Cairo

Friday 26th February 1999

A hazy blanket of grey lay itself over the city this morning. Horns in a multitude of rhythms blasted from the Midan Tahrir roundabout below, police blew whistles, a five lane road soon turned into nine lanes, jammed with all the worn-out vehicles from the west, tens or hundreds of veiled women, men and children scurried across the road like objects ready for target practice, and the dazzling momentum of modern life moved forward.

Our first agenda was to make out way though the throngs of well-wishers and English-practicers, nowhere as skilled as their Moroccan counterparts, and across the muddy waters of the Nile to the Syrian Embassy. Towering office blocks and hotels crowded around the Nile, and as I looked across this wide belt I felt the real heart of Egypt beat, if not pound its way back out to the Mediterranean. 99% of the population is located around the Nile and Cairo itself harbours nearly 20 million people, more than the entire population of Australia. Your own personal space comes at a premium here and is one you learn to share with the locals. It has its rewards though. I don't think I've been to a place more overflowing with tourists yet in Egypt every foreigner is treated like a star. People would say hello, welcome you with smiles, and look at you as though you're the first western person to set foot here. It truly is an amazing experience and one that brings a smile from cheek to cheek.

Sadly the Syrian Embassy was closed as it was a Muslim holy day but it would be open tomorrow. Next we moved on south through the huge suburbs of Giza by foot and to the university to suss out ISAC student cards. Footpaths lay cracked ahead of us as though an earthquake had once gone through. Insurmountable piles of rubbish shaped in triangular forms reminiscent of ancient times, decrepit animals, seedy stenches so foul that you would hold your breath, diesel fumes, thumping horns, vegetable carts pulled by donkeys, throngs of businessmen, veiled women and dirty children all were part of the street scene. The zoo behind the university was in a sad, decrepit state, and after all this we found the university closed.

More vibrant landscapes back across the river averted our attentions, where on the island of Roda the walled Manyal Palace threw us into a sublime tranquillity far from the noise of the street. Green palms and gardens looked whilst the palace's mosque sat firmly shut for not a peep was to be obtained. Further through the gardens we came across a prince's palace sumptuously decorated in wonderful Islamic swirls and shapes, decoratively carved in wood. A colourfully tiled interior welcomed us from the warm outside temperatures and into cool serenity. Excepts from the Koran adorned the walls, marble on the floors, oil paintings of prominent Arabs a few hundred years old lined the walls, a central fountain, a lounge adorned in the softenss of satin and a shisha waterpipe room for smoking through those over-the-top implements.

The military welcomed us warmly back onto the streets whilst adorned in riot gear and with their huge machine guns ready to blast. Every street corner had them and usually four to six would be in the back of an open-topped van waiting for violence to occur. The scene was almost surreal as every Egyptian we had encountered welcomed us into their country and it was hard to believe that Islamic fundamentalists were about to take action. I suppose the tourist never really sees the hard-line of behind-the-scenes politics, but within a moment we can become prime targets of the insane.

Our walk then continued towards Old Cairo and then onto the Greater Cairo Metro where this great blue western wonder took us two stops to the south, shuttling us through ticket barriers reminiscent of the London Underground. Indeed the rats, cats, rubbish and scabby individuals outside truly meet the west here. At this point the metro straddled grossly decrepit and crumbling five-storied mud brick houses, where colourful loads of washing flapped in the breeze and on one side further along began the world of Coptic or Christian Cairo.

The area is a maze of laneways hiding Christian churches (where Muslims would stand in awe wondering what to think of the seating), some painted frescos, the odd tree that cast cool shadows across the paths, museums, nuns, a decorative synagogue and hidden passageways to satiate the most curious of people. It was odd to see so many local families there who outweighed the paltry number of foreign tourists. Muslim men even guarded the church doors and expected us to pay them baksheesh (or under the table tips) for letting us in, which would be unthinkable for a Christian brother in a church in the west.

The metro then took us back to Sadat Station at Midan Tahrir where we returned to our jumping kushari for noodles and lentils in a spicy sauce. We followed busy roads with traffic which wouldn't hesitate to run you over with all the elements of a hungry roaring city. The main bus station was a comical vision of movement. A bus would blast through at 40 km/hr and a frenzy of businessmen, young people, veiled ladies, small children and the blind, ailing and decrepit would all start running towards the back door of this hurtling machine. Fabric was flapping, briefcases were flying, arms swaying and toes were tapping and suddenly these often slow and ponderous middle-eastern people surpass the rush of the rat-race in the west.

The presidential palace engulfed a large square ahead where a middle-aged man befriended and began to follow us with seemingly no intentions. Although when he started offering gifts and demanding that we come and see a mosque with him we broke ties and he left in a huff. They say they only want to talk to you but there's always a hidden agenda. Suddenly a transition occurred and all western symbolism disappeared, like the shell off an oyster, and the intense culture of the poorer areas shone through. No longer did the footpaths appear, the road narrowed and turned to dirt, crumbling apartments held together by sheer luck, workers laboured in dark dens fixing cars, chiselling wood or moulding metal, dirty cafes crammed with men playing dominos and smoking pashas, ladies veiled with only slits for the eyes, school children were singing and donkeys pulling carts laden with vegetables and household equipment would hurtle by. The scene was mesmerising and often the odd vehicle would press you against buildings. Here everybody stopped to watch us and when we looked lost hordes of people would shuffle over to smile and help. A nice lady gave us directions to the two large mosques below the Citadel, whose architecture dominates the landscape. From their sombre polluted walls sparked awe and wonder as your eyes focussed on the decorations, roof and minarets that would rise into the sky-line. We sat down for a few moments to take in the scene and to relax after walking all day.

A busy main road took us back into reality and in a matter of blocks threw us out of the rotting vegetable gutters and on to a glittering footpath without a single crack, where the dazzling lights of shop fronts would shine and different members of society would pose. It fact it was all a bit of a shock and much like stepping out of the past and in to the future, in a few small paces. Would you believe our favourite kushari joint enticed us for dinner followed by a fresh glass of orange juice from a street-side bar. We then moved our thoroughly exhausted bodies into the dodgy 1870's Schindler's Lift which slowly puttered us up to the hotel, passed broken glass, dirty floors, and the vision of a fire escape so laden with rubbish that it would be impossible to use in an emergency, and up to our balconied wonderland. I then soaked in the bath and came out to take in all the nights colours and actions of the square below.

Goodnight fascinating Cairo.