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Yesterday was Friday, holy day here in Egypt, and there is no mistaking it! All day the town reverberated with the sound of the mullah calling the men to prayer, a sound that is amplified through the many speakers adorning the minarets. Jamie jumped on his bike and recorded a little tour of these sounds, which are quite extraordinary to the western ear.
Once again, the sweet farmer’s daughter comes running down to us and apologises that dinner will not be ready for a while as she is milking the cow and off she runs. Though we don’t hear said cow, as we play our game of Rumicub, we are surrounded by bleating goats, hooting owls, braying donkeys, jumping fish and crowing cockerels – life on this island is actually quite noisy!
We stumbled round the rocky path and into an open plain, decorated with scrub, fig trees, old engines and goats, until we were presented with an oasis of vegetables within the confines of an ancient wall. In this compound stood a tiny brick shack and to get to it one had to walk across a wooden plank that spanned a huge, deep well. We were introduced to a grandmother and her daughter, both of whom lived in the shack and maintained the garden, and the daughters and son of the local goat herder.