Cairo's Urbanity and Rooftop Adventures

Cairo; the biggest city in the Middle East and Africa, and one of the most densely populated in the world. It is certainly a world in itself. Egyptian author Alaa Al-Aswany's famous novel, The Yacoubian Building, offers an interesting insight on some of the denizens living on the rooftop of a faded apartment building in downtown Cairo.

Taha, the son of the Yacoubian building’s doorkeeper and one of several living on its roof, is a devout Muslim who exemplifies the frustrated youth who are drawn into more reactionary values as a rejection of Egyptian society’s treatment of its own citizens . At the beginning of the novel he is aspiring to become a police officer, a title that seems to garner respect and power, especially given Taha’s disadvantaged background. He truly believes that God will make his dreams come true. However, despite a promising interview for the police academy, Taha’s application is rejected because his father is a property guard as opposed to a civil servant. He no doubt feels humiliated, more so because his official compliant to the president of the republic is rejected on the grounds that his claims of discrimination (due to his father’s profession) are unfounded. This scenario provides the basis of the abuse of power and corruption that permeates every aspect of Egyptian society. It is this long-standing corruption that Al Aswany argues is the cause of individuals turning to Islamism. He doesn’t say this explicitly, but it is very much clear by the path that his character Taha takes in the book.

Anyway, poverty and overcrowding has forced thousands amongst the poorer classes to live on the countless rooftops of Cairo. An entirely different world of satellite dishes, makeshift shacks, and colorful lines of laundry exists here. Some of these places develop into their own tight-nit communities. For some people at least, living on the rooftops beats sleeping on the street. More importantly, these rooftop communities highlight the problems of informal housing as a consequence of huge rural to urban migrations characteristic of many developing countries. The millions of Cairo citizens come from every corner of Egypt and beyond, and the infrastructure in the large cities is currently incapable of handling such huge population increases. Many people have no other options but to live in these rooftop communities or the countless slums that surround wealthier areas of the city such as Zamalek.

Lastly, even though so sounds of traffic and people are muffled from up high, the sheer vastness and chaos of the city itself is never absent. Cairo never underwhelms. On the bright side, the breeze up here is quite lovely.

I'm sorry, but I'm not Egyptian...:(

Today I was in a rather positive mood. Last night I had a really great time with Julia at the Cairo Jazz Club, one of the premier venues in the city. The music was oriental jazz led by an Egyptian jazz artist named Yehya Khalil. The music was amazing and truly a creative blend of Middle Eastern music and traditional jazz. Fast paced drum beats were accompanied by a saxophone, accordion, and the wailing voice of a very talented young man. I've actually been rather impressed by the singing ability of a number of men here in Egypt. When you first see them, you don't quite expect them to produce such beautiful range and haunting vocals. The audience seemed to love it, and there was plenty of clapping and cheers after each segment was finished. I enjoyed the audience in their appreciation, but this sort of music forced me into quiet contemplation even though I didn't quite understand what was being sung. As long as it sounds nice and speaks to me, I don't really care whether or not I understand every word in a piece of music. Afterwards we walked along the Nile corniche and the bridge that went into downtown Cairo. The breeze was nice and the atmosphere was lively, but we did get a lot of stares for various reasons. You have to remember that it was after midnight, and a non-Egyptian woman without a hijab with a strange man is going to attract some unwanted attention. Perhaps it was foolish or naive on my part to enjoy a nice evening along the Nile in such a way, but I was in no way meaning to make some sort of obnoxious statement by my actions. A random guy grabbed my arm and asked me in a more concerned than threating way as to why as was with this girl. I tried to explain to him in Arabic but quickly decided that the ignorant American card would be best played at this moment. He apologized to me in English and quickly disappeared into the crowds on the bridge. I was upset that the guy felt he had to make an exception for me because I was American, something that would certainly not be extended to any old Egyptian. I stilled enjoyed the night regardless, and I had the lovely sounds of Yeyha Khalil in my head until it hit the pillow.

