Haitham’s Cairo

For my next outing with Haitham I came fully prepared: water, sturdy socks, comfortable shoes, and a camera with two fully charged batteries. Now that I knew what would be in store, I was not going to miss a thing!

We started at the two big mosques that stand at the base of the Citadel: Sultan Hasan Mosque (on the left) and the Mosque of al-Rifa'i (on the right). Again, we managed to find a taxi driver who didn’t know how to get there. So between directing his driving, Haitham also enlightened this young fellow on the history of his birth city (once a professor, always a professor; believe me, I’m the daughter of one and I know; it can't be turned off).

The Mosque of Sultan Hasan was built for Sultan al-Nasir Hasan, who ruled Egypt for twelve years, starting from the age of thirteen. Construction was started in 1356, however he was assassinated in 1361 and the mosque wasn’t finished until 1363.

Over 600 years later, the mosque is revered as an eminent example of Mamluk architecture, as well as being known for its enormous size. The entrance itself is over 131 feet tall, and at the time of construction the minaret was the tallest in Cairo at over 267 feet (although, sadly it actually collapsed killing 300 people). The mosque itself covers a whopping 86,000 square feet of space. Truly monumental.

Entering the mosque you really can’t fight the feeling of what Alice must have felt when she ate the “shrink” side of the mushroom. The scale is so large, it’s a bit disorienting. Not to mention the sudden silence with the void of Cairo-noise. The central courtyard has a large fountain that was not originally intended for ablutions, although that’s what it’s used for today. And in each corner are heavy wooden doors, leading to one of the four madrasas, or colleges, for teaching the four rites of Sunni Islam. (I was going to try to explain the four schools, but honestly I’m still uncertain, so I won’t share the confusion at this point.) At one time, they could accommodate 506 students and 340 staff with over five stories encompassing 174 rooms. When we were there, it was us, about six “staff” (assuming those sitting around were staff), and a mere handful of other curious tourists, so we couldn’t really get the true feel of standing in a mass of 850 people.

The interior walls are brick covered with stucco or bands of colored marble. The floors are also covered in marble inlay. The mihrab and minbar are particularly striking with their marble stripes and gold accents. It’s said that Hasan was able to build such a grand structure because there was a significant surplus in the royal treasury from the estates of victims of the plague of 1348.


Behind the qibla wall is the mausoleum. Following his assassination, Hasan’s body was apparently never found, but his sons have since been buried here. The interior, when we visited, was immense and dark, so I have no photos and can’t really comment on any wow-factors. The guide book describes it as “lofty and somber.” Well said.

Standing next to the Mosque and Madrasa of Sultan Hasan, completing the matching set of gargantuan bookends, is the Mosque of Al-Rifa’i. It was commissioned by Khushyar Hanim, the mother of Khedive Isma'il Pasha (who ruled 1863-1879), on the site of the then-current shrine for Islamic Sufi saint Ahmad al-Rifa'i. Due to financial and logistical issues, it was built in two phases over a period covering 1869 to 1912.

The original architect designed it to match the size and appearance of its bookend mate, Sultan Hasan. However, the interior is very different, with no inner courtyard and tombs lining the sides. It’s also extremely ornate, utilizing nineteen types of marble from seven countries and gold imported from Turkey for the gilded ceiling.


The new shrine for relics from Ahmad al-Rifa’i is immediately in front of you as you enter, decorated as he would have surely wanted, with plastic wreaths and colored pea-lights. It is still a well-visited site for people seeking his blessing in their life. Without the open central courtyard, the space seems even more immense than Sultan Hasan, as we lurk around the edges. We come to one section housing the tombs of King Farouk (essentially the last king of Egypt, ousted in the 1952 revolution), his predecessor King Fuad, Fuad’s mother and Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, the Shah of Iran, who died in exile in Egypt and was once married to King Farouk’s sister (handy Trivial Pursuit factoid).

As we wander through the central sanctuary, we are approached by a young man who speaks with Haitham. He offers to show us another area of tombs. Feeling adventurous we follow him through a doorway leading outside. Immediately to the left is another huge door, which he opens using, what he claims is the original 100-year-old skeleton key. Inside is a line of three funerary chambers containing massive ornate marble tombs for Khushyar Hanim, her son Isma'il Pasha, his three wives (they have to share the same room even in death), and a few others. We somehow acquired a third tourist along the way, so the three of us admire the artistry, which really is impressive with just a dash or two of gaudy, listen to our guide’s history lessons, and then pay him the requisite bakshish. It was worth it.

From here we ventured back out into the daylight with the plan of doing a “little” walking. And having been on Haitham’s walks before, I knew what was in store and I couldn’t wait!

