Conquering Al-Qahira: a Walk Through Old Cairo

The Arabic invaders named the city 'al-Qahira', 'The Conqueror', in commemoration of Islam's victory in the tenth century. Indeed, it has seen victorious regimes throughout its history - Pharoanic, Sudanese, Macedonian, Roman, Islamic, French and British to name but some. As a lone traveller however, the odds are pretty much stacked against you.

Cairo can be an intimidating place. Downtown is a multi-layered maelstrom of concrete, flyovers, speeding cars and blaring horns. Attempting to cross the streams of vehicles without the help of traffic lights or traffic policemen is thoroughly intimidating - I froze and got stranded in the middle of the Corniche for ten minutes! Further east into the old Islamic core is a narrow winding maze where it is hard to get your bearings. It sometimes feels as though every person is out to get something from you - badgering salesmen, fare-inflating taxi drivers, all hectoring you. And when a seemingly friendly face turns out to be a con-man, that can damage your opinion of them even further. The bakseesh, tha sales pitches, the jam of people heel to toe down Sikket al-Badestan, and then the constant blare of taxi horns... I swear the cacophany of Cairo resonates on exactly the same frequency as a nervous breakdown.

Yet breaching this alien world can be an incredibly rewarding experience. Some memories will stick in your mind, be they the intricate arabesque decorations inside a peaceful mosque, the view over Cairo from the toppermost tier of the Bab Zwayla gatehouse, or the contemplation of how long it must have taken a craftsman to carve even the simplest mashrabiyya screen.

'Islamic Cairo' is a strange phrase. Egypt is of course a Muslim country. In using that phrase I am referring to the historic eastern sections of the city, spreading between the faded splendour of 19th-century Downtown, and the Muqqatam Hills. This is the area nominated as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, where streets are unpaved, mosques and madrassas cluster thickly, and life within the great city walls seemingly continues much as it did under the Mamlukes

Touring the Khan el-Khalili is an over-rated experience in my view. Likewise the mosques of Mohammed Ali and al-Hakim are mostly modern reconstructions. Far better is the austere Ibn Tulun mosque, the oldest in Egypt, and the pretty Sultan al-Nasir in the Citadel. Al-Azhar, which claims to be the oldest university in the world, is also meant to be very interesting - it is only open Sunday-Thursday though, so I missed out. For LE10 the Bab Zwayla is a bargain. Other good views can be obtained from the patio outside the Citadel's Police Museum. And the Gayer-Anderson Museum gives a glimpse into the life that the privileged classes of Cairo used to enjoy (and a much more charming one than the bare rooms of the Beit al-Suhaymi).

Quick Tips:

If you are going to be walking during the day there are two essentials you need. The first is a hat. While the souks between the two gates are largely shaded, the direct heat from overhead as you circumnavigate the bulk of the Citadel can fry your brains very quickly. The second is water. Even if you are under shade, the temperature is still hot. Furthermore, by walking you are being active, and will most probably sweat. This will mean that you get dehydrated. I got through a litre of water between Ibn Tulun and Midan el-Hussein.

Some form of general map is also useful, even if just one from a guidebook. Streets are not usually named (certainly not in English), but they are useful to help you get your bearings.

I have given you some suggestions on where to break up the day for lunch. The heaviest concentration of eateries clusters around Sharia al-Azhar and Midan el-Hussein. For the adventurous, the area around Bab Zwayla (Sharia Ahmed Maher) is good for street food. If you can find it, I would definately recommend koshary, an unusual but tasty confection of macaroni, noodles, rice and lentils.

Of course, I think the best suggestion would be - be on your guard. This is particularly the case if any young men with good English approach you at Midan Salah al-Din and inform you that your chosen destination is temporarily closed!

Having said that, do not be afraid to explore and find your own highlights. It may all seem intimidating, but I did not come across anyone who meant me harm. The worst you will get is emotional pressure for bakseesh, a purchase etc. And when haggling, remember - you are in control. If you are not offered what you see as a fair price, you can always walk away.

