A Small View of a Large City

21 September 2016
Rameses Hilton, Cairo

It is the equinox today. That probably means little to most people other than the fact that it’s the first day of autumn, but to a science nerd, it means that the length of the day is the same as that of the night. You could see it illustrated quite neatly on the flight yesterday, if you had been paying attention. The panel built into the seat back showed a map of the world, with “Toronto” and “Cairo” picked out at either ends of a cartoon arc that ran from west to east. Under that, the line that divides the day from the night snaked across the world, running almost exactly north and south, which it does on only two days in the year: the equinoxes. It’s because the line runs north-south that there are equal amounts of light and darkness.

Did you know that? Do you care? Be honest. You have no one to impress or offend.

Anyway, look: It’s night time in Cairo right now. The intense heat of day broke a bit after sunset at 6:05, but the stop and go traffic on the 6^th October bridge hasn’t seemed to notice. The honking, the exhaust, the casual attention paid to lane markings all continued into the evening, except that now, one side of the roadway over to Zamalek is marked out with a line of bright taillights.

South of the bridge, blue, ping, and green neon lights line the river:. Floating restaurants and nearby hotels are lit up in colours as deep as the sun was bright a few hours before. Two long party boats work their way up stream and back. Although their hulls are decorated with frantically flashing pink and green lights, and despite the background of car horns, their motion on the black unseen water is smooth and stately. Calm. Regal.

I am on the hotel balcony as I watch the traffic, many stories below. I take a deep breath. Nowhere else smells like this. The air is is warm, but not humid, a cocktail of diesel, dust, and wood smoke. There is less wood smoke than in 2000, and there was more horse to the mix. Breathing the scent of the city is an intimate act, like standing close to a lover. It elicits a small surge of excitement.

To the south, just past the elevated roadways that leads to the bridge and the corniche, you can see the pink dome of the Egyptian Museum. Past that, is Tahrir Square, site of the revolution in January 2011. Surrounding all of that is the part of the city I think of as “downtown”, though I have no idea if that is anywhere close to the truth. From here, roads run like spokes away from the square, filled with Belle Epoque apartment buildings, and street level shops, and parked cars, and the occasional spindly tree that makes a valiant attempt to live despite the heat and the dust and smog.

I have heard twice today that 100 million people leave [sic] in Cairo. The number is closer to 20 million; the population of all Egypt is approaching 100 million. I must have misunderstood, although I did not mis-hear. A Cairene says the word “live” as if he is saying “leave”. When I first came here, 16 years ago, these two ideas were being exercised simultaneously by young Egyptians. Without many opportunities for work in the country, many were choosing to leave, first for education, and then to make a living. In order to live, you had to leave. I wonder if that has changed since the revolution?

So many thoughts tonight. The thread of one, when picked at, frees another, and another. Ideas flow from one to the other, unhurried, and barely examined.  Cairo may still hum into the night, but I’m beat. I slide the heavy balcony door shut, and go to bed.