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Over breakfast the restaurant sound system reaches the "Joseph" section of the Lloyd Webber CD, and we are treated to the intense irony of hearing "Close Every Door" while sitting at the feet of the Great Pyramid.  Eating an omelette.  The gods of Egypt are mischievious.

Today we head to the other side of the Nile to the city of Cairo.  When we think of Egypt, we tend to think of Pharoahs and tombs, and it is easy to forget how significant Cairo has been in history since 640 AD.  It is one of the centers of Islam, and has a number of mosques both of extreme beauty and historical significance.  The citadel on the hill, built by Saleh Ah-Din of Cursades fame in 1176 is particularly intriguing.  It became the center of government for Egypt from the Mamelukes forward, and during the Ottoman period became in effect a city in and of itself.  The enclosure holds several mosques, a palace, wells, museums, and many open plazas.  The mosque of Mohammed Ali is probably the most prominent building today due to its height. The interior of the mosque, a large open space in the Ottoman tradition, is lit with hundreds of gas lanterns , a beautiful sight.

The mosques of Cairo cover all periods of history, some showing a distinct Ottoman influence.  One was built as a center of study for multiple sects of Islam, a place to learn about and heal differences.  Egypt is a largely Shia state with a Sunni minority and a 15% Coptic population.  The Christians of Egypt (Copts) are some of the earliest in the world, practicing long before the Roman decree on Constantine.  Egypt was also an early convert to Islam, as in 640 AD the Arab conquest brought Mohammed's teachings, which spread rapidly.  Very early churches and mosques surround Cairo, testament to the changes in our modern faiths through their seeming exoticism.

Lunch is in the famous Khan el-Khalili, the enormous, chaotic, teeming marketplace of Cairo. Said to be the largest marketplace in the world, it spans neighborhoods, not blocks.  The "tourist" section is depressingly repetitive in the way of all tourist markets -- fake papyrus paintings, cheap polyester scarves, sculptures of the Sphinx, strong perfume oils, gaudy jewelry, and my favorite, sweet cakes in the shape of pyramids.  Fun to wander and watch, but best to be conspicuously distracted to avoid the hard sell.  Many people in Egypt just love Americans, apparently.  Or, perhaps a bit more accurately, the dollar.  I worry a bit about being singled out under I hear a great love of Spaniards, Italians, Germans, and Brazilians being expressed all around us.  How friendly.

The afternoon brings us to the Egyptian Museum of Cairo.  This large, inexplicably red building is many things:

• A bit warm, as it is not air-conditioned
• Not terribly well organized, despite a vague chronological system that seems to be violated at whim
• Dusty, with faded signs and an air of disuse
• Crowded in some rooms almost beyond tolerance, but with odd abandoned corners that feel more like attic storage than a museum display
• Over-stuffed with so much stuff that the truly unique is lost in the sheer quantity

The marvelous Amelia Peabody of Elizabeth Peters' book series rants about the disorder, lack of security, and dusty exhibits of the museum in books set at the turn of the century.  Little has changed, other than the mummy room, and Amelia's frustrations with the management run through my mind as we wander.

The mummy room is one special section, popular with the crowds, both for the dozen or so well-preserved Pharoahs as well as for the air conditioning.  It's strange seeing these ancient and historic figures all brown and shriveled, covered in what seem like miles of thin, linen strips.  This is not the eternal life they imagined for themselves, and you can only hope that their spiritual seleves are having a much better time somewhere.

The other special exhibit is the set of rooms dedicated to Tutankhamon.  What is most interesting here is not, perhaps, the famous mask or the sarcophagus, but rather the magnitude of the burial.  The necklaces, the furniture, even the pottery is beautifully made, graceful and intricate, colorful and exquisitely designed.  There are multiple beds, several chairs, jewelry for every occasion, enough to serve the young Pharoah well in a small apartment in the afterlife.  Much like the rest of the museum, we have previously seen only a few of these pieces in careful displays in elegantly lit rooms behind layers of plexiglass.  Here they are almost piled together, so many precious things in so small a space.  It's Aladdin's cave several decades after the maid stopped coming in.

The Egyptian government is building museums in major cities across the country, and is planning to distribute these items more broadly.  One hopes that this will help not only the tourist industry, but also the care and visibility of these hundreds of thousands of items.  One perfect example is a piece of limestone inscribed with the first Arabic writing in Egypt, unlabeled, stuck on an obscure wall of an insignificant dynasty, no covering or protection.  You wonder that no one has slyly carried it off to a place of honor in the Citadel above the city.  Someday this will be a typical Western museum, air-conditioned, dehumidified, no speck of dust or natural light to be seen, with carefully designed spotlighting and walking paths with arrows.  Why does that seem a bit of a loss?

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