Do Latin Kings And Folks Get Along

Smiles and men - the romantic comedy

The term "romantic comedy" the constancy of a narrative structure and rhythm proper to this genre that may have more difficulty than any other Gender to reinvent itself because it only makes sense in imposing its version by the repetition of the world and love. Today romantic comedy is restricted by the return of the same, sometimes with an ounce of consideration for that changes in gender relations . She seems to want to prescribe a certain direction in changing, feeding and influencing the real (as if the influence of film could only be exercised at this level more malleable than others: the desire between man and woman) while still in the off-topic, off-specific real fiction. The emergence of advertising in the same comedy romantic, like so many common benchmarks to fiction and our reality, plays on this ambiguity it.
The kind of romantic comedy is in itself a disability, a burden that the director and actors agree to bear all and only serves to be transcended, exceeded. A romantic comedy is not assessed for compliance with the codes that must be met for a romantic comedy but the way she arranges with its codes, it is bold despite codes . This is where we often touted romantic comedy "original", lying in an in-between where they are both classified and unclassified in their genre.

Pleasure exacerbated the romantic comedy, more than any other genre, is that it makes us experience a close, meaning that our interest in the film ends exactly when the film ends . the film is not interested in his characters at the same time as us. History is consumed in a sense, thrown at the same time it throws us.
But the closing of a romantic comedy is ambiguous and that is the strength of this kind: it gives us to see what is before it starts, before the relationship finally accepted by the world begins. She shows us the origins of the beginning, when two people decide to form a charismatic charismatic couple as a way to dispose of the viewer who wants to see the couple finally formed. This time they are not yet lost in one another and where there are still enough issues to fight to make a movie. Once the pair formed a symbolically traveling back away from them as if their history, free from strife, had nothing more to say and was lost in the roar of the crowd that filled a thousand other stories. The couple returns to the normal documentation of harmony, link between him and calmed the world, the world becomes euphorically to him.

The film advance evidence to impose, to arise. First there is evidence of ignorance: it is normal that we do not know, we are not the same environment but we still need to treat all business.

Then the evidence of recognition: I realize it's you I was waiting, the world has made you a prostitute and a businessman myself, but I recognized you from across contingencies. Finally
evidence of the struggle: I'm married, I have a situation but before you spend the whole world, yet to the understanding that "everyone". The romantic comedy ends when the struggle for recognition by the world ends. This "world" is: the social milieu of one or the other, where the family still officially one of the two protagonists (human, actually) that is attached to his life before, from this world he has internalized, and who understands that without reinstating the Woman it will be unbearable. Women are very often the one that remains faithful to the end to the idea of their relationship as upcoming project and build. The betrayal by the man just is its movement, its remoteness and return that make the movie, this woman is compared to what human moves. It is when he decides he is in love that the couple can finally refer to themselves as a couple. ( Pretty Woman, Avanti!, Ariane's wedding my best friend, Sabrina, Love without notice, etc.. )

Note that (to my knowledge) the only time roles are reversed and where the woman had the nerve to confess her feelings (she thought shared) his best friend who was about to marry, it has been criticized for ruining everything, and betrothed publicly insulted the woman. The wedding of my best i am , romantic comedy with a rare violence, ending in a slow dance between old friends while the couple recently married was going on honeymoon.

There are several possible endings to a romantic comedy

- there is very often the beginning of the end, the woman accepted a job at the other end of the world and Man has belatedly realized that two years would be impossible without it: it is no longer what it does but is marred by the thought of what is happening just when he goes about his normal activities, aware of a synchronicity that it is unbearable, "she is with her bags in the process of taking and I am working on the case of Mrs. Butler, that is nonsense." Unable to suspend time and join the Woman there is a faster pace until the arrival airport (before it was rather the station), reunion and suspension of time, "say nothing, I went account as "/" I'm next to you on the plane, surprise ", even better, in a fit of euphoria, the public message that everyone can hear, the woman is between shame and delight ( Maid in Notting Hill ). Sometimes the message can be encrypted understandable only to the protagonists ( Roman Holiday )

It may also be the most realistic option "I'll wait for those two years, counting on me, a kind of compromise a little disappointing which saves tied trivial obligations of each other and love which becomes reasonable, peaceful, remote support, two years pass, the struggle becomes useless when you can make compromises.

