The picture you see above is of the island in Cairo where I grew up. The red arrow shows the location of the apartment building where I spent my formative, teenage years. The greenery in the front part of the picture is the Gezira Club. This is where I literally spent the first 16 years … Continue reading Zamalek, fein?
An unusual sense of calm has overcome me, as the legal noose gets tighter and tighter around the orange felon's neck. Now that I have decided -- following what happened to the front of our house last week (see previous post) -- to leave for good, the question is where in Portugal. The Algarve's far … Continue reading Coimbra
I've slagged the Birkenstock crowd enough here these last few posts. For the life of me, I fail to see the attraction of those hideous heavy leather sandals, especially when worn with a pair of dorky white socks. Instead I'll misanthropically, or perhaps out of ill-concealed envy, touch on café flies: that is to say, tossers … Continue reading Café Flies