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.