City of the sun

As the story goes, Édouard Louis Joseph, the Belgian Baron Empain, arrived in Egypt in 1904 with the intention of completing a railway project in the Nile delta. The plan fell through, but the Baron remained in Egypt. He was so enamored with the country that he established his own town on the outskirts of Cairo and named it Heliopolis. 

The Baron was a millionaire, but he didn't need to reach deep into his pockets to find the funds for his own city; he is rumored to have purchased the desert land for only one guinea (a fraction of a dollar) per feddan (about an acre). Heliopolis today is a wealthy, bustling neighborhood in Greater Cairo. Its broad streets and architectural style are clearly the work of the Belgian engineer.

Given his immense wealth, eccentricities, and passion for 'the East,' the Baron built for himself an oriental fantasy palace--with Buddha statues, Islamic and Hindu motifs with inlaid ivory, and a remarkable collection of paintings and sculptures. The mansion, partly modeled off of Angkor Wat in Cambodia, was completed in 1911. The Baron claimed that Egypt would remain his lifelong home and his will declared that he wished to be buried there even if he happened to die outside of the country. His grave is located in the Heliopolis Basilica.

There are a number of myths and ghost stories surrounding the Baron Palace, as it's called in Cairo. Many believe it's haunted and others claim that, following the Baron's death, it was used for Satanic ceremonies. Some say these gatherings were just attended by teenage metalheads. Either way, the police came and booted out the 'devil worshippers' before closing the building to the public. By that time it had been looted clean and covered in the pointless graffiti that is scrawled on every sculpture and historical edifice in Cairo, including the pyramids. 

The most bizarre aspect of the building is the upper room that rotates 360 degrees, like a revolving restaurant on top of a hotel. There are different theories as to why the Baron designed it that way, but the most widely-accepted is that he wanted to provide his guests with the best possible view of his beloved city. Another theory says that it was the bedroom of his sick daughter, and the rotations allowed the family to control when and how much sunlight would enter the room. Both of these matters seem like they could be easily solved with strategically-placed windows and blinds, so the Baron probably just added the revolving room for extravagance. The mansion is also connected to a network of tunnels, one of which leads to the Basilica.

Aside from the its creepy appearance, two events may have contributed to its reputation as a haunted house. It is rumored that a few years after the house was built, the Baron's wife mysteriously fell to her death from the revolving room. Their daughter, who would often suffer from psychotic episodes, took refuge in a room in the basement for hours on end. She was found dead there two years after her mother passed away.

The palace grounds are on a main street in Heliopolis. A few friends and I visited the neighborhood yesterday, hoping to find a way inside the palace. It would have been easily accessible if not for the security guards and construction workers that were on the grounds when we arrived. We opened the front gate to the gardens and walked inside but a 'tourism police' officer wearing all white approached us and told us to turn around and leave. We begged and pleaded for him to let us in, my friend yelled, I lied and said I was leaving Egypt for good tomorrow and this is the one thing I wanted to see while I was here. None of it worked. We offered him bribes, but he told us that if we paid him we would also have to bribe all the construction workers. We couldn't afford it. 

We walked along the perimeter, trying to see as much as possible through the fence.

The mansion was sold by the Baron's family in 1952. The new owners didn't maintain it. The inside of the building is mostly ruined and the once beautiful marble statues are broken apart and defaced. The grounds now largely function as a posh hangout for local street dogs.

Twenty-three hours in Alexandria

The two hour train ride from Cairo to Alexandria got me into the city around 1pm. This is the first trip I have taken in Egypt outside of Cairo since I arrived here over four months ago, a fact that is unbelievable to any Egyptian or foreigner that I've told it to. I felt like there was so much to explore, and to accomplish, in Cairo that I haven't had much of a reason to leave.

The cab driver that brought me to my hotel was talkative and enthusiastic about the prospect of one day marrying an American woman and moving to the U.S. 

"If any of your friends are looking for an Egyptian man to marry, let me know."

I promised I would. He dropped me off and gave me his card and I went up to my room. Thirty minutes later the hotel owner was knocking on my door.

"Mohammed is downstairs to see you."

"Who?"

"Mohammed, the guy you came here with."

"You mean the cab driver? Why is he here?"

"I don't know. Do you not want to see him?"

"No. I have his card, tell him I'll call him if I need anything."

"OK, I'll tell him."

I figured Mohammed wanted to take me to lunch or show me something in Alexandria, but I certainly wasn't interested, especially with his shameless declaration that he needs an American wife to get him a visa. 

I left the hotel and met my friend Ahmed by the corniche, the stretch of road that wraps around the harbor in almost a complete circle, from the famous library of Alexandria to the Citadel at the opposite end. We visited El-Mursi Abul Abbas Mosque, which is named after, and contains the tomb of, the 13th century Sufi saint. We continued walking along the water to the Citadel. It was then that I remembered why Alexandria was the first Egyptian city I wanted to live in.

The Citadel of Qaitbay, built in 1477, was constructed on the site of Alexandria's famous lighthouse, which was destroyed by an earthquake in the 1300's. Pieces of the historic lighthouse, which was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, were used to build the Citadel. 