Best Way To Get Around:

I have deliberately written this journal as a walking tour, as that is what I did. To be honest, although this took me the majority of the day I would say that this was the best way of stringing together these sites. For starters, many of these locations could not be accessed by any other form of transport. The route along Sharia al-Muizz from Bab Zwayla to Bab al-Futuh (i.e. among the souks of the walled old city) is pretty much impassable other than on foot. Of course, there are access roads in - Sharia Ahmed Maher for Bab Zwayla, Sharia al-Azhar for Khan el-Khalili, and Sharia Galal for the northern gates and Mosque of al-Hakim. But a continuous route I feel is the best way of tying together a tour. That way you get to pick up all the local colour en route, and have a better chance of interacting with locals - for good or ill!

Plus, as written, there are very few main roads to cross over. Sharia al-Azhar is spanned by a pedestrian overpass. Your only issues will be around Midan Salah al-Din. My only advice is this: show no fear. If you think you can possibly make it across the lane, then go for it. Stride boldly - the traffic will probably slow. Under no circumstances should you shilly-shally or have a crisis of confidence. Cairene drivers do not know how to respond to that, so you are much safer if you are brazen about crossing the road!

To get to one of your start points, taxis are plentiful and cheap. If you are anywhere within the city centre do not budget for any more than LE10 ("'ashara guiney") per trip. But watch where you are when you flag them down, lest they try to charge you 'stupid tax'. I flagged down a taxi outside the Sheraton Hotel on the west bank in Dokki. Asked how much to Ibn Tulun, the driver quoted LE40. I replied that I would only pay ten. The driver accepted with a smile. (To be honest, following HobWahid's advice I would have offered eight, but I didn't have the change!) Mind you, he did then have to ask passers-by for directions five times! Taxi trips are an... experience. I had one taxi where the passenger seat was not actually attached to the floor, and which kept sliding back and forth when the driver accelerated or braked. Another purposefully aimed for a traffic cop, only to veer away at the last minute: "Is okay - my friend" he explained.

Compared to the chaos aboveground, Cairo has a wonderful Metro system - clean, regular, and cheap (a LE1 flat fare). Mahmoud Naguib is the stop nearest Islamic Cairo. From there Sharia Hassan al-Akbar leads towards Bab Zwayla - though none of the streets are named (at least, not in English anyway). Note that the first couple of carriages on any train are reserved for women - a possible boon for female travellers!

The Mosque of Ibn Tulun is an appropriate place to start any exploration of Islamic Cairo, as it is the earliest surviving mosque in Egypt. Ahmed Ibn Tulun was appointed governor of the settlement of Fustat in 868 by the Iraqi Abassids. In turn Ibn Tulun declared his independence, and his Tulunid dynasty ruled his new city of al-Qitai until 905. This mosque, based upon that of Samarra in Iraq, was the devotional heart of his regime.

South of the Citadel, the Mosque of Ibn Tulun seems rarely visited by the tourist swarms that clog the arteries of Khan el-Khalili. Indeed, my taxi driver did not particularly know where it was. He had to ask passers-by for directions five times as he drove through slums of ruined buildings, tents pitched in middens, and bearded and robed men selling cauliflowers from the back of horse-drawn carts. The lack of tourists is in many ways a shame, as the brutal austerity of Ibn Tulun's mosque is quietly impressive.

From the street there isn't much mosque to see. You are confronted with a long blank wall, topped with a lacy frosting of geometric designs. This is the 'ziyada' (enclosure) - it separates the holiness of the mosque from the bustle of the material world. Up the steps you come across a vast courtyard encircled by a ninth-century portico. This courtyard, 92m square, was designed to enable the entire (male) population of al-Qitai to worship at once. This is a mosque of the desert tribes, austere, open to the fierce sun which bleaches everything to bone. Centred at its heart is a later (thirteenth century) fountain under a squared dome. Entrance is free, though you are expected to head over to the left, where you are required to exchange your shoes for felt slippers. This is also free.

Leaving, I was approached by the smart white-uniformed policeman who started chatting to me. Taking me around the side of the mosque (to the right as you approach it from the road) he showed me the mosque's unusual minaret. It is unusual in that its spiral staircase encircles the outside of the minaret. From the top of the minaret, an exposed canopy with not much in the way of guard rails (so parents with kids, maybe look for another minaret to ascend!) you can see down into the polo-field of the courtyard. Lone figures walking across are dwarfed by its immensity, their movements an affront to its purpose. Indeed, earlier I had felt nervous venturing out from the shade of the portico across the stark expanse of open ground to reach the central fountain. You can also see across to the much-later Mosque of Muhammed Ali atop the Citadel to the east. A spot of bakseesh is expected for this guidance.

