We had but little time for sight-seeing at Athens, the “Tzar” remaining at anchor only till night. The dusty streets, the want of water and the poverty of the population left a disagreeable impression upon me, and the heat was intense. We were nearly roasted alive by the scorching sun. When passing before the Royal Palace, we were amazed by the simplicity of the railing surrounding it. In the absence of the Royal family the people are allowed to go into the palace, and a lackey offered to escort us over it. The state apartments are worth showing, but the upper suits of rooms are of Spartan simplicity. After having visited the Temple of Theseus, we drove up a long steep hill fringed with spiky cactus plants, leading to the Acropolis, the citadel of ancient Athens, which dominates the whole town.
When we returned to our ship we found new passengers: Lady Denmore, the wife of a high British dignitary, whom she was going to rejoin in India, and a pleasant American pair—Mr. and Mrs. Holland—elderly, childless people, talking with a strong American accent. They were going to Cairo. In the night the sea grew rough, and we were tossed about during two days. On the third day we entered the African waters and perceived a yellow band of sand; birds, forerunners of land, were flying over our ship, and soon the outlines of the port and the mosques of Alexandria came in view.
CHAPTER LVI
IN PHARAOH LAND
Here we are on the threshold of the Great Desert! As soon as the “Tzar” dropped anchor, stopping alongside a Russian cruiser, the “Nakhimoff,” our vessel was invaded by a crowd of natives who precipitated themselves on our luggage. They were all speaking at once, shouting and gesticulating; the scene reminded me of the attack of savages in “Aida.” We looked about us for the right sort of person to accompany us in the capacity of guide to Cairo, and finally hired for the service a dusky Arab named Mahmoud, on whose jersey was embroidered in big white letters: “I speak Russian.”
Everybody went on shore, but we decided to pass the night on board and start in the morning to Cairo. We passed a very bad night, the Egyptian sun having turned our cabin into an oven and we could not open the porthole through the close proximity of the cruiser “Nakhimoff,” alongside which we were anchored. At six o’clock we took a carriage to drive us to the railway station through the broad streets of Alexandria. The inhabitants we met on our way were for the most part negroes of different shades, and blue-robed, dark-skinned Fellahs. The native women, black-shrouded and veiled, wear a piece of black lustring wrapped round their bodies, making of them formless lumps, and giving them a ghastly aspect; a black veil is suspended on a metal cylinder, which is placed between the eyes with texts out of the Koran inscribed inside.
Before taking the train to Cairo, we had to pass through the preliminaries of the Customs. Thanks to our guide, Mahmoud, we have obtained, by special favour, the permission for our boxes not to be opened. It took three hours to get from Alexandria to Cairo; every few minutes the train halted at a bustling station. At the stoppings the Arabs dusted our cars with long brooms made of ostrich feathers. The journey would have been perfect but for the heat and the dust; eyes, nose, mouth, were choked with it, and by the time we reached Cairo, our hair was quite grey. All through our desert journey I had felt as if I had wandered into a dream of the Old Testament. Egyptian villages, with huts of dry mud of the same colour as the soil, with a maze of dust, of children, of animals and flies, emerged here and there from between the date-palms laden with fruit hanging in big bunches. On the road we saw great brown buffaloes going wearily round and round, turning the irrigating mills. Strings of burdened camels marched slowly along the road. Here is a Bedouin leaning forward upon the neck of his quick stepping horse, outriding a fat Fellah trotting on a small donkey with a woman sitting astride behind him, holding him round the waist. We now passed across the fertile delta of the Nile, through cotton plantations with their white flocks, and fields of ripening grain standing waist-high. In Egypt the land is so fertile that the harvest is got in three times a year. We are speeding along canals on which sailing-boats are gliding; bands of natives and buffaloes are bathing in them. Here is the Nile, which is very high at this season, all the land between the Biblical river and the sands being hidden beneath the waters. We are approaching the Metropolis of Africa. The windows of every compartment of our train are framed with eager, longing faces, straining for the first glimpse of the Pyramids. There they are, looking quite close in the clear atmosphere. The first view of these colossal piles rather disappointed me: they did not appear on the horizon as big as I thought they would be. We crossed the Nile by a long bridge and arrived at Cairo, halting in a vast domed station. Then we took a carriage and went to the New Hotel, situated in the Esbekieh district, the European quarter of Cairo.
The season had not yet opened, and the hotel was comparatively empty, there being more servants than guests for the moment, but they were expecting a great number of visitors and great preparations were made: carpets were laid down, curtains were put up, and the sights and sounds of these preparations pursued us everywhere.
Everything around seemed so strange to me. There were no chamber-maids in the hotel, and barefooted Nubians, wearing a flowing white cotton gown from neck straight to heel, served us.
On the day of our arrival we sat up late on the terrace of our hotel, looking out on the Esbekieh Gardens, where the Arab band is playing every night. I was astonished to hear Russian popular airs among their repertoire. Smart British officers, quartered in Cairo, in tight-fitting uniforms, strolled leisurely about the streets. Dignified Arabs, mysterious long-robed figures, appeared to float rather than walk, their white bournouses blowing behind them, native nurses wheeled perambulators, the negresses wrapped up in white veils and the Arab nurses in blue covers. A band of tourists, riding spirited little donkeys, passed along. Egyptian donkeys are fine little animals, holding their heads high like thoroughbreds; they are white for the greater part and shaved in designs. The best donkeys are brought out from Mecca, and valued higher than horses.