Cairo

As I stepped out of the airport lobby into the midnight heat of Egypt, I wonder what exactly I have gotten myself into. My phone isn’t working and I’d agreed to meet the company driver, Tamer, outside the doors. What I didn’t account for was that there would be a mass of about a hundred Egyptian men outside, waving and shouting, waiting for the late night flight to spill out onto the street.

Cairo is a 24-hour city, every hour is rush hour and the summer heat sits at a constant 35C+. From my hotel room I can see a hazy myriad of triangles on the horizon, ‘pyramid view’ my hotel porter had said with pride. Directly below me is the sad bit of greenery known as the Giza Zoo. A lost looking hippo aimlessly wanders through a muddy puddle, trying to look purposeful.

I am working for high net worth clients who stay in the hotel residences. Being on-call 24/7 for 30 days is far more exhausting then I could have anticipated.

The desired cuisine can only be described as ‘Western Brown Foods’ - pastas, pizzas, anything cheesy or covered in chilli and deep fried within an inch of its life. Vegetables are not trusted, nor are they widely available in these parts.

A local delicacy is pigeon stuffed with rice, which worrying resembles a big fat street rat, but the locals seem to like it. I work with Magda, a local self-taught cook who speaks no English and has a great distaste for anyone with formal training. She whispers in the Madame’s ear about me in Arabic, and smiles at me, making no effort to hide her attempted sabotage.

The daily escape to the food market is at least something to break the endless days. When I’m out in the city I feel alive. The Brown Nile flows around tall run—down buildings, carrying a dwindling hope for cooler days and lesser smells in the relentless heat.