Chapter 3 - Italy to Egypt

Wastes of sea again, and then, in the foreground a huge flat stretch of land- the continent of Africa! What a thrill that was!

There beneath us hundreds of miles to cross. Near the sea, patches of green cultivated earth and the flat tops of villages, gradually becoming sparse and barren, then arid desert where there was no sign of life. We reached Cairo about four o'clock in the afternoon and it was like being cast down onto the pictures of a Bible story book.

 Arabs were busy building at the Aerodrome and their methods were so crude, we could forget modern efficiency and the hundreds of years of civilisation that had passed since their ancestors were building the pyramids. The customs people however were very efficient and on their toes, as this very day Egypt had declared war on Palestine, and every foreigner might be a potential enemy. Vicious little 'planes were lined up in neat rows on the runway. We could feel the tension in the atmosphere and the glances we received were not friendly. We had with us in the 'plane, our family dog, Gus, a five years old Scottie, whom we all loved, and for the first time he had to be left behind in the heat and dust of the Cairo Aerodrome in the care of an evil looking Arab.

Another canine passenger was 'Georgie', a very well-bred Pekinese, the darling and only child of one of our fellow travellers, whose trip was ruined at the awful fate befalling poor little Georgie. It was difficult for her to explain, even in pantomime, to the Arab honoured with his care, that Georgie must go 'walkie-walkies' every so often and be fed with the nice little parcel of bones at a certain time, I think Mohamet cheered up at the bones and the tip, and I was glad our tough old Gus was used to the exigencies of family life in Britain, though not to the sun, however, there was nothing to be done apart from sleeping on the Aerodrome in the sand to comfort our poor dumb friends, and eventually we persuaded 'Mrs. Georgie' to come with us in the bus to our hotel.

The Heliopolis Hotel stands on a corner, the verandah large and cool, where residents sat with drinks chatting and observing the perpetual movements of the crowds outside - but not for long in peace -first one and then another shoe-shine boy, clad in a long striped garment insisted on cleaning one's shoes, their friends insisted on selling one bags or beads or wallets or penknives, the trams clanged, cars hooted, men shouted- only the women silently glided along in their black robes, moving beautifully and softly along the pavements.

 My two daughters and I decided to take a walk before dinner, but immediately we descended the verandah steps, an Egyptian in a European suit and a red fez, plump and obsequious introduced himself as a member of the Braathens Air Staff - he had an armlet to that effect - and he indicated that it was not safe for ladies to walk alone. He hailed an Egyptian in a flowing white gown and red fez and told him to escort us wherever we wanted to go. We felt restricted by an escort, but realised later that it was a wise precaution and saved us at the least a great deal of embarrassment from would-be vendors. Of course we were stared at and probably laughed at but we were too interested to care.

For the first time we saw jacaranda trees, those trees with pale helio flowers growing along the leaves, I asked Abdullah the name of the tree and exclaimed at it's beauty. 'Yes' he said solemnly, 'and in the morning, the flowers turn yellow!'. I could hardly wait to see this phenomenon in the morning. Needless to say, they were still gloriously helio when I awoke. Abdullah had certainly a sense of humour, for while we were all talking together about the graceful buildings and the liquid eyed people we passed, he astounded us all by saying in a real Glasgow accent 'Och, away wi' you'. Of course, Scots troops had been in Cairo for some time during the war and had left their traces. As it happened, their war gave us an extra day in Cairo, as we were not allowed to leave in the morning as arranged.

From our arrival, Abdullah and his superior in the European suit whose name was Mahommed, took complete charge of our party and for our first night a visit was arranged to an open air theatre. We drove to the banks of the Nile, and there in the warm blue night we hired a felucca to take us across. There again we saw the bible pictures - a group squatting on the quay before a fire spiralling heavenwards, lean, brown Arab profiles in the glow, and again the rough brown felucca sail flapping in the breeze and lit by the storm lamp hanging against it's folds, the squat Arab boatman swathed in his rags pulling the rope which unfurled it.

 What a contrast to the other side when we entered the garish portals of the theatre! Here were tables placed everywhere before a brilliantly lit stage and we sat at one to drink and watch and listen to the weird music and exciting gyrations of the Egyptian dancing women - heavy bodied, lithe and voluptuous, French women in fantastic costumes, brilliant blonde in a more brilliant blue satin dress, small, dark and exquisite in soft flowing red. Over all was the wailing, penetrating music. It was a spectacle and an exciting introduction to our future life in 'foreign parts'.

Our guides, Abdullah and Mohammed enjoyed it thoroughly with us, and pointed out a few Egyptian 'celebrities' present, who were certainly making whoopee, and by the time the show was over and the tables cleared for dancing, one in particular a rotund and elderly, and attired in the now familiar European suit and red fez, would willingly have danced a solo had he not been rather bewildered by his previous desire to pursue one of the glamorous French women now sitting among the audience. He could not quite make up his mind whether he had achieved his object and had time to relax, or whether he was still a hunter. We enjoyed a few dances to a modern band and then we all drove back over the new King George Bridge to our hotel, with another day in Cairo to look forward to.