may have lost its smart clientele but not all its charm -- and at least it still exists, as Jenny Jobbins finds out Click to view caption It is 12 years since I last visited the resort of , the mouth of the eastern branch of the Nile and former watering hole of the stars. It was already much less fashionable than in the days when Umm Kalthoum spent her summers there, but the main thing I remember was that the sea had consumed its beach and the first row of houses, and the rest of the town was clinging for its life to the coast for fear that the rest of it would also go under the waves. All this had changed. is still there -- 10kms from Damietta along a one-way road which runs a short distance away from, and parallel to, the Nile. (On the way back to Damietta you drive along the west bank of the river, which presents a stunning view.) There is a 50-piastre entrance fee to the resort; the ticket is valid for a day. The inward journey brings you along a grass- verged avenue of palms and shrubs, rather less manicured than I remembered it, but green and cheerful nonetheless. Almost before you know it the high-rise holiday apartments begin -- the town has mushroomed in the last decade. The streets are neatly organised on a grid, and if you drive straight ahead through the town with the sea on your left and the river on your right you will eventually reach the promontory and be stopped by a car park. This is a good moment to climb up on the sea wall and get your bearings. At this point the river mouth is a few hundred yards to your right: between you and the sea is a wall of concrete shapes like giant pieces of the child's game "Jacks" which were laid by Chinese contractors in the late 1980s. The sea is black and menacing: the waves are out to attack the shore and swallow anyone or anything unlucky enough to fall in. On your right, the wall of 'jacks" continues to the river mouth at the end of the promontory. On your left the wall is broken, first by a cafeteria with a wooden jetty and then by a public beach. This is 's latest attempt at a beach: the sand of this one has been spread over the foundations of the row of houses which were washed away and swallowed by the sea, a disaster which occurred shortly before the wall of "jacks" was installed. The beach in front of those houses was already no more than a memory. Shortly before the turn of the millennium, the power of the waves was broken by the construction of several breakers out to sea, parallel to the coast: this has stalled further erosion and allowed the town to enjoy something of a boom as a popular resort. However, has not regained much of its chic, and caters mostly to the carefree who enjoy themselves by staying up all night and milling about the streets. The governor lives in a fine villa at the tip of the town near the mouth of the Nile, and presumably he keeps an eagle eye on the place because nowhere in Egypt have I seen a town so clean. Gardens run the full length of the promenade along the Corniche, which stretches along the riverbank to its mouth. Cafeterias, closed during winter, line the gardens. Tricia and I set off to find a hotel, driving round the tip of the promontory and back a little way along the Corniche. Ras al-Barr contains a number of cheap to middle- priced hotels -- most of the cheaper ones less inviting than they appear from the outside. None of the ones we looked at were fully booked: we settled on one of the most expensive, the Beau Rivage, which offered us a comfortable room with all mod cons for LE165. We paused only long enough to leave our bags before driving the few hundred yards to the town centre. The people at the hotel forgot to tell us we wouldn't be able to drive back. Most of the hotels are on the Corniche -- behind them, the town's wide, sandy streets enclose two or three-storey villas, some draped in loofah vines, many with a latticed roof pavilion. The style reflects the old reed houses which used to be characteristic of the area, but which have now all but disappeared. There are traces of the reed style in some old cabin hotels and villas where reed screens are pulled over brick or wooden walls, and there is a move to reestablish their use as the sensible alternative to annual replastering and repainting. New concrete materials are quite unable to contend with the salt spray and the weather, and crumble almost as fast as they are built. In former days no one thought of trying to hold the sea back: the water flooded the town each winter, and hence the reed houses. used to be composed almost entirely of such summer dwellings, semi-disposable, with walls of bound reeds that were easily replaced when spoilt by saturation or damaged by the weather. The houses were dismantled at the end of each summer and the folded walls, the floorboards and window frames and the furniture were packed in the small brick rooms built as kitchen and bathroom. The floor plan of each plot was carefully marked. When the sea washed inland it flowed in and drained out of the locked brick rooms through holes near the base; this prevented the structure from being crushed by the pressure of the water. Once summer arrived the ground dried, the houses were rebuilt and the long, hot, lazy summer holidays would begin. We spent much of the afternoon taking photographs of some of the half-reeded houses, but looked in vain for one made entirely of reeds. We had arrived back at the tip of the promontory where the mouth of the Nile is held in by stone walls a mere 20 yards apart. Parking the car, we walked along the promenade for a good view of this outstanding piece of geography. Several people were fishing. The waters of the sea and the river are visible in their different colours, and the force behind their battle here is amazing. The sea washes in, but the current wants out. A bright blue fishing boat was fighting its way in. We were hungry but it was too early for dinner, and the fish restaurants congregated near the souq in the