18 - 24 April 2002
Issue No.582
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 18 - 24 April 2002 Issue No.582 |
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Premature senility
Injy El-Kashef studies evolution
It seems that everything I do these days makes me realise that I have grown older, that I do not react to things the way I used to. I had already been on those five-star floating hotels that cruise between Aswan and Luxor twice, the last time around six years ago. I remember enjoying the trip very much and wanting it to go on forever. I was amazed by the temples, I loved the idea of floating luxury, I thought it was wonderful to be in a small deck pool sailing between the two green banks of the Nile. This time my favourite moments were when I could have a nap in the air-conditioned cabin.
When the boat finally reached Luxor, I had one mission in mind and nothing in the world was going to get in my way (not even being a mother and a daughter at the same time and in the same place): a cold beer and a snack at the Winter Palace.
By the time I had put my suicidal son to bed after telling the story of the ant and the cockroach (my own Egyptian version of La Fontaine's La Cigale et la Fourmi) and become a human being again, it was late enough to be walking out on the street almost alone. An unforgettable experience. The Winter Palace shares some of the spirit of the Old Cataract in Aswan. They are both grand, majestic, redolent of splendour and an aristocratic past, intimidating when one walks all alone at night down the long empty high-ceilinged corridors.
I walked through history at the Winter Palace and ended up at 11.40pm in the modern-style coffee shop, the only available place for refreshments at that hour. I was the third lonely diner there; an elegant middle-aged lady and gentleman, not together, had already started their dinner. There was something slightly unreal in this simple scenario. The three of us, each at a table, all quietly staring at the carriages outside on the Corniche, the coffee shop bathing in utter silence except for the waiters' occasional loud jokes. The silence was strange and made one do strange things, like putting my half-full glass of beer to my ear and listening to the sound of the waves. I saw the lady behind me stretching her neck to figure out what I was up to; the waiters paused for a moment, their loud words turning into a barely intelligible mumble as they focused on the glass. I couldn't hold it anymore. I burst into laughter that resonated through the entire coffee shop. Suddenly every funny incident that had taken place during the past week crept up in my mind and I went on laughing until the tears were streaming down my face.
I suddenly became aware of what I had actually done and stopped laughing as instantly as I had started. Luckily, I had only had a couple of sips of beer: no one could possibly think I was drunk. I would much rather be accused of mental instability than of unruly behaviour and disruption of the public peace in Luxor, and at the Winter Palace of all places.
I thought the best way to prove that I was fine was to look very serious and eat my bistro- style melted cheese and tomato sandwich and the heap of fries next to it. That was an easy task, considering how good the sandwich was: the butter of the melted cheese had been absorbed by the toast so that it was crunchy and moist at the same time, while the cheese was soft and warm and the tomatoes semi-mashed between toast and cheese. Just perfect. It did not taste of hotel food, but of your granny's afternoon treats. My beer was perfectly cold and fizzy, the fries were a golden colour and crispy soft. I was having the best moment in four days with a snack and two lonely diners, for LE34. Have I grown older, or have I grown older?
Coffee Shop, Winter Palace, Luxor Corniche, Luxor
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