Islamic Cairo has many mosques, and other stunning revelations

My parents are back in town, just in time for finals week.

Since they have already been to town, however, there was much brain-wracking to think of tourist sites they've yet to experience. A solution was produced by my mother's intensive research (i.e. she read guidebooks and remembered what they said): in Islamic Cairo, it's possible to explore houses and mosques - provided, of course, that you can find them.




We set out in a cab to find Beit as-Suhaymi, which the map claimed was fantastically close to the Khan al-Khalili market. After some negotiation with a tourist police officer, the cab was allowed to drive us past the barricades that surround the market. The problem was that these streets were not exactly designed for easy car travel, built, as they were, many centuries ago. They are too narrow for cars to pass each other, and yet are two-way streets, which meant that our cab had to reverse to let other cars pass on more than one occassion. The driver was aimiable as could be expected in that situation, and we finally arrived at our desitination.


It's a strange place. Strange, first of all, because of the lack of security. Sure, we bought tickets and displayed them, but we were then free to explore the house at will, even walking on the carpets and sitting on pillows as we saw fit. The place has endless doors and passageways and staircases, such that it resembled the Winchester Mystery House, but older.






After finding our way out of the Suhaymi maze, we headed through the old streets and the market toward Al Azhar mosque, which is the holiest of the holy hereabouts and thus required clothing adjustments. My mother and I were both presented with loaner gallibeya to wear - she because of the length (or lack thereof, I suppose) of her sleeves and I because my pants were "too tight," according to the man.





Finally, we managed to find a way into the Al-Ghouri complex, which previously I had thought of only as the pretty entrance to the far side of the market. There is a house in there too, unfurnished, in which they hold music concerts if you show up on the correct evenings, and a cistern into which you can climb if you are not a wimp, like me (my dad went in). Across the path, there's a mosque whose minaret we climbed, guided by a somewhat crochety gentleman. The stairway up to the top of the minaret was a bit terrifying, what with the pitch blackness we encountered for a quarter of the way. Luckily my mother, in addition to reading guidebooks, carries various essential items like flashlights with her for these very occassions.

This is the minaret, and its view:



The Egyptian gentleman told us a very long story (in Arabic) about the buildings we could see and the one we were in. I might have understood a few words, but I'm not sure. Then he defended his winded-ness by announcing his age and demanding to know how old my father is. Lest I reveal too much about anyone's age, I will leave it at this: my father was very pleased to admit that he is two years older.