Anyway, today I stopped into a small cafe near the Longchamps. I gave the two people at the counter the traditional Arabic greeting and the conversation began from there, all in Arabic. The pair were Ashraf and Rihanna, and they were both Muslims in their twenties. I told them I was from California and Ashraf exclaimed that he loved Arnold, or the "governator", and his films. I had to admit that he did make some pretty cool flicks back in the day. Ashraf asked me all about my experience in Cairo and what I thought of his country. He himself loved how nice the American people were, but he was less than enthusiastic about the government. I have heard this line of thinking countless times here in Cairo and other parts of Egypt, and its comforting to know that there are those out there who can make a distinction between a country's government and its people. I can think of quite a few Americans out there who can take a lesson or two from this. Again I will emphasis that the conversation I had with Ashraf and Rihanna was all in Arabic, with a few English words thrown in for comprehension. Needless to say I was pretty proud of myself and I even learned a few new words. I hope to see them again tomorrow because not only did I make two new Egyptian friends, but the food was excellent as well.

Some Random Thoughts...

I suppose it is common in the United States and Europe to emphasize the freedom that the women living there have. It is even more common to view the situation of women in the Arab world with a mixture of pity and disgust. The hijab, worn by many Muslim women in the Arab world and elsewhere, is the most potent symbol of so-called female oppression. It is symbolic for many people of a society and belief system (Islam) that treats women as possessions and objects who are given few individual rights. People often hate and fear what they do not truly know or understand. I have an interesting story to tell in a moment.

I have had several great 'dialogue' opportunities with young Egyptians here in Cairo. Some of the girls I had a chance to speak to were all dressed conservatively by most American standards. Nevertheless they expressed no dissatisfaction with their way of dressing. In fact they were all proud of their identities as Muslim women. These women did not look like the sad and oppressed lot that are always presented in the Western media. They were very well educated and occupied a comfortable social background. A women's freedom or lack there of should not be defined by what she wears. I am certainly not an expert on the subject of women in the Arab and Muslim world. Hell, I am not even an expert on my own society. I do believe that things are almost always more complicated than they may seem at first glance. It is perhaps all too easy to make sweeping generalizations of societies and customs that we are not familiar with, and we are all (including myself) guilty of this at some point in our lives. Do we judge out of pity? What are we so afraid of? Certainly things on the surface here in Cairo suggest that relationships with men and women in this part of the world are fractured and strange, but if we only choose to look through our narrow lens we can never see the bigger picture. I'm not sure if I have personally seen the bigger picture in my time in Cairo thus far, but it has been confirmed that women and men all face similar problems no matter where they are in the world. Couples laugh, cry, feel both intense joy and sadness, have sex, fight and makeup here in Egypt just as they do everywhere else in the world.

I have noticed from my admittedly limited perspective that economics plays a certain role in the way that women dress and act here in Egypt. From what I've seen, women from the country tend to dress more conservatively, while upper-class women in certain neighborhoods of Cairo can be seen wearing the latest provocative fashions from Europe. There are, however, plenty of exceptions to this generalization. Some seriousness aside, perhaps in the harsh countryside of Egypt dressing more conservatively is more practical for women. After all, who wants to get sand and dust in their hair? Even as a male with short hair I can say that it's not fun. Anyway, what I think that women of all classes have in common is that they work hard everyday to support their children and families.

As a young man spending only a short time in this country, I sometimes feel shut out of Egyptian women and their world. In Zamalek, the women glide past me on the street like ghosts. Its almost as if for them I am not even there on the street. I do however receive some glares and upset looks from Egyptian girls when I am seen walking down the street with some of my female American friends. Even other males look at me differently, and it can be awkward I'll admit.

I thought of a story I had heard of a woman who lived a life that many in the West would look at as free and independent, and her self perception was based on these these two powerful words. Her life was defined by few limits on sexuality or the use of drugs. Although this is an extreme example, I believe it highlights the fact that there are extremes in every society that are self-destructive and damaging. The woman in this story ultimately found that the lifestyle that she had been living didn't offer her real freedom or self-respect that her society told her she had. She had become a slave to fashion, to the latest trends, and to basing her self worth on her looks and body. I suppose ironically she found in Islam a way of life that emphasized her own internal beauty as opposed to beauty based on her looks. She chose to become a Muslim by her own free will, and it ultimately made her a happier person. I don't consider myself to be a very religious person, but I found this story to be fascinating. I am not saying that Islam is better for women or anything like that, I just personally believe that living ones life at one extreme or the other can leave you feeling empty or worthless. There are certainly Muslim women out there that are unhappy with their social position in their respective countries. But on the other hand there are countless women in the West who are sick of the way they feel their society emphasizes material values and overt sexuality. Again, I feel that there are extreme elements in both lifestyles that I personally dislike. Unfortunately, it is all too often that people in both the Arab world and the West believe that the extremes in the other society are the norm. We believe that our societies are so different and incompatible that there can never be true understanding.

