An unexpected trip to Port Said leaves Jenny Jobbins spent up, but not spent out Click to view caption Some weeks ago Tricia and I had a pleasant weekend in Rashid, where the western branch of the Nile flows into the Mediterranean. We enjoyed it so much that we planned a weekend trip to Ras Al-Barr, the mouth of the eastern branch. But we had reckoned without the teenagers. On Thursday one of them missed her flight to Sharm El-Sheikh. All other flights were full, so there was no choice but to despatch her, the car and the driver to Sinai. We spent Thursday evening and the first part of Friday trying to rent a car -- the response everywhere was, "On a Friday? Are you crazy?" I suggested we go instead to Port Said, which is small enough to negotiate easily on foot or by taxi. But by this time it was 11am and the downtown bus station seemed a long way from Maadi, so we set off from the Road 9 taxi station in the soft, imitation-leather seats of an ancient pale yellow Peugeot. If I had a sense of déja vu it was because it was in just such a car -- actually a service -- that Tricia and I made our first trip to Port Said 25 years ago, soon after we met and when we were both new in Cairo. That ride was so hair raising that we thought we wouldn't survive it. This driver didn't smoke, didn't turn on any music and didn't talk except as a friendly response to our questions. He was probably less impressed with us, since we yelled non-stop, shouting to make out voices heard above the roar of the open window. The drive took two and a half hours. We entered Port Said along Mohamed Ali Street, where we caught sight of the Savoy Hotel. Since I have a weakness for the word Savoy we checked it out and decided to look no further: a sunny room with a balcony, fridge, satellite TV and bathroom was LE73, including breakfast and taxes. Our driver waited while we checked in, and then dropped us at the Helnan Hotel. It was very hot, so a quick stroll through the gardens and a glimpse of the beach was quite enough sightseeing for us. It is at this precise point that the Suez Canal meets the Mediterranean, but the mood offered by this momentous geography, the fresh air, the gardens, the white chalets and the vivid pale blues of the sea and sky was at once snatched back by the loud music blaring from the hotel swimming pool. The public beach beyond the hotel fence was quieter but crowded. Except for the noise we might have sat outside, but instead we slunk back into the gloomy coffee shop, where we found the few window seats reserved for guests ordering lunch. This rule applied even though there was no one else in the restaurant, so we sat down and asked for the menu. We did ask ourselves why, on Friday, at lunch time, we were the only customers. But clearly this had nothing to do with the food or the service, both of which were exemplary. Shrimp soup for me, tomato soup for Tricia, Greek salad for both of us, mineral water, homemade rolls and (unfortunately) undrinkable coffee came to LE51. From the Helnan we walked the short distance to the plinth of the Ferdinand de Lesseps statue (Ferdinand himself was pulled down during the 1956 Suez War). From there a raised promenade runs down Palestine Street to the cruise ship docks, but this is a winter or an evening stroll. On this fiercely hot afternoon we clung to the shadows on the lower street level. Here one is deprived of a view of the canal but has a close-up look at the splendid colonial buildings, a style echoed from East Coast United States and Canada to Malaysia, Singapore and Hong Kong, elegant and beautifully-proportioned façades and wooden balconies shielded by tiled canopies. Some of them clearly have proud owners; others, alas, are becoming increasingly dilapidated. Near the start of the street is a shopping mall with an inviting St Michael's (the name used outside Britain by Marks and Spencer). Here the prices were so outrageous that we fled and made our way down to the end of Palestine Street and from there round into the parallel Gumhouriya Street. Most of the shops were closed, so we took a taxi back to our hotel. The teenage driver had no idea where it was and got bored looking for it, so he dropped on a corner of what he said was our street and drove off clutching a large tip "for looking". It was then that we discovered we were about as far from the Savoy as from where we started. Wearily we plodded our way home. A couple of hours later, rested and refreshed, we were passing the pavement tables at Pizza Pino on the corner of Gumhouriya Street when we spotted a couple eating banana splits. We could do that, we decided. Tricia ordered a caramel sundae while I chose the Coupe de Lesseps. Hers was a better choice: the ice cream on both was wonderful, but at the bottom of hers was a crème caramel . Our self-indulgent appetites taken care of, we set off for the shops. It might have been the ice-cream decadence that sent us down a slippery path, but we hadn't got very far down Gumhouriya Street before we were drawn into a fashion store with an outfit to suit every whim. A thousand Egyptian pounds later (and lighter) we were