Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Cairo: April 17, 2010

All material including photographs are ©2010 Ronald Dunlap / Doglight Studios

Got up early this morning so I could be out the door by 8 a.m. We were off to Memphis, the ancient Egyptian capital. I'd visited there 20 years ago and was underwhelmed, so I was hoping this visit would be more auspicious.

We maneuvered our way through the heavy morning traffic that is Cairo until we reached the outskirts of the city, where the flow thinned to a trickle. It had been 45 minutes from the time I left my room until we arrived at the Mit Rahina, the closest population center to what's left of the ancient capital. We hung a right at the Mit Rahina's main street and headed west until we ran into the open air museum that encloses what remains of Memphis.


There's really not much there outside of a very large colossus of Ramses II. Made of pink limestone, it was rediscovered by an Italian archaeologist in 1820. The base of the statue is missing, so the Ramses lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the building that's been built around him. Up on the second floor, bored tourists look down on the once-great king with passive faces, where once they would have been quaking, hoping not to wet themselves as they knelt before him.


In the surrounding courtyard there is a lovely alabaster sphinx. It once stood in front of the temple of Path, but now it's the focal point of this patch of dirt that's designated as a tourist destination. There are a few other elements from the city but nothing unique. A lot of what was originally here was sold off to major museums around the world during the early part of the last century. For all the fuss the tour companies make about the place, there's really not much to see. It's a real boondoggle, in my opinion.


On our arrival this morning, the policeman at the eastern gate gave us a hassle for coming from the wrong direction. It seems the Tourist Authority has just built a new "secure" road from Saqqara to Memphis, and that's the way tourists are supposed to come. After a brief discussion, Magdy, without paying "baksheesh," secured permission for us to enter. We parked between giant tour buses, and he went to talk to the head of the tourist police while I purchased my entry ticket (21 Egyptian pounds) and then began looking for something interesting to shoot. I made the circuit and shot what I could. You would think there'd be something more impressive left of this once-glittering capital of one of history's greatest civilizations.


Even though it was "unsafe," we drove out the way we'd come and back to Mit Rahina. It was still morning, and I needed to fill my memory cards with images, so I asked Magdy if we could stop in Mit Rahina and walk around a little. We found a place to park off of the River Road and got out. We walked a serpentine pattern through the town, grabbing images of architecture and anyone who would agree to be photographed. I was relieved to not find any of the hostility I had been warned about. After 40 minutes or so we headed back to the car.


A few blocks away from where we'd parked, Magdy asked if I'd like to rest and have some tea. I agreed that it would be nice to sit down and watch the world go by for a while. We took seats at the next tea shop. I ordered a bottle of water and sweet tea, and Magdy had water and Turkish coffee. I sat happily, sipping my tea and staring back at all the town folk who passed. I always wear my sunglasses on these occasions — they protect my soul from being stepped on.


As we were paying our bill (12 egyptian pounds, or 2.16 dollars, including tip), I noticed a couple of gentlemen playing dominos near us, and I asked Magdy to inquire if I could take a couple of photos. They agreed, and to my delight it started an avalanche of others who wanted their photos taken.



By 3 p.m., I was back in the lobby of the Hilton. I had an hour and a half to myself before Magdy's return at 5:30. I took the elevator up to the 5th floor, thinking that I would sit by the pool, have a drink, and continue my trip notes. No sooner had I sat down and ordered a drink than a couple of Saudi women showed up with a gaggle of kids. Dressed in immaculate black burkas with thousand-dollar high heels peeking out the bottom, their charges began an assault on the placid water of the pool. I waved the waiter over, paid my bill, and then headed back to my room. The joyful splashing had been too much for me. I still had more than an hour until Magdy would be back to take me to Makattam Mountain, so I closed my eyes.


Makattam is an upscale suburb of Cairo. It's really more of a hill than a mountain, but it's a wonderful place to watch the sunset. We got there just before six and paid the concessionaires their fee to park and to sit at one of their plastic tables on the dirt pad that's under their control. I set up my tripod and the camera, attached the time advance, and ordered a Diet Coke for myself and a coffee for Magdy. The romantic feel and mild breezes make this area a sort of Islamic lovers lane, where young courting couples come to take in the beauty of the megalopolis spread out below them. Strolling hand in hand, they glance out lovingly at the broad expanse of colored lights that define the city and hide the struggles of its 17 million inhabitants.


Cairo Sunset from Mokattam Mountain from Ronald Dunlap on Vimeo.

Normally you can see the pyramids from here, but tonight it was overcast and I could just barely make out the silhouette of Khufu, so I had no hope that the camera could capture it. I was shooting a frame every minute and hoped for the best. Ahmet had invited us to his house this evening for dinner, so I only had until 7 p.m. to capture what I could.

At ten after seven, I collected my stuff and walked back to the car. Magdy tipped the concessionaire and pulled back onto the asphalt road. We left Makattam and headed down to Ahmet's house, which was just about 10 minutes away.

