A hoopoe cooed incessantly at the bedroom window at 3:30pm. I figured that this "messenger from God" was telling me it was time to get up. A headache and a queasy tummy had me in bed all day. I can only think that the gin served at the hotel last night was the local brand: "Gordoon's Gin" - and of questionable purity.
Wanting some fresh air, we walked a little in the fields surrounding our flat. The wheat is being harvested. Sheaves are tied up in neat little bundles on a scale far smaller than the Canadian Prairies; so small that I can't believe that these fields are for anything other than family consumption. I have seen small mills in the villages where it appeared that families could turn their grain into flour for those shamsi bread loaves they bake. A few years ago I worked with a friend on a report examining wheat imports and was surprised to learn that a great deal of Egypt's wheat comes from India and Pakistan, in addition to Russia and USA.
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