Old Cairo

Saturday, Nov. 7 -- We did a day in old Cairo with Rasha, starting at the Coptic Christian quarter, which houses not only Christian churches, but a synagogue as well. The whole quarter is like a city, with narrow winding streets and private homes cheek by jowl with the churches. We got a full lesson on how the Christians turned ancient Egyptian mythology to their own uses -- in one church, a painting of Isis holding Horus was reincarnated into a picture of Mary holding Jesus. Sermons are delivered three days a week in both Arabic and Copt, an ancient Egyptian language.

The hanging church is so named because it was built literally on top of a Roman column and just kinda hangs there. In another church, Mary and Joseph supposedly stayed in the crypt with Jesus when they fled to Egypt.

Then on to the Citadel and the mosque of Mohammed Ali, built between 1830-48. (Not the boxer.)It's considered the biggest and grandest of all the mosques and Mohammed is buried there. It really is quite big and quite grand, with a green ceiling, lots of symbolic carvings and doors that lead to high pulpits.

The best part of the day, however, was our walk through old Cairo from the southern to the northern gate. Part of it is a non-tourist area, teeming with humanity and shops selling everything from spices to hookah pipes to copper and brass to cotton and lots of risque clothes for the ladies. They may have been wearing some of that stuff underneath, but you'd never know because they're mostly covered with galabayas, the tunic-style, floor length dresses worn by both men and women. I'd say about a third of the population favors a galabaya over western wear and the women who don't still cover their heads and necks with scarves. Many women are totally covered in what we call burquas, and many also wear black gloves. While it's very disconcerting to us, it's so much a part of their culture that we've quickly gotten used to it. In fact, we're all finding we're quite comfortable with Muslims. After all, we're in a Muslim country.

A word about the traffic -- it's worse than Hanoi, if possible. People actually walk or run across the "freeways." Buses, which are mostly VW vans, slow down to pick up passengers, but they don't actually stop. The side doors are open for ventilation, as is the door over the engine in the back. Horns blare constantly and without any effect.

We ate dinner at the famous Mena House at the base of the pyramids. Despite the very very bad pollution, it's pretty magical sitting there.

We met our group and guide, who is named -- ta da -- Ussama!