Middle East Mosaics: Egypt, Turkey, and Morocco

We spent the morning shoeless, doing our best to show respect for the Madrasa of Sultan Hassan and the Mosque of Ibn Tullun. Our experience at the Mosque was truly our first encounter with the Call to Prayer on a personal level, when in the midst of a tour, the P.A. system screeched an "Allahu Akbar", and worshippers slowly filed in to the courtyard. The cultural tension was palpable as digital camera flashes seemed to punctuate Quranic recitations. However, a couple of kids noted that the Mosque's architecture inspired comtemplation and relaxation, and I hoped that indicated that even if we can never comprehend Islam intellectually, there are certain inherent experiential elements of religion that are truly universal. Or maybe not.

In the afternoon, we were dropped at Khana-al Khalil, the biggest street market in Cairo. We made our way through the section clearly targeting tourists, and into the more the more local, and consequently industrial sector. One stand sold deep friers, another sold street vendor carts, and in some ways it seemed we had discovered the service industry behind the service industry. We found a turkish coffee pot and some finely ground beans, but were somewhat dissapointed when, in the process of 'haggling', we offered a price that inspired an ear-to-ear grin on the face of the vendor. So it goes.

We eventually found a taxi, which was the first taxi I've seen with a prominently-located fare-meter. Of course, the driver didn't use it, not because it was from the 1940s, but because no one uses meters in Cairo. If you're smart you establish a price before you get in, and before the product has been consumed, so to speak, in order to avoid a painfully awkward interaction when you get out. I'm not really sure why these post-drive negotiations are so uncomfortable, but I imagine it has to do with a demoralizing sense of being powerless on the part of the driver.

Our night was spent at Al-Azhar, a park built on top of a garbage dump. What I surmised of the park's history was that a man who had Shi'a roots in the surrounding neighborhood had been inspired by the exile, from the neighborhood, of his Shi'a comerades. He had the park built, and established the foundation to maintain it for progeny, in order to provide an environment in which Sunni's and Shi'as could "co-exist peacefully", in the parlance of our times. Al-Azhar was the most beautiful park I have ever seen, but I don't think I fully comprehended its beauty until, as we stood at the very top of the garbage dump, the day's final Call to Prayer erupted simultaneously from every mosque in the city, enveloping us in a distinctly middle-eastern melodic moan. I'm not going to say anymore about the matter, because as trite as it sounds, words can't really describe it.

I hate to end this post on such a cliche note, so: We had dinner at a restaurant, it was very delicious.