At first impression the streets of Alexandria seem more relaxed and sedate despite the large amount of people on the streets. Few people seemed to be in a rush like they are in Cairo. It was refreshing and I immediately emjoyed this aspect of Alex.

The cramped streets and narrow alleyways of the city gave way to the vast expanse of the Mediterranean as we pulled onto the corniche. The sea was an intense dark blue and it exerted a strong psychological pull on me. I thought of how so much ancient history took place on the shores of this city, and how much of this is now hidden under a thoroughly modern metropolis or simply lost in the pages of time. Maybe this is the fate of great cities such as New York, London, or Paris a thousand years from now. Something to think about...

As I took my first steps in Alexandria I sought a breeze along the inviting corniche but was greeted to a sweltering humidity that I couldn’t have expected less. I looked around for signs of tree cover but there were only forests of concrete stretching for miles along the winding coast. Somehow I didn't expect Mediterranean cities to be so humid. Nevertheless, the level of pollution was much less than Cairo, and it was nice to see a brilliant blue sky that contrasted with the even bluer Mediterranean. Our hotel was one block in from the curving bay filled with a variety of colorfully painted boats, most of them seeming to flimsy to make too far out into the Mediterranean. Our final destination for the night was the Acropole Hotel, or A-crap-hole as those of us who stayed the night there called it. Really it was more of a tenement for sad and tired looking Egyptians than a hotel, with doors that wouldn't lock and mattresses that I'm sure were made of concrete. Sometimes, however, one simply has to go with the flow of things. This is probably the most important lesson I have learned here in Egypt, that is nothing is set in stone and one should expect the unexpected. In the end it was a rather funny and memorable experience.

The mustard yellow trams rubbled down the road in the early hours of the day, shaking the foundations of our hotel and serving as our wake up call. The light of the Mediterranean sun illuminated the old balconies and fluttering laundry on the urban streetscape. Ben , Amanda, and I explored the narrow and quiet streets in a futile search for breakfast. There were some empty but architecturally enticing cafes along the cornice. Most of them offered the staple breakfast of tea or sheesha. It was a bit disappointing to say the least. I was in some ways a bit alienating to be the only visible foreigners in much of Alexandria. Again, the city felt surprisingly provincial in spite of its prominent place in world history. Beautiful in some ways, but lacking the energy and vibrancy of Cairo.

One of my favorite activities in Egypt has to be the people-watching. Along the Alexandria corniche there are the typical Egyptian crowds of young and old, poor and not-so poor, women and men, all sharing the same space. I suppose one could say that the public space is more "democratic" in some respects. The most unusual aspect of Alexandria that I observed in two days was that, despite its Mediterranean location and prevalence of beautiful sandy beaches, the city felt as conservative as most other parts of Egypt. Young women strolled along the waterfront, their hijabs of bright red, green, and blue shades blowing in the Mediterranean wind. Many of the hijabs rather stylishly matched their other clothing choices. It seems to have become as much of a fashion statement as a religious one. Nearby groups of men walked briskly, some hand in hand, while engaging in animated conversation. A few flashed approving glances at girls walking in the opposite direction. Boys will be boys, right?

The corniche curved along six or more lanes of almost comically dangerous Egyptian road. The typical Egyptian driver believes in only slowing down just enough for a pedestrian to start running, then speeding up once said pedestrian has gotten about half-way across the street. In some ways there were advantages to being in a minibus where the rules of the road are tipped more in your favor. From this perspective, the city’s location on the Mediterranean compensated for its uninspired and in some cases downright ugly architecture composed of whitewashed concrete lightly coated with urban grime.

