The flat is located along the busy shop-lined 26 July Street in Zamalek, an island between the Dokki/Mohandiseen area and Downtown Cairo. Zamalek is mostly filled with wealthy Egyptian families, diplomats, and a large number of foreigners as well. The stores and shops on the island are a step above most other places around Cairo; glimmering gowns and French apparel dance in boutique windows, quaint little cafes with free wireless internet access (like the one I'm sitting in now, Cilantro) can be found every few blocks, even the fruit and vegetable stands are relatively free of the usual smell of old fish and rot, often associated with such places. Perhaps my favorite component of the modernity of most of the stores and shops in Zamalek is the Alfa Market, conveniently located two blocks from my new flat, which slightly resembles a Giant groccery store in Pennsylvania (not quite a Whole Foods, but compared to the rest of the "groccery" stores in Cairo, the Alfa Market would rank among the best in the States). Not only does the Alfa Market sell relatively "normal" food that I actually know how to cook and prepare myself, even if the instructions are not printed in English, but the store actually accepts credit cards! A rare find indeed.
As you enter Zamalek from one of the three bridges, 26 July Bridge, 6 October Bridge, or the "lion" bridge (at least that's what I call it), the first part of the island you meet is the park and tree-lined outter edge of the island that kisses the Nile River and all of its feluccas and boats parked alongside. The parks are hidden behind rows of planted trees and secured by gated entrances. Entrance fees must be paid at the gate (and of course there is a "local" price and a "foreigner" price, though both are inexpensive). Inside, canopied benches are lined with Egyptian and foreign lovers, who come to the parks to escape the loud, bustling, and socially conservatively regulated streets of Cairo. Often couples can be caught giggling over a cup of coffee at one of the outside cafes in the park, and may even walk along the edge of the Nile arm in arm or hand in hand.
My new abode is located in the center of the island, at the end of the road, on 136 26 July Street. Nestled between a dimly lit clothing ironing shop and a little corner store selling cold drinks, laundry detergent, and a plethora of European chocolate bars (Galaxy chocolate is by far superior to anything else), the flat is on the first and first and a half floor of the four foor apartment building. Sealed in from the rest of Cairo by a huge wooden door with fancy calligraphic Arabic inscriptions, the flat is "guarded" also by our illustrious "boab," or doorman, Nagi, who in his jittery Arabic, occasional galibayya, and always semi-crooked smile attempts to help us with everything (not that he's of very much help) so long as we provide him with his monthly "baksheesh," or 100 L.E. tip for his services.
Our big wooden door opens with a few turns of the key and the switch of the deadbolt into a dimly lit foyer decorated with gold colored Koranic scriptures, a large mirror, and sheltered from the other rooms by thick parted curtains. Moving straight ahead is the main room of entertainment, a high-ceilinged, yellow lighted large room with more carpet than should ever be ingested by the natural eye. Only photos will do this room (as well as a few of the others) justice, but the highlights are the huge taxadermied sea turtle hanging on the wall, the blowflish lamp, the red, yellow, and orange "mood lighting" fixtures, and of course, the bar, which is filled with champaigne and vodka bottle "lamps" and other strange objects that I'm still not quite sure as to their function. Though now absent after my brief gust of redecorating are the pimp-like photos of the owner of the flat, an Egyptian business man who owns the biggest wedding dress stores in Egypt, who decorated his "alternate private flat" with slick photos of himself smoking cigars, winking, and wearing something that appears to be a leisure suit.
Moving up a half set of stairs from the entertainment room #1 is the "red room," or entertainment room #2. The carpet is red, the oriental or eastern-style couch-like chairs are red, and the lights are red. The ceiling is a flimsy design of black and white diagonal cross designs, and the walls are painted white and decorated by swords and whips, ornately hung on the walls. The windows, which are sadly the only windows allowing in natural light in the whole apartment, are stained glass with Japanese geishas, and can be closed in by, yes, red velvet curtains. The room has an Eastern Asian flavor, though this is slightly offset by the two Ramadan lamps (red in color) standing along the wall opposite the windows as decoration.
Back to entertainment room #1 and through the curtains to the foyer, take a left , and head down the long hallway. To the right is the small bathroom (which currently doesn't really work) and down the hallway further is the kitchen on the right. The ceiling of the hallway shouldn't be forgotten though; it is rather high up, and the lights (which are mood lighting, of course) are behind another stained glass design which causes the light to cast mysterious colored shapes on the carpet. The kitchen, relatively large, is half way decent, with a working refrigerator, sink (with no hot water), gas stove, and many cabinets which are stuffed not with pots and pans, though a few are present, but old parts and pieces of hookas, and empty expensive liquor containers kept perhaps to preserve the memory of many an evening of non-intellectual banter and perhaps exotic entertainment.
At the end of the hallway is the main bathroom, complete with mood lighting (though white this time), a mirrored ceiling, and a rather clean and well kept shower, sink, toiilet, and bidet (which I still can't get used to--don't think I ever will). To the right of the bathroom is the small bedroom, a high-ceilinged two bed dark little cove, decorated with lively flower print wall paper, in which Krystina is currently residing. The room is by far inferior to the master bedroom, though Krystina likes it and we're going to work out a trade-off if necessary. Across from this bedroom is the master bedroom, with moodlighting of its own and a broken-down ornate feeling of its own. The tall closets are covered with mirrors, which show a full view of the king size bed (just in case anybody wants to catch a peak I suppose). The bed is huge, though hard as a rock (which seems rather contradictory to its purpose), and is surrounded by pink curtains and funky swan-lamps. The mood is completed by the wooden drawers (which remain locked and out of my reach) and a beautiful phonograph, which I'm still not sure if is fully functioning.
All in all, the apartment is great. Of course there's no real kitchen table, no study (or even a desk) and the lighting sets the mood for midnight menageries rather than serious homeowork doing and paper writing. Nonetheless, a GREAT place for parties. Krystina and I have concluded that either the man who owns the flat uses it for his downtown "pimp pad," and/or lends it out to his Saudi business associates who come to Cairo for business "among other things." Though cheap for our standards (3,000 L.E. total a month, about $550 USD), its relatively expensive Egyptian price contradicts with its tackiness. This man either has a great sense of humor or just plane bad taste. Either way, its the only appropriate place I can see myself in Cairo. Molded and characterized by contradiction, silliness, and a crazy fun time.
It's going to be great.
posted by Katie Warren @ 1:25 PM
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