Exiting the Ibn Tulun Mosque turn right before you exit the ziyada. A narrow stepped passage leads through to the Gayer Anderson-Museum (LE30). This a superbly beautiful evocation of a long-vanished Cairo and I would really encourage a visit.

Formerly known as Beit al-Kritiliya, "the House of the Cretan Woman", the museum is actually composed of two houses abutting the mosque. One dates from the sixteenth century, the other from the eighteenth. Major Gayer-Anderson settled in Cairo after his retirement from military service. He seems to have been one of that breed of educated British gentlemen who fell for their posting in the age of Empire and never went home - similar to the British servicemen who insisted on 'staying on' (in the title of Paul Scott's novel) in India post-independence, or 'Glubb Pasha' who commanded the Jordanian army until the late '50s. Here Gayer-Anderson could combine his love of orientalism with a stratified social structure that was dying out in 1930s England. Here he could reside in opulence with servants (whom he genuinely seemed to like from the letters displayed on the walls), and enjoy his privileged position. Perhaps the most psychologically-penetrating exhibit is a self-portrait of the Major clad in a pharoanic head-dress...

If that sounds a little critical, then I apologise. In fact Gayer-Anderson deserves our respect for salvaging a quite remarkable collection of beautiful furnishings from across the oriental world. Not only are Egyptian art and crafts exhibited here, but also work from other traditions - Persian, Syrian, Turkish, Indian. Certainly the Damascene bedroom is quite stunning - a jewellery-box of lacquered Syrian accoutrements framing a spindly (and somewhat rickety-looking) bed. There is another room kitted out in a Persian style. For while there are a few cases of 'typical' museum pieces - ancient Egyptian gewgaws, and Roman-era statuettes - the most noteworthy thing is that this was a place of residence. Major Gayer-Anderson liked being surrounded by beautiful objets d'art, but he expected them to be functional. Hence the cool tiled reception hall on the ground floor, further cooled by low fountains creating a restful ambiance (the watchful will recognise it is a location from Roger Moore's 'The Spy Who Loved Me') The upper stories are partitioned with ornate 'mashrabiya' (carved wooden screens) shading the interior from the scalding Egyptian sun. Mashrabiya also decorates the harim, the women's quarters, so that female members of an Islamic household could see out to the street or down onto the men entertaining below, and not themselves be seen. In fact this leads to one of the most special moments. A guide showed me a cupboard built into a corner. He opened it - empty. A flick of a latch, and this time the entire cupboard swung out to reveal a screened balcony overlooking the fountained main hall.

Further screened terraces overlooked internal lightwell courtyards. Low chairs and tables marked where the Major would take his morning tea. The roof is again marked with a maze-like mashrabiya bower looking down onto the street and across to the Ibn Tulun mosque. James Bond had a fight here I recalled. His opponent was eventually thrown through the screens and off the roof - I only hope they were reconstructions!

For LE30 (and a tip for the guide) I can't really fault a visit to the Gayer-Anderson Museum. What becomes clear is a view of a prosperous Englishman of a certain class, but with a non-condescending love of the historic east, a shrewd eye, and impeccable taste. The house is not a sterile environment; instead the personality of its owner and the paraphenalia of his life provide a warmth, and show that Islamic arts were decorative, yes, but also intensely practical and functional.

The Citadel really is the crown of Old Cairo. Fortified in the twelfth-century by Salah al-Din (known in the west as Saladin, of Crusades fame), the walled compound perches atop a rocky outcrop just off the western edge of the arid Muqqatam Hills that have long provided a natural eastern limit to Cairo's expansion (and which now bristle with military equipment). A visit treats you to an awesome view over the dun huddle of Islamic Cairo, minarets piercing the smog. It also holds two mosques of particular interest - the ostentatious Mosque of Mohammed Ali that towers over the city, and the smaller and prettier Mosque of Sultan al-Nasir.

The close-packed eastern section of Cairo is devoid of Metro lines, so the easiest way to reach the Citadel is to take a taxi and ask for 'al-Qalaa'. Even if you are over on the west bank of the Nile, do not agree to pay any more than LE10. This will have you deposited by the main entrance on Sharia Salah Salem.