out in the street again, only to be lured into another shop where Tricia found some jeans she liked. We had bargained our first purchases down to a round LE1,000 because that was all we had once we counted every last note, but Tricia hunted through her purse for hidden loot and found LE100, not far short of the cost. After we had put something aside for our hotel and a taxi home we had about LE50 left. Since we were now outside the Cecil Reanu -- just the place we had been aiming for -- we climbed the stairs. Nothing had changed since my last visit. We sat at a window table and ordered one Stella between us, and then Tricia found another LE50 note. "We can eat," she said. We ordered mixed vegetables, fried noodles and mushrooms with walnuts. Tricia looked in her purse again. "This is the same LE50 I found last time," she announced. I suggested we might take the train home. "I think we'll have to take second class," I said. We eyed the shopping bags. "At least we'll look nice," said Tricia. The food was divine, and I detected the hand of the owner, Chon Man Pak. I asked the waiter if he was still there, and indeed he was. Two minutes later Mr Pak joined us. "I haven't seen you since" -- he paused -- "before the Gulf War." He was perfectly right -- my last visit had been in the summer of 1990. We chatted about the changes in Port Said following 11 September and the changes in the Egyptian economy. Mr Pak is a former Korean businessman who saw a need in Port Said for a good restaurant to cater the cruise crews and opened the Reanu in 1982. The restaurant was so famous during the 1980s that people we knew would drive here from Cairo for dinner, stay the night in town and go back next day. Formerly, Mr Pak said, several cruise ships used to call in every day. Now there were about six a week. But he still sees his friends from the ships, crew members whose overnight-stop highlight is dinner with Mr Pak. We had planned to eat brunch out on Saturday morning, but under the circumstances we settled on the free hotel breakfast. This was on the top floor, in a breezy restaurant overlooking the town. We were told by our excruciatingly polite waiter that we had to pay for milk. What this seemed to mean -- from the time it took -- was that he had to go down eight floors to the street to buy it. No matter. Now we were taking the train we could afford both the milk and a tip. From the hotel it was a short walk to the station to enquire about tickets. On the way, to Tricia's delight, we passed a street photographer with a box camera, one of the kind that used to be everywhere but is now almost extinct. We posed as the photographer, a tall man with a white skull- cap, and his assistant, who was sporting a trilby, mixed potions and lined us up. The photographer wore glasses as thick as cola bottles, so it wasn't surprising that the photo was a shade fuzzy. He made two prints, one for each of us, and gave us the negative. The man in the trilby took a picture of the photographer taking a picture of us. Just down the road was the Church of St George. We went into the courtyard to take pictures but overhead renovations were in progress and a shower of masonry was falling on our heads, so we took refuge in the bookshop. It was then I discovered I had dropped the negative. Everyone in the bookshop, and the churchwardens in the church, scoured pews and aisles, but it had vanished. Tricia was disappointed. We gave up the search and set off again for the station. Some way along the road St George's handed us a little miracle: a young man accosted us with the lost negative in his hand. He had found it blowing down the street, and now he recognised us. We thanked him and St George. A second class ticket on the 7.30pm train to Cairo in an air-conditioned coach was LE18, and LE7 without. We opted for the air-conditioning, but we weren't allowed to buy a ticket in advance. There would be plenty of seats, the ticket man said, and a bathroom, everything. That settled, we took a taxi to Maxim's, which used to be an elegant restaurant overlooking the canal. Overlook the canal it still does, but elegant it is no longer. The tourism downslide has hit some places harder than others, and Maxim's has clearly been on the slide for some time. We were the only customers, but there was plenty to look at while we sipped our lemon juice. A cruise ship had arrived -- the Serenade, registered in Nassau, and we watched out of Maxim's window as a convoy of eight or nine yellow buses drive away to take them to Cairo for one of their days of a lifetime -- a trip to the Pyramids. "The waiters are very disappointed that we're not on that boat," Tricia said. "So am I." Since it was half an hour to the time when we had to pick up my skirt, which was being shortened at what was now our favourite dress shop of all time, we went to the museum. We got no further than the gate. It closed for renovations -- a big disappointment as this museum, set up to entertain cruise passengers as an alternative to going to Cairo, contains some real gems. The skirt wasn't ready but no matter, the store took credit cards and that meant