A Day in Cairo, Part II

I emerged from the taxi at about 7:30am in front of the Khan al-Khalili market in Islamic Cairo.

The markets were not yet open, and wouldn’t until around 10am. I didn’t want to take out my map and look at it right away (and be swarmed right off the bat with folks offering to help me find this and that and the other thing), so I kept the map in my pocket and just walked around a bit, to get my bearings. I was right outside a very old-looking mosque (turns out was built in the year 1154), so I walked around the minaret on the left side and down the alley. I had walked about 100 yards when I was stopped by a young Egyptian man, mid-twenties maybe (learned later he was 26), who welcomed me to Egypt and asked where I was from.

“The US,” I said.

“Ah, the US,” he replied, “my brother lives in the US, in Illinois, Chicago, where Obama comes from!”

We laughed and introduced ourselves, and I stepped into Ahmed’s shop to have a look around. Next came one of the most delightful cultural experiences of my life. He was selling all sorts of Egyptian knick-knacks, everything you would expect, from busts of Pharaohs to stone-carved pyramids to small wooden camels. And of course, every single item came in black basalt, polished copper, sterling silver, glittering gold, and the gratuitious plastic composite painted to look like wood. We started talking as I had looked around his tiny shop, I don’t even remember what about. I was genuinely interested in the items he was selling – the craftsmanship of every item in the store was absolutely astounding. After about 20 minutes, he insisted that I take something to drink. He must have sensed the concern on my face, because he promptly dismissed any notion that I was under obligation to buy anything.

“You are my friend. It’s OK, even if you don’t buy anything. This is Egyptian hospitality. Would you like a Coke?”

“No,” I said, “but I really love coffee.”

“No problem, I bring you coffee.”

He disappeared down the street (leaving his friend with me in the shop) and returned a few minutes later. A few minutes after that, a older man, obviously a restaurant owner, appeared with a brown plastic serving tray on which sat a tall glass of water and an espresso mug resting atop a small saucer. The bronze coffee boiler was in his hand, and I watched him pour my coffee right in front of me (Arabic coffee is boiled over a fire in a small bronze pitcher with a wood handle and then poured into the cup, grounds and all. The dregs settle to the bottom, and you stop drinking when you get to them). Ahmed drained the glass of water in three seconds flat, leaving me to sip my coffee as I continued to browse all his fascinating artifacts from modern Egyptian market culture.

About half an hour later, I had finally decided on two small stone carvings and asked if Ahmed would set them aside for me. I intimated that I wanted to look around some more and come back later in the afternoon to negotiate the price and purchase them. I explained that if I didn’t find what I was looking for during the day, I may come back and buy more than what I picked out. He said that he himself was only going to be around for a few more hours, then he was going home to sleep (he had been up all night manning his shop).

"OK," I said, "let’s negotiate the price now."

By the time all the negotiating was done, I had purchased four carvings instead of two! But I had gotten a good price and, best of all, paid with American dollars instead of using up my Egyptian pounds. He wrapped my purchases in newspaper and put them in a plastic bag. Then he pulled up a chair in the alley opposite his shop and invited me to sit and drink some tea.

“Mint?” He asked.

“Sure,” I said.

Once again, Ahmed disappeared down the street and came back with a clear glass of piping hot tea containing a few leaves of fresh mint. He sat down on a stool next to me, and we continued talking while I drank tea. Somehow we got on the topic of popular music, and as it happened we knew some of the same artists (many thanks to Allison for introducing me to some of the pop music from the Middle East). He played songs on his phone for me, and we laughed and laughed. After a while he told me that his other shop would be opening in another 30 minutes, his jewelry shop back in the market itself. So I continued to sit and talk with Ahmed, meeting some of his friends who also owned shops on the alley, drinking iced licorice tea from street vendors as they walked by (all of which Ahmed paid for), enjoying the coolness of the shade and reasonable quiet of the morning foot traffic. Of course, the man who came to open his other shop was about 15 minutes late (everything in Africa runs on relationship, not time), but as soon as he came and was ready I ventured into the market with Ahmed to see his jewelry. He had some amazing stuff, both in gold and silver, but I didn’t need any. I looked for about ten minutes, said farewell, and went on my way.

I couldn't believe I had spent almost the entire morning shopping and visiting with Ahmed, drinking tea and coffee, meeting several people and still having barely any recollection of what we actually talked about for all that time. It just wasn’t important. But we had talked and enjoyed each other's company, and I had a really wonderful time.