We got there at 7:30, after having a small problem finding his condo. We finally guessed correctly and were received with a warm welcome. Over the delicious spread of food his wife had laid out, we relived humorous stories of past mishaps and exploits. The proud father of many sons, he was a generous host.

I got back to the hotel just after 10, gathered up my things that needed to go to the laundry, bagged them up, and filled out the slip. I sat the bag by the front door, took half an hour to complete my equipment rituals, then sacked out.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Cairo: April 16, 2010

It was a sleepy morning, and Magdy wasn't to pick me up until 10:30, so I took it easy. I cleaned my cameras and lenses and made sure the batteries were charged and that I had empty memory cards loaded. Then I took a long, hot shower and dressed. I packed my camera bag and toted it down to the fifth floor, where I indulged in the breakfast buffet one more time.

After stuffing myself, I went down to the street and explored the surrounding area that I hadn't visited before.

When I got back to the hotel, Magdy was waiting in the parking area. He greeted me with his usual friendly smile and we talked about what we were going to visit that day.



The first order of business was to make a fast run to the Seoudi store and Café Tabasco in Zamalek so that I could get some stuff for my refrigerator. It was an easy ride, it was Friday and all the schools were closed, so the streets of Zamalek were nearly deserted. I ran into the cafe and ordered three tuna sandwiches to go, then ran a diagonal pattern across the street to the Seoudi store, which is where I used to shop when I lived for a short while on the island. The old Seoudi owner would sit in a chair at the entrance and greet you, and then thank you for your purchase when you left.


Back at the hotel, I stored my food stuffs away and ran back down to the car. Our next stop was the Kahn el Khalili (the old Turkish Market). Dating from the 14th century, it is one of the major shopping areas of the city. Today it's mostly a tourist trap but is still very enjoyable to visit. Magdy drove the circuit around the area and circled back to find a parking space. It is always important to have an experienced driver with contacts in the Kahn that allow him to find a parking space. It cost somewhere between 5 and 10 Egyptian pounds. It was 10:40 when I left the parking area and headed into the bazaar. Friday prayers wouldn't start until noon, and I didn't want to be there when services ended. The police have trucks filled with young men dressed in riot gear, ready to keep the peace.

I walked past the Mosque of Sayyidna al-Hussein, one of the holiest Islamic sites in Cairo. Parts of the compound date from 1154 A.D. and house very sacred items like the oldest complete manuscript of the Quran.



My first stop was Al-Fishawy Coffee Shop (also known as the cafe of reflections or cafe of mirrors). It's been open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for hundreds of years. It used to be the haunt of Egypt's artistic elite, but today it's a favorite spot for tourist groups to recuperate.

Travel Tip: On February 22, 2010, a bomb blast very close to Al-Fishawy took the life of a 17-year-old French girl and injured 20 others. So you always have to be on your guard when you are near or in an area where large groups of tourists gather.


I ordered some tea and got my shoes shined. I photographed the place, but the Orientalist romance has been overpowered by the swarms of Westerners who now populate the place. I paid my bill and headed north and to the west to an area that's a little less crowded and less stuffed with visible tourist trinkets. I shot for about two and a half hours, then headed back to the car.

Magdy was glad to see me, as there were lots of other drivers coveting our parking space. Magdy paid the attendant and slowly edged out of the parking area onto a main thoroughfare.


Our next stop was the Gayer Anderson Museum, a 20-minute drive through crazy traffic. Once there, we encountered soldiers who wouldn't let us enter the area surrounding the museum. It was too close to lunch time, when the museum would close for an hour and a half. They were adamant that we'd have to return at 3 p.m. This was the first I'd heard of the place closing for lunch, but that's the way it is in Cairo, you've just got to roll with the punches. Magdy and I discussed the matter and decided to return to the hotel and take a rest until 2:30. Then we'd head back to the museum.

I had visited the place a few years ago and knew my agenda. What had hung in my memory were the Egyptian room, especially one sarcophagus, and the magic room on the ground floor.


We drove through the mid-afternoon heat to the museum, and this time, the police let us through. Magdy found a spot to park, and I said I'd be back when I'd found what I was looking for.


I paid my 35-pound entry fee and was immediately accosted by one of the guides, who started to verbalize his memorized history. The spiel I got was completely different from the salacious story I'd been told on my first visit — nothing of the practice of magic, the attempts to communicate with the afterlife, or the living arrangements. The history of the place had been completely sanitized into a recitation of architectural history, with none of the personalities who had once inhabited the place.


Major Gayer Anderson was a collector of artifacts, and the house is populated with his exquisite acquisitions. From Persian miniatures to pharaonic inscriptions, the place is a treasure trove. The one room I wanted to revisit most was the magic room. On my first viewing, I'd been fascinated with the charms and ritual objects that had been brought there by a young Nubian boy who shared the house with Major Gayer Anderson. Now, I found the door padlocked, and when I asked about it, no one knew what I was taking about. It's a good thing I have some blurry slide of it somewhere in my archives, because to everyone there, it had never existed.


I exited the museum and found the car. Magdy was AWOL, so I found a snack shop and bought a cold drink. In the late afternoon heat, I sat in the shade and watched the day come to a close.