Note that the ambiguity continues in a different field: we see two types of encounter and relationship, a sort of back and forth between the meeting fictional characters and the real actors. There is the pleasure of seeing X and Y focus slowly to each other but also to see Cary Grant fall in love with Audrey Hepburn. The romantic comedy is a genre that also has its standard characters played by actor-types who play their own role than elsewhere. The reason is that the romantic comedy is the kind that depicts the stories most likely, those who could almost have come to his players: Hepburn (both) and Grant (Cary and Hugh) or Julia Roberts, Meg Ryan Sandra Bullock, Gregory Peck.

should also mention the appearance of anti-heroine ( Bridget Jones, Broken Français), romantic comedies choirs ( Love Actually, Valentine's Day ) stories between woman and ghost ( Adventure and Mrs. Muir) of "I fall in love without knowing you" (Sleepless in Seattle ), the romantic comedy feminist ( An education) and all the movies that speak of love without being romantic comedies.

Inspirational Quotes Hispanic

Grand Circumvention - Episode 2 The Great

The colorless morning we wrapped surprises under our duvet. It is not hot, Petra! Today we'll try to go to Damascus, Syria, and it is not won. Indeed, as evidenced by the haunting tunes of the muezzin who for more than an hour, repeating loop that God is great, it's the first day of Eid, no one at the end of Ramadan that we celebrated in Zanzibar, but one that celebrates the testing of Abraham by God (which is great). Upon receipt of the hostel, we were told that the bus would pick us up at 7am with other travelers. Finally, we must wait until the bus station until past 8am, the time the van arrives and fills. The driver, seeing that three quarters of its passengers are foreigners, seeking to take advantage and wants the baggage surcharge. But to us, because we do more! We drive on roads which seem deserted, or maybe it stings a little too nose, I'm aching all the big ride of the day in the sandy ruins.

First step: we arrive in Amman, the Jordanian capital. Clinging to the hillsides, the city returns the reflection of a dismal holiday. We need to take a taxi to get to another bus station where buses usually leave for Syria. The place looks abandoned, curtains lowered and traffic cleared. There are some big buses waiting, but nobody around to tell us. It falls on the employees of a transport company, but communication is struck between their basic English and our rudimentary Arabic. As it seems they are trying to bamboozle us, we start eating kebabs (also because we were hungry). server, beaming to see us eat our meat rolls, even change the TV channel, to spare us the prayers to the glory of God (which, despite everything, is great). It confirms that today, and for four consecutive days, there will as taxis to take us to Damascus. It bothers us because we had not really planned to spend 35 euros to go to the border. At the same time, we're not going to stay here until the end of Eid. Taxi drivers as we approach the twisted nose when we tell them we do not have Syrian visas. They argue that in a case like ours, the formalities last for hours. One of them finally agreed to take us to the border, where we manage to let us carry out our procedures and find other transportation. We left Amman on the same day, another road perfectly smooth, where signs indicate the direction to take to go to Lebanon or Iraq. We, we follow the arrow that "Syria." On both sides of the road, the scenery does not pay a tear over his fate arid. The driver talks to a third passenger, a small smiling man who turns out to be a customs officer. I think they speak for us, because at times they vote down unnecessarily, forgetting, however, not to point fingers.

At the border, the customs officer will take his position while the driver tells us the wickets where we must fulfill the formalities out of Jordan. The customs officer who stamps our passports ensure that we have tasted specialties meat of his country. We say yes to please him. We cross the no-man's-land by car, the beating heart and sweaty hands, because we're not sure you can get our visas and move on. Officially, Syria requires a French national who applies for a visa to France, but we read on forums that it is possible to get at the border. But Sandra and Julian met in episode 1, we were told they had been turned back, despite what we put everything on the account of their visit to Israel, the neighbor hated by the Syrians. Nevertheless we are not 100% sure. The hall where we present our Passport is quiet, there's not much worldwide. The customs officer asked us, wants to know why we do not have visas. Jeremiah explains briefly the situation. It makes us wait. I feel like an oral exam before, to give the false calm exchange, but within, unable to align two coherent ideas. The Customs reminds us, we ask for our occupations. As always, I respond: "Publisher" is the simplest. And as always, replied: "What's that?" Nobody knows this business. Define "I make books" certainly makes my interlocutors puzzled. For Jeremiah, it's easier and clearer: "Professor". Lucky, who returns so easily in a box! In any case, the customs official who comes to call his supervisor sees us as harmless and shows us the window where we can pay our visas, phew! God (You're so great), thank you, we'll go!

