More lazing in Cairo

I rise at 9:20. Giving me enough time for a leisurely breakfast. Andrew continues snoring away in bed. The lazy git.

Cheese, salad and fruit again. With tea.  Rather nice tea. Like the proper English stuff. I have a couple of cups.

A breakfast of cheese, salad, orange juice and tea.

The plan for today was to visit the pyramids. But it’s after 3 PM by the time Andrew drags his arse out of bed. We discover that the ticket office closes at 4 PM. It’s too late for us to visit today.

“What about going to the pub, Dad?”

“We could do.”

“Five Bells?”

“That works for me.”

This time there aren’t just a few customers. There are none at all. We take seats close to where we sat last time.

I start with a Stella. As does Andrew, obviously. It’s much like the first time. Except there’s no footy on the telly. Well, not a match. But some sort of football show, where players are interviewed.

I switch to Egyptian whisky after finishing the Stella. Andrew is just about polishing of his third bottle.

A prawn cocktail in Five Bells.

We order food again. Cheese croquettes for Andrew, a prawn cocktail for me. Disappointingly, there’s quite a lot of tomato ketchup on top of it.

“Look Andrew. They’re going to show the Manchester City game.”

“Is it live?”

“I think so. It is three o’clock in the UK.”

The Stella and whiskies flow through us, as the afternoon slinks into evening. A few other diners appear. An Egyptian family. Two German women. Still not exactly a crowd.

Zamalek shops.

We leave around 8 PM. And don’t return directly to our hotel. Concerned at the total absence of booze, we searched for off-licences before going to the pub. There’s one just a little bit further. Unfortunately, on the other side of quite a big road.

I’m quite apprehensive about crossing it.

“You need to be more aggressive, Dad. And just walk out into the road as if you assume drivers are going to avoid you.”

“That doesn’t sound exactly safe.”

“Don’t worry. Everyone else is doing it.”

“And look like they could get run over at any moment.”

“You’re such a wimp, Dad.”

“One who is still alive.”

The offie is called Sakara Bazar. It’s a hole in the wall sort of place. With a counter on the pavement almost completely blocking entry.

“What would you like sir?” The assistant asks friendlily in very good English.

“Egyptian whisky.”

“The best?”

“No, the cheapest.”

He invites me to squeeze through the small gap and enter the shop to take a look at the selection. While Andrew grabs some cans of beer from the fridge.

“This is obviously Heineken-owned, based on the beers they’re selling.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

I end up getting an expensive Egyptian whisky. A single malt. Our triple-bagged haul comes to around 20 euros. Not too bad.

Not totally sure how, but I make it back across the scary road intact.

“I wouldn’t want to do that every day.”

“You probably wouldn’t need to. At least, not for longer than a week.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t survive that long with your load-crossing technique.”

“Thanks, Andrew.”

A street in Zamalek, Cairo,

Some of the streets are on the way back are pretty poorly-lit. And infested with cats running around everywhere. Rather a confusion of cats than a pack of dogs.

While watching some stuff on my laptop, we drink responsibly. Really. You don’t believe me? You cynical bastard.

It’s shocking how quickly 75 cl of whisky can disappear. Especially if your git of a son is drinking it as well. Despite having seven half-litre cans of beer.

Nothing left for a nightcap. Unless you count the whole evening. Which wouldn’t be fair.



Five Bells
13 Ismail Mohammed,
Abu Al Feda,
Zamalek,
Cairo Governorate 11211.