I thought I wanted to live in Zamalek, a tree-lined expat and embassy neighborhood on an island in the Nile. That way I could walk to restaurants and supermarkets, and the gym I'd been looking at was located there.
So I booked a hotel for three nights, right smack-dab in the middle of Zamalek. It was run by an Egyptian woman who had spent decades in Frankfurt. Let's call her Frau Z (for Zamalek). I'd read all kinds of dazzling reviews of her establishment on TripAdvisor, but my first reaction was more amusement than amazement. The elevators to the top floors were the super-old kind, where you have to manually tug on the doors until they hit the right spot, so then the lift will move.
The hotel is on two upper floors of one of Zamalek's dingy, rotting tower blocks. This is not unusual. There appear to be only two types of buildings in the area. Rotting concrete blocks and lovely embassies. And the room was very clean and slightly dilapidated. But clean, safe, and with free wi-fi is enough. It's just that I don't usually feel compelled to pay $44 a night for such things (remember the economics of where I am). But I realized that to live in Zamalek, even in a hotel, I'd have to pay expat prices. And I'd been in a few hotels in Cairo before, so I knew that there were a lot of disgusting and expensive places. Frau Z's place was actually stunning by comparison, even though the free breakfast included... (gasp) Nescafe. (Am I too whiny and complaining? C'mon, you know I'll get with it after a few days. Let's call it Culture Shock.)
Dazed, I walked around Zamalek my first night, trying to get my bearings. I bought a SIM card for my phone, so I now have an Egyptian phone number (though I am struggling with the SMS text options). The gym was just down the block. Across the street and behind Hardee's was Einstein's Kaffee, complete with pasta salads and fresh squeezed mango juice. I enjoyed my dinner to the tune of the Bee Gees singing "Night Fever, Night Fever." (Obligatory Video-Night-in-Kathmandu-world-is-shrinking go-global theme, there, let's not mention it again.)
Zamalek is still Cairo, with broken pavement, deteriorating blocks of gray concrete, and honking taxis fighting for patches of tarmac. But it's got cafes and upscale supermarkets, and it's still in the city. I didn't want to move to the Cairo suburbs, where I would need a car. I saw a few signs that read "Flats for Rent." I'd call them (on my new SIM card) in the morning.
6 comments:
Heh heh. Nescafe, eh? I've gotten used to it here. The cafes here have really, truly great coffee. But, my girlfriend bought Nescafe for my apartment and I drank it, got used to it and still drink it. Eventually I'll get a press or something, but I still don't have one. So tea and Nescafe it is. Unless I want to GO to coffee with Esad, which usually means a massive disruption of the schedule. Go native!
The fresh mango juice sounds fucking great, of course!
Ew, I'll never get used to Nescafe. Many have tried to get me to drink it. Anyway, I carry my own coffee and press, but I need a way to make hot water too. I've had many people laugh at me over the years for carrying my own coffee. I understand why. It's easier to just use Nescafe. But my own coffee sure tastes yummy.
And as for the mango juice, it was so good that I think I need to go get more of it right now.
You're not alone with the Nescafe-shock, Marie. I even suffered it while reviewing a $600-per-night Hong Kong hotel room:
"Despite the butler call-button, the coffee packets are Nescafe. I choke some down, mindful that our feet are all of clay."
Ax – from Diary of a Gweipo
I think in some older style places, they believe Nescafe is desirable. Probably because they are behind the times and haven't taken in all the upscale coffee bars that now line the streets of London, Shanghai, etc. Like where I am--I think she believes it's "European" to have Nescafe. (I think it's been many years since she's been to Europe, see?)
God save us every one from Nescafe. Ax.
Post a Comment