While we finalize our procedures, we propose to a man we convey to Damascus, this time for an amount more than reasonable. We accept ... to learn once they arrive in front of his car he wants us to both sit on the passenger seat at the front! I pissed myself, finding it dangerous and uncomfortable, if indeed we can only we actually install two on one seat. Luckily, the three additional passengers are proving to be a friendly family in Pakistan. The father agrees to put forward, with his 6 year old son on her lap. We realize chatting with them while they had already paid the taxi, without being aware that other passengers would make the journey with them. In business, all shots are allowed, as long as you keep smiling, is not it?

The trickster drops us right at the entrance of Damascus, where we have to take taxi from the third day. We arrived tired, feeling have spent too much money, but in the end, we are proud to have achieved what we set out early in the day. To celebrate, we offer a good meal served by pallbearers to smile a bit chilling. Jeremiah revels in sheep's testicles, while I drink a mushroom soup. Rice pudding for dessert! When the note arrived, it could cut off our appetite when we still had: here, they charge prices for paper towels in vinegar and raw vegetables served as input without having been asked (we, naïve from Jordan, we thought it was offered). Finally, it will, during the short time we'll go to Damascus. This will not stop us from other dishes we enjoy elsewhere, unfortunately still used by undertakers. But I will keep a memento of a fabulous soup of sour milk in sheep!

As in Damascus, the lady of the East, she will leave a strange memory. It must be said that during Eid, only a few shops keep open their storefront. For the rest, dead city. No traffic, very few people on the street. And God (which is great) it's cold! We feel we are starting to move north. While the tarmac is far from sparkling frost in the morning, but we lost the habit of We bundled up in our fleece to avoid the wind which sneaks sneaky by the neck. We took comfort in the sweet festive pastry with overstock their showcases. One of them has even planted a palm tree by assembling cookies filled with date paste. Fabulous!

We start to rest, because between Petra and the great day of transit, we feel like old punctured footballs after the World Cup. When we go to a cyber cafe to put blogs up to date, Jeremy discovers that blogspot is not accessible. The head of e, which has a trick to bypass the blockage, says that blogs are generally banned in Syria. This is the first time since the beginning of the journey that we are personally confronted with censorship. Ironically the next day, we find a bookstore open, in which the only book used in French is a San Antonio not pitched worms! One wonders how chuckling would react if he learned the bookseller the dirties contained in this book.

For the rest, we walk a little in the old town, now deserted alleys, sometimes crowded with people. We get lost on false as Cap'n Jeremiah always find the North. The strong silent passages we are uncomfortable, both seems quiet unusual. It must also be said that this part of the city seems to collapse on itself slowly, for lack of renovation. Arches support the facades, were prevented from falling walls, some houses lean dangerously. One almost wonders how long the bones of the ageless city will bear its weight. The light only rarely to brighten the shades of gray dominate. This area gives me the impression of a huge rock in which small rodents have dug their burrows and dens, as space is crowded with buildings and structures to support, and supports supports. Whole passages are are covered and the effect of internal streets.

is in the wider streets that focuses animation, with ephemera stores, sellers of sweets and strong-arm strength to experience their machines where you have Send a weight as high as possible on its vertical rails. We feel it's fair, people seem idle. Aimless walkers fun of anything, buy dolls and soft drinks. Sometimes, a procession led by turbaned men. Often, women covered with long black veil that they take with their teeth. Between the abandoned streets and those overflowing with people, we struggle to feel good. Under the porch of the famous Grand Mosque, is the rat race: too many believers want to pray. We renounce the visit.

The fourth and final day of Eid, we decide to continue our journey towards Turkey. Having just missed the 9:30 bus, we wait on a bench, until he arrives 10.30am. The bus station reminds those of Latin America, with their scheduled departures as clocks. Eyes are already a bit more elusive, more discreet smiles, we feel we are closer to Europe. People wear outfits more varied, and sometimes their eyes are blue. The bus takes us to trace Latakia on the highway without incident. On television, a Syrian soap opera that chronicles the escapades of a taxi driver. Still, I fall asleep.

