The Particular Rhythm of Alexandria

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What people tend to carry home from Alexandria isn’t a checklist of ancient sites, but a very specific set of sensory habits. The salted Mediterranean wind pushing down the narrow lanes of Bahary. The low rumble of the yellow tram as it rattles past Art Deco balconies, carrying commuters home with newsprint folded under their arms. It is a city of long, slow afternoons spent in high-ceilinged cafes where brass spoons clink against glass cups of black tea.

You find yourself wanting to go back just for the hour right before sunset along the Corniche, when the fishermen coil their handlines against the stone seawall and the light turns a soft, bruised violet over the harbor, right as the sea spray hits the glass—