Shopping Tales: Overview

I’ve been amassing shopping tales for a while now and have been trying to figure out how best to present them. Shopping here seems to fall into two main categories: necessity shopping, which includes commissary (food) shopping, clothing and household item shopping; and non-necessity-but-really-pretty/fun/unusual shopping, which basically includes chach-ka and local artistry (tapestries, woodwork, alabaster, silver, gold, etc.). Could one argue that the latter shopping category is never needed? I guess so, but then what fun would it be 50 years from now to tell people, “I could have bought a hand-made _____ (fill in with desired item) when we lived in Cairo, but I knew it wasn’t really necessary.” I mean, how silly. And some items, such as a unique metal desk lamp, can happily reside in both shopping categories, as can alabaster candle holders, though I would assume when you reach a certain quantity of said alabaster candle holders, they may tip into the non-necessity category. The bottom line is, there are thousands of shops, the prices are usually very very good, and it can be a lot of fun.

I will admit that Ron and I have also made great use of the online shopping options as well, in huge thanks to having the use of an APO, but that has been primarily for electronics (I swear we already had one of everything, but I have been told I’m wrong, very very wrong), some books, clothing, shoes (I found my need for varied mock-crocs was increasing), and initially some vegan food goods before I found that our commissary stocks, among other things, tofu pups (I can probably assume that I am the only one who did a little happy-dance when I saw them there the first time).

While we do have some Target-like shopping options here, in Alfa Market and CarreFour, they are limited and I find that by embarking on an expedition to find a cutlery tray, compost bin, or red pen, my explorations of Maadi have gone much farther than they would have had I relied on the limited selections at Alfa Market and CarreFour. So I opt for the hunt and discover method often.

There are a few commonalities that have arisen during my shopping trips. Shopkeepers are typically very nice and friendly, sometimes bordering on clingy or overly-eager – unlike in the states where you’re followed around a store because they fear you’re going to pinch something, here they want to be nearby in case you need absolutely anything. Prices are rarely listed, and it seems that upon inquiring a price is randomly selected from the air (this is even true in non-chach-ka stores). Bargaining can be attempted, but may or may not be successful, so depending on how much you want the compost bin, red pen or alabaster piece, you may just have to pay the air-picked price. Other than larger grocery stores, no one has much change – sometimes just getting five pounds back involves sending a runner to another store. Stores often appear closed but I’ve found it’s beneficial to actually attempt entry as many of them just don’t turn on lights until there’s a customer. Upon customer’s entry they happily turn on all the lights and start the A/C or fans running (I often feel guilty when I’m just window shopping and want to tell them they don’t have to bother, I’ll just poke around in the dark). And practically without exception, everything you buy needs to be thoroughly washed off when you get home.

We recently decided to purchase a wicker-like-straw-woven cat basket from the Road 9 basket seller (we had hopes that Chuckles would find it an adequate scratching-post, as opposed to the government furniture which we discourage with great hoots and hollers and arm waving). This man displays his baskets on the street corner every day. I’ve also seen the same baskets hung from carts elsewhere in Maadi, but due to our proximity we see this basket-seller more often. We stood there asking the prices of this basket and that basket, while he pulled them from the piles and tried to lure us into buying larger ones. He feigned misunderstanding when he was piling up a cat-basket and a laundry-type one, thinking we wanted both. He suddenly grabbed a third basket, threw it in the bottom and announced it was a free one. He kept dropping the price and we finally gave in and bought all three. Ron attempted to carry the towering stack of baskets (which are surprisingly heavy), only to have the cat-basket topple off and knock over a bicycle leaning against a tree. I jumped over, handed the cat-basket to Ron and attempted to right the bicycle. Having received a beautiful Cannondale road bike a few years ago, which I can carry with one hand due to its titanium frame, I found this ancient relic of a bike outlandishly heavy. You’d have thought it was a baby Harley. I actually could barely stand it up, let alone get it to lean against the tree. During this struggle, I refused to look around to see how many of the reams of men who are always sitting or wandering around, were watching the crazy blond expat wrestle with a bike (I’ve recently embraced my differences and have started wearing a safari-like hat outside as well, merely furthering the entertainment factor, I’m sure). Ron came and helped me and we managed to get the bike stable and upright, then gathered up our purchases and huffed it home. Once home, I took all three baskets straight to the bathtub and proceeded to wash them all off. The dark brown water that drained out was actually a bit startling. Since then, I have taken to washing everything, including the plastic compost bin which I thought was a light gray and sage, but after cleaning found it was actually white and green. This is no comment on the cleanliness of shops or shopkeepers. This is life in Cairo – where the dusty dirt filters through every crack and settles regardless of how much you try to fight it. And often the way shopkeepers fight it is by attempting to wipe the dust off with a rag only upon purchase. Why bother otherwise? So I’ve just begun the practice of washing/wiping everything purchased once we get home, as well as carrying travel wet-wipes with me always. I guess it’s either this or adopt the overly-packaged, excessively-wrapped methods back home, and considering that this country does not need any more excess garbage (not to mention the planet as a whole), I’ll gladly rinse off everything after purchase.

