One of the interesting places that I was able to visit in Cairo in 2007 was the Bayt El Suhaymi Area. I've included some links at the bottom of this post which describe this area, and I've borrowed heavily from a post on TourEgypt.net post titled "Bayt el Suhaymi: The House of Suhaymi, Khal el Khalili, Cairo," by Saif Kamel.
Perhaps one of the finest examples of an upper class, private home from 17th century Cairo, the oldest section of this
house was built by Abdel Wahab el Tablawy in 1648 C.E. It was later
purchased in 1796 by Sheikh Ahmed as-Suhaymi, who extended the original
section into neighboring houses that had been built later.
The Bayt El Suhaymi Area was restored in 1997, under the auspices of the Arab Fund
for Economic Development.
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Narrow streets and alleyways create shaded, intimate throughways.
Many rooms of this house feature intricately constructed mashrabeya windows. These allow for a relatively free flow of
air within the structure, and protect the privacy the occupants inside while allowing them to look out.
The open courtyard in the center of the
house is designed to allow fresh air from outside to ventilate
the inner spaces.
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One hall has a high, decorated ceiling which serves a functional purpose for the house.
The height of the hall allows warm air to rise toward the ceiling. The
warm air is then driven out to the exterior by wind currents, which are
harnessed by strategically located wind scoops built into the
walls of the upper level.
This design takes full advantage of the
prevailing breezes in order to circulate cool air into the rest of the
house.
It was my privilege and pleasure to visit Cairo for a month back in
2007. I took a lot of pictures (of course) while I was there. I met so many wonderful, fun, interesting and friendly people.
I had intended to share the names and faces of some of those that I met, once I returned
to the states. I took notes as I made my way around the city, but
unfortunately
those notes were lost somewhere along the way.
The years have made me less sure of getting all of the names right, but I remember the conversations and the interactions as if they took place yesterday. If you recognize yourself or anybody in this post, please comment below,
and I will label the pictures.
Without names and
descriptions, and in light of all that has occurred in Egypt over the
last few years, I have been hesitant to do anything with these
photographs, but tonight I feel compelled to publish a few of my
favorite portraits.
The hospitality of this region
is legendary, but I was still surprised at how friendly folks
were towards me in Cairo. Complete strangers were much more friendly there than I would ever expect to find in any large
American city.
I tried to spend as much time as possible in the less traveled parts of the
city; I found those places to be the most interesting. There were so many great conversations to be had, and so little time!
What an amazing trip this was. I do hope that I'll have
the opportunity to return someday. It was definitely the experience of a lifetime.
When I was in Cairo in 2007, I saw a light bulb shop. I thought to myself at the time that I would never see anything like that in the states. I was wrong. There is a light bulb shop in Shreveport.
First mentioned in an inventory of the gardens of Babylon in the eighth century BC, "Devil's Dung" the world's smelliest spice has a smell described in this Aramco World article as: "a sulfurous blend of manure and overcooked... cabbage, all with the nose-wrinkling pungency of a summer dumpster." When heated in oil however it disintegrates and exudes "a rich, savory scent, reminiscent of sauteed onions."
Tonight was a crazy night in Cairo. Cairo has two soccer teams which played a game against each other tonight. Al-Zamalek, which hasn't won a game against Al-Ahli in 3 years, won tonight. The whole town went nuts. Khan-El-Khalili was a madhouse. The drive back was a lot of fun with bus loads of people speeding by waving their flags for Al-Zamalek, which is based in my neighborhood. The whole place turned into a big party in the streets for a few hours.
We arrived by bus on a dusty street in what appeared to be a small village in the middle of nowhere. Concrete buildings in various states of disrepair surrounded us. Arabic graffiti written in bold colors, large script, small script, ostentatious lettering with brightly painted outlines, or simple one-line messages written in black spray paint brought the drab, crumbling walls to life. Colorful messages to all who could but read them, they were meaningless to your average tourist, not unlike the hieroglyphics pondered over by awed and weary visitors to the pyramids for centuries. Once cracked, that code conjured up from the ground incredible visions unimagined for over two millennia. What will our story be to future travelers when we are all reduced to dust, as the sphinx stands guard against yet another age of explorers and new questions?
Children in various stages of undress ran through the narrow, dusty street. Dirty faces, healthy smiles, careful glances. "Who are these foreigners among us?" Their looks conveyed a simple understanding of this world that I could never fully comprehend, even if I chose to stay here, as an outsider in a world of insiders. They ran and they laughed.
