Egypt Without a Guide: Alexandria, Libraries and the Mediterranean

After several days among pyramids, tombs, and ancient monuments, I was ready for something completely different.

One of the main reasons I had travelled to Alexandria was the Bibliotheca Alexandrina. Long before I visited Egypt, I had followed the project from Norway because it was designed by Snøhetta, the same architectural firm behind my present workplace.

The bus ride north from Cairo was a welcome change of pace. We crossed the Nile and headed towards Egypt’s Mediterranean coast.

The moment I arrived, I realised how much I had missed the sea.

After days surrounded by sand, stone, and desert landscapes, the sight of open water felt refreshing. The air seemed cleaner, the pace slower, and the atmosphere more relaxed. To make things even better, my hotel room overlooked the sea.

Alexandria may have been founded by Alexander the Great more than two thousand years ago, but today it stretches for over thirty kilometres along Egypt’s northern coastline. It receives visitors, of course, but compared with Cairo, Luxor, or the pyramids, it feels surprisingly overlooked.

The following morning, I arrived at the library shortly after it opened.

One advantage of being an early riser is that you often have places almost to yourself. Libraries, much like churches, mosques, and theatres, are places I am naturally drawn to.

I would never claim to be a great scholar, but I visit the public library in Oslo almost every week. Perhaps I secretly hope that some of the knowledge stored inside all those books might somehow rub off on me.

I love old, dusty libraries such as Trinity College Library in Dublin.

Yet there is something equally powerful about stepping into a modern library on a grand scale.

The main reading hall of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina is vast. Light pours in through the angled roof, and there seems to be endless space for reading, studying, and working. I could easily imagine the place filled with students later in the day.

The only disappointment was discovering that the Nobel section required a separate appointment to visit. I had hoped to see it, but apart from that, the library alone was worth the journey to Alexandria.

Afterwards, it was time to explore the city on foot.

My first destination was the Qaitbay Citadel, a fifteenth-century fortress standing proudly on a narrow peninsula overlooking the Mediterranean.

The fortress itself is impressive enough, but what makes the site truly special is its history. It stands on the very location where the famous Lighthouse of Alexandria once rose above the harbour. The lighthouse was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and although nothing remains of it today, it is impossible not to think about it while standing there.

The views were equally impressive.

From the walls of the citadel, you can look back towards the seemingly endless skyline of Alexandria stretching along the coast.

The following morning, I decided to walk in the opposite direction.

My destination was Montaza Palace.

Google Maps informed me that the walk would take about three and a half hours. I could easily have taken a taxi or found a bus, but Stanley Bridge lay along the route, and I wanted to see it properly rather than simply drive across it.

So I walked.

Kilometre after kilometre.

The Mediterranean on one side, apartment blocks on the other.

Fortunately, it was a beautiful morning, and I had music in my ears.

Stanley Bridge is not particularly old. It was completed in 2001. Yet its four elegant towers have become one of Alexandria’s most recognisable landmarks, blending surprisingly well with the coastal scenery.

Eventually, I reached Montaza Gardens.

The entrance fee produced one of those familiar travel moments. Egyptians entered for free, while foreign visitors paid the equivalent of around ten US dollars.

Fair? Perhaps not.

But I was hardly likely to return every week.

The gardens themselves were beautiful, filled with families enjoying picnics and spending time outdoors. The Montaza Palace, which can only be viewed from a distance, remains one of Alexandria’s most distinctive buildings, combining Ottoman and Florentine influences in a rather unusual way.

One thing I particularly enjoyed about Alexandria was its tram system.

Some of the older trams were originally imported from Denmark, which gave them an oddly familiar appearance. Seeing Scandinavian-built trams rattling along the streets of an Egyptian city beside the Mediterranean was not something I had expected.

Although much of Alexandria’s ancient Greek and Roman heritage has disappeared, traces still remain.

The Roman Theatre is modest compared with some of the grand archaeological sites elsewhere in the Mediterranean, but it provides a reminder of just how many civilisations have left their mark on this city.

The same can be said of the Serapeum.

Today only a small part survives, squeezed between modern buildings. There are columns, sphinxes, and scattered remains, but after spending days among Egypt’s pyramids and temples, it felt somewhat modest.

The Catacombs of Kom el Shoqafa, however, were another matter entirely.

I have always found catacombs strangely fascinating. Not because of death itself, but because they have a way of putting one’s own life into perspective.

I had expected something dark and unsettling.

Instead, the catacombs were surprisingly orderly and beautifully preserved. There were no piles of bones or skulls on display. Instead, visitors descend into an underground world of corridors, chambers, and remarkable stone carvings that blend Egyptian, Greek, and Roman influences.

It was one of the most memorable places I visited in Alexandria.

Before travelling here, I had often heard people describe Alexandria as dirty, faded, and far removed from its former glory.

Perhaps that is true.

I have nothing to compare it with.

All I know is that my few days by the Mediterranean became some of the most enjoyable days of the entire trip.