Of course, I was walking, so from Ibn Tulun and the Gayer-Anderson Museum I headed east along Sharia Ibn Tulun. This disgorges you at Midan Salah al-Din, one of Cairo's major intersections, where taxis and trucks whizz past. Three mosques punctuate the Midan - the large Rifai and Sultan Hassan to the west, and the smaller Mahmudiyya to the north. To the east rises the bulk of the Citadel. There is no public entrance here now, but you can see the exterior of the Bab al-Azab. It was here that Mohammed Ali ruthlessly consolidated his grab for power in 1811. Having invited the ruling Mamlukes to dinner at the Citadel, Ali saw them off, only to trap them in the narrow confines of the gate and slaughter them as they left. Now all that you can access are some low crumbling bastions, ripe with the smell of urine and faeces (watch out for needles underfoot).

On foot you must trudge around the southern edge of the Citadel down Salah al-Din and Salah Salem. You cannot miss the sloping road leading up to the gatehouse. Entrance is LE40, though there are often queues as you pass through the checkpoints. Inside the way leads left past souvenir stands to the al-Gawhera Palace, then right down a long straight enclosed road to the Mosque of Sultan al-Nasir.

The Mosque of Sultan al-Nasir is a pretty little thing, blessedly plain compared to the grandiose Mohammed Ali. After removing my shoes, a guide came up to show me items of interest. He explained that when this mosque was built in the 14th-century it was modelled on that of Cordoba in Spain. He pointed out that the columns that surrounded the courtyard were reused from older structures as you could see from the different capitols - pharoanic, Greek, Coptic Christian. Here was stone from Aswan, here was Italian Carrera marble (indeed the mosque may once have approached the same level of gaudiness as that of Mohammed Ali; once it was panelled with marble, but that panelling was stripped and hoiked off to Turkey by the evocatively named 'Selim the Grim'). Instead my guide showed me the wooden minbar (pulpit). This was constructed of a series of carefully tesellated pieces, each intricately carved in Islamic designs. Above the banded stonework the dome gleamed like jade. The man was so informative, and so clearly proud of the mosque, that I happily handed over a tip without being prompted. Of all the mosques I visited in Cairo, I think this one, with its intimate proportions, was my favourite.

Turning right out of the mosque you see the bombastic entance way to the Military Museum, its approach lined with tanks. I did not enter here, but if you pass through the arch there is a passage to your right that allows to go further into the quieter and less visited Northern Enclosure of the Citadel.

If you turn left instead you can climb up to the highest point, crowned by the Mosque of Sultan Ali. This Mosque can be seen from any minaret in the old town, its huge dome shining in the sunlight and its two pencil-thin minarets standing in stark contrast. On closer inspection I have to admit I found it gaudy and ostentatious. The intricacy and craftsmanship exhibited in the al-Nasir is not present in this 19th-century offering. Instead Ali went for scale. Inside tour parties slump across the ill-matched carpets below overly grandiose chandeliers. Behind a grill to one side lies the white marble tomb of the Sultan. The whole thing seemed more reminiscent of a theatre lobby than a place of worship.

To be fair, I did like its courtyard (accessed through the mosque), even if it was slightly chintzy. A narrow clasically-inspired colonnade rings the marble space. A shaded ablutions fountain stands in the middle. There is also an ornate clock-tower, a gift from Louis Philippe of France. The clock was a swap for the obelisk which now stands in Paris' Place de la Concorde, and has apparently never worked, a fitting tribute for Mohammed Ali, a man who managed to mix instinctive barbarism (as seen in his slaughter of the Mamlukes) with a desire to ape the west, and never really succeeded in getting the best out of either tradition.

One final sight in the Citadel comes if you follow the signs to the Police Museum. This leads on to a terrace with wondeful views north-west over the old city, ranging from the distinctive square outline of the Mosque of Ibn Tulun , over the cluster of mosques at Midan Salah al-Din, and then north where the close-packed streets and tenements of the khaki-coloured Islamic Cairo huddle, pierced by minarets too numerous to count. It was north that I would be pressing on for the next step in my walking tour.