The motion picture of which I was now a part slowed to a crawl as their movements and gestures etched themselves into the crevices of my mind with a clarity that I seldom experience. Watching them was like being under the influence of a deliciously hypnotic drug. Happy and unassuming, with an insight beyond their years into the hidden truth of the world and their place in it, I sensed that only they had a true grasp of what it really meant that I was now standing in their world, so far away from mine.
Sharing the street with us were many indifferent looking horses and camels. Each was standing or resting in its place, randomly chosen in the middle of the street, waiting patiently for a rider to climb on board so that they could begin the trek that they had learned so well from countless rides given to visitors in the past. Grunts, groans, and snorts greeted us as we waited for our guide to negotiate an agreeable price with the camel drivers and horse owners.
Of course I was the one who was in need of the hammam before our hour long expedition ("hammam" is the word for restroom or bathhouse in Arabic, which is almost exactly the same as the word for pigeon, which is "hamam" with only one "m"). I was invited to climb on board one of the drivers' personal camels to get a ride to a suitable location. He climbed on in front of me and advised me to hang on. Good advice, because after a brief moment of unanticipated G-forces and an even briefer sense of impending doom, we were 9 feet above the ground meandering towards the village, around the corner, into an entirely alien world. Whether you imagine a futuristic scene of a desolated earth after a nuclear holocaust, or a simple 18th century Mexican city that has been under siege for a month, you still will not quite be able to recreate the backstage secrets that met my gaze in the ten minute trip that followed.
Hollowed out concrete shells of buildings. Old men smoking shisha pipes that appeared to have been in use since the days when the peaks of the nearby pyramids gleamed golden in the morning sun. Ragged squares in buildings. Crumbling grey and white chunks of rubble hanging from what once had been window frames, now framing far off looks in the eyes of old women who had experienced a wholly different kind of life.
Smiles faded as my camel pushed forward through the narrow alleyway, at a slight trot now (if camels can trot). Energetic conversations changed to silently muttered chatter. Expressions aimed at my driver questioned my intrusion. 8 year olds galloping by on ponies - 10 or more in one noisy herd paying no heed to my arrival. 20 year old men hurdling by on powerful stallions in boisterous pairs. All noticed me. None acknowledged me. This was not a place custom tailored for a tourist.
We stopped in front of an edifice that looked like all of the others, and my guide started hissing a sound that sounded just like what a spider from Lord of the Rings should sound like. A spitting, gurgling hiss that communicated to the camel that the time had come to kneel down to the ground. First the front legs went down in a great dipping motion that had me clamoring and struggling to grab hold of the saddle horn behind me to keep from tumbling over the body in front of me, blocking an embarrassing fall to the ground below. Then the camel's back legs went down slowly and steadily in one motion that left us sitting comfortably on the ground once again.
I was led up a very narrow stairway past several empty, undecorated concrete whitewashed rooms, to a small, unassuming restroom that looked like it hadn't seen much use since it had been built in this location in the 1940's. Who lived here when these buildings were new? Had they ever looked new? Was there a real use for a western style restroom in this neighborhood? Was this the only restroom between this location and the place where my friends were waiting on their camels? Questions raced through my mind, but I quickly did what I had to do to ensure an enjoyable desert journey and returned once again into Mohammed's watchful gaze outside in the open corridor. In a heartbeat we were back on our mount, loping now to Mohammed's quick clicking sounds made to tell the camel that faster was better.
When we approached the end of the dirt passage at the outer edge of this camel-driver-village, I saw that my friends were already making their way into the desert. Mohammad hastened our ride towards them, and soon we were ambling across the sands looking out in the distance over the Nile and the Cairo skyline in one direction, and the imposing forms of the pyramids in the other.
At first this adventure seemed completely unreal, as if we were sitting on the back of a mechanical bull in front of a blue screen in a movie studio filming a clip that would later be mixed with a clip of some stunt actors on an actual camel in the desert beneath the pyramids. Eventually, a sense of reality settled upon us, and we were off in no particular order, headed in what seemed to be no set direction, loosely organized as a group that stretched over a quarter mile across the blowing sands. The camels settled almost immediately into a more comfortable pace, as horses passed by ridden by children and by grown-ups at a full gallop, apparently from all corners of the Arab world. This must be an incredibly popular place for enthusiasts of all ages to bring their horses and ride into the sunset shadows of history.