Pictures of Ricky enjoying his two new baskets (Chuckles has yet to display any interest what-so-ever -- typical feline.)


Move over Martha…

Under a continuing grant from the “RPI Foundation for the Enhancement of Husbands” I have now taken TWO Egyptian cooking classes. The first one was “Egyptian Desserts,” which is what initiated the formation of the afore-mentioned foundation. There were a few days of concern as to whether they’d be holding the class as I was the sole signee a week prior. Ron had me asking anyone and everyone we knew if they’d be interested in receiving a grant from the RPI Foundation so the class could commence. Unfortunately I couldn’t find any takers, but luckily three other women were able to find their own financing for the $17 entrance fee so we were a go!

Raja is the instructor for all the cooking classes, and they’re held in a small, but highly functional, kitchen at CSA. She announced that we were going to learn how to make om ali, ba’lawa, and basbusa. Initially none of the names rang any bells for me, but as we progressed through I realized that I’d had basbusa before (it was okay, a little too heavy and sweet) and that ba’lawa was essentially baklava.

Om ali and ba’lawa are made with fillo dough, which is readily available here in Egyptian supermarkets in the freezer section. Om ali is basically a milk pudding. You cut up the fillo and baked it until light brown and crispy, add it to coconut, chopped nuts, and raisins in a glass bowl, stir it all together and cover it with a boiled milk and sugar mixture. Sounds a bit strange (and sorry, I forgot to take my camera that day, so no pictures), but it’s apparently a common dish for Egyptian breakfasts (served cold) or as dessert (served hot/warm). I tried it and it was really quite good. The fillo soaks up the liquid so it has a bread-pudding-like texture. I’m going to try making it with soy milk and see how it turns out.

Ba’lawa was amazingly simple! Now, one thing she kept pointing out was that Egyptians like heavy, sweet, syrupy desserts (I thought it was honey on everything, but I learned it was a sugar/lemon/water mixture). She knows that most westerners find them too heavy, so she cooked specifically for us and cut down on the sugar. For the ba’lawa she also cut back on the butter/margarine, so it wasn’t so rich. I have since gone out and purchased all the ingredients, including the glass side-fluted pan for baking it in. I will attempt it this week. Who knows, this could be career-path #87 for me?!

Finally, the basbusa she actually made from a box. The basis is semolina, with some spices. She adds her own things to it, including coconut and chopped nuts, makes it into a cookie-dough-like substance and then presses it into the glass pan. It ends up looking like a dense cake, about 1cm deep. Sliced almonds are often used to decorate the top. After it’s baked, you pour the boiled sugar/lemon/water mixture over it, let it soak in, and serve. Her basbusa was really good and far better than others I’d had – less syrupy and sweet with a semolina texture (kind of like non-soupy grits).

