Founded in 1882 as a place for British expats to drink gin and pretend to play croquet, the GSC occupies a number of acres on the island of Zamalek in the very middle of Cairo. It's not as good as it was, as the lefty Egyptian government of the 60s very unsportingly gave half the golf course to a youth club next door, but there are a number of attractions for the weary Cairene who is feeling weighed down by the world and his wallet.
Swimmers, runners and tennis and squash players are all catered for, and there are ponies for the use of spoilt children. No one has a garden in Cairo, so the children not quite spoilt enough for a pony career around the club's grounds on bikes, skateboards and roller skates, and it's hard to walk from the entrance to the pool without getting run over.
The golfers are viewed with disgust by the rest, as their golf course could be converted into a beautiful car park. The course is good, with a number of fine bunkers as sand is readily available. There are decent practice facilities, although the putting green has been colonised by a number of stray kittens. Don't ever use the practice bunker, which is in use as a latrine. Next to the golf course is the dog area, where an enormous Alsatian named Bimbo is regularly shouted at by an assortment of small children.
I have had a few golf lessons with one of the resident pros, who gets through about 20 cigarettes during each hour long lesson and occasionally swigs from a coke can before tossing it nonchalantly into the nearest water hazard. Part of the course used to be a botanical garden and there are some curious trees, including a few fake palm trees that are actually there to hold up PA speakers.
The club operates a kind of rent control that means that a family's membership will never increase in price. Given that 90% of the families at the club have been members since the 1950s, this means that the handful of recent expat members are essentially bankrolling the entire operation. The membership cards are glorious - mine says SIMON RANDALL in huge letters, and Caroline's says SIMON RANDALL in huge letters, followed by a modest c.millet underneath. Quite right.
Swimmers, runners and tennis and squash players are all catered for, and there are ponies for the use of spoilt children. No one has a garden in Cairo, so the children not quite spoilt enough for a pony career around the club's grounds on bikes, skateboards and roller skates, and it's hard to walk from the entrance to the pool without getting run over.
The golfers are viewed with disgust by the rest, as their golf course could be converted into a beautiful car park. The course is good, with a number of fine bunkers as sand is readily available. There are decent practice facilities, although the putting green has been colonised by a number of stray kittens. Don't ever use the practice bunker, which is in use as a latrine. Next to the golf course is the dog area, where an enormous Alsatian named Bimbo is regularly shouted at by an assortment of small children.
I have had a few golf lessons with one of the resident pros, who gets through about 20 cigarettes during each hour long lesson and occasionally swigs from a coke can before tossing it nonchalantly into the nearest water hazard. Part of the course used to be a botanical garden and there are some curious trees, including a few fake palm trees that are actually there to hold up PA speakers.
The club operates a kind of rent control that means that a family's membership will never increase in price. Given that 90% of the families at the club have been members since the 1950s, this means that the handful of recent expat members are essentially bankrolling the entire operation. The membership cards are glorious - mine says SIMON RANDALL in huge letters, and Caroline's says SIMON RANDALL in huge letters, followed by a modest c.millet underneath. Quite right.
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| A bit of the golf course, with a real palm tree in the foreground. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is just behind the trees. |
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| Some spherical mice making for a hole |
