Saturday 25th December 2010

I departed Morpeth feeling confident of a timely arrival in Egypt, despite the thick snow and freezing temperatures across most of Europe and the UK. Amsterdam airport had been closed the previous weekend but re-opened once the snow was cleared. Would I be delayed? Only time would tell.

It felt strange to be travelling on Christmas Day, especially with sandwiches and a slice of cake prepared for lunch. Not working at the Cathedral (for the first Christmas in three years) was discombobulating, but excitement and adventure awaited in lands afar, and, after all, fleeing to Egypt on Christmas Day seemed somewhat appropriate (though I was dubious as to whether the Holy Family had to endure in-flight food on their flight from Israel).

Having arrived at Newcastle Airport far too early, there was a long wait until boarding so I watched an episode of Top Gear on my laptop. Serendipitously I looked up from the screen a few minutes before it finished to see a deserted departure lounge, so scurried to the gate at just the right moment to board the flight to Amsterdam.

Seeing the snow-covered landscape from above was quite surreal – only the roads were visible in a miniature winter wonderland. As the flight passed over Durham I spared a thought for the vergers working busily away to ready the Cathedral for Christmas Day Evensong later in the afternoon (Mass would have just been concluding); a momentary pang of nostalgia hit, which was quickly forgotten as hunger set in, and I set in to my sandwiches, stollen and flap-jack – an unorthodox Christmas Lunch over the North Sea.

Arrival in Amsterdam heralded an even longer wait of five hours for the connecting flight. The time was filled with an hour of free wi-fi surfing, a little sleep, some reading and a slice of pizza. Additionally, the Rijksmuseum provided an all-too-brief interlude perusing Dutch paintings, preceded by a few moments of quiet in the interfaith Meditation Centre (in which some Muslims were praying).

But trouble loomed. Out of the window, in the artificial apron lights, small flakes of snow could be seen descending from the heavens. Would my optimism for the warm climes of Egypt be misfounded? Would I be stuck on an unwelcoming airport floor for the night?

After some brief confusion over signage, I proceeded to the correct gate for the flight. A friendly security guard, who clearly enjoyed the sound of his own voice, ushered the long queue through security, albeit rather slowly. The plane was clearly going to be full. There were still no signs of a delayed departure, but this quickly changed as we were pushed from the stand ten minutes late, and were informed that the aircraft would be de-iced en route to the runway. The snow was pouring down heavily and an army of snowploughs stood, ominously expectant, along the perimeter, lights flashing brightly in the dark, snow-filled night.

We drew alongside the de-icing bays where a queue of KLM aircraft, of varying sizes, sat as the War of the Worlds aliens, with their heat-rays of steamy de-icer, loomed up over the aeroplanes to spray them with their payload. They seemed eerie and oddly threatening. But their objective was peaceful, and eventually our turn came to be warmed by their heat-rays.

But the delay was minimal and we continued taxiing to the runway ready for take-off. Would we make it into the sky? Yes, as it happens, and fortunately only half-an-hour late. On arrival at Cairo in the middle of the night, a Neoplan took us from aircraft to airport, depositing us in the newly-built Terminal 1. Visually it was a pleasant building (for an airport) but it quickly became all-too-apparent that little or no thought had been given to people-flow. Forty minutes later I made it through passport control – fuming at the inefficiency and lack of signage for the visa queue – before realising that the inefficiency was simply to disguise the even greater inefficiency of the baggage handlers. As I waited, I worried that Seif would be growing bored in the Arrivals hall.

Eventually my suitcase trundled around the belt and I made my way out into the Egyptian night with a very patient Seif. He drove me – rather chaotically – through the quiet roads to his Mother’s house, and I collapsed into bed at 4.30am. At 4.45am I was awoken by the local cantor singing (rather poorly) the call to prayer. But tiredness overcame and I quickly slipped back into slumberland, dreaming of the adventures that lay ahead.

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Sunday 26th December 2010