended trip around-the-world. I fret at night. We’re running through our savings like bath water. Big questions hover: What’s next? What will I do when I grow…uh…old? How will I busy my mind and hands, and feed the coffers? What will give me purpose and happiness? What will I do to fill my days?

Sara Davidson labeled this transitory phase of life “the narrows.” The name fits. I wander through it–sometimes paralyzed by indecision. Sometimes lazy. Listing with the wind. Observing. Listening. Waiting for inspiration, for energy, for some direction to show itself. Wandering until things fall into place–or the place falls apart.

Spring

I’ve been here in the narrows for awhile, with little fits and starts here and there. After our trip, I lagged in the doldrums for months. Then in March, there was an impetuous to move.

On the first day of Spring, I started work at a garden center. I work outside. I’m tan, more fit, and have fewer aches and pains. I bike to work. I’m learning and doing something I love. I feel good at the end of a day of physical labor. Office worries don’t follow me home. It’s good.

At the end of May, we adopted a little dog, a foster we fell in love with despite our efforts not to. He is eight-point-one pounds of gumption and guile. He wanders with me. Together, we watch the birds, the squirrels, the clouds. We dally on the streets talking to neighbors. It’s good.

What I haven’t done this summer is make photos or write. That’s not good.

Dog Days

These dog days unnerve me. Summer’s stagnant heat and humidity exhaust me. Restlessness sets in. I long for motion, for a fresh breeze. I wait for cool mornings and clarity. Is it just summer, or life’s road narrowing?

Time flies. My memory slips. Life is fragile. I want to photograph more, write more, create more, and do something with my ideas and vague notions. I want to wander with intention. What a paradox.

So, with this post, I commit to myself and anyone reading that I’ll go on a weekly creative outing with camera and notebook to see what I see, to record what I love, to remember what I feel emotions for, and maybe to create something that is satisfying. I invite you to walk with me.

Maybe this will add up to something worthwhile or beautiful. Or maybe it won’t. No matter. My goal is to enjoy the ride. Be kind. Be true. And wander on, until the road runs out.

Tennessee Cedar tree on lawn
Tennessee Cedar during the dog days of Summer 2019. 9/1/19.

 

Thank you for reading

Do you have similar feelings about transitions in life, about creative doldrums? How do you handle it? Any advice? 

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com. Select photos are for sale on Etsy.