Seeing the world from a moving vehicle has at times been underwhelming, but it can also be a genuinely fun way of seeing cities from a different perspective. We plow quickly through the crowded streets on the way to various touristic sites. I much prefer to see the city and all its life instead of being shuffled around in tour groups. I want to feel, live, and breath Alexandria like I do in Cairo. Well, breathing in Cairo is a bit of a misnomer but that's another story entirely. My point is, I have scarcely written about the dozens of tourist sites in Egypt because, quite frankly, the modern everyday life of Egypt and its people is far more interesting in my opinion. Nevertheless, Egyptians are justifiably proud of their very long and rich history. People here are proud, yes, but also aware of the shortcomings of their society and government. I ran into an older Egyptian man in an elevator one day, and he explained to me how much greater Egypt used to be even 10-20 years ago. There was a bit of sadness and also frustration in his voice. I reasurred him by saying that I genuinely believed that Egypt was a wonderful country with some truly amazing people. I truly believed what I said then, and I still do. He smiled sheepishly, thanked me for my kind words, and got off at the next floor.
Bouncing in the white minivan through the random sections of Alex, I observed stalls selling all manner of bric-à-brac, generic baby clothes, jewelry, food, and almost anything else spilling out onto the streets. As we drove past a small bread line I was reminded how many people struggle to put food on the table in this country. My mind was quickly adverted to the other faces and activity that blurred by. There were countless people of all stripes occupying the same space. This was the epitome of a lively street market that those of us who are bored of sterile and lifeless shopping experiences fall in love with. There were probably hundreds of little shops that we drove by, crammed on to either side of the narrow street. I wanted to jump out of the minibus and get lost in the crowds. The shops continued down alley after alley, where due to the height and space between the buildings the strong sun couldn't penetrate far.

Islamic Cairo

Our small white van drove past the police barricade into Islamic Cairo. I gazed out of the window into yet another unfamiliar and yet exciting new environment. Zamalek, although no more than 15 minutes away, was a whole different world entirely. Here was where the now dominant religion of Islam got its start in Egypt. An air of mystery surrounded the area and I was drawn into the atmosphere of its winding roads and mazes of alleys. The streets themselves were more like a chaotic mix of the ancient and modern, with donkey carts sharing the dusty streets with mopeds and cars. I almost felt like an intruder in this place. I feel like every new section of Cairo that I visit has its own secrets that could take a lifetime to discover fully. That is what is so enduring and exciting about living in a city such as Cairo.

A woman named Iman, born to Egyptian and American parents, was our tour guide for the day. She explained that Egypt, due to its geographical position at the crossroads of the Mediterranean, Africa, and Asia, has long proved a valuable commodity that facilitated the spread of Islam. Moreover, the relationship between human settlements and the Nile has characterized Egypt for thousands of years. Its sustainability depended on, and still does, the waters of the Nile and the hills in which stone was quarried in mass. Islam conquered the land in the 7th century, later spreading its influence as far west as Morocco and Andalusian Spain. Coming from the United States, I sometimes find it hard to fathom living in a country with so much history that goes back thousands of years. The history itself is written on the walls and in the design and influences that were carried into the country from every direction, both via conquest and assimilation. Each mosque tells a story of the history of not only Islam, but of other faiths as well. Iman explained that a common sense of aesthetic design were common in Christian, Jewish, and Islamic buildings throughout Cairo.

Worn walls of beige mudbrick layered in plaster marked the marked the entrance to the ancient mosque of Ibn Tulun, which is one of the largest and oldest in the country. We entered into a cool courtyard that acted as a fortress wall that separated the world of the secular from that of the sacred and holy. We shuffled into the interior which was darkened, except for the ornate window grills that acted as lights as they filtered the rays of the late morning sun into the cool halls of the mosque. Each of these grills had their own unique geometric design.