The trip takes longer than we expected, and when we reach the town, the light is already Vespers. Yet it is barely 15 hours. But here, the clocks do not care about the rhythm of the sun, which rises yet not so late. Absurdity of modern life! Latakia is to be a great city even uglier than the bus deposited us far from the sea, which anyway seems overwhelmed by the shipyards. So we wanted to spend a quiet evening here, with walk around the Mediterranean, we do not finally packaged. We find no evil half a mobster who pocketed a fat commission to take us away, where parking a bus to Antakya, the first major city after the Turkish border. Much progress.

The journey, once again, is much slower than we had hoped. Passengers talking loudly, some smoke, while the bus windows are sealed. The air conditioning blows cold at first too, then too hot. All with a road and zigue zague which, in a landscape less and less informed. Before reaching the border, we stop outside a shop where Turkish passengers are full of huge boxes of biscuits and tea. It's a bit of duty free corner. At the customs, we end up with a group of Polish students in Erasmus they took advantage of Eid to leave Turkey and Syria to visit a bit. Customs officers make sure once again by a battery of questions that we are honest people who never set foot in Israel. It's an obsession! Then, the entry into Turkish territory, waiting for the customs officers who, well warm in their shelter, make us feel with their glasses of steaming tea and a generous box of Turkish delight, buffering our passports, we chat, shuddering with a biologist Lebanese who spent some time at Lyon. Antakya we reach early in the night. The bus station is far from everything, but the keeper of a tavern exchange our tickets last Syrian, indicates a rudimentary hotel located in the station and we prepare grilled sandwiches. The icing on the Turkish Delight, you get to buy bus tickets to Istanbul! It was not won since the end of this long weekend, they showed almost all full. Finally, we have a good mind to tell us too, that God is great!

Embalming While Pregnant Risks

Circumvention - Episode 1

past few weeks, it became clear that we did not want to return to France by plane from Cairo, as we had originally planned. Having never lived abroad so long, we were afraid of suffering a shock too great, landing in a French airport, full of French speaking, French-French concerns which we had gradually forgotten the content, especially as we don aircraft that very few read the news online, frankly too depressing when you live in the excitement of discovery learning. It remained to choose the route by land and sea. Leave Egypt from the west across Libya seemed to promise a fascinating route through the desert, but this involved a Libyan visa complicated and required an escort throughout the trip to Libya. Bad idea, then.
We therefore opted for a Grand Bypass the Mediterranean to the east.

Before reaching Nuweiba on the Sinai coast is a tough road night reminded us of the journey to La Paz in Bolivia, because again, our bus to deliver an awful force smell of hot rubber, has been declared unfit to traffic in the middle of night. The driver, who was listening to religious sermons recorded on a tape, had therefore decided to stop driving at a walk, waiting for a bus in good condition to come pick us up. Strange feeling, to ride in the dark of the desert by saying it's a damn sleepless night! Nuweiba early morning air has a sinister, with its blind and filthy cats that continue, ignoring the silent crowd stood in line while waiting for boarding. Men sleep on transit benches, wrapped in blankets, others, those who hold the coffee, have the look a little too awake for those who will do good business.

Pending the opening of the window where we can buy our tickets ferry to Aqaba, Jordan first step, we will sit down on a piece of dirty beach, facing the brilliant blue of the Red Sea which not deserve its name. Later, armed with our tickets, we expect in a dark hall, crowded with benches too narrow. On one side of a grid, single men, many, on the other hand, families with women and children. This creates a weird atmosphere. Cluster flies clump on the sputum, peelings and other waste strewn on the ground. There is no running water the toilet. Jeremiah plague: "It looks like a refugee camp! "It's enough bitching, yes, because we still paid $ 150 for a trip that lasted an hour and a half. In addition, we are not starting at 14 hours instead of the advertised 11 hours ...

On the ferry, it is forbidden to go outside on the deck, then we remain quietly sitting on our plush seats. Jeremiah while chatting with a Saudi who wishes to give advice and contacts for the rest of our stay, I doze gently. On arrival, we wait before completing the formalities input on Jordanian territory. There is indeed a group of Swiss women in turmoil as their guide is not there to greet them, and they have to stamp their passports themselves. It was our time. In the window of the Duty Free shop is fun to notice a scent so-called French "Water" from Dupont, Paris. One wonders under what bridge was drawn that water!