Retracing my steps around the base of the Citadel to Midan Salah al-Din, in the words of Elvis Presley, I got stung. A smart young man came up and introduced himself to me. Was I going to the Citadel? No, I had already been there - I thought I would check out the Mosque of Sultan Hassan across the square. No good, came the reply, it was closed for worship. However, if I wanted to go the same way as him he would take me to an equally nice mosque in his neighbourhood, in the heart of Islamic Cairo.

I suppose alarm bells should have rung as he lead me away from Midan Salah al-Din down Sharia Bab al-Gadid, but he certainly seemed unthreatening. He spoke good English, and we chatted about football (one of the big Cairo teams was in action that night). We turned left off the main road and into a network of narrow unpaved streets between ochre houses. This I believe was the Bab al-Wazir district, a wedge of housing between Sharia Souk el-Silah and Sharia Bab al-Wazir. I kept a wary eye out to remember my way back should the need arise, but I still principally thought that I had met a friendly local, keen to show me a view of backstreets Cairo that is left off the tourist itineraries.

The Mosque of al-Maridani, which is where we eventually arrived, is an idyllic retreat from the bustle of the streets. Built in 1340 it has a palm-fringed courtyard enlivened by the twittering of birdsong. The mosque stands open to the courtyard save for a full-length mashrabiya screen. This enabled women to see the ceremonies, but not be part of them. The inside was cool and dim. My new friend pointed out the woodwark of the minbar, the old columns, and the plaque marking where Sultan Muhammed Ali had repaired the mosque following an earthquake.

Then came the sting. The mosque did a lot of good work in the neighbourhood my friend said. The imam appeared, nodding. Look, here are the blankets we buy for the poor. Would I not wish to help them cater for the needy? Really, they should be charging me for the visit - LE50 for visiting the mosque, another LE50 if I wished to climb the minaret (for comparison, entrance to the Citadel costs only LE40, and even a visit to the Giza Plateau with its world famous Pyramids and Sphinx is only LE50). Of course, if I were a poor student, they would expect only LE25. I explained that I had already climbed too many minarets that day, and so only handed across a fifty, which the imam purposefully posted into a locked metal box to 'prove' this would be going to charity. My new friend then waited expectantly for his bakseesh in showing me this wonderful place. I dug in my pocket for change, but his eyes were quicker than mine with the unfamiliar currency: "Twenty pounds, that is fine". So I missed seeing the Mosque of Sultan Hassan, and instead found myself relieved of £70.

Was it worth it? Well, on the positive side I got a local's viewpoint on Cairo, and he took me a route that few tourists make. The mosque was undoubtably pretty - a neighbourhood mosque, rather than the garish and impersonal Muhammed Ali, or the austere sun-baked Ibn Tulun. And I was left with good directions to Bab al-Zwayla, which was next on my itinerary. But the feeling of having been taken for a ride by someone seemingly showing friendship (and also by an imam!) left a very sour taste in my mouth. I stopped looking at Egyptians as hospitable and friendly, but rather as unscrupulous con-men.

There is a coda to this tale. That evening I was chatting to a Scottish man who had also been traipsing solo around Cairo that day. Heading towards the Citadel he was accosted in Midan Salah al-Din by a smartly-dressed young man with good English who asked him where he was heading. The Citadel? Ah, bad luck - apparently, according to this man, the Citadel was closed all day for a state ceremony. However, if he was keen, he could show him somewhere away from the tourist trail. That 'somewhere' proved to be... the Mosque of al-Maridani. Clearly this is a practiced scam to pick up gullible Westerners in Midan Salah al-Din, and relieve them of some of their tourist dollars. Be on your guard!

If it would have cost me LE50 to climb the minaret at the Mosque of al-Maridani, the LE10 I paid at Bab Zwayla must count as one of Cairo's best bargains.

It seems odd that, after heading north from Ibn Tulun for about three hours i had finally reached Cairo's southern gatehouse. The entire area to the north, taking in the Al-Azhar mosque, Midan el-Hussein, Khan el-Khalili, and the mosque of al-Hakim, all the way up to Bab al-Futuh and Bab al-Nasr would have been walled, and provided the heart of Islamic Cairo, a seething sea of activity and trade. As late as the nineteenth-century the gates were still closed and barred at night, even though the city sprawled far beyond the walled bounds. Bab Zwayla, its sturdy cylindrical buttresses surmounted with ornate twin minarets is the most impressive of the surviving gateways.