The soft chatter of birds echoed through the place of worship, breaking the otherwise unexpected silence. Even the sounds of the notorious Cairo traffic could scarcely be heard through the medieval stone walls. Iman explained nearly every nook and cranny as we walked through the mosque. Her knowledge was very thorough and interesting, but by my nature I found myself straying off on my own to explore my surroundings. A decorative niche against the wall marked the spot of the mihrab, which indicates the direction of Mecca in which all Muslims must pray. Its colors had faded but, like the rest of the mosque, it had its worn charm. Every angle and each new step offered a different visual perspective. Decorative lamps on long chains hung from ceiling, swaying gently in a cool breeze whose source I couldn't determine. I truly enjoy mosques more than any other religious buildings because the feelings of peace and contemplation that come when I walk through their quiet halls. For the most part the designs of the mosques here in Cairo are simple and unostentatious, with an emphasis on open space and the lack of anything that would obstruct views or distract worshippers from their prayers. As I wandered around, I got a sense of the historical value of the mosque as well as its architectural beauty and genius.

The mosque was home to a unique minaret that whose exterior stairwell was perched rather precariously over the surrounding streets of the old city. The walk up was terrifying for me, and as my feet moved up and up the old stairs my palms began to sweat and my breath escaped in short bursts. My head was spinning but I forced myself onward as I hugged the wall. I reached the top of the minaret and was rewarded with a sight of the intense urban landscape of Islamic and greater Cairo, although it all seemed to blend into one. I began to see how this mosque had for a long time served as a sanctuary, or a literal walled fortress of sanity, amidst the chaos of the city. Within these walls a certain level of privacy and introspection is more possible here than in many other places. I contemplated this for a moment before quickly heading back down to ground level.

Our next stop brought us to a busy square flanked by two huge beige mosques known as the mosques of Sultan Hassan and Rifai respectively. Although both structures looked remarkably similar, I found out from Imam that nearly 450 years separate them. As we entered the first mosque, a rush of cold air circulated through the high entryway and coaxed me further inside. A series of bends and long corridors opened up to a high walled enclosure. On the four sides were huge imposing recessed arches, each of which was devoted at one time to the main schools of the dominant Sunni Islam. Although immense and imposing, the interior of the Hassan mosque was quite comfortable. I don't know, there must be something about mosques in particular or the people within them that speak to me somehow. One of the imams from the mosque followed our group into the mausoleum. In spite of his youthful appearance, this man radiated a wisdom beyond his years. His carefully trimmed beard was framed by a pair of what looked like designer sunglasses. He recited the longest verse in the Quran for us, partly to show how great the acoustics were inside the mosque. His voice echoed beautifully through the walls, and I heard the faint sound of birds fluttering away. It was quite moving and I began to feel another connection with a stranger in a mosque...

Aswan

Aswan is the southernmost city in Egypt on what is probably the most beautiful stretch of the Nile. I was a little tired as I stepped off the train onto the platform and felt the hot air on my face, but as our bus drove us to our hotel destination I got good vibes about the city. On the main road in the center of town our bus pulled in front of a quirky-looking hotel complex that sloped down to the riverbed. This was the Isis hotel. The rooms were each made up of detached 'houses' that were connected to each other by a series of footpaths. I immediately liked the place. There were several interesting desert plants and trees that I had never seen before. The Egyptians here seemed more laid-back than the big city types in Cairo, and I managed to strike up some conversations with folks in Arabic. I ran into a taxi driver who immediately called me a Moroccan which I thought was hilarious. How did he know;). The taxi driver identified himself as Gamal and, as a Nubian, he invited myself and a few others to a traditional wedding. Due to our schedules we had to decline, but I left satisfied that I had managed to talk to someone in Arabic and five minutes later get invited to a wedding.

I spent most of my free time by the pool that overlooked the Nile. I definitely recall spending hours sitting on a chair by the poolside bar gazing at the white feluccas gliding lazily down the glittering waters of the river. Instead of the farms and small villages that usually line the Nile, the other side of the river from Aswan was all dry sandy hills. Beyond that was three thousand miles of harsh desert stretching all the way to the Atlantic. I thought to myself how many grains of sand there must be in the Sahara, then my head started to hurt;). It was hard to fathom that much sand, which I had gotten enough of on my feet after a week of walking down Egyptian streets in my now trademark Jesus sandals.

