A Day in Cairo, Part IV

Here a mosque, there a mosque, everywhere a mosque-mosque … that’s what it was like for the next forty-five minutes. Al-Muayyad mosque, Saleh Talaea mosque, Ishaqi mosque, Al-Maridani masque – oh, what’s this? the Razaz Palace ... cool! – Al-Aqsunqur mosque, Khaier Bek mosque, the famous "Blue Mosque" – whoa, another palace! – then up the hill to the stone wall. I had finally reached the Citadel. I knew the majestic Muhammed ‘Ali mosque was towering above me on the other side, because I had seen the spires from the road. But from the street, all I could see was wall – fortified battlements stacked 30 feet on top on each other. Impressive. I wonder what it must have seemed like when it was built 800 years ago. I walked out to the main square of the intersection, and everywhere I turned, I saw more really old stuff. The day was now in full heat, and I was starting to get hungry. I stopped in the shade to rest, drink water that was now warm from being in my steel canteen, and snapped several photos. I set off again around the south side of the Citadel to find the gate.

I was walking up the ramp to what I thought was an entrance when an Egyptian man stopped me. He introduced himself as Emad.

“You can’t go in this way anymore, the gate has been sealed. You have to go around to the other side to get in. However, it is closed for prayer now and won’t reopen until 2:30.”

“That’s fine,” I said, “I am actually looking a place to eat.”

His face brightened. “I know a place that is clean and has good food. You must eat at a place that is clean so you don’t get an upset stomach. Follow me.”

Back we walked in the direction from which I had just come, then we turned off into the annals of the neighborhood. We stopped in a restaurant that was very clean, just as he said, and the restauranteur brought out a salad with tomatoes of leafy green, rice, and kafta (a dish of meat served on a bed of chopped parsley). At first I thought it was lamb, but no.

“It’s camel,” the cook said.

My impromptu tour guide announced that he was going to sit at another table and let me eat in peace, but I insisted that he stay and talk to me. I apologized that I wasn’t able to pay for his meal, but he assured me he had already eaten lunch and didn’t want anything.

Emad, married with two daughters, had been a policeman in a former life, but financial hardship had forced him to change careers. He went to school to study law and had recently passed his exams to become a criminal lawyer. From the best I could tell, he was working as a sort of intern. He said he wouldn’t be able to start actually practicing law until the following year. Over lunch, I pumped him for information on navigating the taxi system in Cairo. I was concerned that perhaps I had paid too much on my earlier ride, but he reassured me that the price I had paid was fair. However, the rules were different returning to the airport than departing from the airport. With great amusement, I listened as he gave me instructions on how to get back to the airport. One does not often get such candid cultural advice from a near-stranger.

“You will go out to the Bab Zuwaila [the South Gate] and call a taxi. Tell him you want to go to the airport, and ask him how much. He will say, ‘Eighty pounds.’ You will say, ‘Fifty.’ He will say, ‘Seventy.” You will say, ‘Fifty.’ He will say, ‘Fifty.’ Then you will go.” He nodded his head to emphasize the final point. I smiled in recognition and thanked him profusely.

After eating, I would have returned to tour the Citadel, but Emad insisted on showing me the mosque in his neighborhood. It was the Al-Maridani mosque, built in the 14th century, one of the buildings I had passed earlier and stopped to photograph. He wanted to take me to meet the imam and climb the minaret, which he claimed offered the finest view of the entire city of Cairo. He said that the money donated to the mosque for such a tour would go to helping orphan children in the neighborhood. I'm sure he was telling the truth about this, given what I had already seen while walking through. It was a very short walk from the restaurant, no more than five minutes.

We arrived at the mosque and went into the "office" to meet the imam, who was exceedingly kind. We exchanged pleasantries, and I explained that I did have very many Egyptian pounds left and that I needed them to get back to the airport. He gladly exchanged my American dollars, and I made two deposits in the donation box, one for the mosque tour and one to climb the minaret. Emad proved an excellent tour guide, although he spoke rather quickly and it was difficult to catch everything he said. The mosque was extremely simple and very old, yet beautiful. The only ornamental color of any consequence was in some stained glass up in the dome, which was still original according to Emad. The glass was arranged in some kind of geometrical pattern and an Arabic inscription, both of which I can't recall. Not stunning, but elegant ... in a nostalgic sort of way. Looking up, I really felt like I had been transported back in time hundreds of years.

The stairs of the minaret at Al-Maridani rank among the most memorable spiral staircases I have ever climbed in my life (right up there with the Statue of Liberty and the Bunker Hill Monument in Boston). These were old and uneven steps, having survived centuries of use. I couldn't help myself; I felt childishly giddy as I followed Emad around those stairs to the top of the minaret, fifty feet or so above the street. Emad hadn't lied about the view. It wasn't the highest perch in the city, but the location was well clear of any tall buildings or other spires. I could see the entire city laid out beneath my feet, from the Citadel all the way to the Tower of Cairo along the Nile River. I took a few photos, but none of them captured the moment with ample justice. I looked around for ten minutes or so, so my eyes could soak up as much as possible. I felt a strange combination of thrill and sadness as we climbed back down.

This was the end of Emad's tour, and I paid him well for it. I reflected on what breath-taking experiences would have been missed had I traveled with an agency or simply visited the traditional tourist destinations. Instead, it had turned out that the Egyptians themselves had shown me their own city, offering me the best of their hospitality and charm, and nothing disappointed.