A Glimpse of Alex

Here in Alexandria, the tangy Mediterranean air brings to life the smells of the city, and the salty air seems to amplify smells as does salt to food. The fragrance of dripping bunches of parsley and cilantro and dill and the creamy fluff of fresh feta cheese winds amidst the smoky tendrils of sheesha coming from the men seated at outdoor cafés.

Narrow streets carry the scents of buttery croissants being pulled from vast ovens and the brilliant gasps of succulent flowers in the form of essential oils. Mountains of cookies and pastries oozing with gritty fig paste haunt the early mornings. And the soft smells of pillowed pita bread heaped upon wheeled carts and the dusky smell of carriage horses line the waterfront promenade.

On the other side of the lagoon, close to the water, shrimp are artfully arranged into piles according to price. The elaborate designs remind me of bento boxes of the East: patterns and shapes and curves formed by crustacean bodies. Smoked fish of burnished gold are placed, four to a group, in hand-woven wicker baskets.

Cats stalk the restaurants, hopping atop the tables to steal scraps before waiters come to clear the dishes, clawing the upholstered chairs to shreds when no one is watching. They sprawl over entire park benches, curl up on car hoods in the warm morning sun, and self-righteously take their places along market stalls and beneath shwarma ovens, awaiting a savory mishap in their favor.

Dark eyes hover beneath bruised lumps on the foreheads of Muslim men; badges of devout daily prayer are visible testaments to strong faith. The melodic low tones of evening prayer sweep hauntingly below the shrill honking of taxis and the rumbling of city buses.

A port of call that feels like home, one to which we will soon return.

Read more...

White Sails of Winneba

written by Nathan

 After sunrise, a dozen small white sails cover the horizon. They sail past the horizon.

Morning fishing on this coast takes many forms.

Early risers go deep to the drop offs where the Atlantic spills up out of the deep. These walls are where the great schools of big fish migrate; and, the men use hand lines to pull in the fish when luck hooks a tuna or mackerel.

Last night, a lonely boat kept its light on much past midnight. The fishermen spend the night hooking squid.

Later this morning, men in giant sea-going canoes will set out. Their canoes are filled with long shallow nets. They catch shore fish. Their nets have vary small openings, but only are two meters deep.

A boy dives off of the front of the boat. He grabs the end of the line and swims toward shore. The boat appears to be leaving him. He surfs through the big waves, guiding the nets perpendicular to shore.

The boat is hading back now, they have emptied the boat of all its net. The tall man at the front of the boat is putting off line. Then another, bigger boy, dives off of the boat into the water and swims towards shore. Then another man dives in. They swim in. A great circle is forming behind them as they face the shore.

Read more...