With only 3 dinars in his pocket (or 3 euros) from the exchange of our latest Egyptian pounds, we will arrange a minibus driver who leads a youth group in Petra: we will deposit near center of Aqaba. We will not go to Petra in a few days. We remain silent during this trip that we made along the Gulf of Aqaba, blue and golden, the sea surrounded by desert. Young vacationers do not care to comment on the landscape, absorbed by the story of a Canadian too talkative proud to tell how he got ripped off once again and moult in Egypt ...

In Aqaba, we take the time to sit and write, and feasted their fill of fresh feta cheese, black olives and vegetables. The show airs neat town, with its small public gardens, its many street trash, its promenade lined with palm trees. We take the habit of going to see the sun set behind the mountains of Israel, just a few miles on the opposite bank. Jordanians suspected to have deliberately planted by the largest flag in the world, to defy the neighboring country. Although it is unclear how the locals live being so close to Israel, we feel a great discomfort when a restaurateur began to serve us, before we had ordered kebabs, an anti-Semitic speech nauseous. It even has the nerve to say that Sarkozy is in fact an Israeli who would leave his country until 1998! We do not like the dwarf, but we do not like the lies told by arrant asses!

In the minibus to Wadi Musa, the village near Petra, we'll meet Sandra and Julian, a young married couple who begin a honeymoon rather original, since they have just begun ... a world tour a year! Are discussed throughout the journey, some curious journey of others. Meanwhile, the mountains roam around the road is smooth, as high waves still a vast sea of sand. They leave us the way, for they have already gone to Petra. As for us, on arrival in Wadi Musa, we take a room where, for the first time in months, we re-discover a radiator! He is not running, but still ... Late afternoon we will walk in the surrounding olive groves. Everything is so peaceful that we choose a small clearing to do tai chi facing sunset. The call to prayer, proclaimed in 6 or 7 different mosques, disturbs the end of this moment of relaxation ... We returned at dusk, escorted by a flock of chirping sparrows to kids. The oldest, a teenager a little cheesy, I ventured to touch his head. He shows me the thumbs Jeremiah, seem to say: "She is too cool, your wife! "

The next morning we rise early to visit the archaeological site of Petra, the ancient Nabatean city. Upon entering the site, I am caught by the magic of quiet places. We pass houses of jinn, large boulders and clear-cut cube pierced by a door designed to welcome the spirits of the mountains to stay kind to locals and visitors. The stony landscape, dry as a dead stump, is dotted with hills and rocks monumental, with rounded edges by winds. It seems to be gradually swallowed by the mountain, which the esophagus narrows and darkens progressively as it deepens. In places, the ground pad that reminds those crazy Romans added their two cents. We are impressed by ditches dug one meter high in the wall and it is difficult to imagine that thunderstorms are dangerous to the point of turning into a torrent this bottleneck, a phenomenon halted for centuries by building a little further , an underground canal. From either side of the road, niches carved on the wall to provide shelter invisible protecting gods. Later, the remains of a caravan of camels three times larger than life can be glimpsed in stone yet, despite the blows delivered by gum winds millennia. A little further, a tree has managed to seep between the cracks and grows as it may, but firm on its twisted trunk dry fiber. The sun barely make their way to the ground, and it is not hot, to walk together.

After the parade, Jeremy knows a surprise waiting for me, since it is for her that he wanted to take me to this site he had visited. I can not make that first light brighter, due to enlargement of the neck ... then I realized! It is an immense front, already far seems monumental, almost leaves me speechless. This tomb was extravagant color salmon dug deep in the mountains, and decorated at the entrance columns, capitals and statues directly extracted from the wall. Reminds me of an anecdote told in Sophie's World: A little girl goes every day to visit a sculptor. After several weeks, the artist has finished his work, is a large marble Prancing Horse in its course. The girl then asked the sculptor: "How did you know The horse was hidden in the block of stone? "I, like, I wonder how the Nabataeans have guessed that such a beautiful facade hiding in the mountains ... Wren building rises so high that the artisans had to dig a kind of scale, ie a succession of holes that gave them enough grip to be able to climb to the top.

You laugh at the hat? But know that El Sombrero Magico has traveled from Argentina to be able to play the Indiana Jones in Petra! So there!