middle of town were empty of customers. We tried to drive onto the Corniche where we had passed a number of casinos and snack bars, but every alley leading to the river was blocked off. We made many circles of the town before realising that this was not some Kafkaesque way of putting us in a quarter from which there was no way out: it finally dawned on us that the Corniche was barricaded, and when at last we stopped to ask we were told that between 6pm and 6am it is a pedestrian precinct. From the distance of a block away we did not know where we were on any given spot of the Corniche, so we parked the car and walked. The town was beginning to liven up, but still no one was eating. There is an abundance of kebab, chicken, foul and felafel and pizza eateries on the Corniche, but the fish restaurants were all in or near the souq. We wandered from casino to casino and chose the one which we thought had the nicest chairs, where we ordered pizza and mango juice. Young men selling roses and jasmine wandered among the empty tables. Later on, from our hotel window, we saw that it was well after midnight before the tables filled up. But at this hour the town seemed to be out shopping, so we joined in. The Corniche is a holidaymaker's paradise with ice cream stands, a pharmacy, a photo store, and several boutiques selling fashionable garments and accessories. Most vacationers in are from Egypt or the Persian Gulf states, and the thing to buy here is a fancy scarf. We were taken with the wealth of colours and fabrics but, as one often is, we were spoilt for choice and ended up with not one between us. Licking ice creams, we didn't have to look far for a bin to dump the wrappings. is more disciplined than most of its compatriot towns, and as we were to discover the bins are emptied and the rubbish dropped by the all-night holidaymakers (McDonald's shuts at 4am) is picked up and cleared away by morning. The atmosphere on the street was fun and people were very friendly and curious -- we seemed to make friends everywhere. But bed at a reasonable time was more in our line, so we found the car -- and now, of course, we had to find the back of our hotel. We made it with a little sleuthing and imagination. is famous for its oriental sweets and pastries, so after breakfast we made for Bolbol's and brought trays of sweets for everyone we could think of. The sampling made us thirsty, and the loofah-shaded pavement terrace of the Al-Riad Hotel invited us to stop. We asked, hardly daring to hope it might be possible, for cappucino, and to our surprise and delight were served the real thing in tall cups. We lingered, savouring the quiet and the shade, until the hotel owner, Ali Ali Ali Moussa, noticed us and came over to introduce himself. "I saw you yesterday taking pictures of the houses," he said affably. "Now if you want to see a real reed house..." It was in the next street. We failed to see how, in our mad drive to find our way onto the Corniche early the previous evening, we had missed it. Yet we had. Here it sat, a 100 per cent authentic reed house, complete with a lovely lady who appeared with her beautiful baby daughter when she saw us take a photograph. The house belonged to her great aunt, Madam El-Kholi, who kindly invited us in. The house was huge. It was built round an open courtyard garden, and apart from the two brick rooms was made entirely of reeds, with wooden floors. Thanks to the wall of "jacks" the house had not been taken apart for 10 years, which allowed for minor adjustments -- glazed windows and some additional plumbing. The house was markedly cool and pleasant -- it was clear that the walls breathed. And then came a gift: this gracious, tenacious yet intensely private owner was none other than a dear friend of Umm Kalthoum -- someone who had other ways of bringing the house down -- whose house used to stand next door. The house we were in had actually been used in the Egyptian TV Ramadan serial made about the singer's life in the late 1990s. Filming had gone on for two years. Out came the photo albums, as well as magazines featuring Umm Kalthoum, who died in 1975. Our hostess and the star were together in almost every photograph, often surrounded by family and friends. We spent the next hour looking through these pictures and hearing Madam El-Kholi's reminiscences of the friend whose life she had shared, of the good times and the times of sorrow and ill health, of their glamorous life in Cairo and their summer holidays on the beach. As we sat there we felt sorry for anyone who had not experienced the pleasure of being in such an unusual house with all its comforts and memories. It was time to leave Madam El-Kholi in peace and venture back to today's . The town might not be what it was, but it is still different from others. It still focuses solely on tourism, and the variety of eating places and the cleanliness of its streets make it enough reason to go back although, like every place in Egypt, slightly off- season would be best. But only slightly, for here is a cautionary note: although many of the hotels stay open all year round, the rest of the town, including most shops and restaurants, closes up almost completely in winter. Hotel restaurants, however, can generally be relied upon to produce an adequate meal when other restaurants are shut. And beware: beds and pillows in the budget hotels are hard, and don't expect soap, towels, or toilet paper. Practical information Buses: East Delta runs buses to in summer from Turguman Square. Ten buses daily, journey takes three hours; fare LE17. Tel: 5762293. In winter, buses from Cairo or Alexandria run as far as Damietta from where microbuses (50 piastres) or air-conditioned buses (75 piastres) go on to . Hotel Beau Rivage: on the Corniche, restaurant, double room with breakfast LE165. Tel: (057) 522120/1/2. Al-Riad Hotel: near town centre, restaurant, terrace cafeteria, double room with breakfast LE60. Tel: (057) 528956, Mobile: 0101901725.