Approaching along the curving Sharia Darb al-Ahmar, Bab Zwayla stands on your right, astride the Sharia al-Muizz which continues south into the covered Tentmakers' Market or Qasaba - atmospherically '1,001 Nights', but a chief tourist destination and so home to doggedly persistent salesmen. You can get some decent street food from vendors here though. Admire the southern aspect of the gates before entering, and passing the shrine to a local saint. Once through double back to your left to enter the gatehouse. There are numerous panels in English talking you through Bab Zwayla's function and construction as you climb. Eventually you reach the top of the gatehouse where you are free to wander and take photographs. You can go higher however - if you go round the back of the minarets you get access to more stairs. These take you up to a balcony. Thin columns hold up a hexagonal roof above you, surmounted with a graceful turnip-shaped peak. From here you get quite exceptional views south to the Citadel, and north into the heart of the old city. Immediately to your left is the stripey al-Muayyad Mosque, topped by an oddly-proportioned dome. Sharia al-Muizz carries on into a souk that caters more for locals than tourists. The souvenirs and jewellery to be found in Khan el-Khalili is replaced here by piles of shoes, garish robes and GG bras. Racks of clothing jut out into the street like curtains, and young boys sway effortlessly through the crowds bearing trays of hot tea for the stall holders. periodically you are forced back by a larger obstacle - two lads on a motorcycle, a truck trying to force itself along the narrow road, or a vendor pushing a stove on a cart, selling hot jacket potatoes.

Heading north up the Sharia al-Muizz from Bab Zwayla, you eventually emerge by the Ghuriya complex (where there are often free exhibitions of Sufi dancing on a Saturday evening). Ahead the Sharia al-Azhar surges across your path, a brutal flyover carved into the heart of Cairo's souks. There are two places here I can recommend for a meal - Gad to the right and on the same side of Sharia al-Azhar, or el-Dahan across the road and up towards Midan el-Hussein. For now bear right and you will find an overpass that will take you over the river of whizzing taxis.

There are two main routes you can take from here up into the more touristy environs of the Khan el-Khalili. The western way is the somewhat quieter continuation of Sharia al-Muizz that heads up through the Spice and Goldsmiths Bazaars; this eventually terminates at Bab al-Futuh. The eastern route is up Sharias el-Hussein and Gamaliya to end at Bab al-Nasr, on the opposite side of the Mosque of al-Hakim.

Continuing up Sharia al-Muizz you enter the Spice Bazaar - piles of multicoloured spices, the air redolent of their tang. Nostrils twitching (and watching out for tourbuses) you head up to the Muski, one of the main tourist routes into the market from Midan Ataba. For a well trodden route, the Muski is shocking - a potholed road, lamp-posts lying fallen underfoot, the press of people, and the constant cries of touts. "Hello! I know you! Come in, come in! Where you from?" Occasionally you might crack a smile at something they say - "Walk like an Egyptian!" (amusing the first dozen times you hear it), "Why you no look? No money, no honey?" - and then they have you. One guy came up to me: "English? Francais? Deutsch?" So I tried my usual trick which had stood me well from Peru to Morocco: "Ruski". The man then replied back to me in perfect Russian. Let it never be said that the marketeers of Khan el-Khalili will ever let a small trifle like not knowing the language stand in the way of a sale!

Crossing the Muski and continuing up al-Muizz you will pass through the sector of the souk colonised by goldsmiths. The wares become less expensive as you head north, and workers of gold are replaced by those of copper. Before long a series of handsome 13th-14th century buildings will crop up to your left. These are the maristan (hospital), madrassa (seminary) and mausoleum of Sultan Qalaoun, the completion of which complex took only thirteen months. There then follows the mosque of al-Nasir Mohammed with a beautiful spiky minaret, and then the madrassa and khanqah (Sufi monastery) of Sultan Barquq. The road forks at an ornate trellis-work building (the Sabil-Kuttab (public fountain and primary school) of Abd al-Rahman Katkhuda. Keep to the left. On the corner of Darb al-Asfur, a pristine restored street, you will find the Beit al-Suhaymi, a restored complex of traditional buildings (q.v.).

Continuing north the streets empty out. You will pass the entrance to the Mosque of al-Hakim on your right, just before the path disgorges yoy at the Bab al-Futuh in the northern wall.