Ron was equally delighted with my initial excitement and extremely encouraging with my continuing culinary educational pursuits. I have to say that since getting married I have actually enjoyed doing the cooking. This was no bigger shock to me than anyone who knew me. Before marriage, if a meal required more than one pot I wasn’t too interested. And if I could eat it out of the same pot, ideally while standing the kitchen, all the better. After marriage, since I’m the one with the dietary demands (no animals), I willingly opted to do the cooking, which also meant I suddenly had to pay more attention to presentation and taste. Ron is good about eating vegetarian when I cook, and I know when something’s a hit if seconds are requested.

Throughout both classes I watched in amazement (and sometimes horror) as Raja skittered about the kitchen with burners on, flames flickering and her beautiful head scarves flapping in the breeze, just barely touching the flames. She was completely nonplussed, but I kept pointing out the exposed flame when she’d remove a pot or pan. My fire issues were showing. She’d also constantly say, “You look a like this,” as she cooked, stirred, chopped, or fried. Or “See please, see please,” if someone wasn’t paying attention.

During the desserts class, Raja was asking us what we liked to eat here. I explained that I was vegetarian so I was enjoying the ta’amia (falafel), hummus, koushari, etc. She got all excited and said she could teach us how to make koushari during her next class. It was the second in a series of Egyptian Cooking, but she said it was fine for me to come for just the one class and she’d make it all vegetarian. How could I resist? Luckily the board members of the Foundation were equally excited about having home-made koushari, so another $17 was willingly coughed up.

For the vegetarian class she made us fuul, the broad beans, or fava beans, are cooked with oil, cumin, salt, lemon and garlic, and she added tahina, chopped tomato and a little chili powder. Stir it all together and Raja served it to us on her homemade Egyptian flatbread. It was wonderful! (Note: These cooking classes are really a watch-n-eat class. Not knowing this, I didn’t take any writing implements the first time so had to race home and write everything from memory for the desserts. But for the vegetarian class, I came fully prepared with paper, pen and water.) Raja’s bread is definitely the best I’ve tasted anywhere so far. She said she has a special oven that cooks it on all sides. The few times we’ve seen it being made, it’s been in an igloo-like oven, like those used for brick-oven pizzas. Whatever it is, is works well. I don’t think my culinary aspirations will evolve to requiring my own flatbread oven, but never say never.

Next she made ta’amia (falafel). She makes it from scratch (she makes everything from scratch and tells us repeatedly to never buy food from the street vendors, regaling us with horror stories of oil never EVER being changed, just topped off, and other such stomach-churning tales), again she uses broad beans that she chops up into a mash with a food processor, along with fresh parsley, dill, and other spices. She brought this mixture from home, pre-made, but then showed us how to make it into little patties, sprinkle with sesame seeds and dried coriander, fry up lightly and serve with fresh sliced tomato on her amazing bread. (I took my camera for this class.) Definitely the best falafel I’ve ever had. She said she takes orders for the falafel mixture as well as her bread, so at the end of class I placed an order for two packs of falafel (at least four meals’ worth) and 10 pieces of bread (all of which can be frozen and kept). The cost for all of this? Four U.S. dollars. She’s also firmly saved in my phone now, for future ordering needs (it’ll be worth the drive to Maadi).

Finally, she made the koushari. This is the dish I first tried at the Marriott on Zamalek. It’s a conglomerate of rice, macaroni, spaghetti, chickpeas or lentils, spices, covered in a tomato sauce with a red hot sauce on the side, sprinkled with fried onions. Not a dish for those who fear carbs (and happiness). It was quite a production, but nothing too difficult, and it made an enormous mound of happy koushari (again, definitely the best I’ve had in Egypt).

At one point, when she was frying up the onions we were all getting hit with the onion effects, stinging eyes, even some tears. She promptly told us to tear off some of the leftover bread, and hold the piece in our mouth, between our lips. We all hesitated, thinking she was a bit of a loon, but the pain overcame us and we all sat there with pieces of bread hanging out of our closed mouths trying not to laugh at east other. And miraculously it worked! The onion sting went away. Maybe other non-inexperienced-cooks already knew of this, but I was just delighted. Of course, the bread was so good I ended up nibbling it away and sure enough the stinging eyes returned.