It wasn't long before my guide dismounted the camel and allowed me free reign over my fate. My camel stubbornly refused to speed up, except ever so slightly when I copied the clicking sounds that Mohammad had used to coax it just a few minutes earlier. The fact that I didn't have the switch that he had used to prod the camel forward probably made a difference.
It is really something to listen to the silence of the desert. It used to whisper secrets to me in the stillness of childhood nights. The rustling of a kangaroo rat or the slithering of a sidewinder resounds like a trumpet in the crisp, black air that is pierced only by a spectacular display of stars. Imagine the symphony created by the galloping hooves of Arabian stallions racing towards you at top speed across the sand, passing by in a blur of dazzling color, and then disappearing, trailed by a golden strand of rising dust, disappearing into the distant hills.
What had seemed to be a journey without direction soon revealed itself to be a loosely organized trek to a singular meeting point at the top of a large rise in the sand. I heard whistles coming from the dark forms that could just be made out on the top of the ridge in the orange light of the setting sun. This was the second meeting point for the camels and their riders, and the animals all knew where they were expected to go. My camel made his way slowly towards the incline. It chose just the right spot. (My attempts to get it to veer towards the hill and my friends before it was ready failed humorously, and I think at least one person took some pictures of my futile attempts to act like a real camel driver.) Carefully making its way over the Martian surface below us, it ambled readily over the rocks and crevices towards the crest of the hill.
Once at the top of the rise, everything was in motion. Animated chatter filled the air. Many groups of tourists, horse riders, camel drivers, and locals had gathered together at this spot. The pyramids rose in the distance glowing a dusty pinkish orange in the fading light of day.
*
At the very moment that my camel and I reached the summit, an amazing
sound filled the air. The sound can only be conveyed if you've watched
The Dark Crystal. Do you remember the mystical, wonderful sound of the
UrRu Mystics as they sounded out their strange harmony together before
being reunited with their Skeksis counterparts? If so, then you will
have an idea of the sound that weaved its way into my soul as I crested
the bluff overlooking the pyramid capped landscape to the left, accented
by the Cairene skyline forming a crescent off towards the right.
At once, at a hand-stroke of the gods, voices rang out. From every corner of the horizon a melodic harmony rose up to the heavens. A call worthy of God's ear, something unearthly. Something absolutely Holy. It was the sound of a hundred muezzins, maybe more, from every mosque in Cairo, calling the faithful to prayer. The azan is sung out more than spoken. The tone carries more meaning than the words. The dedication and the love spills into the air and soaks into the pores. Tears came to my eyes. I was humbled in the midst of this overwhelming barren richness. For an all too brief moment, I stood in awe of a world where mystery mixes with modernity, where secrets dare adventurers to dream, and where a true devotion and an ancient wisdom stand firm against the winds of change.
**
UPDATE: May 2013 - Six years after this amazing trip, I've found a YouTube video that really captures what I was writing about above. Here is the link. I hope that you enjoy it. Horses at the Egyptian Pyramids
The first night that we arrived in Cairo was such a jam-packed experience that I'm not sure that I can do the story justice. You have to imagine police everywhere, hundreds of people packed into the reception area looking towards the customs inspection area, and a lot of speaking in Arabic going on.
The guy who met us at the airport was right there with a big sign that had my name and our school's name written clearly in English, with bold black letters. He was very friendly and immediately helped us all to get our visas. We had been instructed to bring exactly $15.00 (a ten and a five) because getting change would be difficult. Luckily I had two tens because they didn't want to take the first one that I offered them as it was a bit crinkly and less than perfect. We were guided to our luggage pickup location and then handed off to another person who guided us through the throng of eager welcomers to a place outside where we were led by a third person to our bus. The sheer number of people waiting at the airport was unlike anything that I've ever seen in any public space at any time in my life.
The variety of clothing types, the rich and multi-colored fabrics, the chatter in standard Arabic and several different dialects all at once was at once overwhelming and enchanting. There is a unique scent in the air that is not at all unpleasant, just identifiable and special.
The ride in the bus was really extraordinary. We seemed to be going at light speed through a maze of cars, motorcycles and pedestrians. It reminded me of being in a school of small fish that had just been rushed by a group of predators, who themselves were being chased by even larger meat eaters. Motorcycles with Kentucky Fried Chicken and Chili's placards written in Arabic and English, as well as the less recognizable homegrown delivery restaurants, mixed effortlessly with the hordes of black and white taxicabs, private cars driven by jaded-looking older women, and souped up BMW's driven by hip looking twenty-somethings wearing finely tailored suits.