The eastern route, up towards the Bab al-Nasr has fewer sites of note. What it does have si the easiest way into the very heart of the bazaar. The entrance to the narrow Sikket al-Badestan is down a couple of steps opposite the corner of the Mosque of Saiyidna Hussein.
This is prime tourist territory, and the weight of people often means that the passageway jams solid. It is also prime real estate, and the hawkers here call out constantly from the awnings of their shops. Frankly, I hated it. Still, after thirty minutes pushing down al-Badestan you will be fully tempered to survive any other lesser souk in Egypt - those of Luxor and Aswan are just pale, easy-going shadows of the great Khan el-Khalili. Plus the experience is precisely what the uninitiated expect a middle-eastern bazaar to be like. Given an option I would recommend Fes in Morocco or Damascus in Syria over here, but it's all fun!

Darb al-Asfur, to the right off Sharia al-Muizz and stretching all the way to Sharia Gamaliya, is a much restored street obviously designed to show off the community aspects of Khan el-Khalili. It seem to work: an elderly man rested on a bench and a group of small boys played football. This part of old Cairo is clearly more than just tourists, touts and hawkers.

On the nothern edge of the street is the Beit al-Suhaymi, or House of Suhaymi, a restored complex of three traditional houses. They are open daily 9am - 5pm, and entrance is LE25 (look for the man sat just back from the road).

The first house in centred around a shaded courtyard. The three storey walls and spreading palm trees provide cover from the sun. The first thing that you notice is the windows on the upper floors, all fashioned of beautiful mashrabiya woodwork. Several enclosed balconies project out into the courtyard. Wall-mounted maps suggest an itinerary - out into the rear garden with its small mill, back through darkened ground floor rooms, including a bedroom and bathroom with stained-glass inserts in the ceiling, creating a soothing dappled technicolour effect. Heading upstairs you can walk across a verandah overlooking the yard. The second house had all its doors onto the courtyard locked so you could not explore. The third had a shallow (non-working) fountain in its reception hall.

Apart from the mashrabiya, which always impresses me, the complex was actually very plain. Unlike in the Gayer-Anderson Museum there were no personal effects to reveal the daily life of the people who once lived here. Instead all the visitor got was empty room after empty room. Having seen how historic buildings in Cairo can be brought to life, I felt disappointed in this attraction - a real missed opportunity. Save your money for elsewhere.

Mohammed Ali could have learnt a lot from his eleventh-century predecessor Caliph al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah. This precocious youth blazed a trail of cruelty of quite remarkable proportions. At age 15 he had his tutor murdered. He banned the manufacture of women's shoes to prevent them setting foot outside their homes; one group of noisy women he had boiled alive in a public bath. He personally carved up a butcher with his own cleaver, though he only stood by to watch as dishonest merchants were buggered by his Nubian slave. Chess was banned, and all the dogs of Cairo were put down to stop their barking keeping the caliph awake. Like a latter-day Nero he watched from the hills as the Fustat district went up in flames. Despite this, the Druze of Syria believe that al-Hakim was a godly avatar of Allah; the Copts hold that he had a vision of Christ and became a monk.

With all this notoriety it is small wonder that after his disappearance his personal mosque, abutting old Cairo's northern walls was allowed to sink into disrepair until very recently. This makes a visit disappointing. Apart from a squat ginger gherkin of a minaret, the mosque is pretty much a restoration job. The creamy curtained collonade resembles a Red Sea resort complex ranged around a shiny marble courtyard.

The city walls just beyond the mosque are sturdy grey stone structures with portculis-like gateways that would not look totally out of place on a Rhineland castle save for a very small number of arabesque decoration. The western Bab al-Futuh was the 'Open Gate', and the eastern Bab al-Nasr the 'Gate of Victory'. Directly opposite the northern wall is a mound topped with shacks and caravans. This is actually the Bab al-Nasr cemetary; the sight of current Cairenes living atop the tombs of those long gone is a common one, best seen in the Cities of the Dead, along Cairo's eastern flank below the Muqqatam heights.

And there we have it, a seven hour stroll from the Mosque of Ibn Tulun up to the very northern gates of old Cairo, taking in structures constructed for prayer, for defence, for trade, and for living. With a stop for lunch this itinerary took me most of a day, and really gave me an insight into the history and continued life of 'Islamic Cairo' - one UNESCO World Heritage Site that continues to live and breathe.