I’m excited to make the koushari, but it will have to wait until we’re settled in Zamalek. We are still working with a limited kitchen in Maadi. In addition, the tomato sauce she made for it would make a great pasta sauce so I already have visions of making my own sauce and she told me where I can go to get fresh basil plants, so I’m heading there asap! Watch your local market shelves for “Miss Julia’s Raja-special tomato sauce,” it should be next to “Surviving Cairo and the First Year of Marriage” best-seller that you no doubt already have a copy of.

Citadel: Fortress on the Cairo Skyline

I’ve briefly mentioned The Citadel during one of our riding-around-getting-lost postings, but I finally signed up for a proper tour. Ron had expressed interest in going on a guided tour as well, but said he was going to wait until the Fall. Not absorbing the gist of his reasoning, I blindly went through with my plans, signed up and traipsed over to CSA on Tuesday morning where the tour bus would pick us up.

There were only six of us on the tour, a woman whom we’d met on the Ancient Christianity tour (the Oil-Wives, I’m finding, take advantage of a lot of the tours… of course, the same could be said of certain Dip-Wives, too), plus her sister visiting from Shanghai, a retired “Beer Guy” (his phrase) and his visiting friend, me, and a 70-year-old American woman who decided to hop a bus from Jerusalem because her visas had expired so she was spending a few months exploring the wilds of Cairo.
We climbed into a yellow minivan with “Egyptian Transpurt” (sadly, not my typo) hand-painted on the side. If we hadn’t been with our tour guide, I might have thought we’d mistakenly gotten on the Egyptian equivalent of the “short bus.”


The Citadel’s history is long and varied. It was initially built on the limestone cliffs above Cairo in the late 1100s by Saladin to ward off the Crusaders. For the next 700 years, Egypt’s rulers made it their home, adding on and rebuilding throughout the centuries. Following Saladin’s reign, the Mamlukes, who were prisoners of war from Turkey and brought to Egypt as slaves, took over the Citadel, followed by the Ottomans, then Napoleon in 1798. Following Napoleon, Mohammed Aly Pasha took power and destroyed all but one Mamluke mosque, which he apparently used as a stable. He destroyed and remodeled the rest of the Citadel after the Turkish-style, and this is what remains overlooking Cairo today.

Currently there are three mosques remaining (one Mamluke), along with palaces and buildings that have been converted to a Police Museum, a Military Museum, and a Carriage Museum. The largest mosque, Mosque of Mohammed Aly, with great silver domes and alabaster walls, was started in 1830 and took 18 years to finish. There’s a large clock perched on the edge of the outside courtyard that is from the French. Apparently it was sent by the French as a gift for a Pharonic obelisk that’s displayed in Paris (I heard one tale that it was sent as compensation for the French taking the obelisk, but that may be incorrect), however the clock arrived broken and has never worked. There is also a beautiful marble fountain in the central courtyard with spigots for those who come to pray to wash their feet first. (We were asked to remove our shoes before stepping inside. Muslims pray by kneeling and putting their face to the floor, so it’s disrespectful to walk with your shoes where someone’s face will be – note, next time wear dark socks, by the end of the tour my feet were a lovely shade of city-street-grub. In addition, we had been told that we were not required to bring a headscarf to cover our hair, as is often required of women upon entering mosques, but since we were deliberately visiting between prayer times, this wouldn’t be needed. However, we were not told that we should cover our arms. Luckily I had brought a scarf/shawl with me, just in case, so I wore that throughout the day. Those lucky tourists who felt that temperatures reaching 100 degrees warranted them wearing short-shorts and tank tops to visit a mosque, sadly these are almost always Americans or Europeans, were asked to wear long green capes that reached the floor. Looking around the mosque, I had brief flashes of being in a Hogwarts sorting-hat ceremony.)

The interior of the mosque was crafted with Italian alabaster on the walls and columns, and Egyptian alabaster on the floors. There are 354 hanging glass globes illuminating everything. They initially housed candles, but now rely on electricity and lots of bulbs. Considering the law of averages, I would assume changing burned-out bulbs would be an infinite task.

