The Coffee Houses of Cairo

I may have left behind a city — Paris — reputed the world over for its café culture, but the street cafés of Cairo certainly had their charm.

These are not the places to sip a frothy coffee in chic surroundings; rather sitting on a street-corner with a shisha and a strong, sweet Arabic coffee, the clack-clack of dominoes striking the table, or backgammon pieces shuffling around a board as a dice rolls over the wooden set.

A morning in Cairo would start in one of these establishments, breakfasting on a fresh faroula juice washed down with a short, strong coffee. The day would end drinking shay bil-nana or indulging in a thick, sweet sahleb, playing tawila and puffing on shisha. In between, numerous stops are made for mowz bil-haleeb and gwafa juices. *

The real allure of these places, though, is the people with whom you share your table, and I was very lucky in who I met. From the games of backgammon in the little back-street café of Mohandiseen surrounded by locals, to the international crowd near Townhouse, to the thriving energy of Bustan, reputed as the local haunt of the intelligentsia, I enjoyed many an evening in good company.

Drunk on translation

* Strawberry juice, tea with mint, a milk & cornflour mix seasoned with nuts, backgammon, banana milkshake, and guava, respectively.

Elbows Out

Being a well brought-up Englishman, I can’t help but open doors, let people pass, and generally be quite polite whilst navigating a city. Here in the Middle East, this instantly identifies you as a khawaaja — a foreigner. (Having said that, it did so in Paris, too…)

From the Hamidiyeh souq of Damascus, to Amman’s Downtown, to the bustle of Khan al-Khalili in Cairo & Alexandria’s Anfushi souq, one thing remains constant: you are going to get pushed around. Cairo, with its population of 18 million people, exemplifies the lack of awareness people can have for those around them.

And then there’s queuing. Or the lack of it. Be it the people before a ticket seller’s window, crowded around vendor in the market, or packed in an office waiting for some form of bureaucracy (another thing prevalent in the Middle East), then you can be sure that there will not be a queue, but rather a scrum.

I found this at times rather frustrating, but now I just go with it. When it comes to queuing, I adapt to la foule, brandishing the odd elbow, although I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give up that English chivalry.

Sufi Dancing @ Cairo

The Al-Tannoura Traditional Troup perform a few times per week at the Wekalet El-Ghouri Arts Centre, near Khan al-Khalili.

Sufism is where mysticism meets Islam. The basis of this dancing is to separate the mind from the body through the repetition of movement, to become closer to God. Or at least that’s how it was explained to me. I’m not sure how far removed they really become on stage, dancing with strict coordination as the live musicians provide the rhythm to which their movements anchor, but in any case, it’s quite the show.

Entrance is free if you’re in town.

Arabic Aesthetics

I’m still a sucker for anything written in Arabic. I wander the streets trying to decipher the different styles of the scripts, mouthing the sounds to myself, sometimes falling upon words I know, or chuckling at the transliterations of English locution. At times, a side-by-side translation helps me along.

From my dabbling in design, being able to read & understand these flowing lines were a major motivating factor to my inscription at the Damascus university to learn some Arabic.

I wonder if those people whose language uses a different script to the latin alphabet find the same exoticism in our characters? I can’t imagine it holds the same style & panache as their cursive hand… But then I’m biased.

So even a word painted on the back of a pick-up truck holds aesthetic pleasure for me. I guess I’m easy to please.

Les épices du souk du Caire

Khan al-Khalili is the district of Cairo where guide-books send their followers to experience “Islamic Cairo” and its traditional souqs. Having spent the day walking around somewhere south of this district, the first time I crossed it, I did so by accident. The dusty, dirt streets were replaced by cobbled, paved roads; the bustle of the alleys replaced with hassle in the street; neat pyramids of colourful spices replaced pyramids of garlic. In the streets of Khan al-Khalili that are traced on a Lonely Planet map, the diversity of the real souq is lost to shiny models of camels & the pyramids, and ornate shishas, packaged ready to withstand the flight back to Europe.

Propositions of “yes sir, just looking!” replaced the calls for “kilo et-tamaatem, noos guinea!” (a kilo of tomatoes for half a pound); jewellery was proffered on the fingers of well-heeled men, whereas before young boys carried freshly baked bread on their heads. The khawaaga here is a walking wallet; half an hour previously it was just regarded with a slight intrigue.

As coaches bused in the tourists to see the “souq”, I felt less comfortable here than having been shoved around in the hubbub of the more populaire market nearer to the Atbara bus station. I’ve obviously spent too long in this region. But whilst I feel it’s a shame that all these people would have such a warped view of Cairo, returning home with stories of the “exoticism” of it all, I can’t help but savour the delight of seemingly having the rest of the place to myself.