El-Dahan is a perfectly decent no frills place on the eastern end of the maelstrom that is the Muski, near Midan el-Hussein. Considering its location you'd think it would be a nightmare. In actual fact its pretty sedate. Fans waft cool air and there are several areas for seating - the ground floor where the grill and range is located, the mezzanine where I sat overlooking the lower level, and a higher floor which I did not venture up to - I have a feeling it might have been an open-air terrace. Though to be honest after trudging through Cairo for five hours I was quite grateful for the cool shade, even if the inside was a little smoky from the grilling meat. My first drink I think I downed in one!

The food is essentially traditional Egyptian fare. With a view over a man chopping fresh meat on a block and then tossing it on to the grill to sizzle over the flames, I just had to go for something meaty however. What I plumped for was a quarter kilo of kebab and kofta mix, to be served with green salad and pitta. When it came the freshly grilled meat hit the spot immediately, stuffing it into the pitta with the corainder leaf-topped salad. To be honest, i could maybe have done with more - maybe half a kilo?

End cost? A quarter kilo of meat, plus salad, pitta, and two bottles of water, all for LE28. So that amounts to around £2.50 in sterling. What a deal. It certainly fortified me to step out once more into the madness that is Khan el-Khalili.

Gad is located not far from the crossroads of the pedestrian Sharia al-Muizz which cuts through Cairo's bazaars, and the heavily trafficked Sharia al-Azhar. Set at an angle on a corner it looks a bit grimy from the outside; inside however it is lovely.

The ground floor of Gad is mainly a take-away with a few tables. Trios of women seem to stop here for fruit juice and pastries; workmen come just to pick up grub. If you are here for a meal, you will be directed upstairs, to a conservatory-type affair - a full-length uPVC window looks down over the lower level. The door is carefully shut to preserve the benefits of the air conditioning.

The food is slightly more expensive than at el-Dahan. There a meal and two drinks cost LE24. Here a meal and two drinks totted up to LE45. The meal alone was LE25. However, it was a very satisfying meal. There is a variety of tempting looking staples on the menu here, from shawarma to burgers to Alexandrian-style liver! I went for shish tawouk - three skewers of tasty chicken kebab. The other costs came as extras - salad and bread. I was a bit disgruntled that bread cost extra. However, in its favour I have to say that the bread here was the best I had during my entire stay in Egypt. It came in the form of poppy-seed pitta pockets, still warm from the oven. I had got through half of it by the time my kebabs arrived! The food was uniformly of a very high quality.

In fact, my only real complaint would be the hassle it took to leave. It took thirty minutes, which saw me asking three different people, to finally get the bill.

Egypt has a vast selection of street foods. You might opt for a plain baked potato served from an oven on back of a cart, followed by a sticky pastry from the vendor to his right. Or you might head over to a store front to pick up a shawarma - the local variant of gyros or donner kebab, strips of meat shaved off into a pitta and topped with tahina. There are plenty of impromptu juice bars around to supply you with a fresh orange to slake your thirst.

One meal that rapidly became a favourite with me and my friends was koshary (or kushari). This was not something that I had ever come across before, but proved to be cheap, filling, and tasty. It is also free of meat... though whether that means it is 100% suitable for vegetarians is a matter on which I would not like to speculate. Koshary joints are backstreet affairs selling only the one dish.

At its most basic level, koshary is nothing more than a mixture of macaroni, rice, noodles, lentils and onion. Dished out from the one large bowl you are then free to top your meal off with a tomato-ey sauce, chilli sauce, and vinegar. And it is great.

One place I can recommend is an unnamed hole-in-the-wall joint on Ismail Beik Abou El Fettouh Street in Dokki, over on the western bank of the Nile. It was a small place with mirrored walls, four tables, and bad reception on the football. I had two choices - a large bowl or a small bowl. You might as well for the large, as the prices are LE5 and LE3 respectively (equivalent to 50p or 30p in sterling). The grin on the owner's face when we returned the next night was reason enough to return. I got the feeling that tourists rarely popped in. However, I can genuinely recommend koshary for those who are short on cash, those who want to experience genuine Egyptian street life, or just those who have been put off meat by spotting fly-blown carcasses hanging outside a butcher's.