There are beautiful paintings and stained-glass windows on all sides, however we learned that depictions of humans or animals (anything with a soul) are not allowed in mosques, so the designs tend to be basic patterns, or flowers, or Arabic calligraphy. The original green and gold pulpit is still in place, but is no longer used. A second marble pulpit was installed farther back and in the center of the mosque for better acoustics. All mosques, regardless of where they are, are built to face Mecca. This way, when praying and facing the pulpit, you are also facing Mecca. Because of this, all mosques in Cairo are built facing Northeast.

We visited the Museum of Al Gawhara Palace, which was constructed by Mohammed Aly from 1811-1814 and was the primary residence before he had the Harem Palace built. In 1972 there was an electrical fire, however, and all the original furnishings and artwork were destroyed, so currently many of the rooms have been converted to administrative offices, but we were able to see two rooms that have been restored and furnished with articles taken from other palaces of the same era.

This was where Aly is said to have arranged the massacre of the Mamluke leaders on March 1, 1811. He apparently invited all the Mamlukes to the palace to celebrate the proclamation of war on the Wahhabis in Arabia. Between 600 and 700 Mamlukes came and on the route to the palace, in a narrow road down from Mukatam Hill, they were ambushed and killed by Aly’s forces in what became known as the “Massacre of the Citadel.” It is told that one Mamluke, named Hasan, survived the massacre and escaped on his horse, however during the following week hundreds more were killed throughout Egypt, over 1,000 within the Citadel itself, and in total over 3,000 were killed.
It was in Al Gawhara Palace, listening to the tales of slaughter, where the heat of the day started settling in and we all began the forehead dabbing gestures (there was no A/C and the open windows sometimes offered a slight breeze, but moreso they offered unfettered access to the hot air outside).

We next explored the Military Museum, which was housed Harem Palace. This one, however, unlike Al Gawhara Palace, was in remarkable condition. The interior rooms had been restored beautifully, with high ceilings, intricate motifs stenciled on the walls and on all ceilings, gold accents, huge ballrooms, sweeping marble staircases. Definitely palatial. The contents of the museum were marginally interesting to me; I’m just not that intrigued by the history of Egyptian military uniforms or examining dioramas of historical battles fought (though they did have on display one of Tutankhamen’s original chariots, which was impressive). But in all honesty, I might have found it more interesting had the heat not been so distracting. At one point on the second floor, four of us decided it was more important to find a breeze than examine the exhibits, so in a bit of heat-induced panic, we raced through room after room until we all stood by the one window affording a cooler breeze.

After this, we wandered through the small Carriage Museum, showing, shockingly enough, carriages. Again, heat stroke displaced any interest I might have had in these. I found myself more focused on making sure the 70-year-old woman didn’t slip on the wet floors. One method for attempting to cool things off here is to pour water on the floor and turn the fan on. However, in this case it just made the sweltering heat a secondary concern to slipping on the stone floors.

We were dragging as a group by now, but our tour guide (who really was fantastic – poor thing just got saddled with a bunch of wilting Americans (and two very western Malaysians)) encouraged us to go on to one more mosque. I’m glad we did, as although the Mosque of Sulayman Pasha was significantly smaller than the Mosque of Mohammed Aly, it was very impressive and had a beautiful inner courtyard. This mosque was built by Sulayman Pasha Al Khadem in 1528 at the beginning of the Ottoman Empire. It is known for its unusual green dome and was apparently the first mosque in Egypt to be built in the Ottoman style. (I took these factoids straight from the sign, so additional research will be needed to determine exactly what the “Ottoman style” is – I’m assuming it has nothing to do with a cushy rectangular piece of furniture often used by human feet and felines for resting.)

By this point we were a sorry sight to behold, I’m sure. Our guide led us back through the compound offering to show us along the way a spot for great panoramic views of Cairo as we limped toward the “Transpurt” bus. She wasn’t wrong. This is Cairo on a very hot and hazy day. The two mosques in front are not connected to the Citadel, but the one on the left is where Sadat and the Shah of Iran are both interred (both of whom apparently died at the military hospital in Maadi).

