Breakfast at 8:30, by which time Maggi's been out for a recce and found soap. The first priority is decent maps and info. So, often my first unhassled source of information, a five star hotel We head out along our street, now happily humming. A man has cycled along with two large trays of puffed up pitas on his head, and further down a donkey stands patiently with a cartload of oranges across from the Franciscan school. Under the flyover accesses to the October 6 Bridge. Crossing streets in Cairo has been compared to a real life game of frogger, and yo do need your wits about you. Times have changed in Egypt and there is now airport style security at the Hilton, as well as a German Shepherd on guard. So we pass our bags through the x-ray and ourselves through the metal detector and head for the bookstore and a nice laminated map of Cairo, suitable for wiping coffee off if necessary. I also take advantage of a moment to check out the Lonely Planet guide book and see where the tourist info office is. When you ask a local - even one with good English about the tourist office, it's obvious that it's a foreign concept and you'll probably be pointed to the nearest travel agent. So we enjoy the five star lounge, and later the loo, and plot our route.
It's down past shops, and at one point a car, made into a market barrow with clothing for sale hung from roof, doors, and open trunk. The girl at the tourist info is quite helpful with handouts and advice on where to go, and, probably more important, on where not to go. There's a park nearby,but we discover that the well kept parks are well kept in part by virtue of charging admission and keeping most people out. We sit on the wall and eat our sandwiches, watching the world pass, almost literally over our feet, as we're stationed between vendors. Cairo sellers spread out their wares on the sidewalks - handbags, shirts, watches, whatever. Then back to the Nile. On the pavement we meet a shop owner - a doctor whose family land was taken when the Aswan Dam was built. We're very near Tahrir Square and he tells us his sons were part of last year's revolution - and he was very proud of them. His brother is now in parliament - not an Islamist but, like all, working for change.
Across the bridge to Zamalek. Well, that's the intent, but it involves circling Tahrir Square, clearly set up for protest and abuzz but not hostile at midday. The square does have open gates, but it's well ringed with concrete and metal barriers. There are flags waving, and at one entrance an effigy hanging. We pass a few tents on the pavement. Continued occupation? There are boys and young men milling about but the real action is saved for evening. We do pass yellow ambulances, though. Dozens of them lined up and waiting. I give up any thought of counting. And a nearby street has concrete barriers.
Our objective on the island at the other end of the bridge is the Cairo Tower - 187 m high, with views out over the surrounding countryside. The entry fee is 70 Egyptian pounds though, and given the heavy smog J and I opt out. M goes up but is underwhelmed. Then back across the bridge. Lots of pedestrian traffic, including one daring boy walking on the railing - though death by pollution seems more likely than death by drowning. There are boats in the Nile below, including one being rowed by a woman, which appears to contain not only her husband and child but most of their possessions.
This tie we circle back the other way - along the corniche behind Tahrir Square and the Egyptian Museum, past a burnt out building and several burned cars, seemingly dating back to last year's revolution.
Early dinner at a restaurant just off Tala'at Harb Square, a five minute walk away. The restaurant is Felfela and we're not the first westerners to discover it. Jimmy Carter ate here - and signed a menu. Our meal is pretty good - the stuffed artichokes less exciting than they should be, but the kushari and Egyptian meatballs are comfort food nice. The space itself, though, is wonderful. We're in a raised alcove that holds two tables and is surrounded by carved wood and an aquarium at one end. At the other, birds peep out through little birdsnest holes and emerge to preen and play on branches just behind the glass that's almost touching Joe's chair. The tables are all thick slabs of wood, soe ofthe smaller ones cross-sections of large trees, with stone pedestals. Then home past the busy shops - and the odd begging child.
It's down past shops, and at one point a car, made into a market barrow with clothing for sale hung from roof, doors, and open trunk. The girl at the tourist info is quite helpful with handouts and advice on where to go, and, probably more important, on where not to go. There's a park nearby,but we discover that the well kept parks are well kept in part by virtue of charging admission and keeping most people out. We sit on the wall and eat our sandwiches, watching the world pass, almost literally over our feet, as we're stationed between vendors. Cairo sellers spread out their wares on the sidewalks - handbags, shirts, watches, whatever. Then back to the Nile. On the pavement we meet a shop owner - a doctor whose family land was taken when the Aswan Dam was built. We're very near Tahrir Square and he tells us his sons were part of last year's revolution - and he was very proud of them. His brother is now in parliament - not an Islamist but, like all, working for change.
Our objective on the island at the other end of the bridge is the Cairo Tower - 187 m high, with views out over the surrounding countryside. The entry fee is 70 Egyptian pounds though, and given the heavy smog J and I opt out. M goes up but is underwhelmed. Then back across the bridge. Lots of pedestrian traffic, including one daring boy walking on the railing - though death by pollution seems more likely than death by drowning. There are boats in the Nile below, including one being rowed by a woman, which appears to contain not only her husband and child but most of their possessions.
This tie we circle back the other way - along the corniche behind Tahrir Square and the Egyptian Museum, past a burnt out building and several burned cars, seemingly dating back to last year's revolution.
Early dinner at a restaurant just off Tala'at Harb Square, a five minute walk away. The restaurant is Felfela and we're not the first westerners to discover it. Jimmy Carter ate here - and signed a menu. Our meal is pretty good - the stuffed artichokes less exciting than they should be, but the kushari and Egyptian meatballs are comfort food nice. The space itself, though, is wonderful. We're in a raised alcove that holds two tables and is surrounded by carved wood and an aquarium at one end. At the other, birds peep out through little birdsnest holes and emerge to preen and play on branches just behind the glass that's almost touching Joe's chair. The tables are all thick slabs of wood, soe ofthe smaller ones cross-sections of large trees, with stone pedestals. Then home past the busy shops - and the odd begging child.