Picture Pages - Laundry

Cairo is not known for its beautiful architecture (other than the pyramids, of course). There are some really beautiful buildings around, however most people point them out saying something like, “It looks Italian,” or “It looks like Europe.” Basically, most of the structures are big, blocky and bland. However, where their color, texture and life comes in is through the fabric… in particular, the drying laundry, and I love it. (And yes, it still mystifies me that you’d go to the trouble of washing something, then hang it out in the dusty dirty air… but maybe you beat it clean after it’s dry.)

So here are some silly laundry shots:

Picture Pages - Bicycles

In a momentary lull in my “Tales with Haitham” exploits (i.e., lazy writer syndrome), I wanted to share some of the “street scenes” we’ve captured. Some are from my foot-wanderings, but the majority are gathered during our weekly jaunt to the commissary, which we approach like any true road trip, with water, maybe some snacks, and of course, a camera.

I’ve expanded my interest in “bread bicycles” (which remain my favorite), to include other bicycles. Essentially they’re all over the place, in all conditions (though usually the term “well-used” or “antique” applies to most). So here follows an assortment of the typical Cairo bicycle and all its uses:

Spices, cabbage and lingerie

Following our explorations at Ibn Tulun Mosque, we ventured over to the Gayer-Anderson Museum, which is conveniently located right next door. The museum is actually two houses, one built in 1540 and one in 1631, that were restored and connected with a bridge-room in the 1930s by an Englishman, Major Gayer-Anderson.

The rooms are beautifully decorated in Gayer-Anderson’s vast artwork, furniture and décor collections, and give an idea how the well-to-do Cairene might have lived during the 1930s.


The roof of the connected houses is rimmed with mashrabiya screens, which, as you can see, were designed around a view of the Citadel. There were also scenes from James Bond’s “The Spy Who Loved Me” filmed on this roof, and in one of the interior rooms, so now we have to rent the movie again and watch more closely this time.


Following our force-guided tour (you “have” to have a guide, if merely to turn on the lights in the rooms as you walk through – having done it now twice, I can tell you that the same things/stories/jokes are told during each “tour” – slightly tedious, but compulsory), Haitham and I decided to do some walking. Now, when I say “some” walking, I need to preface this and add that Haitham’s idea of a nice walk is to go from Ibn Tulun Mosque in Islamic Cairo, to home. So that’s what we did. All in all, I think it was at least five miles, but it felt longer.

But this was the beginning of my foray into a whole new side of Cairo that, prior to Haitham’s guidance and accompaniment, I would not have ventured into. It’s not that it’s unsafe, but it’s inner inner Cairo, and I don’t recall seeing many (any?) other non-Egyptian-looking folk, or blondes from Ohio. Plus, English was not as readily available as in touristy areas, so I had to rely 100% on Haitham asking for directions, several times as it’s always best to double and triple-check.

It was really fascinating walking through these streets, through people’s daily lives (of course, no camera this day… but I definitely got photos on our next outing). I did have a few moments where I felt like the human sore thumb, but I have perfected the act of pretending that people aren’t staring at me, or on particularly egocentric days pretending they’re mistaking me for a movie star. Either way, I just keep walking.

We had decided to try to find a market to buy some spices and maybe some veg. I really wanted to take advantage of Haitham’s language skills to replenish my spices and get some new ones. So we had been directed to a local market that was around behind the As-Sayyida Zeinab Mosque. This is an interesting mosque, in that it’s built for a woman, Sayyida Zeinab, who was the granddaughter of the Prophet Mohammed and is also the patron saint of Cairo. Ironically, at least I thought so, women are only allowed in the mosque through a side entrance and no non-Muslims are allowed in.

The market was indeed behind the mosque, and there was no question this was a local market. Foreigners were definitely foreign. But again, I pretended I come there all the time, and followed Haitham closely at his heels. We walked past stands stacked with fragrant oranges, then walked through the grapes and apples, onto the cutlery and pots and pans stalls, then past the hanging unidentifiable carcasses with furry tails stall (I diligently checked out the pink plastic salt and pepper shakers opposite these as we passed), finally to come to the spices (we merely had to follow our nose).

I love these! The mounds of colorful, fragrant, inviting spices, stacked up in their individual barrels, waiting to be scooped up and weighed. We were very successful and replenished my cumin and curry supplies, then added cardamom and turmeric and tried some Yen-Soon (anise) tea. (And Haitham was kind enough to let me document our success using his camera and himself.)

From here we wandered back and passed some gargantuan cabbages. Haitham was interested in getting one, ideally smaller than a car tire, so we picked through a stack, found an acceptable one and then looked around for the stall owner. We were directed to an elderly woman perched in a plastic deck chair. Haitham carried the cabbage to her, and I stood back, watching the whole interaction: Haitham in suit jacket, surrounded by Roald Dahl cabbages, standing under a sea of slinky lingerie hanging from hangers over their heads (we had obviously found the one-stop shop for those buying cabbages and negligees). The woman never took her eyes off Haitham, even as he handed her the cabbage. She reached out and gently patted the cabbage, obviously assessing Haitham more so than the vegetable. Making her decision she told him the price (obviously not necessarily by weight, but rather weighty stare). We paid and exited the market.

