Sorry about the overly-long wait. I've been working on doing a comprehensive edit of the past 20 chapters, and I only got around to putting up a new one this weekend.
Part 21:
Khalida Maalouf leaned back in her chair, sipping coffee slowly. She remained silent for a few moments.
“Congratulations, Samira,” she said finally. “That's quite an opportunity. What are you writing about?”
Samira twisted her lips as she searched for an answer. “That's the problem, ustaaza. I don't know yet. I think the editor assumed I'd hit the ground running, you know? Have contacts, have a story. I don't have anything. There are kiosk vendors who are more connected than I am.”
“And so you're here, is that right?”
Samira nodded ruefully. “I'd sort of hoped that you could put me onto a lead.”
Khalida rose from her chair, her measured movements betraying some frailty of age. She pottered about the room for a moment, searching through yellowing papers and clippings. Samira watched her in silence.
“You were here, what...eight, nine years ago?”
“Eleven this winter.”
Khalida grunted. “Well, things may different than you remember. In fact, they will be – I assume you're not living in that rambling old thing on Zamalek?”
“No, I have a hotel room.”
“Well, that's no good. You need to get out into the city, staying up in some old palace like the Hilton isn't worth a damn.” Khalida settled back into her seat and placed a stack of articles by Samira, shoving some others aside and causing a small avalanche of rustling paper across the desk. “I'm going to be honest with you, Samira. This city might not have been the best place for you. You have the wrong instincts here – your mother, your father, that history – it's not going to help you as a reporter. You have to start fresh.”
Samira felt an unexpected wave of indignation at the professor's words. “What are you talking about?”
“I'm trying to say that you were very sheltered.”
“That doesn't mean...”
“It means you might have a perspective that makes it hard to see what's really going on sometimes. You went to university in England, yes?”
“Yes. Oxford, Trinity College.” Samira felt flushed, frustrated. “But I went to work at newspaper in Manchester, straight afterwards. Court reporting, digging in the gutters, all that kind of thing.”
“The worst street in Manchester is still a bit more posh than almost any block here. Remember that. Look, Samira. I'm not saying that you're a bad reporter. If I remember, you were always a dedicated writer.”
“Then what's the problem?” demanded Samira.
“The problem is that you might be the wrong kind of reporter.”
Samira rose, snatching the articles off of the professor's desk. “You're the first person I visit after 10 years, and you meet me with this?”
“Samira...”
“Never mind. I can see what you think of me – spoiled little rich girl playing reporter? Is that about it?” She swiveled on her heel, stumbled slightly and stalked out the door, trying to wrap what remained of her dignity around her.
Showing posts with label Oxford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oxford. Show all posts
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Pints and Drams
Done a bunch of extremely British - and Scottish - cultural things in the past week. Among them, going to two Oxford Formal Halls with my friend at LMH(one of the Oxford colleges). Those were fun - an excuse to get dressed up and have a nice dinner in one of the those big, grand old Harry Potter-esque halls with portraits and rafters. Incidentally, I did get to see the real Harry Potter main hall...it's not that big! And the staircase in front is positively tiny. Funny tricks of perspective.
We also went to pubs/bars like "The Duke of Cambridge" and "The Eagle and Child." That latter was frequented, or so I heard, by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein. I got to see all the students finishing their exams, walking around in sub-fusc covered in eggs and feathers and such, or sometimes riding bikes. I've never seen so many formally dressed people on bikes in my life!
In London, I did all the sorts of things you might expect - visited the British Museum, which is really a great place, totally free, well-lit and designed, and generally just an excellent museum. I used to think they ought to return the Rosetta Stone and the head of Ramses II - no more. The Egyptian museum was a disaster. I think most things are better off in London, where they will be seen, safe, and clean.
I took the bus from Oxford to Edinburgh last night - almost 11 hours, all told, and they dropped us off in Milton Keynes for an hour to change lines. What a dismally bizarre place. It's some kind of strange English planned city, and it was all weird mall architecture, highways like landing strips and nobody to be seen. There were about 15 rabbits on every corner - it was like Watership Down or something. And as I sat waiting in coachstation, just a little turn-off from the highway with a closed coffee stand, I saw some really weird stuff. A white unmarked van pulled up and idled, and then about 15 minutes later a really nice Audi station wagon. An older white dude in white tie climbs out, goes into the back of the van, emerges 10 minutes later next to some Indian guy in jeans with a bunch of suits in drycleaner bags, and they both speed off. Bizarre. And then there was another station wagon parked nearby, and 3 separate cars pulled up, people got into the wagon, talked for a bit, and then left. Weirdest thing...I guess Milton Keynes coachway is where you buy drugs.