we could buy some more clothes while we waited. Several blouses later we sat down for a rest, and I checked the guide book to find the Noras restaurant boat was due to set off in 10 minutes' time, at 2.30pm, for a short canal cruise. So we told the shop assistants we'd be back in two hours and hurried to the Noras dock. There we found the sailing time had changed and the boat was leaving at 3.30pm. We were offered lunch on board, lunch before we left or the LE10 cruise only. Now we knew the price of the train tickets we had just over LE100 to spare for lunch, so we were in luck when we found we could pick a fish menu for LE40 each -- lunch, the cruise plus tip and taxes came to just what we had. Now we had time to go back to the shop for my skirt and the day's purchases. Armed with a huge array of store bags we hurried back to the Noras boat, where two perfectly- groomed Barbie dolls left over from the buses were trying to argue their way on board. Told they had to have their passports, they flung their blonde heads and flounced off, frills catching the breeze. We too had to surrender our passports. We sat on deck for more than half an hour wondering what the delay was. It turned out to be my fault: since I was a foreigner someone had to go to the police station to register me. Later we met a nice young Dutch passenger with whom I could share the blame for the hold-up. We asked him if he had seen the fracas with the Barbie dolls. This was a silly question: he gave us a breakdown of their movements since the ship docked. Every other young man in town could probably have done the same. Long before we sailed Tricia and I, the only passengers who were eating, were ushered down into the dining room. Lunch was good, but we set sail half way through and the view on deck was better so we left our meal unfinished. Another time I would choose to eat in the restaurant before the cruise. The cruise lasted for only little over an hour, but we had a clear view of the mouth of the canal, the docked merchant vessels and the front of the . Back on dry land we walked across to Pizza Pino's for a cup of coffee and a last taste of pavement-café life, but temptation again reared its head and we found ourselves with a vanilla milk shake (Tricia) and a fresh mango juice (me). As we watched the world go by one of the Barbie dolls passed, laden with shopping bags. I wondered what part she played on the ship: she might have worked in the beauty parlour, or perhaps she was a singer or dancer. I have long wished to work on a cruise ship and almost asked her if there were any vacancies, but explaining that one has run away to sea might be as embarrassing as John Major having to confess he grew up in a circus, so I merely gave her an envious glance as she strode to her ship on enormously high heels, bare shoulders not even a tiny bit pink and not a hair put of place. We walked back to the Savoy to pick up our bags. The hotel staff were so helpful and obliging that I swear we couldn't have been treated better at any other Savoy. We arrived at the station at 7pm, as bidden. As we walked to the front of the train Tricia said, "Third class looks nice," and then did a double take, "That's second." We reached the carriage which we hoped wasn't ours -- it was -- and found our seats, once blue plastic. The curtains were a matching blue, but falling off their hooks as though determined not to be perfect. "Curtains are nice," said Tricia. "I wish we'd had enough for a coke," I said. "Better not," advised Tricia. A narrow stream of water snaked down the centre of the aisle, attracting passing insects. "What's wrong with this?" Tricia added cheerfully, looking round. "It's fine." Really it was: the carriage was almost empty, which meant we could have two seats each, one for us and one for our bags. It was dark so we didn't need to see out of the smeared windows, and anyway the most spectacular thing to see was the Al-Salam bridge and nothing could have obscured that. We were at Ramses Station in just under four hours -- and we had just enough for our cab fares. Practical information Non air-conditioned taxi from Maadi to Port Said: LE180. Trains Cairo -- Port Said: LE18. Ramses Station Tel:(02) 575 3555. Port Said Station Tel: (066) 333 941. Buses Superjet from Qulali Terminal (Tel: (02) 574 3814) and Abdel-Meneim Riyad Terminal (Tel: (02) 762 293), LE15. East Delta from Almaza and Turguman. Tel: (02) 576 2293. LE15. Port Said bus station (066) 227883. Savoy Hotel, Mohamed Ali Street, double room LE73. Tel: (066) 222197. Helnan Hotel, Al-Corniche, double room for foreigners approx. $90, for Egyptians and residents LE230. Tel: (066) 320 890. Noras Village, Al-Corniche, double room for foreigners approx. $50, for Egyptians and residents LE130. Tel: (066) 329 834. Noras Floating Restaurant: The cruise leaves at 3.30pm for lunch. 9.30pm for dinner. Tel: (066) 236 804. Cecil Reanu, 5 Gumhouriya Street. (066) 225 911. Pizza Pino, corner of Gumhouriya Street and 23 July Street, Tel: (066) 239 949. Maxim's, Al-Corniche Shopping Centre. Tel: (066) 238 628, 234 335. All taxi rides within Port Said: LE2.
