How quickly time flies. I went travelling for a chunk of October, to Sweden, the UK and Belgium, got back, was swamped with work, and suddenly it’s November 10…On Sunday, September 30, I went for a walk from the Citadel, which overlooks much of Cairo, eastward through a popular neighborhood until I reached Ibn Tulun Mosque. As always, I’ve traced the route on Google Earth and added to it the photos I took, where I took them. You can also see the photos directly on Flickr.
The Citadel I visited the Citadel out of a sense of duty. Lonely Planet calls it overrated and overpriced, and so have friends here in Cairo. Best to get it out of the way then, as it does impose itself on the city, and hence deserves some acknowledgment.
The tourist entrance is tucked behind the citadel when approaching from the city, so it is not pedestrian-friendly. Dropped off by a taxi, I merged with the herdloads of tourists being disgorged by tour buses. Inside the ramparts, I was indeed underwhelmed — there are abandoned and collapsing barracks and palaces all round, topped by the 19th century Mohammed Ali Mosque. It is the mosque that dominates Cairo’s skyline, and though it is large it boasts an uninspired exterior.
The inside was more gaudy than arabesque. The tour groups didn’t seem to mind as they don’t have much to compare it too, so they spent their few minutes inside recording every precious moment with home electronics. 
Being the good self-referential postmodernist that I am, I took pictures of them. If you want large mosques that impress, visit Istanbul instead.
With that mosque out of the way, I had a look at the view. It was essentially the same view as that from the minarets I had climbed previously, but without the Citadel as backdrop, as I was standing on it. So as far as views are concerned, the Citadel isn’t essential either. Look:
But then, through sheer bloody-minded determination, I ventured on until I chanced upon the National Military Museum. This monumental ode to kitsch is a must for all jaded students of world affairs. It takes itself very very seriously, which makes it the best kind of kitsch.
Inside, huge wall-sized paintings portray victorious Egyptian generals being lauded by the populace as they stride confidently into the future. Walking from room to room is like visiting the inner chambers of the mind of a hormonal nationalist. And it is all so very instructive. The Yom Kippur war was conducted by Egypt with “world stunning planning”. The motto alongside one display is “Faith in God, victory or martyrdom”. Witty repartee to the sentiments articulated in these exhibits comes effortlessly, and this can be sustained for hours.
There was one more mosque to see on the way out of the Citadel. 
The Qala’un Mosque is spartan next to the ostentation of Mohammed Ali Mosque, but comes with its own distinct sense of humor: If you look carefully, you’ll see that some of the pillars supporting the mosque enclosure have crosses near their crowns. That’s because these pillars were repurposed from conquered crusader forts and monasteries. The guidebooks say that good chunks of he Citadel was constructed by crusader POWs. For the religious fanatic, no doubt few pleasures can top forcing a competing religious fanatic to build your denomination’s places of worship. I sneakily approve.
It was time to head back to the city. Taxis wanted £E20 for any nearby destination (quadruple the reasonable rate) so they were left without anything at all as I headed off on foot.
I took a roundabout way from the Citadel to Ibn Tulun Mosque as I wanted to experience the alleys and passages of the neighborhood inbetween them. My first attempt to transect this densely built part of Cairo ended in a blind alley, so I retraced my steps and tried again.
On several occasions I got my bearings using my Nokia N95’s built in GPS device coupled to Mobile GMaps, which shows high-resolution Google imagery of Cairo downloaded via my local Vodafone 3G data connection. No map of Cairo I’ve seen has the alleys I was in, but Google’s satellite imagery does; the view from above definitely helped at intersections.
Once again, I found myself wishing I spoke better Arabic — not to berate greedy guides but because I wanted to engage with the genuinely friendly people in the shops and stalls, none of whom spoke English. Here I was off the beaten tourist path, so I was more a curiosity than a walking source of revenue.
The most photogenic moments I experienced were alas those where if I had lifted my camera to take the shot, I would have intruded on a moment that was not private but not quite public either. I walked past a barbershop, a miniscule green-walled shop with the fourth wall open to the street, and on the only chair lay an ancient man with his head leaning backwards. A younger man was shaving him carefully, a smile on his face. It was a gentle, touching moment, but I couldn’t stop there and stare. This is a great reason to travel, I think — to experience those moments cameras don’t (or can’t) capture.
Ibn Tulun Mosque Next to Ibn Tulun Mosque is the Gayer-Anderson Museum, which comes highly recommended, but I left it for another day, as it was Ramadan, so it had closed early.
I emerged at Ibn Tulun Mosque, a large, severe but beautiful edifice with clean lines and an unusual minaret, with the stairs on the outside. It was getting late in the day, with people soon hurrying home to break the fast, so I only managed a climb up an adjacent minaret to take in the view. I’ll have to start my next walk from here.