Alexandria, Part III

Finally, we wake up ready for the beach! "Early" was a bit of a stretch, since we made it to the car about 11:45, but still, for Egypt, we were doing well. We were headed for a section of Alexandria called Agame, and specifically for La Piste. Yes, La Piste, the salsa club in Mohandisseen that caused us so much trouble. We had been told they have a summer beach club, next to the Sheraton in Agame, and so were on our way.

Unfortunately, our directions weren't any better than that, so we stopped to ask a taxi driver for the Sheraton once we hit Agame. And were told two very interesting things: first, there is no Agame Sheraton, and second, Agame actually has two parts. Well, we didn't know which part of Agame to start looking in, and had no one to ask, so we were a bit stumped.

Fortunately, it occurred to Mona to call her uncle, who's the kind of person who knows of all the nice hotels. Sure enough, he directed us to the Sheraton (in the section of Agame called Nouviel), we told the cab driver, and he got us going in the right direction. Finally, we find the (unfinished) Sheraton, but there's no La Piste in sight.

Sound familiar?

Now, when Claudia had shown us the La Piste card a few weeks back, it had a map with La Piste next to the Sheraton and behind another hotel, and there was a hotel right next to the Sheraton, but Mona was convinced we were in the wrong area, because other than these hotels, the area was mainly residential. Certain that a beach club wouldn't be built in a residential area, we drove around in both directions, trying to call someone on the phone who might know. Finally, we decide to go to the hotel next to the Sheraton and ask if they know, but before doing so, we finally reached Claudia. Who dug through her bag, pulled out the card, and told us that La Piste was next to the Sheraton, behind the New Presidential Hotel. The hotel we were at. And, once she hung up, Mona pointed to a bright yellow umbrella, proudly labeled "La Piste."

I'm convinced these clubs are so hard to find so that only the really determined people make it in!

Anyhow, we went inside only to learn that it's not really a beach club during the day - it's just a beach. Mona had anticipated a club atmosphere, because she'd been to a beach club in Agame before and that's how it'd worked. I hadn't really formed any expectations beyond a beach, so I was well satisfied. Anyhow, the beach was more or less empty, but there was a woman in a bikini (which was my sole requirement), so we decided we really didn't need music and beer and set up shop.

La Piste is bordered by a public beach, and the two are divided by a fence starting at the high tide line. On the other side of the Sheraton is another public beach (the beach to the Sheraton is closed until the hotel opens, I think). Thus, even though we weren't getting a lot of people on our beach itself, people would walk from one public area to the other, which means we still got out fair share of gawkers (bikinis!), but at least they had to stay near the water. And looking at the hundreds of people using the beach next door, I was pretty grateful for the 15 or so that had found their way to La Piste.

At the guidance of the other woman on the beach (the German part-owner of the La Piste clubs, as it turns out), we got ourselves these amazing beach bean bag chairs for lounging, went for an initial dip in the water and then spread ourselves out. Mona had spent the last two days telling her family members we were going to the beach so that I could get a tan, so that was our goal. I was very responsible, turning regularly and cooling off in the water, but I did skip the small detail of sunscreen (well, I was trying to tan!).

After about three hours and a few dips in the water, I decided I was probably done - I could feel a bit of a burn coming on. So we took one last trip down to the ocean, where Mona was unceremoniously attacked by a jellyfish! We think. Suddenly, her leg started stinging, and after we got out, we saw red lines across it. Her family had warned us, "Don't go to Agame! There are jellyfish!" so we know they exist. And, from what she said, it certainly felt like a jellyfish. So, I'm starting to burn and she's been attacked - definitely time to go.

Maybe it's because there's no actual sun in Boston, but I guess I'd forgotten the logistics of a sunburn. "A bit burned" when we left the beach developed into full-blown lobster-colored by the time we got back to Mona's apartment, where she generously granted me first shower. I stood in the cold water for a bit, then put on some pj's for much-needed lounging ... and suddenly was shivering, I was so cold! Finally, we decided something might be wrong, and went next door to see her aunt, who just happens to be a doctor.