One of the highlights of our trip to Aswan was our evening felucca ride along the Nile. The early evening light of the setting sun created an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Moreover, the air along the Nile was so clean and pure and there was a wonderfully gentle breeze. I could have fallen asleep on the boat for several hours. I could have used that extra sleep because the next couple of days were a bombardment of sightseeing excursions with our friendly chain-smoking Coptic guide named Michael. Many Coptic Christians in Egypt have names that are more familiar to western ears.

Our group of 35 boarded a small motor boat (I prefer the pollution-free feluccas) to the Philae Temple located on island of palm trees and desert plants. I'll admit that all the ancient sites that we visited were bit overwhelming so I'll not go into details about the individual places. In Aswan and Luxor I felt like I was being shuffled around to so many different sites chock full of hundreds of tourists that I can scarcely remember the details anyway.

The famed souk of Aswan was a long cobbled pedestrian zone in the center of town.
Although not as cramped, chaotic, and evocative as some of the ancient souks of Morocco, Aswan's nevertheless had its own more modern allure. This was clearly the domain of male shop owners who, with their advanced degrees from Arabian Charm Academy, would make their best and most comical efforts to invite the groups of confused and weary travelers into their shops. Calls of "Hey, my cousin!" and Hello, Egyptian? came from left and right as I walked by the countless shops that seemed to blend into one another. The stacks of exotic spices, nuts, and sweets caught my eye, and my stuffy nose still managed to absorb the combined aroma of dust and the intense Oriental flavors labeled in small Arabic script.

Old men in faded and worn gallibiyas stared through sunken eyes at the mixed crowds of locals and tourists, while energetic kids ran through the shops and streets as if they were a giant playground. With the heat of the day gone the cities of Egypt come to life with crowds of young and old, women and men, and others enjoying the upbeat and lively atmosphere. This aspect of Egyptian life is something I know I'll miss when I go back to the sterile and boring shopping malls in the states. One must enjoy these beautiful moments and experiences while they last, although I know that I will come back to Egypt, inshah allah, or God willing.
Anyway, that night in the souk I walked away with a bag of rose hips for making tea, two bags of the most aromatic mint tea leaves I've ever smelled, and two bags of the hibiscus powder used to make the local Egyptian beverage known as karkade. Aswan was an amazing break from the chaos of Cairo, and I certainly hope to return one day and perhaps attend a Nubian wedding.

On the overnight train to Aswan

I awoke to the rays of the early morning Egyptian sun penetrating the dusty and smeared window of my sleeping car. The train bounced and rattled as it plowed past a beautiful and constantly changing landscape, one that I was quite unfamiliar with. Whole forests of palm trees seemed to sprout out of nothing as if defying the harsh and unforgiving desert environment, while vivid green crops were tended to by the fellaheen, or farmers. I was incredibly amazed by the lushness and diversity of the Nile Valley. It makes it all the more tragic that with such productivity and life there can be so much poverty and even starvation in this country. Again the stark contrasts that I explained earlier that seem to characterize Egypt play with one's emotions. People are friendly (mostly), yet there is so much poverty and desperation. Beauty seems to exist on the same plane as suffering and sadness.

The train ran along the river as I was taking notes in my journal. This was my first glimpse of its strikingly blue waters since we departed from Cairo, whose smog-chocked streets and miles of crushing urbanity seemed worlds away from the rural land the stretched before my eyes. Egypt truly is 'the gift of the Nile'. It was an unreal feeling. The window of the train felt like a movie screen, where images of a far away land could be seen but not truly felt. It was beautiful but it felt distant, the polar opposite of the cool mechanical cabin that had held me in relative comfort for the past fifteen hours. The landscape looked ancient, and I began to put together images in my head of imposing temples and monuments of the ancient Egyptians lining the riverbed. My fantasy was somewhat marred by the obvious poverty which, while evident all over Egypt including upscale Zamalek, seemed more desperate here. From the train the communities here seem to consist mostly of simple dweelings of mud, brick and other materials. Some of these are painted in bright pastel colors in what I interpreted as a form of civic pride, however rare it seems to be in Egypt and many other places for that matter. Mostly, however, the colors of the buildings were of a practical beige coloring. I'm pretty sure that painting ones house pretty colors is not so high on the list of priorities here. Yet, the natural beauty and peacefulness of the landscape stuck with me the most as I gazed dreamily out of the train window. The skylines of these small towns were punctuated by the religious edifices of mosques and Coptic churches whose minerets and steeples pierced the pale blue sky. There was still a faint morning haze that added another evocative layer to the rural scenery. I couldn't wait to get out of the train and breath the fresh air and discover a completely new part of Egypt.