Now I'm in Scotland, and I've walked up to the Edinburgh Castle, hiked through the moors of Holyrood Park, and tried the scotch at the Dome, a grand old Victorian bank converted into a cool bar with a soaring dome roof.
Oh, and I had a haggis.
We also went to pubs/bars like "The Duke of Cambridge" and "The Eagle and Child." That latter was frequented, or so I heard, by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein. I got to see all the students finishing their exams, walking around in sub-fusc covered in eggs and feathers and such, or sometimes riding bikes. I've never seen so many formally dressed people on bikes in my life!
In London, I did all the sorts of things you might expect - visited the British Museum, which is really a great place, totally free, well-lit and designed, and generally just an excellent museum. I used to think they ought to return the Rosetta Stone and the head of Ramses II - no more. The Egyptian museum was a disaster. I think most things are better off in London, where they will be seen, safe, and clean.
I took the bus from Oxford to Edinburgh last night - almost 11 hours, all told, and they dropped us off in Milton Keynes for an hour to change lines. What a dismally bizarre place. It's some kind of strange English planned city, and it was all weird mall architecture, highways like landing strips and nobody to be seen. There were about 15 rabbits on every corner - it was like Watership Down or something. And as I sat waiting in coachstation, just a little turn-off from the highway with a closed coffee stand, I saw some really weird stuff. A white unmarked van pulled up and idled, and then about 15 minutes later a really nice Audi station wagon. An older white dude in white tie climbs out, goes into the back of the van, emerges 10 minutes later next to some Indian guy in jeans with a bunch of suits in drycleaner bags, and they both speed off. Bizarre. And then there was another station wagon parked nearby, and 3 separate cars pulled up, people got into the wagon, talked for a bit, and then left. Weirdest thing...I guess Milton Keynes coachway is where you buy drugs.
Now I'm in Scotland, and I've walked up to the Edinburgh Castle, hiked through the moors of Holyrood Park, and tried the scotch at the Dome, a grand old Victorian bank converted into a cool bar with a soaring dome roof.
Oh, and I had a haggis.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Rule Brittania
Been in England for about 2 1/2 days now...what an incredible change. From the bustling, crowded, hot, dusty, vibrant, chaotic, overflowing streets of Cairo to the cool, shaded, verdant lanes of Oxford town and university. The first day I was here it was almost as if I had died and gone to heaven, coming from the sprawling desert heat into rolling fields, parks, grand stone buildings and overgrown gardens. Instead of diesel fuel I smelled flowers and growing things; instead of car horns I heard birds.
Oxford is really everything I imagined England to be, which makes sense - so many of the classic English writers were educated here. It's almost a fantasy of a town, and I could just get lost in the arches and vaults of the University for days or weeks or years. Cairo was the sort of place where everytime you turned a corner, you saw something that was bizarre or fascinating or ancient. Oxford is sort of the same way, but in a welcoming, comforting sense.
It's also funny because looking at England you kind of figure out how Boston came to look and feel the way it does. Obviously, that's simplifying, but the similarities in England and New England architecture, landscape, and layout are striking. I feel like I am in a reflection of home sometimes - or that home is a reflection of here.
Oxford is really everything I imagined England to be, which makes sense - so many of the classic English writers were educated here. It's almost a fantasy of a town, and I could just get lost in the arches and vaults of the University for days or weeks or years. Cairo was the sort of place where everytime you turned a corner, you saw something that was bizarre or fascinating or ancient. Oxford is sort of the same way, but in a welcoming, comforting sense.
It's also funny because looking at England you kind of figure out how Boston came to look and feel the way it does. Obviously, that's simplifying, but the similarities in England and New England architecture, landscape, and layout are striking. I feel like I am in a reflection of home sometimes - or that home is a reflection of here.
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