I walked into the kitchen, and the poor woman shouted what I suspect is the Arabic version of "Ay caramba!" This was followed by (as Mona later explained) a big lecture to Mona for letting me stay out in the sun that long. She gave us some cream for my skin, and went to find a pain-killer. Meanwhile, I felt like I was about to pass out and/or vomit, so went back to Mona's apartment. I eventually decided I was okay, and then promptly got dizzy, fell over and hit my head on the wall.

This is when we decided that maybe, just maybe, I had been in the sun too long. I climbed into bed, and Mona's aunt solemnly knelt next to me - "Teale, you have sun stroke." Yeah, that was kind of what I thought as well. She gave me yet another medicine, this one for fever, and ordered me to take a cold shower, something which did NOT sound at all appealing since I was already so cold. (Mona followed me into the bathroom and made me climb in the shower before she'd leave me alone.)

We'd been planning on returning to La Piste for the party (starts at 1, ends when the sun rises, acording to the owner), but instead I unceremoniously sprawled under the AC and wished I could go back in time with a bottle of SPF 50.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep during which I was forced to remain in one uncomfortable position, I admitted that maybe this burn was a bit worse than what I'm used to. In fact, even today (Wednesday) I had trouble getting out of bed, because my legs burn whenever I start moving after a period of inactivity. This Mediterannean sun is BRUTAL - much more so than I'm used to. Our morning plans were scrapped, and instead we just puttered around the apartment until it was time to join Mona's family for lunch.

They too were a bit appalled at my appearance, but happened to have some after-sun lotion that I got to use, which was worth their stares and Judy's giggles. I'm actually amazed at how many Egyptians have sunburn treatment advice, but Mona's cousin explained that, as children, they all got really burned at least once or twice themselves.

Besides, Mona's cousin's wife (I really wish I could remember their names) had cooked a feast that definitely took my mind off of things. I had mentioned that I like eggplant (while eating the mashi), so we had eggplant salad, pickled eggplants, and baba ganoosh. Additionally, because I was there to eat fish, we had breaded fish steaks, whole grilled fish, and fish in a tomato and onion sauce. And, as if this wasn't enough, there was a cucumber and tomato salad, a huge pot of rice, sauteed potatoes, and a tray of clams to eat with tahini. The table was groaning with food (and, after the meal, so was I), and every bit of it was delicious.

I was, however, ridiculed at my inability to "properly" eat the fish. My first bite happened to be full of bones, after which Mona showed me that there was in fact a whole spinal column (or whatever fish have) that I needed to remove myself. "When you said you liked fish, I didn't know you only ate fish sticks." Ooops ...

To save me the trouble, Mona's cousin came over and dismembered my grilled fish himself, so that was more or less boneless. I explained to Mona that I don't need to know how to bone my fish, because nice people always do it for me (thanks, Mom!), but I don't think she believed me. ("It's okay, Teale. When I'm alone in the dark, sometimes I eat them too, and they're really not that bad.")

Finally, dinner was over ... we had some dessert from the bakery, and then Mona and I jumped in the car to come back to Cairo. Back to the pollution, the garbage, the horns ... I can't help but think that Alexandria is just a better place to be. For example, here the garbage service is so corrupt that the garbage is "picked up" by poor people who root through it and take what they want, and animals who eat scraps - estimates are 10-15% of garbage never leaves the curb. In Alex, the garbage is picked up daily, and in the summer when it's hot, twice a day. And, for anything that doesn't make it in the trash cans, there are street sweeping machines that run every day. Or the car horns - in Cairo, they're considered a legitimate form of communication, but it's illegal to use them inside Alex city limits. Definitely a more peaceful place, and one to which I'd love to return.

Just as soon as my skin returns to a somewhat normal flesh-tone.