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I can see for miles and miles
From the Cairo Tower, 187 metres tall, you can get a good idea of the layout and size of a city that houses more than 18 million people. The drab, brown buildings spread in all directions as far as they eye can see, or at least as far as the vehicle haze and other pollution will allow. There are here 80,000 taxis alone. In the south-west the pyramids are on the horizon, standing tall on the plateau above nearby houses, in the south-east clearly visible the Citadel which overlooks Cairo and its old quarter. Running from south to north, the Nile, the lifeline of the city and along whose banks lie the flash hotels, the downtown shops and markets, and the Museum. So too the street vendors, the felucca boat operators and horse and carriage drivers, constantly touting for trade, and the floating restaurants and house-boats. Dissecting the river are the 15 May, 26 July, 6 October bridges, in the distance the Cairo Zoo and the adjacent University, and in Mohandesseen the Balloon Theatre and National Circus. On Zamalek Island are parks, gardens and sporting grounds, the Opera House and Modern Art galleries, the latter of which were closed when we tried to visit.
What was open and we discovered it only by chance was the Islamic Ceramics Museum with its collection dating from the 8th century AD. Beautiful bowls, plates, jugs and, yes, water filters from Egypt, Morocco, Persia and Iran, Turkey, and Syria. The museum is housed in an old palace (of Prince Ibrahim apparently), quite a stunning building in its own right. Unfortunately, the adjoining contemporary art gallery was closed; we seemed destined not to see local modern art.
Impressive too was the Citadel, a complex of fortified mosques and palaces, which for 800 years was the political hub of Cairo. A history purchased by Kaelene describes it as a military stronghold and elevated royal city, its fortress the stage upon which the rulers of Egypt acted out bloody dramas of power and ambition, the Citadel symbolizing the domination of slave kings, pashas and colonial governors. And, incidentally, the home of an-Nasr Muhammed with his harem of 1200 concubines. Undoubtedly the treasure for Kaelene was the Gawhara Palace with its beautiful furniture and gild-framed paintings and mirrors.
Hidden behind the ruins of the old city walls and the Magra El Eyoun aqueduct we caught sight of slums and derelict buildings, and the very, very poor. Street vendors squatting in the dirt and filth were selling anything to make a few piastas, underfed horses and donkeys pulling ramshackle old carts with their wooden trays and wobbly old car wheels, sometimes running on no more than rusted rims, and streets of nothing more than rutted dirt and rubbish. We passed the North Cemetery where thousands of poor actually live among the dead. There was nothing to recommend poverty as a lifestyle.
We have not seen all we wanted in Egypt, having but scratched the surface of Cairo. We should also have gone to Luxor with its Valleys of the Kings and Queens and Luxor and Karnack temples. It may be that, in countries like this and with limited time, independent travelling is a false economy and we should consider succumbing to the orthodoxy of an organized tour. Perhaps next time.