The rest of the site, a giant, is correspondingly: cliffs pierced and carved sculptures slowly polished by wind-borne sand, rock veins naturally colored, like a strange mineral paint ... Besides the tombs, there remains a Roman theater, a temple more imposing, and colonnades, half restored. Successive earthquakes have permanently destroyed the houses and shops of the ancient city. We spend the whole day, we too happy in breathless steep stairs leading to points of view. It's been a while since we did not trudge so!

course, like all sites exceptional there are crowd. The tours by camel or horse turn into a donkey turns on steep slopes, which has the effect of restoring the site to its original animation, price, nevertheless, a floor strewn with dung. Less funny, souvenir stalls are set up anywhere, any how, in defiance of the magic of Petra, which lies above all in the beauty of its landscapes. Even the views are busy! And stuff to sell necklaces, trinkets, old coins covered with gray-green and self-proclaimed "authentically ancient."

But the shame goes even further: children work on the site. Some temper maybe they do "that" sell postcards or bargain for souvenirs, only they have little more than 12 years, the youngest just 6, an age which the world West agrees that education is a duty as an inalienable right. I hear a tourist, thirties, ask a kid how much he earns a day with his postcards, and if bought sweets with the money ... She seems to think he did it for fun and make money! UNESCO, who scored the site on the World Heritage List of Humanity , would he so shamefully forgot to send it to UNICEF to protect these children?

Engagement Diagram Head

Budget

When we arrived in Egypt from Sudan, one is struck by two "details" as big as the nose on two faces and, to paraphrase Panoramix, what nose! On the one hand, the quality of hotels and meals skyrocketing, while prices remain equal to those of Sudan, and would even tend to decrease. On the other hand, relations with the people wickedly complicated. To this, we see a central explanation (such as the nose, Compass Figure (style)): mass tourism. We have already mentioned our dismay face alignments floating hotels in Aswan, then we will not drive the nail, even if it would give us the illusion that the nail in question could result in the liner sly water supply that would help nail, I mean pouring ... Uh, finally, in short ...

But even in this budget section, we longed to emphasize that mass tourism, it offers weary travelers an imperious and imperial feeling of rest, with good beds, private bathrooms and not deprived of cleanliness, food varied, a hot shower on tap and fresh air to the air conditioning without running water after drinking, this mass tourism, therefore, the fact remains the scourge that we found in Bali and who multiplied found here, probably because there is still more massive (close to Europe) and even earlier (do not forget that Agatha Christie had in person on holidays). So is the usual thing: when a bus costs 1 Egyptian Pound (EP) per person and note that this is the case in all central cities we visited, the Receiver ad 10 or 15, when a grocer saw us back several days later, he raises its prices over the days, when approaching a tourist site, souvenir sellers and drivers of horse-drawn carriages do not we let go, etc., etc.. We will not list them, but you'll understand: it gets on the system. At this point we have not had the courage to stop at Luxor, despite the wonders that the site seems to promise.

The worst part is that the other Egyptians who are not working in the tourism industry, are adorable! Invitations to drink tea fuse, and it seems to be back in Sudan. After all, do not we been told, one day, it is in fact one and the same people ? As a result, the country becomes an interesting paradox: great people but not much to see in some places and sites elsewhere but exceptional people with execrable dollars instead of eyes. Not easy to draw a satisfactory route there!

To oversimplify, saying that Egypt is a desert, crossed from south to north through the Nile river-god who creates for centuries a rich life. Today, parallel to the river, there are towns, roads, railway. And, of course, countless pharaonic ruins that attract the ferocious hordes in shorts. For the pharaohs had already understood the trick: no Nile, no hello. The problem is that these remains are so numerous that it is hard to find cities where the feet of tourists have never laid hands. Then we, what we did is that we chose not too well known sites, to enjoy relative peace in our daily lives: the tombs of the nobles in Aswan (25 E per person), the extraordinary temple of Edfu (60 E per person), the inevitable Pyramids of Giza (60 E per person), the National Museum in Cairo, fascinating (60 E per person), the disappointing Museum of Modern Art in Cairo (30 EP per person). It has already feasted with all that! You can find a price list of other sites by clicking here , it is not quite up to date, but it gives an order of magnitude. Note that all sites show prices official, printed clearly on the tickets. So there, at least, no mess.

