We are led by three veteran American teachers whose collective experience with Egypt adds up to almost 50 years. Like us "newbie" teachers, these "long-timers" are looking forward to breaking up the monotony of the military imposed curfew. Unlike us though, they have forged relationships with some of the Khan merchants, and they are looking forward to reestablishing those relationships after months of summer holiday travel back to the U.S. The Revolution has been terribly unkind to these merchants, and our veteran guides want to pass the torch on to us in terms of continuing to promote and sustain excellent relationships with some of them. It is a noble goal, and one that the Khan's merchants very much appreciate.
The main tourist entrance to the Khan is daunting. Our driver lets us out in front of one of the many huge mosques that surround the souk. In the courtyard in front of the mosque, hundreds and hundreds of people are milling about, mingling and chatting over strong Turkish coffee and hot tea. We take a narrow walkway to the left, skirting around the courtyard. To the left of us now is a row of worn down cafes and small restaurants selling teas, coffees and felafel pitas. The rectangular seating areas in front of the cafes are sadly empty. Hosts from the cafes stand out in front of their establishments, menus in hand, trying to entice our group in for a seat. We are perhaps the first group of foreign tourists of the day, and we may be the last. Before the Revolution, the Khan el-Khalili rivaled the Great Pyramids in catering to vast numbers of foreign tourists per year. I get the strong sense that today that we are the only group that has yet arrived.
Crowding through the narrow walkway with the cafe hawkers to our left and the mosque on our right, we enter into the Khan. The Khan el-Khalili has been Cairo's main souk for almost 800 years. More or less rectangular in shape and encompassing many city blocks, the Khan is a tangle of narrow, intersecting alleyways lined with every kind of souvenir stall imaginable. Stall owners and shop workers stand before their stores, hoping that passer-bys will make eye contact and strike up a conversation."You see something you like, sir, we have everything, yes everything you could ever want. Please come in and let me show you."
"A pashmina for you madam, perhaps an Egyptian perfume jar? Very beautiful, very good quality."
"Please come in for some tea! Everything almost like free today."
"Ah, it is my turn now! Ahmed has the finest leather in the Khan! Ask anyone! Please, please come in!"
For people whose livelihoods are slowly dying a long and tortuous death, the stall hawkers of the Khan are not even remotely close to the most aggressive I have ever experienced. For the most part they are polite, perhaps overly friendly and always smiling. Some seem resigned to simply use their English, which is sadly getting a little rusty.
"You from America?" one merchant asks. He is smiling, and he does not seem to know that he has asked me a very loaded question (no pun intended).
"Yes," I respond hesitantly.
"I love America. We have missed you very much." He stretches out his hand, vigorously shaking mine. "Please be welcome here."
We are heading to meet Mustafa, a glassmaker that our guides have known for years and years. Mustafa has two small shops in the Khan. The glass shop and the factory (not located within the Khan) that goes with it, he inherited from his father, who inherited it from his father, and so on. He runs the shop and the factory with his older brother. His brother spends most of his time on the factory floor while Mustafa, who speaks excellent English, spends most of his time in the shop. The shop adjacent to the glass stall is run by Mustafa's wife, and she sells ladies apparel. Mustafa warmly greets our trip leaders, shaking the men's hands and giving them a quick peck on first one cheek and then the other; a sign among men of a long-standing relationship. He bows to our female trip leader.
Our guides introduce us one by one. Mustafa offers us each a tea or coffee. We look around and chat. Business has been slow, of course, but still okay. I note that Mustafa's shop is enclosed by a glass facade and swinging glass doors; air conditioning inside. Compared with the other vendors of the Khan, he is doing alright. Still, the air conditioning is off until we enter the shop.
Like many of the glass merchants here, Mustafa makes his creations with a thin, almost papery kind of glass that shimmers in the light. Most of his creations, baubles, ornaments, perfume holders, goblets, and tea pots are made of colored glass; rose, emerald, and sapphire. They are all beautiful, and 
I know more or less at the outset of our visit with Mustafa that we shall not emerge from his shop empty handed.
I know more or less at the outset of our visit with Mustafa that we shall not emerge from his shop empty handed.And we don't. Many interesting events happen while we are chatting with Mustafa. Somehow, almost mystically, we purchase a water pitcher and silver-rimmed glass set (less than $50). Two of our trip leaders make arrangements with Mustafa to visit his brother at the factory and to take the first steps into learning how to blow glass. Dana drinks the strongest Turkish coffee she has ever had in her life and avoids drinking any of the nuclear-strong dregs at the bottom of the cup. As we bid Mustafa and his wife farewell, perhaps the most interesting aspect of our day becomes public knowledge. Unbeknownst to most of the group, including me, we are off now on a real adventure into the part of the Khan where Egyptians, not tourists shop; and we are searching for Tariq, the finest tent-maker in all of Cairo.
*This week's photos by Dana and Kyle Purpura
No comments:
Post a Comment