بعد المطر

After the rain. Or rather, what I had assumed would be Alexandria after the rain. In fact the photos below show merely a brief gap between days on end of sudden, merciless and entirely unexpected monsoons that have apparently been going on for most of the winter, and look to continue for a little longer yet. In the first hour of the first class of 2012, Ustaadh Gad wrote on the board the 'higma' or proverb of the day :اؤال الغيث قطرة or, 'rain begins with one drop'. That night, it did. The irony was not lost on anyone.

Below: a flooded Wabuur al Maya yesterday afternoon. Whole streets have been turned into rivers. Arab drivers are about as equipped to deal with the rain as the British are with the snow, despite both being a yearly occurrence in their respective countries. No windscreen wipers, for one thing. I particularly enjoyed one man in Withnail-style plastic bag shoes returning Fat Halla supermarket, and two more attempting to start a car submerged in a foot or more of murky water.

While things have hardly come to a complete standstill, transport to and from the Institute over the first week back has been a little confused; twice as many buses are already needed to cope with the volume of students now living in town, and now they struggle to arrive on time. For those who planned to roll out of bed and into class, a twenty-five minute wait in the rain has come as something of a shock.

Below: Attempts to cross a side road leading to the roundabout. The rubber tyres were a great idea for a dam but make an unsteady bridge. Someone, though, has also had the forethought to arrange some bits of tile so we don't have to resort to actually swimming or God forbid going near the road.

At the roundabout, it starts to rain again, just twenty minutes after the last downpour. A group of young guys run by, yelling "Gaw gamiil!" - "beautiful weather!" in our direction, possibly assuming because we are British we're in our element.

Above: two security men huddle in the tiny booth to stay dry.
Below: On the way to Shalalat gardens - because of flooding we are forced to walk down the middle of the road, daintily avoiding oncoming traffic.

What was previously the scariest crossing point on the way to the ACL centre now seems less so, as drivers are forced to slow down. The threat of being run over has been replaced with that of being drenched if a passing vehicle ploughs through a puddle. Only twice does this happen but the first time it is compounded by my staggering backwards and into a dip in the road, also full of water. Awkward.

A brief stomp around the tiny park by the roadside becomes a trek through miniature swamps, hopping from trees on isolated islands to mercifully dry areas where stray dogs huddle, looking confused.

Below: some potential new computer wallpapers. Yes I have a new camera lens. Apparently it's pretty resiliant as well.

Upon exiting the park we decide it would be well worth our while to make an emergency trip to Carrefour (it's currently celebrating its 9th birthday! Balloons EVERYWHERE!) to buy new, undamaged socks and imported biscuits. As we pull up outside the shopping centre our otherwise silent taxi driver nods towards the carpark and says without a trace of humour, "bahr" - 'sea'. It's true.

A few final photos from wanderings down to the seafront, just a little while later - all sparkling pavements and rippling neon lights. Eventually I will get tired of photographing the streaked and stained but ever-elegant Wabuur al Maya lady - but not today.

In a week already made somewhat hazy by changing timetables, language readjustment and a variety of attempts to extend the new year's hangover, it has been strangely refreshing to wake up to the sound (though not the smell, sadly) of the rain, to stand on a chair and peer through the narrow kitchen window at a half-hidden, bedraggled world. Reflected on the ground, buildings reach twice as high, and cars and cats alike make slow, cautious progress across a second sky.

Very little information on Egypt made the British news over the Christmas period, but I was pleased to see odd articles on things I'd never noticed (or thought I hadn't, assuming more old ladies and schoolgirls had been protesting than I'd imagined), such as the eyepatch phenomenon http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/shortcuts/2011/dec/18/eyepatches-egpyt, or the knock-on effects (or lack of them) of the revolution for Egyptian women: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-16398660.

The latest surprising turn of events is that Mohamed ElBaradei, a prominent political figure, former head of the UN nuclear watchdog and Nobel Peace Prize winner, has taken the decision to step down from candidacy in the presidential elections due to what he believe is a frustrating lack of fundamental democratic change since last January, and quite possibly the huge success of the main Islamist parties in elections so far. He is not alone in his exasperation, as will doubtless become apparent in less than two weeks' time on the anniversary of the 25th of January uprisings: conveniently when we had planned to visit a friend in Cairo. Groups such as Mosireen, Tweeters across the globe ('Egypt' was the most popular tag last year) and the ever-reliable taxi drivers anticipate large-scale demonstrations and disturbances up and down the country, with unpredictable results. What else is new.