OK, let's start somewhere. One Egyptian friend told me that alcohol is the root of all evil - he commented, as he sipped his beer, that Allah considers it the worst sin as it leads to all others. I can understand that. Especially given my Brit background and seeing all the things that go on when people are drunk. You only have to read 'The Sun' (tabloid) or watch one of those reality TV programmes that show police dealing with the aftermath of Friday nights in towns up and down the country.
I'm not that extreme - I just like a nice glass of wine, maybe a couple of times a week which is easy to arrange in the UK.Things are different here though. There are not that many shops that sell alcohol, there is not much of a range that it is locally made and imports are restricted to duty free outlets. As this is a mainly Muslim country, you don't feel that people put their hearts and souls into making a wine as they would, say, in France. For instance, I do wonder who gets to do the tasting? I suspect no one...it's just bottled and shoved on the shelves for the minority alcohol drinking community. That would certainly go some way to explaining the poor and patchy quality of the products on offer. When we first arrived here we were warned off the local alcohol - the spirits claiming to be the genuine stuff, but obviously not, such as those in my photo. Appealing as a drink called 'Cin' might seem, it's definitely off putting to read 'mad in Egypt' on a label!So, what do you do when your duty free booze runs out? And, speaking as a wine drinker, it does run out pretty quickly when you can only get three bottles. Well, you have to turn to the local stuff. Everyone warns you how bad the wine is - and it's true, it can strike you as harsh when you glug the first mouthful. If you drink in a hotel or restaurant the waiters have all been trained to open the bottle and offer a first sip tasting so you can check that the wine is good. When Heba and I are out and about this event dissolves into giggling as we know full well what the taste will be like - and better that you begin with a good swig (rather than a dainty sip) to get your tastebuds overwhelmed before they have time to take stock! French wine experts spend a lot of time discussing the nuances, the subtlety, the variation of flavours and smells in wines. Well, in Egypt, you just get used to a kind of single flavoured, single smell wine...sometimes I can taste a bit of fruit, I can't smell it though...but maybe that is my imagination after all this time!
You don't just have to consider what you're drinking, but also where you're drinking it. You can drink alcohol at expensive hotels and in some restaurants, but it's not routinely available in almost any eating place and there aren't pubs on every corner as in the UK. Both restaurants and hotels charge for the privilege so the cheapest option is to drink at home. You find yourself going to THE shop that sells alcohol and coming away with a couple of bottles wrapped in two black plastic bags as if you've just bought some porno magazine. You invite a friend or two or they invite you and there you are...on the first floor balcony, the sun setting, with a glass of Omar Khayyam (red, white or rose) and somehow, you feel content and that all is as right as it can be with the world. OK, there may be an Egyptian wedding taking place at the end of the road (rather common at Heba’s place), with very loud music, ulalating, horses and dancing, while, at the same time, groups of young boys mill about kicking a football one the corner. There are invariably cars beeping, cars passing and a white owl flying overhead as he does each evening just as the very last glow of sunset subsides (side note: his name is David Bowie), but it feels very peaceful and just everyday stuff by now. Then there are the friends that you share with...the ones who you can laugh with, who you can talk to about your worries and frustrations, everything. This, and the fact that you have adapted to the wine just by being here, somehow make it a very good experience. So, here's to you, me and Omar on the balcony. -- Fada
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