Second Day: Marketplace Madness!

This afternoon’s five-hour stroll through Cairo’s insanely busy Egyptian Market left me yearning for tranquil solitude of Chinatown on a Saturday afternoon

“I love to walk!” Raquy beamed as we made a right from our door, heading away from the Nile towards the poorer part of town. We stopped at one of the ubiquitous juice stands where you pay a pound or less (about 20 cents) for a little stein of freshly squeezed juice – carrots, oranges, sugar cane, tamarind and coconut are favorites.

Since you’re given a glass of the stuff, you suck it down on the spot and return the glass and maybe a little bakhsheesh (tip). If you want the drink to go, they will dump two steins’ worth into a plastic bag, insert a straw and tie the top.

We made too many twists and turns for me to count, winding our way down curvy, dusty streets lined with cars, garbage and ubiquitous feral cats. Boys yelled, “What’s your name?” in their rolling Egyptian accent.

Some cars that had sat too long gathered a thick coat of dust. Rami wrote, “Wash me” on one, along with a quick plug for their dumbek show on Wednesday.

We hit a main drag called Al-Nasiriyya and walked south until it made a U-turn at a famous mausoleum for a female saint named Sayyida Zeynab. “Female saints are really cool in Islam,” Rami noted, “You don’t have to die first, like you do to become a Catholic saint…” Interesting... living saints of both sexes. I will have to look into that.....

At the mausoleum, Al-Nasiriyya turns into Bur Sa’id and heads northeast. We made another right onto winding streets, finally hitting the old Egyptian Marketplace along Al-Ganbakiyya.

Now, to say the Egyptian Marketplace makes Chinatown look like Wall Street on Sunday night is an understatement!

The streets are tiny – Chinatown-sized – and lined with stores whose wares spill effusively into the overcrowded streets. People move quickly though they never push, but it was difficult to keep up with Raquy who skipped ahead and disappeared in the crowd as I tried to take pictures here and there.

I found myself watching the tide of people closely to stay aware of oncoming traffic. Yes, traffic. These streets, which are barely large enough to accommodate the vendors and pedestrians were besieged every thirty seconds by some kind of vehicle, careening through at ridiculous speeds.

Everything from cars, trucks, motorcycles, bikes, giant handtrucks, donkey carts and wheelbarrows charged by me as I dove aside. The streets are badly paved, so I had to be careful not to land on a chunk of broken cobblestone.

Beams and wooden latticework join the roofs, making it dark, which is not such a bad thing since the Cairo sun is intense. But as the sun went down, the street became ever more trecherous.

And then we hit the Gate at Bab Zuweyla and the fun really began.

As I tried to cross the intersection a man carrying a tray of bread the size of a small door on his head biked – yes biked past me. He charged in front of a car which nearly hit him, and then straight towards a jam-packed microbus and a wheelbarrow. All three stopped within an inch of each other.

Miraculously, the bread tray stayed put. He remouted the bike and sped off before I could get my camer out.

I finally made it across the street onto Al-Mu’ezz Li-Din, where more of the same continued.

We escaped and crossed an overpass only to find ourselves in the brightly lit, but more commercial Khan al-Khalyly Bazaar, where vendors descended on us. “Whatever you are wanting, I have it for you!” they shouted as we passed.

We’d been on our feet for hours by this point. Raquy was still going strong, but I was fading and was desperate for a chair, tea and a restroom (not necessarily in that order).

"Is there anywhere near here we could stop for a rest?" I pleaded. "Um ... sure," Rami replied.

A twenty-minute walk later (in the direction of home, fortunately), we found our way to a large, brightly-lit bare-bones café. Men crowded around a TV on one side, cheering the day's football match, and groups of natives, tourists, businessmen, etc. huddled around tiny tables on the other side.

Raquy chose a table among the tourists and ordered for us.

Tea at last!!

After about 20 minutes, Rami had to join his family for their weekly sabbath dinner, so Raquy and I remained, sipping tea and beer and shooting temis beans into our mouths.

I pulled out a map to try to figure out where we had walked that day, and a lean weathered man pawed up to us. "Gamila, gamila!" ("beautiful, beautiful") he said and attached a note to the top of the map with a huge, ornate paper clip.

When he was safely gone, I opened the note: "Mes demoiselles. A Secretery of a Ceo knowledgeable in Italian or Greek-Spanish 'English a Must.' Soft-spoken - and keen to righ!!" Then an address and phone, adding "apt. available all year to abroad peoples, phone or call. Ring twice before noon." And on another paper, "Dieu seul le Suit a vous dieu."

Well, oookay!!

I went back to the map, and when I looked up, Raquy was chatting with a man at a table behind us.

"So weird!" she said, returning, "That guy is a total fan ... he knows all about me and was at my concert last year!" Beat. "Hey! This would be a great place to hand out flyers for Wednesday's show, don't you think?" I agreed and she taught me how to say the basics: hafla (party/concert), Mertz (March), tisa'tashar (19), balesh (free).

I approached a table of businessmen who asked me to join them in English. "I'll be at the show..." I shrugged and headed to the next table. The manager caught my eye and wagged his finger at me, "No-no!"

I crept back to our table. "No flyers," I sighed. "Well, maybe we can give them out quickly when we leave," Raquy suggested.

So, when we were done and paid and the manager was otherwise occupied, we furtively swept through all the tables. "Hafla! Hafla!" I panted to the amused customers and made a quick escape.