All were driving without stopping or even slowing down at all for the pedestrians who were crossing the tumultuous streets constantly, weaving slowly through the non-stop traffic, seemingly oblivious to the chaos all around them. The drivers didn't pause once, not for the women and children, not for the ambulance wailing close behind. We heard the approaching siren blaring, and eventually a voice over a loud speaker from the ambulance repeating over and over in Arabic: "Move towards the right! Move towards the right! We have injured! Move to the right!" Our taxicab driver explained in dialect that nobody who leaves in an ambulance in Cairo with serious injuries lives to see the hospital, "because, as you can see, the traffic in Cairo is a catastrophe."
We arrived first at the apartment where the women who are with us would be staying. The bus stopped on the side of the street where it joined with another side street. The woman who was responsible for getting us settled into our new homes got out of the bus and motioned for a few of us to start unloading the women's luggage. Visualize this, there were two rows of cars parked along the right side of this street where we stopped. We were stopped basically in what was still a moving lane of traffic, and the only way to get the women's luggage out was to dig it out from under all of the other luggage and pass it out through the back window of the bus, where the bus driver and I would catch it while standing in the street, all the while waving off every car that passed us while the drivers honked madly and swerved unsettlingly into the traffic that was still streaming by at full speed in the other lane.
I now know that a human version of Frogger exists. It starts at about level 140, and you only get one quarter to play. The situation on the roads is absolutely insane. Sometimes I actually want to catch a cab (of which there are always 15 in view either pulling up next to you trying to get your attention, or driving by) just to get across the street.
On that note, I saw an Arabic cartoon version of "The Mummy" today. When the mummy turns himself into a whirlwind and is coming after the archaelogists' sidekick to capture him, the sidekick says to himself "Oh my god, I'd rather ride in a taxi than get caught in that evil wind!" That just about sums it up.
Our initial introduction to our apartments left us in awe of what is possible here with what we would consider to be a relatively small amount of money. They are posh and expansive, with fancy furniture and antique looking hard wood cabinetry along every wall. We have 3 large apartments for our 8 students, and each apartment has 3 large bedrooms, a living room, a "receiving room" a large dining room, a full-size kitchen, a master outside porch overlooking our neighborhood, as well as a private porch attached to each bedroom. Wow! We were blown away.
By the time we got to our rooms we had been traveling for over 25 hours, counting all of our flights and layovers, so we were ready to sink into our large, comfortable beds for a short night's sleep, ready to begin class first thing Sunday morning at 8:30am. (The work week here goes from Sunday = Thursday.)
I awoke at 4:40am that first Sunday morning to the beautiful sound of two muezzins singing out the call to prayer from two different locations, one very close, and one off in the distance. It seemed that they were purposely harmonizing with each other from miles apart. The sound was purely magical. That first call was followed by calls from gradually more distant locations, until about 10 minutes later, the last gorgeous notes rose gently into the air, replaced by the lively and energetic sounds of the waking birds. More bird sounds than I've heard in any city at one time, more birds than I heard on those first misty, deep green Virginia mornings that enchanted my teenage self two decades ago. So passed the first night, and the last week has been seven days filled with more firsts than seconds. There are stories to tell, and memories to last a lifetime.
How can I describe the last few days... I can't in the time that I have to write tonight, so I'll just write a few highlights.
Last night I was smoking a hookah and drinking tea in the oldest continually operating coffeeshop in the world in the middle of the ancient Khan El Khalili market. Fishawi's has been open 24/7 for the last 240 years without ever once closing its doors. Sitting back on an old dark wood bench, speaking in Egyptian and classical Arabic, taking in the fragrances, the sounds, the ancient decorative motifs all around while politely refusing all of the trinkets that were being held out to me by the vendors who were shuffling past... I can't even begin to convey the magic of it all.
This morning I was looking at most of the treasures of ancient Egypt, including most of the Tutankhamen collection at the Cairo museum. Tonight I'm watching Resident Evil on the big screen T.V. while listening to excellent Middle Eastern and American techno music as I'm writing this from the hip coffee joint across the street from our villa. The sound for the movie is turned all the way down, but there are Arabic subtitles. What a great way to work on the language! They have 3 channels here that play American movies with Arabic subtitles all day long.
I've gotten acquainted with all of the waiters and the owner here. Last night they enjoyed showing me their modern satellite system and talking to me about all of the best channels that I should try to get in the states. I know all of the waiters by name now, which adds a lot to the whole experience of being here. Tomorrow we're going to Alexandria, and I'm sure that will be an exciting trip as well.
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