March 15, 2026 – Cairo in the time of Eid
After a few days of clearing out the jet-lag in beautiful Chez Paris, we left for Cairo to begin the Egyptian leg of a three-month journey that would see us in 13 different countries across three different continents. It took a little over four hours before the pilot came on to tell us to look out our windows for a view of the Great Pyramids. Rising from the desert, they were just like I remembered them from our first visit here almost ten years ago. Even though we had just spent four days in Paris, this is when it really felt like our trip had begun and that old familiar knot of excitement began to really kick into high gear.
Stepping off the plane, the heat immediately envelops you, seeping into your lungs, saying hello to all of your senses. We headed straight to baggage collection for our luggage, which thankfully appeared. You don’t know this about me yet, but I am generally not the luckiest person when it comes to actually receiving my luggage at my destination. More times than I can count, I have been left without, wearing the same clothes for several days whilst waiting for my necessities to catch up with me, so we were already having a great start.
Having researched meticulously, we then headed to find a bank machine to take money out of our Wise account. Apparently the banks at the airport are supposed to be very easy and economical to get currency from. Not so much. You have to find a machine that actually has money in it, all while fending off people who on the outside seem to want to help but nevertheless make us nervous by their insistent presence. After finally winning that battle, we were approached by a man in a suit offering us the services of his car company. Seasoned travellers that we are, we haggled and bartered and finally got him down to what we thought was a reasonable price and we were on our way to Zamalek Island, our first condo stay. Hindsight, as always, is 20/20 and we realized our “reasonable” price was actually much more than we should have paid, but it can be very intimidating trying to figure out rideshare procedures when you don’t actually know where to go in a massive airport. C’est la vie. We paid too much. Sigh.
Our condo was nice, without being overly decorated. I quite liked overlooking the river, but without spending too much time relaxing, we were off, calling our first Uber to take us to see the Khan el-Khalili market in old Cairo.
We stepped out of the Uber to a cacophony of people, cars and animals. The market, to put it mildly, is utter organized chaos. To our Canadian eyes, it is unbelievably busy, but to the locals who know where they are going, what they are looking for, and how to get there and get it, it is just life. The Khan el-Khalili has been the beating heart of Cairo’s trade for over six centuries—established in 1382 by Emir Djaharks el-Khalili during the Mamluk era. Originally built as a caravanserai, a hotel for travelling merchants, it grew into a major centre of foreign trade and today boasts thousands of vendors selling everything from spices to gold to handmade crafts. Walking through its narrow alleyways, you can feel the layers of history pressing in from every direction.
We cautiously made our way into the warren and were immediately befriended (accosted? lol!) by a gentleman who took us under his wing despite our protests of not wanting a tour. He assured us he was simply walking to his shop and welcomed the chance to show off his city. He walked us to his favourite pickle stall right on the corner of one of the lanes. We tried pickled lemons, as well as spicy pickled green beans.
Continuing on, we walked by the Bun El Ghouris Coffee House, established in 1830, one of Cairo’s historic coffee houses that has witnessed generations of conversation, trade, and storytelling within its walls. From there we made our way to the Ahmad Mahmoud Al-Tarabishi workshop, a place steeped in the tradition of crafting the fez, or tarabish, that once defined Egyptian men’s fashion. The workshop was established by Hajj Ahmad Mahmoud Al-Tarabishi, who is widely considered the first maker of the tarabish in Egypt—a craft that has survived through the Ottoman era, the monarchy, and into the present day. Then we went inside and explored the Mosque-Madrasa of Sultan al-Mu’ayyad, built between 1415 and 1421 by the Mamluk sultan al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh. The mosque sits right next to Bab Zuweila, and its two minarets are actually built on top of the older Fatimid-era towers of the gate—a unique architectural choice you don’t see anywhere else in Cairo. The complex replaced a prison that originally stood on the site, replacing one form of confinement with a place of worship and learning. It was the last great hypostyle mosque built within Cairo’s crowded city walls.
Now we were aware that the market was busy, however there was a higher intensity than what we were expecting, and our guide explained that we were coming into Eid al-Fitr, the festival marking the end of Ramadan. Hence the decorative shiny streamers hanging in celebration, and the long tables near the mosques being set up for the rich to feed the poor. In Egypt, Eid is a three-day feast—an official holiday with schools and government offices closed—where families gather, children receive new clothes and gifts, and the air fills with the warmth of shared meals and visits between neighbours. We stopped at an Aish Baladi Bakery where we were shown all the steps to make Egypt’s staple bread, a thick, round loaf that has fed this city for centuries.
Finally we were taken to our friend’s little shop, deep in the heart of the market, where he showed us his crafts including chess sets and picture frames inlaid with mother of pearl and abalone. We admired quietly while demurring from purchasing… repeatedly. Finally acknowledging we would not be making a purchase, he guided us back out of the market—we would never have found our way back otherwise—and, accepting our contribution for his time, sent us on our way with a warm “Ashoufak ‘ala kheir,” to which I boldly replied with an “Insha’Allah. Salam.”
We made our way up the main road, Al-Mu’izz Street, the grand thoroughfare of Islamic Cairo lined with Mamluk-era monuments. Our presence generated mostly shy, but some not so shy, curiosity and smiles. Getting some distance from the Al-Azhar Mosque, which seemed to be a central gathering place as dinner got closer, we found ourselves leaving the crowds behind. People were gathering in groups along the road, clearly readying to share food as the time for the fast was coming to an end. Young girls ran up to us, pressing plastic cups of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice into our hands with a “Kol sana we entu tayyebeen” —”Every year, may you all be well”—a traditional Eid greeting wishing health and blessings. Generosity in the face of strangers. The syrupy sweetness of the pomegranate juice renewed our energy and we went forth to find the Qaitbay Mosque and the City of the Dead.
We walked quite a long way, but managed to find the mosque as the light was falling. Built between 1472 and 1474 by Sultan al-Ashraf Qaitbay, who ruled from 1468 to 1496, this harmonious Mamluk complex is so significant that it appears on the Egyptian one-pound note. Dominated by its fine Mamluk minaret, the mosque was built outside the old city walls on the pilgrimage route to Mecca, serving both religious and commercial purposes. The area around it, known as the Northern Cemetery or Qarafat ash-sharq, is part of Cairo’s vast City of the Dead—a sprawling necropolis stretching roughly four miles long. The site began as a sparsely-occupied desert area outside Cairo’s walls through which the pilgrimage route passed. In the 14th and 15th centuries, Mamluk sultans and emirs, seeking space to build grand funerary monuments outside the overcrowded city, progressively developed the area. It became an extension of Cairo’s necropolis, now densely filled with tombs and some of the most celebrated examples of Mamluk architecture in existence. Today, living inhabitants coexist alongside the dead—the workers whose professions are tied to the cemeteries, the religious scholars studying in the complexes, and the families who have turned tomb enclosures into homes.
Children followed us for a while, trying to hold our hands while simultaneously asking us for money. This would become a common theme during our time here, and as much as I am and would be inclined to give them some money, the only thing this generates is many more children, and some adults, looking for the same. As much as you want to be generous, you have to pick your timing—dusk in the City of the Dead with no idea of where you are in the grand scheme of things is not the time to start handing out money, no matter how well intentioned.
Walking through the quiet residential neighbourhood with the hum of prayers emanating from the ever-present mosques as night was falling felt like a good time to send for an Uber, making our way back to Zamalek Island and the sanctuary of our small condo overlooking the Nile.
