Old dirty milk. The milk itself is not old nor dirty, but the setting of this story is. I was sent to buy cream today. I was going out anyway and was asked to buy cream on the way back. It is around the neighborhood anyway so it didn't matter. I said i would buy the cream from the specific place i was given directions to. The place is called Khalifa. It's at the end of the car dealership road of Heliopolis, just before the junction of Korba and Roxy. If you're from Heliopolis, you know where I'm trying to describe, if you're not, you probably don't care.
Anyway, after going slow the entire street try to find the place, i found it at the end. It's a very busy street with open stores and lights everywhere and double parked cars. I had to ask only two people before i was correctly pointed. I found parking almost right outside the place. That's so good it's worthy of mention.
Now coming from a busy place like Cairo, i am used to the dirty sidewalks and streets. But having a dairy products store in the middle of all the dirt is just plain unappealing and unflattering. I am sure the products are clean, but the street isn't. And neither is the store. It's a pretty small place, with just enough room for a cashier, two big fridges and a display fridge. There was an area in the back where the products are made and what-not, but i didn't see much of it through my standing spot just past the entrance. I asked for half a kilo of cream (little did i know then, that's a lot of cream). As it was being prepared or the customer before me was being served or whatever, i had my chance to look around. All the products where in clean, individual packages. There were many different kinds of cheese, rice pudding, creme caramel, fresh mild, fresh butter, and basically anything out of a cow. Most were white, cold, and clearly fresh. But the fridges were old. The floor wasn't filthy, but it wasn't clean either. The man at the cashier and the nice man serving from behind the display fridge looked as worn out as the big fridge.
I had to ask for directions to that place not because i had never been there, but because i had not been there in a very long time. I remembered as soon as i walked in that i used to go with my mom when we went shopping together. This was at least ten years ago, when traffic was much better and we could easily drive around Heliopolis picking up things like cream and cheese. All i could think of in those few seconds i had to wait before i was served was that how everything was exactly the same. It was like a memory revival after loss. I could remember when i last went and how the same cheese was in the same spot in the same display fridge, probably with the same man serving it.
To me, that is the good kind of old. Where time can pass and you choose to buy your dairy elsewhere, but somewhere in the neighborhood everything is still the same. And that is the point of this. I don't care that the floor was dirty or the street was crowded or the fridge was ancient; it was all still the same.
Anyway, after going slow the entire street try to find the place, i found it at the end. It's a very busy street with open stores and lights everywhere and double parked cars. I had to ask only two people before i was correctly pointed. I found parking almost right outside the place. That's so good it's worthy of mention.
Now coming from a busy place like Cairo, i am used to the dirty sidewalks and streets. But having a dairy products store in the middle of all the dirt is just plain unappealing and unflattering. I am sure the products are clean, but the street isn't. And neither is the store. It's a pretty small place, with just enough room for a cashier, two big fridges and a display fridge. There was an area in the back where the products are made and what-not, but i didn't see much of it through my standing spot just past the entrance. I asked for half a kilo of cream (little did i know then, that's a lot of cream). As it was being prepared or the customer before me was being served or whatever, i had my chance to look around. All the products where in clean, individual packages. There were many different kinds of cheese, rice pudding, creme caramel, fresh mild, fresh butter, and basically anything out of a cow. Most were white, cold, and clearly fresh. But the fridges were old. The floor wasn't filthy, but it wasn't clean either. The man at the cashier and the nice man serving from behind the display fridge looked as worn out as the big fridge.
I had to ask for directions to that place not because i had never been there, but because i had not been there in a very long time. I remembered as soon as i walked in that i used to go with my mom when we went shopping together. This was at least ten years ago, when traffic was much better and we could easily drive around Heliopolis picking up things like cream and cheese. All i could think of in those few seconds i had to wait before i was served was that how everything was exactly the same. It was like a memory revival after loss. I could remember when i last went and how the same cheese was in the same spot in the same display fridge, probably with the same man serving it.
To me, that is the good kind of old. Where time can pass and you choose to buy your dairy elsewhere, but somewhere in the neighborhood everything is still the same. And that is the point of this. I don't care that the floor was dirty or the street was crowded or the fridge was ancient; it was all still the same.
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