Buildings

A short bike ride around Ingersoll town unveils the remnant history of people’s coming and going across the seas of time. The early 1800’s saw the area still covered with the thick forest and the lumber industry thrived as land was cleared for settlement. One of the uses for the felled trees was to fuel brickworks and companies were founded here in Ingersoll to produce bricks – large houses remain as evidence of the fortunes and prosperity achieved.

Much later, a number of machine works were established which prospered during the wars and in the dawning of the age of the automobile – employing many factory workers at low-paying but steady jobs which paid for the simpler neighbourhoods near the railway tracks.

A “good–buy!” to Morning

In the dawn’s early light only those blessed with Jet Lag have the chance to enjoy the morning in its most pristine state. The early spring means that young robin nestlings are already learning to fly and the air is alive with birdsong.

A couple new squirrels have climbed down a tree to inspect their first human of the day.

The Elven Saint Otto is at his post as the neighbourhood's patron saint of garages.

And the dew is still upon the flower gardens of the better front yards.

Later, much later, it is time to go to market. Near the east end of London Ontario is a new business known as “Trail’s End”. Here, so many years ago a small farmer’s market was started – which is now still growing. It is a place where local farmer’s bring their produce to compete with produce brought from other places. Here there is everything from fine Mennonite crafted furniture, to ducks, to genuine French Fries . . .

And a great selection of butcheries . . . including Pork.

And then its time for breakfast at a genuine small town cafe . . .

Embarcadero

Another rift in the space time continuum and I felt myself transported through time – I imagined a famous German Philosopher reclining in a bar and sharing his ideas with time travellers such as myself.

Then we were tossed into a volcanic dust cloud – and lost in a dream of puffy clouds and ice-caps.

When I regained consciousness I was facing a cold rain, overcast skies, and buses rescheduled to accommodate late arriving fellow explorers from the furthest reaches of Greenland. I am back, or forward, now - to where I once began in the heart of south-western Ontario; back amongst my own Tribe of Scottish and German descended peoples who more-or-less look the same, have the same blue eyes, the same flat voices, and for whom grey skies, rain, and cold walks along wooded trails remain a past and present experience.

The colonial traditions live here still – many years after I used to sing “God Save the Queen" before morning classes in public school. There is a Victoria park in every town . . . .

. . . and a grey sombre rock somewhere in town to remind us of sacrifices on battlefields far away.

The region was opened for settlement fairly late in North American history. A loyalist settler from Massachusetts made his way up the Thames River until he found a spot with several streams flowing down to the river from surrounding hills.

Streams meant power for mills and so a site for a settlement was chosen. In present time, the old mill sites are in ruin – but the streams still flow.

Today, the quiet remains as industrial ages have come and gone and residents have only just begun to reverse a migration which took them away to other cities and countries. The iron rails that took away youth to nearby Toronto may yet bring them back to the modern efficiency of a place where one can walk across the entire town in 20 minutes.

Flashback to Road 9 - Past and Present

A place I am thankful for – for its familiarity over years of random motion - is somewhat like a worn spot inside a pinball machine – a place where the ball returns time and time again by virtue of its relationship to frequent paths and probability. The “famous Road 9” as it was first described to me over 14 years ago as I looked down its length when in the company of an apartment-finding agent.

It has steadily improved since then – in much the same way as a glacier moves – both forward and back according to the weather. The best part is the human community which has taken root on its curbs and built a steady life providing help and service to a moving family of expatriates and others.

Most important of all - is the famous Flute Seller - who has survived the lean times and is prospering again as a new generation of young expatriates discovers a new culture.

And the famous Aladdin Laundry and drycleaning company continues to enjoy expert management.

The famous Badran store continues to provide all stationary services imaginable.

The famous Mishriki Pharmacy continues to keep everyone healthy and recovering from occasional maladies.

The essential parking attendants continue to make a living and raise families despite their requisite handicaps.

Mashrabia continues to be assembled to meet the demands of expatriates eager to take a piece of Arabic architectural style back with them to their native countries.

And, the famous bastion of American systems-thinking continues grow in popularity

– as does another great Road 9 institution created by American know-how, spirit and energy in the person of Lucille.

Season Changing

Where we once lived, the bridge is no longer swept by the man we hired for 11 years to keep it clean. But fortunately his son was graduated before his income ended. The familiar shops are busier than ever and the smiles of the vendors suggest the pace of business is keeping pace with the cost of living.

Cars are plentiful and new coffee shops continue to open to eager customers. Gold’s Gym is packed and they finally got the music arranged properly. Clothing, and behaviour, seems more western than ever. And the summer heat is about to fill the valley. The haze builds and my hold on time begins to sense a fine vibration. It maybe just be the metro train going past . . .

Delta Dawn

Once, twice, maybe three times, so long ago, I travelled through the Nile Delta. It was older then but newer now. Where once garbage filled city streets now contractors now keep streets swept clean. Where once garbage filled the canals - the waters now run mostly clear.


Perhaps the first light of Egypt’s private education initiatives is shining into the further reaches of Cairo and the sea. Growth is everywhere – and improvement finds a new hospitality waiting.



Well dressed youth are running shops, businesses, and managing wastewater treatment plants. And the plant operators have been raised with the internet and educated in far better schools than their parents could have dreamed for.

In the Governorates water authority staff presented recent pilot projects and demonstrated their knowledge and understanding of the principles involved. Water treatment facilities were being operated well - a 100 year old WTP in Damietta was still in operation with critical valves and pumps maintained, and with a well-equipped laboratory monitoring the production. WWTPs with failing concrete and rusted walkways were nonetheless meeting effluent specifications under the supervision of young engineers.

This may be the new Egypt . . . the rise of youth, education, knowledge with the confidence of the internet. In Damietta, a City at the East outlet of the Nile, the streets are lined with piles of imported lumber. Called the "most industrious" of Egyptian cities, Damietta is home to one of the planet's largest collections of furniture manufacturing companies.

Once in the tumbled past of 12 years ago I sampled Lake Manzala's water in the early light of dawn as part of an environmental monitoring program. The distinctive and exotic sails of the Lake Manzala lateen rigged sail boats still tend fish traps on the lake and the shores are now lined with countless new fish farms. Port Said is twice the size as when I worked there - housing and industry stretch far past the wastewater treatment facility where I once worked.

Amok Time

Two times seven years ago I was at the Flamenco Hotel in Zamalek - the Island capital of Cairo. Something has called me back here and once again I am sitting in the same cafe' discussing another water project. Maybe time is a circle or has it simply reversed direction? I had been here before - was it in the past or the future? Are these flashbacks or premonitions?

On the way into town the new buildings cover the desert for as far as one can see. It is said now that the greater Cairo area holds 25 million people – but doesn’t hold them tight enough to keep them from driving in all directions at high speed. In Maadi the streets are full of cars.

The dentist remembered me and I marvelled as new German technology replaced a failed 25 year old silver filling with a precision cut crown indistinguishable from a natural tooth – painlessly in less than an hour. This must be the future.

And then there were the newborn babies of merchants on Road 9 – or who were once babies – now grown to children and attending school.

And I am back on the street where I lived – in the building where I lived – but on a higher level somehow. And it is both past and future and connections both gone and begin again.

(Above - a new pipe connection prepares to go under the metro line)

(above: The view from the sixth floor over south Maadi)

But than I am back at the Flamenco Hotel again – where I began this Egypt adventure almost 15 years ago - talking with people about water projects. And it is the past all over again and nothing has changed. Time run amok . . . then as now . . . .