Cairo

Saturday, 27th February 1999

This morning the proprietors conveniently advised that breakfast was included in the price, something which they originally neglected to tell, and before we knew it we were shuffled past the TV room (playing non-stop news on Kurdish Occalan) and into a breakfast room with simple décor. Jam on fresh bread was a real winner but we're still unable to work out what kind of weird taste was in the coffee. It was almost reminiscent of lentils.

We then took our now usual route across the murky Nile and to the Syrian Embassy where the guards with bayonets on the end of their rifles welcomed us heartily. The little balding man in a portable office outside the embassy told us what we already knew. They we'd have to get a letter of recommendation from our own embassy before he could even start the process.

The ISAC card quest then took up our thoughts and moved us towards the university, where unfortunately they had no 1999 stock. The medical school on Roda Island was our next target and although they had stock they refused to give us one without university identification. Obviously times had changed since the guide book was written, although Dave managed to buy an under-26 card (much like my own) for 30 Egyptian pounds.

In the midday sun we returned to the hotel for a few moments peace and time to make a plan for the day. Islamic Cairo won the afternoons devotion and soon we found ourselves in the mini-bus station with its vibrant action that we witnessed yesterday. After learning the Arabic numbers from 0 - 9 we were skilled and ready to immerse ourselves in the local transport. There was a bit of a scuffle involved in getting on mini-bus number 54 but graciously two giggling teenagers gave up their seats and we enjoyed a journey of curious stares. The African woman next to me watched my every breath and schoolgirls from behind were practicing their English on us. And who was it that said you only get fifteen seconds of fame - so far it's been an exhausting 48 hours. Nearly all the passengers sang out when it was our turn to get off and they waved goodbye out the windows with half their bodies hanging out.

Ahead the towering mosque of Sultan Hassan and Ar-Rifa'i Mosque stood out like beacons in the dust. From this open area we backtracked to the Ibn Tulun Mosque, which is apparently one of the largest in the world. It was built in the 9th century by a man from Baghdad who was sent to rule Cairo. The inner courtyard is so large that it could fit most of Abbassid's army and horses. Baksheesh for the torn shoe coverings that we were given to supposedly save the mosque cost one pound, and a meddlesome little brat with a key charged us one pound to get up the minaret, which we later found could be entered from the outside for free. The minaret's intricate designs were a very delicate Arab style but covered with hundreds of years of dust. The view form the top gave us a birds-eye impression of Cairo in every direction. A low sun sat on the horizon and flickering pink lights dashed against the mosques and various buildings and even the ancient pyramids shone in the distant haze still towering over the modern city of Cairo. It was all very spellbinding but on our descent we found that most of the local's rubbish sits in colourful piles on top of the city's houses. Many a youth was playing cards or dominos there and would wave, whistle and blow kisses from behind murky walls. I gave the kid with the key who ripped us off the evil eye and made sure he knew that I didn't like him. It's not often that someone tricks us.

From the mosque we walked up busy local streets until we came to the Citadel, sitting on the only hill in Cairo. Unfortunately the home of the royals had closed at around four leaving us to wander around more Islamic architecture in the area. Hussan, a sleek teenager, befriended us. "I am no guide", he says, but wants to practice his English and he ended up following us around which didn't bother us in the slightest. We all walked down a very poor back street riddled with the throngs of traditional life. A herd of sheep stood bleating between a narrow alley packed on each side by later upon later of ochre toned dwellings, whilst carts overflowing with vegetable matter and dirty children came bursting through. "You must see the Blue Mosque with thousands of beautiful Turkish tiles", said Hussan, and of course we did. Although it obviously wasn't going to be as good as Hussan had suggested as he was good friends with the door men. The mosque had seen better days and only fifty tiles glistened along the north wall. The trip up the minaret threw us all into darkness and although the light was quite helpful from Dave's torch I had to feel my way up the smooth cold stones. The view from the top spread over dusty roofs towards the Nile and behind us a great dirty mound of sand was being dug out to provide room for this sprawling city. Hussan wanted a gift at this junction and we replied that we didn't carry any so then he suggested the mag-lite torch, which Dave said he couldn't give away since it was a gift to him. On our descent I skilfully swapped the torch for my hand, which with him being Muslim was a better gift than the torch. At the bottom this youngster then secretly told me that I had "beautiful eyes" and was wondering why I was with Dave and not him. All I could do was to burst into laughter and shake my head.

We all parted company outside and Dave and I continued down the street to the Bab Zuweila, one of the original gates of the medieval city. Its Arabic decoration was very intricate and although its beauty shines, if you weren't looking for it you'd walk right past it due to the calamity on the street. From here we passed through the gates and into a local market, it too bursting with life. Not a guide was in sight so we quickly rushed into a shoe shop and up some secret stairs to Mr Said's papyrus shop. He trained under the master Dr Ragab and is considered to be one of the best papyrus painters around. He warmly welcomed us into the shop for a wonderful cup of tea made by his daughter and we spent over an hour browsing. There wasn't much push to buy and he promised a discount of 40%, the fee that he normally give guides who bring customers to the shop.

By this stage the light had turned to darkness and under dim street lights we made our way back to the hotel via Midan Opera and all the glistening shops along Sharia Talaat Harb. A fancy cake shop caught our eye and for eight Egyptian pounds we got four pieces of cake covered in cream and chocolate as well as two scoops of gourmet ice cream in a cone. I recall marvelling at the contrast of Islamic Cairo and the western scenario now in front of me. Lastly we picked up drinks and a takeaway Egyptian pizza which a chef made from scratch and put into a wood-fired oven. Dinner was taken on the terrace overlooking all the neon, mayhem and modern delights that Midan Tahrir and the glistening waters of the Nile could offer. The pizza base was made of a kind of puff pastry filled with minced meat and topped with cheese and vegetables and tasted nothing like we expected. It was a kind of east-meets-west delight.