To move around the country, we always took the train, a model of punctuality and comfort. We took the tickets the day before, at the counter, and it was as simple as salam aleikoum. The third class, not air conditioned, said Indonesian trains, with smoking, its street vendors, beggars and its family atmosphere. In October, we found that the air conditioning was not justified, and we have done in this class trips Aswan-Edfu (10 E per person, 2 hours) and Edfu, Assiut (17.50 E per person 6 hours). However, we opted for the second class for journeys Assiut-Cairo (40 E per person 6 hours), Cairo-Alexandria (40 E per person, 4 hours) and Alexandria, Ismailia (30 E per person 3 hours) to enjoy a slightly better comfort, with reclining seats a little more mellow. The passing landscape through the windows is rather monotonous, as being aware of the vast flat plains carved by wide rivers. We took the bus only once, between Ismailia and Nuweiba (Sinai) for the exorbitant price of 90 E per person, a sobering experience, as the bus, which leaves only Ismailia 22h (one bus per day), left two hours late, falling down in the middle of night. Fortunately, we were picked up by a bus right, we did arrive around 6am.

As for hotels, always with private bathrooms, they were quality and price variables in Aswan, we paid 70 for a double EP with impeccable conditioning and hearty breakfast Egyptian (El Safa Hotel, near the station , with nice people) in Edfu EP 40 for a double room shabby and dirty, with no sheets and wheezy fan changed (near the temple) in Assiut EP 100 for a double correct (El Hossein hotel near the station); Cairo EP 120 for a double room "vintage" style great-aunt nice, with air conditioning (not needed in this season), breakfast Egyptian rather thin, and unfortunately a little invasive, a small colony of cockroaches (Happy Dreams Hotel, near Central Station) in Alexandria for EP 150 nice double room with balcony and breakfast (we do not remember the name but it was still not far from the station, a neighborhood a bit noisy). We were stunned to see that Double beds are not available in Egypt, or at least not in the hotels we have visited, which reinforces our impression that marital relations are not very funky, here. Sheriff, met with our editor friend in Cairo, showed stunned to learn that our rare disagreements are resolved torque always through dialogue. He also expressed great surprise when we told him we were doing joint account, and it was not uncommon in France: in Egypt, he told us, is the man who provides for family needs (rent, food, fuel ...), even if the wife works too. However, numerous contacts and travels in Europe had already been made aware of these features!

But back to the hotel, we were faced with a law Assiut Egypt who is killed in tourist areas: an unmarried couple have no right to sleep in the same room. The receptionist's first hotel where we got asked to see our marriage certificate, seeing that I was not wearing the same name as Jeremiah. In fact, it is forbidden for a woman to a hotel room with a man who is not her family (husband, father, brother). Sheriff told us later that the bride and groom Egyptian receive immediately a kind of small card stating that they are a couple official and legitimate. And then it's like our Carte Vitale, they always keep them. The laws are considerably relaxed for tourists, but in areas that attract almost no foreigners, they reappear with their swords of bronze. At Ismailia, before being hosted by our friend Foad, we even heard that a hotel was full, while the reception table sported a collection of keys clearly indicating that at least twenty rooms were Free. But people are a bit fussy about the law, and especially religion, may be show defiant in the face of dreadful miscreants to deviant mores.

In the end, it was felt that this country is crossed by many ailments. Religion shows itself everywhere, with absurd calls to prayer initiated by speakers themselves hoarse and crackling five times a day, as if the contest was the one who shouts the loudest. At 4:30 am, awakened by the muezzin overzealous, I could not help but think of Orwell telescreens was invented in 1984 . He also seemed that Islam knows hard in Egypt a success that I had not noticed ten years ago: I do not remember seeing so many women wearing full black veil claim they raise the fingertips when they eat out. As for the other sails, they are certainly all colors, but they do reveal that the oval face, masking hair, ears, neck, shoulder and neck. Only the Christian who often bear a prominent cross pendant, seem not to allow themselves to cover their heads. The discomfort is palpable when looking at gender relations. The story of the marriage certificate summarized perfectly: outside marriage, men and women do not attend. This causes many young disarray terrible, because those who lack the means to go to university (where they would be less subject to heavy eyes) or the Internet to flirt on MSN, or a family known for enjoying an arranged marriage waiting desperately for a sign from heaven find their soul mate. We were stunned to hear a young age tell us that since he has a girlfriend, it does not meet the girls who put to the floor without a male escort.

All this gives the impression that Egypt is a country where they live, what thousands of tourists who pass may not have unaware. Moreover, mass tourism, focused exclusively on the ruins of palaces, tombs and ancient temples, modern Egyptians must give the sad impression that, basically, nobody cares about them or their lifestyle.