Alexandria Egypt, Cairo

Egypt

Few cities bear a name so laden with memory. Founded by Alexander the Great in 331 BCE, Alexandria was the intellectual capital of the ancient world, that of the Lighthouse and the great Library, that of Cleopatra. Almost nothing remains of these glories—and yet everything here still speaks of them. Egypt's second city welcomes ships in the hollow of its historic anchorage, minutes from a centre where century-old cafés stand alongside buried vestiges.

Qaitbay: Sentinel Over the Lighthouse's Ruins

At the eastern bay's tip, Sultan Qaitbay's fort has occupied since 1477 the very islet where the Lighthouse stood, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, brought down by medieval earthquakes. The builders indeed reused its blocks: skirting the ramparts, you spot pink granite columns threaded among blonde stones. From the walls, the view embraces the entire curve of the bay, and the waves beating the riprap give an idea of what ancient sailors saw arriving from the west.

The Library Reborn

On the waterfront, a massive disc of grey granite tilts toward the Mediterranean like a rising sun: the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, inaugurated in 2002 to reconnect with the city's learned tradition. The reading room in tiers, bathed in light filtered by hundreds of light wells, ranks among the great contemporary spaces of the Mediterranean basin. Museums, manuscripts and exhibitions complete the ensemble; even a brief visit leaves a lasting impression, and the contrast between this granite vessel and the weathered buildings of the waterfront sums up the city of today.

Beneath the City: Another Alexandria

In the Karmouz quarter, a spiral staircase descends into the Catacombs of Kom el-Shoqafa, discovered in 1900 when, legend says, a donkey suddenly sank through the ground above them. In this Roman necropolis, Egypt's gods wear the toga: Anubis is clad as a legionnaire, sarcophagi mix lotus and Greek garlands. This syncretism sums up the city better than any book. Nearby, the column called "Pompey's"—in reality raised for Emperor Diocletian—rears its massive shaft of Aswan granite amid the vestiges of the Serapeum and recovered sphinxes.

The Corniche: Cafés and the Sea

Between two monuments, Alexandria is savoured along its Corniche, about twenty kilometres of waterfront where families and anglers stroll. Restaurants in the old port quarter serve grilled fish and prawns chosen from the display; the moulded cafés, inherited from the cosmopolitan era, pour a mint tea that invites you to watch the city pass. Readers of Cavafy or Lawrence Durrell will recognise addresses where the cosmopolitan metropolis of the last century still lingers, that of Greek, Italian and Levantine merchants. Toward the east, the gardens of Montaza Palace, former royal estates planted with palms and pines, offer a shaded interlude facing the waters.

And What of Cairo?

Many itineraries use this port as a gateway to the pyramids: allow about three hours by desert highway, as much returning. The day is long but well-worn, and seeing Giza is worth sacrifices. When time at quay allows, the choice becomes serious; otherwise, Alexandria itself fills a day without trouble—and with what a setting.

As you return to sea, you carry the Alexandrian paradox: a city whose wonders have vanished yet whose aura remains intact. The library's disc salutes the Lighthouse fort across the bay, twenty-three centuries answer one another from pier to pier, and the traveller understands that here, the legend has never truly interrupted.