The Arabian Nightmare [antikvár]

IThe Way into CairoFor a long time I used to go to bed early. Though the art of reading is not widespread in these parts, I confess myself to be a devotee of the practice and, in particular, of reading in bed. It is peculiarly pleasant, I have found, to lie with the book propped up against the knees and, feeling the lids grow heavy, to drift off to sleep, to drift off in such a way that in the morning it seems unclear where the burden of the book ended and my own dreams began. A narrative of the manners and customs of some exotic people is particularly suitable for such a purpose.For a long time too I have meditated writing a guidebook to these parts, or a romance, a guidebook cast in the form of a romance, or a romance cast in the form of a guidebook, in any case a narrative designed to be read in bed. The writing of a hook in which the heroes and villains of the adventure should tour the territory I wished to describe would be a feat difficult but not impossible of achievement. I no longer go to bed early, and when I do unaccountable fears keep me awake, but, as I lie in the cold and the dark, theform my narrative must take becomes clearer.The city of Alexandria is relatively well known to Western travellers and readers. Cairo is different, and in the Cairo I know, more than in any other place, the stranger needs a guide, for, though the city's principal monuments are obvious to the eye, its diversions are transitory and less easy to find, and though the inhabitants may welcome theforeigner with a smile, beware, for they are all charlatans and liars. They will cheat you if they can. I can help you there.II