2 - 8 August 2001
Issue No.545
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 2 - 8 August 2001 Issue No.545 |
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No photos, please
Photographer Sherif Sonbol finds inhospitable prices and unlikely prohibitions on an impromptu tour of London
My trip to England was long in the making. I had wanted to travel there some time ago, but the embassy refused me a tourist visa. Years later, when I sought a travel visa to undergo triple-bypass surgery at London Bridge Hospital, I was given the royal treatment -- which goes to show that every cloud has a silver lining. The papers were processed in one day and British Airways even chipped in with a half-price ticket.
Clicking away despite the restrictions: Left: The Natural History Museum, right: At Canterbury Cathedral, below: Even Harrods prohibits photography
To begin, the surgery was, thankfully, a success. Once released from hospital, I found myself with an extra week to explore the city I had wanted to see for 20 years. Though the photographer in me longed to roam the streets with a camera in hand, I was content enough to play tourist with my wife and daughter, as my energy was limited.
London is famous as a world capital and a cosmopolitan centre, but with its illustrious reputation comes its equally soaring prices. We were dumbfounded by the exorbitant summer rates charged by hotels, with the cheapest and only available accommodation we could find -- the city was fully booked -- an outrageously expensive £70 room with no bath in a London bed and breakfast.
Our saviour was a former Al-Ahram Weekly colleague, Jane Dunford, who graciously offered to host us at her place, in Herne Hill, in south London. It's no small task to take on a man recovering from heart surgery, along with his family, but Jane was up to the task and we were most grateful. Unfortunately, Jane's boyfriend, Mishkin, came down with a cold. I had been warned by my doctors to stay away from anyone with even the hint of a sniffle, as I had to be extremely careful in my condition. Mishkin was a real sport, however, and made sure our paths didn't cross.
With a strong incentive to keep clear of the house, we were further motivated to do as much sightseeing as possible. We had shelled out the cash for the supposed deal of "Family Pass" public transport tickets, and were armed with our Lonely Planet guide. Because of the two-hour time difference between London and Cairo, we found ourselves automatically waking up at 7am. -- which should have been a good thing -- but alas, the Family Pass tickets were not valid until 9.30am.
We decided to take a cab. By this I mean London's famous black cabs. Although they are famous, I did not know that they are also ridiculously expensive. It was only later that we discovered "mini-cabs," another, more popular form of taxi summoned by phone. It seemed counter-intuitive to me, since a car ordered by phone is considered more of a luxury in Cairo, and is far more expensive than a cab you hail on the street. Then again, I would learn that many things are counter- intuitive about travelling in London.
Naturally, we had decided to take it easy -- no walking tours of the city for me. The obvious first stop was Harrods, owned by our compatriot Mohamed El-Fayed. This bastion of Englishness is an obligatory stop for all visitors, but you can probably guess what happened as soon as we reached the store: we were greeted by yet another bout of sticker shock. The first thing I saw when I walked in were some nice- looking men's shirts, but with the cheapest one priced at £80 (roughly LE480), I was pretty convinced that browsing was to be our only activity there. In any case, we felt right at home, so to speak, thanks to El-Fayed's carefully-crafted Pharaonic decor.
By the way, even using the bathrooms at Harrods is expensive, at £1 per go. (One can take comfort, at least, in the knowledge that children go free.) We felt like we had to buy something from Harrods before leaving, so we strolled through the store's elaborate eatery. We picked up a couple of pieces of reasonably-priced fruit tart and ate them at a coffee shop outside, watching the stream of Rolls-Royces jockey for room in front of the store's entrance.
I should note that the fruit tarts were fairly tasty, which is testimony to Harrod's reputation for quality, given that we were monstrously unimpressed with English cuisine. But then again, it is hard to go wrong with fruit. For Egyptians raised on a diet of rich sauces and hearty vegetables, English food is just too, well, bland. Perhaps the best commentary I have heard on this phenomenon was from my daughter, who explained that since everything was so clean and sparkling, "they probably wash their food so much that they wipe the taste right off."
Cleanliness and order do have their rewards, though. Overall, we were amazed by the efficiency of the London underground; the way the trains stopped exactly where they were supposed to, right in front of the ubiquitous warning printed on the ground to "mind the gap." Cairo is proud to be the only city to have an underground on the African continent, but as yet, it is not a sufficient means of transport for tourists. In London, we could take the tube to all the sights we wanted to see, like the Science Museum, with its fantastic robot dog, wagging its tail and performing tricks that impressed my daughter to no end.
At the Natural History Museum we found countless exhibits of dinosaurs, stones, forests, earthquakes, and everything else "natural." On the day we visited the Tower of London, we saw with our very own eyes how accurate the Lonely Planet guide is when it warns that Londoners actually enjoy queues (again a shocking reversal of Cairo). The line in front of the tower was truly the longest I had ever seen (and I made a point of studying lines from then on), but it also moved faster than any line I had ever seen.
I had my daughter's pocket Olympus camera with me, and I took it out just as we were approaching the end of the line to enter the hall where the royal crown jewels were displayed. Suddenly one of those traditionally-dressed English Beefeaters appeared and said, "Be warned: if you take pictures inside we will not only torture you, tear off your fingernails and hang you by your feet, but we will also expose your film."
Obliquely a reference to the many tortures delivered at the tower, it was clear the guard was only half-joking. It seemed to me that everywhere in London photography was prohibited, as if the whole city were a military barracks. Signs warning "No photos" are ubiquitous at the most common tourist sites, and even beyond. While in the Westminster underground tube station I dared to snap a shot of my daughter. Suddenly a voice on the microphone blared out: "Photography is prohibited in tube stations!"
Even when we ventured to the countryside, to Dover, to visit the Allies World War II headquarters, the rest of the tourists gawked at me as I snapped away. My friend Jane later told me the reason: photography is not allowed. At the one place we visited where pictures seem to be permitted, Canterbury Cathedral, we arrived just as the church was closing, and I had to make do with shots of the exterior.
Back in London, at Saint Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, my attempts to photograph the sites were again rebuffed. For me, this was a nightmare that would not end. I actually didn't mind buying the souvenir picture books at each site, if this is the reason for such a ridiculous ban, but at the same time, I really wanted photos of my family at these places as well.
It's lucky for me, then, that the Olympus camera is so small.
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