Once a sleepy upmarket beach destination, the town of Ras El Bar on Egypt's Mediterranean coast now attracts the not-so-well-heeled from across the Nile Delta after losing its well-to-do patrons to newer, more vibrant spots.
Sitting on a spit of land along the eastern bank of the Damietta branch of the Nile where it empties into the Mediterranean, Ras El Bar offers a view found almost nowhere else: fresh river water on one side, open sea on the other. Its charm drew royalty, aristocrats and celebrities alike in the last century.
Egypt's last monarch, King Farouq, was a frequent summer visitor before he was deposed by army officers in 1952. The singer Umm Kulthum and composer Mohamed Abdel-Wahab, the two giants of Egyptian music, spent their summers here and gave performances by the sea.
The town remains a popular resort where much fun can be had, but is not for the faint of heart or anyone who dreams of dozing off on a sunbed with the sound of waves soothing the soul.
The beach is so densely packed that there is hardly room to reach the water without bumping into someone or something. The chatter is so loud, everyone has to shout to be heard.
Then there are the scores of hawkers, some with their merchandise on pushcarts, who yell at the top of their voices and play popular Egyptian music on loudspeakers to attract attention. Because there is hardly any space on the beach among the holidaymakers, they push their carts through the water among the bathers.
So varied are the goods they sell that, combined, they could match the offerings at a small mall: fake designer sunglasses, women's and children's clothes, sweets, men's underwear, baked sweet potatoes, balloons, seafood, ice cream, pastries and a wide range of fruits, including prickly pears and mangoes.
When The National visited, the beach scene was made even more daunting by the appearance of three young men carrying a fearsome python, a tiny brown monkey and a large falcon. For a small baksheesh, holidaymakers looking for a unique Ras El Bar memory could have their photo taken with any or all three.
Where once the entertainment came from Umm Kulthum and the tarab of a live orchestra, today it is from films projected on to screens set up at either end of the beach, rows of plastic chairs set up in front of them in which holidaymakers sit transfixed.
The vibe is distinctly conservative middle-class Egyptian.
Women on the beach wear burkinis or stay in their street clothes, complete with the hijab, despite the heat and high humidity. Restaurants and hotel lobbies play Quranic recitations, not the easy listening or jazz music heard in upscale resorts.
Ras El Bar is rarely mentioned now, almost totally eclipsed by the new upscale sea resorts to the west and the posh ones along the Red Sea coast, both attracting wealthy Egyptians, with luxurious and exclusive accommodation, the latest swimwear fashion and fine dining defining their sojourns there.
“You may never find anyone from Cairo here these days,” mused Ahmed, who peddles fake sunglasses on the beach for up to 200 pounds ($4) a pair.
“They are all fellaheen now,” he said, using the somewhat derogatory Arabic word to refer to Egyptians from villages and towns in the Nile Delta north of Cairo.
In many ways, the migration of wealthy Egyptians away from Ras El Bar speaks to the widening financial and social gap among Egyptians, with the rich able to buy or rent holiday homes in spots like the North Coast on the Mediterranean, better known as Sahel, or El Gouna on the Red Sea.
The vast majority of Egypt's 110 million people, on the other hand, are so crushed by high inflation, expensive services and an array of direct and indirect taxes that even a day in Ras El Bar has become out of reach for many.
“We used to come here before my father retired with a pension much smaller than his salary,” said Ziad Sabry, a 26-year-old biophysics graduate from the nearby city of Damietta who is waiting on tables in Ras El Bar until he finds a job in his field.
“We can no longer afford a holiday here,” he added.
Rents and food prices have risen sharply, with a one-night stay in a seaside apartment costing as much as 3,000 pounds. It is a fraction of what holidaymakers would pay at a high-end resort in North Coast and El Gouna, but a significant amount for the average middle-class family.
“We grew up accustomed to holidaying in Ras El Bar. It's the best place to be in the summer,” said Mohammed Mahfouz, 45, who was there on a recent weekend with his wife and two children.
“But now we have a problem with the hawkers on the beach, who keep fighting each other. The people we see on the beach now are not the same people we used to see here years ago. We really don't know where they are from. The toilets are also filthy,” he added as his family sat next to him, shortly before they began their evening journey home to the nearby city of Mansoura.
“A small bottle of water sells for 15 pounds when you can get it in the supermarket for just seven,” he mused. “But we are still coming back in August for a week.”
Mr Mahfouz's plan to return is perhaps testimony to the enduring pull of Ras El Bar, but it also suggests a generous level of tolerance for the town's current state.
Many of the residential streets are heavily littered dirt tracks. The sand on the beach closest to the water is also strewn with rubbish, and the water where everyone bathes is murky brown. The quality of food outlets on the beach is way below par.
A lone five-star hotel on a secluded spot near the lighthouses attracts a small clique of wealthy Egyptians who continue to romanticise the resort but have no stomach for the rough and tumble of the crowded beaches and markets.