I was, however, feeling a little stuffy and light headed. The friendly train attendant offered me some of his Chinese herbal remedy. It was a gel that could be rubbed under your nose in order to enhale the soothing smell of herbal goodness. It was very similar to the Vicks Vaporub that is sold back in the states. An hour after taking it I could still feel the gel tingling under my nose. You can never go wrong with traditional Chinese medicine, even in Egypt. I had some small chats with the attendant/medicine man in Arabic, or bil-arabee. It was fun having some practice with the language, even though a few times I had to switch back to english in order to be understood. My confidence in the language fluctuates, but nevertheless I feel I am becoming more adept at surviving here day by day.

Exploring Old Cairo

Our third day’s itinerary involved a walking tour of Old Cairo (Misr Al-Qadeema) which is predominately the home of various Coptic Christian churches as well as a synagogue. I noted that this was the second synagogue I have visited in the Arab world, the first being one in the Jewish quarter of Fez, Morocco. That makes me proud;). Anyway, I previously had very little knowledge of the Coptic branch of Christianity, so perhaps a little history lesson and background information is in order. Christianity was first introduced into Egypt around the 1st century AD, so it’s safe to say that the religion is well established here in Egypt. From what I understand the Copts separated from the Roman Catholic Church for various reasons, reflecting the factionalization and disintegration that has been the fate of all major religions. I will have to ask Mary, our resident Egyptian Copt, more about the distinctions of her community. Interestingly enough, Copts are actually the largest Christian community in North Africa and the Middle East, with several million practitioners in Egypt alone (somewhere around 10 percent of the population). Many Copts bear the tatoo of a Eastern cross on their wrists. It would be interesting to discover more about the relations between the Coptic and Muslim communities in Egypt.

The complex of Coptic Cairo was a fascinating mishmash of different architecture and other influences. Professor Sullivan explained that some of the architectural and design motives in the complex were brought from Syria and later made their way to Islamic Spain, or Al-Andalus. After the Spanish Inquisition, where the majority of the Jews and Muslims were expelled, these designs became part of the civic architecture in the Americas. I found this bit of history a perfect example of globalization, which has always existed in one form or another throughout human history. In the era prior to global capitalism, goods, ideas, and people were traded and moved to every corner of the known world. It is understandable that Egypt, given its prominent location on the Mediterranean Sea, has reflected this reality for thousands of years.

The Hanging Church was refreshingly simple in its design, especially compared to the ornate and rather ostentatious Catholic churches I had seen in Europe. We also stopped by the Churches of Saint Sergius and Saint George. The ancient architecture and cool, narrow walls of the religious complex made for a peaceful and contemplative walk. However, I found that the experience gave me a more empty feeling than I expected given the religious and spiritual significance of the area. But at the same time this part of Cairo truly is a testament to the religious diversity that has added so much richness to the cultures and society of Egypt, even to this day. Our visit to the Ben Ezra Synagogue made me think more about religion in the modern Middle East. The Jews have a very long and turbulent history in Egypt, dating back to Pharaonic times with the Old Testament stories of Moses and persecution. Today there are few Jews left in Egypt, most of them having left after the creation of Israel in 1948. The Ben Ezra Synagogue had been lovingly restored in recent years, yet it was saddening to see that it was no longer in regular use. It would be nice to someday see the pews of this place full again.

