Alexandria is one of the truly ancient cities. It sits in Egypt like any other city, but in many ways, it's the crowned jewel with a past that other cities envy. But, first, you have to drive through crowded Egypt, and this country has traffic like anywhere else.
And this is where the Great Library of Alexandria, built by Alexander the Great, was located. It was the largest library of the ancient world and contained somewhere between 40,000 to 400,000 scrolls or the equivalent of 100,000 books. It employed over 100 scholars. Although it was originally believed to have been destroyed by fire, it was accidentally burned by Julius Caesar during a civil war, rebuilt and then dwindled due to lack of funding and support.
Today Bibliotheca Alexandrina replaces the ancient library. All of this, of course, is of no interest to the Rascal Cat. He is tired of driving in the car. Tired of looking at the scenery. Tired of hearing me drone on and on about the fabulousness of Alexandria.
Chucky wants a snack.
There is a wonderful restaurant in downtown Alexandria in the Cecil Hotel. It is old world and quite majestic looking and overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. It was built in 1929, is considered one of the Grand Hotels, and has hosted celebrities and diplomats including Winston Churchill and Al Capon.
Somehow, we figure, we'll talk our way into this restaurant with an orange and white cat. He is famous. In America. Star of Hot Blogging with Chuck. Or we can sneak him in.
"Find a table in the back," I suggest to Dan.
Chucky is wiggly around in the backpack. About to explode. We both know when he has had enough. And he has had enough.
Discreetly, we are seated at the table. Chuck is in the corner. We are the model of propriety, but can't help ourselves from looking around because the place is even more glamorous and incredible inside.
Quickly, we peruse the menu and order an interesting dish with lots of eggplant and chickpeas. Luckily, I've discovered that I love Egyptian food. We scoff down our lunch in record time.
We're about to leave (and this is when Chucky tempts the fates), he spots a beautiful, elegant, antique elevator--what was known in those days as an "open cage elevator", that is literally beckoning to him. I imagine he hears, "Come on over," because the next thing we know he is scampering across the lobby toward said elevator.
Dan says, "It's a bad idea. Grab Chucky. We should leave now. After all, we're in Egypt. Soldiers walk around here with loaded rifles. No telling what they'll do to a cat."
Sober warning. Are we taking a foolish chance? Egypt is not a democracy.
On the other hand, we both know, when Chucky gets an idea in his head, you might as well, give in. We can see by the way he is staring straight at it that he cannot resist checking out this elevator. Even for me, it is conjuring up all kinds of imaginings. It is as if I were stepping back in time. It dates back to when the hotel was built.
AND IT STILL WORKS.
Dan and I look at each other. "Let's just go with it. We'll keep him under wraps."
The plan is simple. We'll get inside, just the three of us, and ride up one floor, and then ride back down again. How risky can it be? And Chucky will be happy.
We have to wait. Someone is using it, and it's one floor above us. (We discover later that the elevator is a MAJOR tourist attraction.)
I glance over and notice a mirror. I somehow manage to secure Chucky's attention. We're going over there to take a selfie to prove we're actually here in Alexandria, I tell him. It'll only take a second. Stand over there and don't draw attention to yourself.
The elevator is in a corner. At that moment no one is there.
In a flash we're back at the elevator. It still hasn't come down, which is odd. And what's even more alarming--no Chucky.
"You don't think . . ."
We look up. We hear the faintest of meows. A Chucky meow.
That darned cat. As we were busy with our selfie, that rascal cat must have jumped into the elevator and rode up to the floor above us. Without us.
Within seconds, he's coming down, but not by himself. First floor guests accompany our never to be underestimated cat down to the lobby.
"My bad," I tell Dan. "I should have dragged him with us over to the mirror."
The black cage door opens and the three touristy people walk out. By some miracle, they've hardly noticed Chucky. Too busy snapping photos of the elevator, which here and now is the main star attraction.
Finally, the three of us are alone at last. Dan pulls the antique black gate closed in front of us. We are in a magic world--circa 1929, the way it used to be. Slowly, we go up and then, ignoring people who are waiting to get in, we quickly go down.
"If you were a cat back in 1929," I tell Chuck, "this is the kind of elevator you would have been using. Pretty cool, huh?"
Chuck looks around with some interest, then lets out a gigantic cat yawn.
When we're leaving, I can't resist pointing out to Chuck that although he's somewhat famous in America, here in Alexandria, it's the elevator that tourists are snapping photos of, not the cat!! He shrugs. But at least he's safe and sound. No soldiers with rifles. So far so good.
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yet another close call!
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