On this point once stood a monument to the French engineer Ferdinand De Lesseps, designer and architect of the longest man-made waterway in the world. It was also a monument to the 1.5 million Egyptian workers who took part in digging the Canal, and the 125,000 who lost their lives to make this construction the most strategic in the region, and arguably the world. Sadly, none of the history or memories are intact. The monument and the bank surrounding it reflect human neglect and bear the scars of multicoloured graffiti, wanton damage and litter. The crew and passengers waving or shouting hello across the water used to add to our enjoyment.
None are here, and none can be conjured back to life.
Then, as if to emphasise the authority of the present, a small boy kicks an empty plastic bottle in my direction before his father yanks him back into the car. I cast one last look across the waters but cannot hold back the tears. What was once here has vanished beyond my reach. Heading back into the city centre, we passed modern towers, new schools and hordes of young people with more interesting things to do than looking back into the past. Nearby, piles of military debris and now defunct equipment used during the '73 Canal crossing were being dismembered patiently by a lone worker and an oxy-acetylene torch.