Venice of the East

Winter has started with a bang – literally. On Saturday night an enormous clap of thunder split the sky right above the café where we were sitting, to the extent that we waited in silence for a few moments, expecting the building to fall down, or all known life to be destroyed by a nuclear blast.

A nice lady we chatted to in the café said she was very pleased that she had bought an umbrella on a trip to Manchester in the summer, as she knew it would be good enough to withstand the rain. (Incidentally, she also said that one of the things that impressed her most about England was the queuing. This is not something I have ever thought particularly characterised our nation, but yes, I agree with her – standing in line quietly, rather than joining a massive scrum and getting shunted around, is something I do miss!)

On Sunday morning on the way to Arabic classes, we faced an unexpected dilemma: a lake at the bottom of our road:

  

While we were waiting for a taxi the hailstones started:

This is Abu Qir Street, one of the city's main roads:

On our way home again, our taxi took to the water once more in a very unconvincing gondola impression:

 

There is some very watery footage on youtube too:

But fear not, my friends at home, once more in the grip of the ‘arctic chill’. The Egyptian winter seems to have thundered itself to a halt. Today (Tuesday) is sunny again, with temperatures pleasant for the rest of the week:

Drastic measures for combating homesickness #1

Missing the sub-zero temperatures and snow-covered wasteland of home?

Why not recreate the experience by defrosting the freezer and building a snowman out of the ice?

But remember: this will only be a brief experience, as your new friend will quickly succumb to the 20 degree air temperature ;-)

The weather (don't hate me)

Britain has apparently been plunged into a new ice age - at least judging by the facebook updates of most of my friends.

Meanwhile, Egypt is currently enjoying unseasonably warm temperatures. The days languish in the mid-twenties, while the nights never dip below the mid-teens. Nevertheless, the police have changed into their winter uniforms (black instead of white; long-sleeves instead of short; jackets and boots) which is the cue for everyone else to switch wardrobe too. Suddenly everyone is in long sleeves and jumpers, even coats. At night, kids are wrapped up in hats and scarves, and babies are swaddled in fleecy blankets. Fur-lined boots even make the odd appearance.

It's like the British summer - you know, when we insist on short-sleeves, sandals, cotton and linen, never mind that it's 4 degrees and raining.

Looking at everyone's snowy pictures, I felt a few pangs of jealousy yesterday. I love snow. I also like bundling up in winter clothes, the smell of cold air, and the lovely feeling of coming into a warm house afterwards. But then I looked out into our garden where the sun is shining through the palm trees, silhouetted against the blue sky, and decided that actually it's not so bad here after all. Like I said in the title, don't hate me!

View from our flat window