A man selling cotton candy near the Citadel at sunset.

My friend Ahmed and I at the Citadel. There was a band there from the Spanish navy setting up for a concert outside. They were really good, I wish I knew the name.

Above is Alexandria's opera house, built in 1918, and below is one of Alexandria's synagogues, the Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue that was built in 1354. Services are still held here, but obviously with only a handful of people in attendance. 

I returned to my hotel late at night and found a bouquet of flowers waiting for me. It was the present that Mohammed had brought me earlier in the day when I had refused to see him. I felt guilty and creeped out at the same time. The flowers came with a note, with his name, number, and the words المحامي اليوم؟ or, 'the lawyer today?' I didn't know what he was getting at, but I later realized he meant 'can we go to the lawyer today to sign the marriage papers?' 

I think this overture was 90% a joke, but 10% hoping that it might lead to something else. In any case, the flowers were pretty.

I packed my stuff and left the hotel around 9am. It was a beautiful morning and I decided to head back to the Citadel so that I could go inside.

I was walking along the corniche by myself and taking pictures of the boats and the sea. Much like the Nile corniche, Alexandria's has its benefits and drawbacks. Any place in an Egyptian city that is pleasant, open to the public, and has space to hang out will inevitably attract crowds of people that almost make it not worth being there. The wide stone barrier between the sidewalk and the water is a perfect place to sit and watch the sea or the people, making the corniche prime real estate for shabaab (the best word to use for young Egyptian guys who hang out on the streets, use too much hair gel, and harass women as an escape from crushing unemployment and sexual frustration).

As anyone who has read my blog (or news from the Mideast in general) will know, verbal harassment is a daily reality for the majority of women who venture out in public in many Arab countries. So, while walking along the corniche it was no surprise that every group of shabaab had something to say to me. It was a minor annoyance compensated for by the views of the harbor.

A group of four shabaab were walking towards me on the sidewalk. As they passed me one of them mumbled something and then shot his hand out and grabbed my breast. This is the first time I've been grabbed in Egypt (something I was told to expect much more of), and only the third time I've ever been grabbed. Despite the infrequency of this, my policy for grabbing is to respond with physical violence, as I believe that if every woman responded to groping by making a scene or breaking a nose, there would be a lot less of it. So, as soon as this happened I spun around and reached out to grab his collar. He slipped away and bolted down the sidewalk. I took off after him. I was not gaining on him and it was soon clear that I wouldn't be able to catch him. He looked back at me and smiled and it struck me that he thought I was being playful or flirtatious, like I was chasing him down to kiss him. As soon as I saw him smile, I realized what I needed to do.

"Harami! Haramiii!!" I started screaming at the top of my lungs as I continued to run after him. He cut across the street heading into the neighborhood alleyways and as I ran after him, every man and even a couple women in earshot ran after him too. One bystander saw him running his way, so he stuck out his leg, Hungarian journalist style, to try and trip him. The guy barely missed a step. A few men ran down into the narrow streets to keep pursuing him and a woman told me to go around a different corner to intercept him. The last I saw of him was when he was turning the corner with another man right on his heels. 

I went to the group of people gathered around the street corner to explain what happened, but the first question they asked me was, "what did he take from you?"

The word harami means thief, and it's the only accusation that I'm aware of that will draw that kind of response. Calling someone a thief immediately paints the situation in black and white, so good samaritans know who to go after. Had I started screaming that this guy harassed or grabbed me, I almost certainly would not have gotten this reaction from so many people. 

I told them that he didn't take anything, but he grabbed me. They said, "Well thank God he didn't steal anything." They still tried to flag down the cops. If a woman does manage to detain her harasser and bring him to the police, it can have serious consequences for the perpetrator, but of course it's usually difficult to keep him in one place long enough for an arrest to be made. I told them to not bother with the police. The guy was probably long gone and, at the very least, was scared out of his mind after being chased by a bunch of men who now think he's a thief.

I continued along the corniche to the citadel and went inside. The grounds were beautiful and the surrounding walls had amazing views of the sea. The inside was like a maze with its tiny rooms and corridors. Photographs of the inside would not have done it justice. 

What I'm pretty sure is an Isabelline Wheatear. 

Parliamentary elections are set to take place across Egypt in a few weeks. Hundreds of prospective parliamentarians are raising their banners in every imaginable public space. While in Alexandria, I noticed the different symbols featured on the ads. Each candidate had their own--a submarine, a leaf, the suez canal, a lighthouse. It appears that these symbols are used to allow the illiterate to cast their vote. I was wondering how these candidates decide who gets which symbol (surely 100 candidates would want the falcon rather than the wristwatch or the alarm clock). I was impressed that the female candidate landed the black stallion symbol while two guys were stuck with a fire extinguisher and a palm tree. Two other candidates both chose 'the falcon symbol' but one of them pictured an eagle instead, sure to cause some confusion among the illiterate ornithologist vote. The candidate below got it right though, and he'll probably be wrongly earning some votes meant for the other guy. 
Here's an interesting article in Arabic about the meaning (or lack of meaning) behind the symbols that are chosen: 
http://www.acrseg.org/39423