As we rode home in the life-giving comfort of the air-conditioned bus, I suddenly realized how smart my husband is. So I will return with him in the Fall, and will be able to thoroughly enjoy all that the Citadel can offer and not just be distracted by being so high above Cairo and all the more closer to the sun.

Leaping the driving hurdle

It’s done! Julia has driven in Cairo… sort of. Now, in fairness, I have not driven downtown in the height of traffic, nor at night on the outskirts where headlights are verbodden and camels have to be avoided, but I did drive out to the commissary last week with a friend. We had an appointment to meet with the “upholstery guy” in Facilities to show us fabric samples for embassy furniture (Dip Wife duties continue), and we could have taken a cab but I felt that I needed to face the fear and join the melee. Besides, other than Friday mornings where traffic is extremely light, I figured mid-day on Thursday should be about medium in terms of harriedness.

I tried to conjure up some video game skills from my teen years, however I found that my Ms. PacMan skills were of little use so I relied merely on basic driving and self-preservation skills. I got out of the compound without incident (merely had to wait for the guard to open the gate) and then waited a bit to merge onto the busy road from our side street, figuring it was my prerogative as a new Cairene driver. I will have to wait and see if I ever feel the urge to blindly drive into the fray of busy traffic without concern. A small opening appeared, so I announced my intention to go, Deborah braced herself and I floored the Jeep. I’d done it! I was in the flow. Then suddenly I was in the circle too, but I embraced my inner Egyptian and just drove without concern for those coming into the circle directly at me and continued on. Never let them see you hesitate – certainly not in a circle! I could almost hear the circus music playing as we spun around in a functioning frenzy. I got out of the circle, sometimes more difficult than getting in, and continued on to the commissary. Only had one incident of cars coming toward me on a one-way road, but we both figured it was a wide road, so no harm done. Type-A tendencies have apparently been replaced by a chuckle and acknowledgment of illogical/nonsensical sights.

We made it to the commissary, sat through the security checks (our badges are confirmed and cars are always checked over before we can enter any US-owned compound) and drove in for our meeting. Unbeknownst to us, we were also able to meet with the “wood-furniture guy” as well – our stars were aligned today! Deborah picked out the fabric she wanted to swap out for the couch she has now, we learned what other wood furniture is available (curio cabinets, couch tables, short bookcases, etc.), and I found out that the upholstery guys will also re-upholster non-embassy furniture essentially for the price of the fabric! What a find! So I’ll be pursuing that line after we move in, so I can re-cover the second-hand red-and-white striped reading chair we bought before we left (that’s wonderfully comfortable but reminds me of a circus tent).

Pleased with our successful finds, we braced ourselves for the ride home. I came upon my first encounter with an extracted speed-bump, which had become a rather treacherous and lumpy, muddy-water-filled ditch. I was immediately grateful for the Jeep as we trundled across it swaying wildly from side to side. I made use of the crazed shuttle busses at one point when we had to cross through traffic, and I just hugged the shuttle’s side and followed it through (much as I do when trying to cross Tahrir Square on foot – utilizing a bunch of older Egyptian women the last time as my buffer – they seemed equally unaware of my presence as they were of the traffic zooming around them).

My intention was to skip the last really busy circle on the way home by taking a shortcut that sometimes police are monitoring, sometimes not. However, at the second-to-last circle, I was slightly overcome by the traffic volume, at one point apparently muttering repeatedly, “Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me” as I tried to squeeze into the stream. Deborah had to remind me that I am an SUV! And apparently SUVs don’t say “Excuse me,” they say “Watch out,” or “Move over.” I guess I still have my Cabrio mind-set. I made it into and out of the circle, however completely forgetting my intention of the short-cut and had to then go through the bigger circle (which thankfully was extremely calm – stars aligning once again). We made it home, safe and sound and I was mighty pleased with my accomplishment.

I had to head to Zamalek a few days later to meet with the painters at our new apartment, and for a brief second I considered the option of driving there. Luckily I quashed that and took a taxi instead. Glad I did too, as the taxi driver who took me home was very nice, practiced Arabic with me and gave me his name and number in case we need a personal driver in the future. And his cab didn’t rattle or shake and even had non-rusty door handles. What a find!