The highlight of our visit to Old Cairo was the Mosque of Amr ibn al-Aas, which was named after the man who conquered Egypt in the name of Islam in the 7th century. Incredibly this was the first mosque built in Egypt and the entire continent of Africa! Physically it was quite large and could possibly fit a small neighborhood within its walls. What I’ve liked the most about the religious places that we’ve visited is the sense of peace and contemplation within them, as well as the feeling of belonging to a shared community, whether it being Coptic, Muslim, or Jewish. The etiquette in the mosque stressed modesty and, although most of us were dressed in what was deemed respectable clothing, some of us were given these goofy hooded green robes to wear. Half of us ended up looking like wizards, and for a second it felt like I was at Hogwarts. Ironically a mosque is probably as far from the idea of a school of witchcraft and wizardry, which made the situation even more comical. I managed to snap a photo of a young Egyptian man, perhaps a few years older than myself, reading the Koran in contemplative silence. He seemed like someone who was trying to find peace with himself, like many of those who seek solace in religion. It is a difficult time to be living in Egypt, with the price of bread skyrocketing and other daily struggles taking a toll on ordinary Egyptians. The prospects for a happy and prosperous future seem more and more futile for many. As I sat on the cool marble floor of the mosque, I silently prayed for this young man with the Koran.
It is funny how you can make an emotional connection with someone without exchanging a single word.

15 Hours Later...

I gaze out the window of the ninth floor of the Hotel Flamenco in Cairo. These first few hours in Egypt have been somber. Since our arrival after fifteen hours of flying I've felt so out of it that I can't possibly process all of my new surroundings. Cairo is big. But taking a bus on elevated freeway through the city eliminates the feelings of crushing humanity. Although it is night, the streets of Cairo buzz with activity. The sound of the muezzin's call to prayer echoes eerily and beautifully through the air, competing with cars and the Arabic pop music that signifies the sounds of the modern city. The apartment buildings across the street form a harsh concrete wall, its weathered facade streching up into the sky. There are few lights on, which gives the towering monstrosities a feeling of emptiness that contrasts with the lively activity of the street below. My eyes are drawn to one of the colorful drapes that adorn the window the window of an adjacent building. A patch of red and green in an otherwise featureless block. I watch as lights begin to flicker on finally. It is getting late, and people are probably heading home.

I am starting this blog, my first ever, from the streets of Zamalek in central Cairo. From what I've gathered from google maps;), Zamalek forms part of the largest island in Cairo called gezira, which incidently means island in Arabic. Not a very creative name, but oh well. Anyway, this will be my base of operations for the next 5 weeks or so while I'm in Cairo. Based on what I've observed during the drive from the airport and into the center, Zamalek is much greener and cleaner than many other parts of the city. The presence of countless mature street trees is probably the most distinctive feature of this neighborhood, and they not only provide shade but make the streets more asthetically pleasing. Besides the embassy buildings scattered here and there, much of the architecture consists of uninspiring beige apartment buildings with satellite dishes sprouting like ugly sores along the walls. Surprisingly, the contrast between the the dull concrete architecture and the verdant greenery of the streets makes things more visually appealing. This neighborhood, and I think Cairo in general, is all about contrast. The faces of kneeling shoe shine boys are reflected in the shiny BMWs that cruise down the side streets. Young guys in designer clothes walk side by side with their colorful hijab wearing female counterparts. Poverty and wealth seem to oddly coexist on the same block. The trappings of western society seem most evident in Zamalek, where familiar fast-food outlets with free wi-fi attract what are clearly the young middle and upper classes of Cairo.

Another factor in Cairo that presents considerable contrast is that of noise. The city is certainly a noisy one, which should be expected when 16 million people are crammed into about 100 square miles (about twice the square miliage of 700, 000 strong San Francisco). I managed to laugh out loud in apprehension as I happened upon a New York Times article on April 14th (two weeks before my arrival in Cairo) about the level of noise pollution in Cairo. The article summed up the daily noise level by explaining that its average from 7am to 10pm is around 85 decibels, which is apparently the equivalent of standing 15 feet away from a moving freight train. I'll take their word for it. Sharia 26 July, the main drag that runs through the center of Zamalek, is as loud, chaotic, and dirty as they come. The rest of the neighborhood however is relatively quiet and peaceful by Cairo standards. Almost every type of urban noise imaginable can be heard 24 hours a day even on a random balcony in Zamalek. The sound of birds chirping and the muezzin's call to prayer emanating from the invisible mosques are two of the most pleasant sounds I hear on a daily basis. Silence, on the other hand, is rarely granted. But for now Zamalek remains an island (literally and figuratively) of relative calm and tranquility in the big city.