laura.fo

Last Friday I went to Al-Azhar Park, a new (to me) public space in Old Cairo. X’s sister wanted to go there because there would be lots of space for the children to run around. Which they seriously DID. I think we ended up staying for six hours.

And the view was amazing:

This is the restaurant. If you look at pictures of Cairo proper, you can see why building something like this is such a feat: green spaces are so rare, and the city is already appropriating the desert to make room for housing. I remember I used to find it strange that the Cairo Zoo was such a popular picnic destination for families — people would be stretched out for the day on tiny little patches of space between the sidewalk and the zebra cages — but it makes sense if you consider it’s one of the few places with trees and grass. This is like that only way more so.

And the FOOD. Oh my GOD. Connor, you would have died. I am more indifferent to food than anyone I know — I’ve had this journal for seven years and have made, what, three posts about food? four, tops? — so believe me when I say that if *I* think it was incredible, it was incredible.

This was just the meat. Each of those tins contained a different dish: lamb, goat, beef, fish, chicken made five different ways, kofta, stuff I don’t even know the name of…

There was another room full of salads and vegetables, and a third full of pastries and desserts. On Fridays it was all-you-can-eat buffet. I felt like I was in one of those Middle Eastern medieval folktales where the humble servant comes to ask a request of the decadent sultan but has to interrupt him in the middle of his feast. (I, of course, playing the part of the decadent sultan.)

Actually I’m lying. THIS was the meat:

Seriously, it was a stupid amount of food. And then afterwards they bring you tea.

Later we went outside for a while.

At some point Laila decided to co-opt my scarf:

That’s X’s mom beside us. She was very mod in her younger years. It’s an ongoing joke that no one knows how old she is or what her real hair color is.

Laila and Omar go for a climb on the faux-latticework:

A waiter interrupts, offering to lift them over:

Omar goes for it, but Laila books for the stairs. When the waiter gives Omar a big kiss on the forehead her suspicions are confirmed, and she scolds her brother for being too trusting. (She explained to me that her baba told her that only mamas and babas are supposed to kiss you.)

As it got later the park started filling up. It was almost entirely Egyptians, not tourists, which surprised me. X’s sister pointed out that there were so many young (presumably unmarried) couples, much more so than you would have seen a few years ago.

Almost all of the women are wearing hijab now, a huge difference from when I was here in the past. Accordingly it’s become less meaningful as a religious symbol, and people are always complaining that it’s become just another fashion statement, something some women wear with tight jeans, sleeveless tops, or a lot of make-up.

On that note, here’s a funny tidbit: I went into the bathroom while I was at this restaurant and noticed a woman’s long black evening gloves abandoned by the side of the sink. I assumed they belonged to a niqabi woman, but the girl who came out of the stall was young, maybe seventeen, wearing jeans and a heavy metal T-shirt. I wanted to ask her if she thought we should take them to the reception (was there a reception?) or if there was some other way of dealing with lost items, but that was too many Arabic words for me so I just smiled instead and decided the woman, whoever she was, would eventually remember and come back for them. But then this heavy metal girl pulled a niqab out of her bag! And started putting it on! Ah! The gloves were hers! I like to think I’m immune from succumbing to hijab stereotyping, but I really hadn’t expected this girl, who looked less conservative than my own American teenage daughter does, to be the one so concerned with modesty she wouldn’t show her hands in public. That’ll learn me.