Old Cairo

Sure, I've already been there a million times, but I just can't quit visiting Old, i.e. Coptic, Cairo. The gorgeous churches and the Coptic Museum always call me back. It was miserably hot today, but the whole area was still crammed with tour groups and Copts just chilling out in their part of town. I got dropped off at the end of Sharia Mar Girgis, where I passed through a metal detector that is really just a formality. I avoided all the shopkeepers shouting "Welcome!" and "Come here," and skittered down the steps that lead to the churches of St. Sergius and St. Barbara. Or, as the signs say, St. Barpara.



I think B and P mixups must be common here because there really is no "P" sound in Arabic. When people talk to you about Egyptian pounds, they say "bounds." I also frequently see trucks that say either "Jumbo" or "Jumpo." Sometimes both versions are painted on the same vehicle.

Anyway, taking those stairs leads you to an alleyway studded with sites and shops. To get all the way to St. Barbara and the Ben Ezra Synagogue, you have to be carried through a shopping area by a current of tour groups and then squeezed out like toothpaste at the other end.



Visiting these churches is fascinating because they are a combination of ancient and modern, austere and kitschy. At the church of St. Sergius, a gorgeous icon of the "Angle Gabriel" was placed next to some blazing blue Christmas lights. Some of the gift shops sport glow-in-the-dark Jesus and Mary figurines, as well as Coptic Pope car fresheners (coconut scent!). St. Barbara now sports some kickin' flat screen TVs.



It's very strange to watch acts of piety and tourism occur at the same time. One dude can be snapping photos while another is scribbling a desperate plea to place with an icon or holy relic. It's also very interesting when tourists pick up local practices—some of the scraps of notebook paper I saw today were written in English.

Some things, however, are deeply traditional about the setup of Coptic churches. For example, many of them have sets of white columns, with one painted black to symbolize Judas. The way the space is divided up is also interesting—that screen with the icons lining the top and a curtain blocking the door separates the main church area from where a lot of the action happens during Coptic services. I noticed at the Hanging Church that when the doors and windows are unblocked for the liturgy, the priests know just how to stand so that their faces are picturesquely framed for the congregation's benefit. I wonder: Does the separation between holy and generally accessible space make everything feel more sacred?