We had decided to walk home from here, so we got our bearings and headed to Tahrir Square or downtown, then home. As we walked through the crowded streets, full of shops, people, cars, busses, taxis, and more people, we passed one of the women selling the Baladi bread on the sidewalk. Haitham bought us three pieces for dinner (1 EGP each = $.18). It was my first “street food” purchase and quite a thrill. Ron’s comment later was, “Did you make sure to get the ones that had fallen on the ground?” We assured him we got the ones with extra dust and schmutz.

Islamic Cairo, not for the faint of heart or flat-footed

January brought us our first houseguest! Haitham, Ron’s friend from the Met in New York, came for a few weeks, and it is for him and him alone that I saved Islamic Cairo (other than the Citadel). The reason for this is simple, there is no one more knowledgeable or better versed in Islamic art than Haitham (which is good since he teaches it at three universities in NYC).

So, after resting up from his travels, we ventured out for our first adventure starting at Ibn Tulun Mosque. Actually it started earlier than that as it took us three attempts to find a taxi driver who knew where it was. The irony is that the mosque and accompanying Gayer-Anderson Museum are in the top five tourist sites for Cairo. And the mosque itself covers 6.5 acres of land in central Cairo, so it’s no hidden gem. It’s a gargantuan gem.

The Mosque of Ibn Tulun is the third largest mosque in the world and is the largest and oldest mosque in Cairo (completed 879 AD) boasting its original structure. Ahmad ibn Tulun himself was born in Baghdad, the son of a Turkish slave. He rose to become the governor of Egypt in 870 AD and ruled through 905 AD. There are many legends surrounding the location of this mosque, including it being the landing spot for Noah’s Ark, or the location where God spoke with Moses and Moses confronted Pharaoh’s magicians (I’m not familiar with that one…), or that close by was where Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son. Suffice it to say, there is great religious significance to this locale.


The mosque is designed with a large open inner courtyard surrounded by covered halls on four sides, with the deepest hall on the qibla side, or side indicating the direction of Mecca. Also on this side is the mihrab (niche in the wall to indicate the qibla wall) and minbar (platform or stairs from which the Imam gives his sermons or lectures). The domed ablution fountain in the middle of the courtyard is not from the 879 plans. The original ablution fountain was apparently changed to this present location at the end of the 13th century (and currently remains a waterless, albeit impressive, fount).

Haitham and I, after dutifully removing our shoes (I’m getting better at remembering to wear heavy non-white socks, as most of these mosques have concrete or dirt floors), I donned a headscarf to be respectful (though I hear it’s not as expected of Westerners), began to wander and explore. We carried an Islamic Cairo guidebook and read through the descriptions, which included indicating that three of the 128 plaster stucco windows were original. Following the book’s instructions, we counted off from one corner to find these windows, however by the time we got to the third one we were thoroughly confused and completely uncertain as to whether we had actually found the first two. So much for two brains being better than one.

The 13 arches on each side surrounding the courtyard are pointed at the top; a design style that didn’t appear in Europe for another 200 years. The stucco designs decorating the inside of the arches are stunning in their intricacy and variations. Running along the top of the wall, under the ceiling is a band of sycamore wood stretching 1.2 miles around the mosque, inscribed with the beginning of the Qur’an. It’s said that some of these boards were salvaged from Noah’s Ark.

There is an outside wall, separating the mosque from the secular world or shops and apartments that press in on all sides. It’s topped with crenellations that give the impression of paper dolls linking arms. One guidebook states that while most likely unintentional, it gives a sign of solidarity, as well as a distinctive cut-out in the skyline.


The minaret on this mosque is unique in its spiral design, however it’s uncertain what is still original on it. After paying the requisite bakshish, primary to get rid of the insistent guide, we clambered up the minaret. The top of the base rests on the roof of the halls surrounding the courtyard, so you’re able to walk around the top of the mosque. We continued up to the top of the minaret which, on a clear day, affords an amazing 365 degree view of Cairo, from the Citadel and Moqattam Hills, to down town and beyond. (No, Cairo is not "beautiful" but there is an awe-inspiring quality that cannot be denied.)




The mosque has a significant history of restorations and other-uses, including being used as a wool factory, hospice and caravanserai, or hotel of sorts for North African pilgrims heading to Mecca. The first recorded restoration was in 1177, then in 1296 and most recently in 2004.

During this trip I managed to bring a camera with a dead battery, so I didn’t get any photos. However, a few weeks later, Ron and I took Mom, who was visiting us, back and this time I made sure to bring a working camera (enabling documentation of the matchy-matchy mother-daughter look – which was unintentional, I assure you; Ron in his "rented" shoe covers; and Mom practicing for her upcoming role in "Aladdin.").



From here, my adventures with Haitham in Islamic Cairo had merely begun, so stay tuned!