Four Americans, two Egyptians, and an Italian walk into a bar... (add your punchline here)
Even an unspectacular night in Cairo is worthy of a blog entry. A colleague of mine and I met the two other Americans and the Italian at the KFC in Tahrir Square. This location was selected mainly because it is such a prominent landmark that any cab driver or passerby would easily be able to direct me there. There’s nothing particularly striking about the KFC that would make it an obvious landmark, but we learned that this location is actually very well known for something other than offering mouth watering chicken that is craved by many Egyptians. During last year’s revolution, the KFC was shuttered but the sidewalk in front of it became a sort of field hospital for injured protestors. At some point during the revolution, government officials accused KFC of supporting the protest by providing meals to the revolutionaries (despite the fact that it was closed). This falsehood added to the appeal of the restaurant among the protesters, and the shuttered metal gates covering the doors of the restaurant were covered with protest art. That’s right, Colonel Sanders was an unlikely participant in the Egyptian revolution.
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| Art posted at the Tahrir KFC during the revolution |
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| Col Sanders - an unlikely revolutionary |
So, we met our friends at the KFC and then walked down the block to meet the rest of our group. Just as we left the Tahrir Square area, I noticed a few people fleeing from the general area where we had just been standing. They were running away from something, but since it was only a few people fleeing—and not the entire population on the streets at the time—I didn’t join them. Then I heard the sounds of distress behind me and two young men were running in our direction, helping a third man who was bleeding from the head. Blood was gushing from his head onto the sidewalk and after they stopped running, we passed them as others offered tissues to help him stop the bleeding. He didn’t seem to be in grave danger and none of us had medical training or supplies, so we continued down the road and quietly wished him speedy recovery, assuming he had been in a fight.
A few short minutes later, we met up with the two Egyptian members of our group and started discussing dinner options. It was agreed that we would eat “Egyptian” food, even after a short debate about whether an Egyptian menu would contain anything other than ful (pronounced "fool" and consisting of fava beans, olive oil, chopped parsley, garlic, onion, and lemon juice) and koshari, which is a vegetarian dish with rice, macaroni, lentils, chickpeas, garlic, fried onion, and tomato sauce.
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| Koshari |
We navigated the streets of Cairo to a neighborhood called Imbabah and settled into seats at a busy outdoor restaurant. Our Egyptian hosts suggested some options, including liver. I innocently asked from which animal the liver comes. I didn’t expect the question to spark much conversation, but somehow my question led to the decision that we needed to order a plate of camel liver. (I wasn’t really interested in liver no matter what the animal, but I was curious because it seemed that chicken liver was quite popular in Palestine and I thought that it might be popular throughout the region.) In addition to the camel liver, we ordered lamb on the bone, lamb in sauce, rice, and okra soup. We also had a generous pile of pita bread, small bowls of hummus, and some olives to share. I stuck with the rice and okra soup—and found that pouring the soup onto the rice helped make both components more interesting.
Eating outside was nice, but the air was cool and the restaurant is built for high traffic rather than leisurely meals. And it turned out that one of our Egyptian hosts grew up only two blocks from the restaurant, so he invited us to his mother’s house for tea. So we walked down the block and then piled into his mother’s living room, which was decorated with streamers and colorful balloons from a recent birthday party. After warming up with tea, we thanked our host and ventured back into the heart of Cairo to finish the night with a drink.
The drive back into downtown Cairo was uneventful, and as we walked the streets to a bar tucked deep into the alley we passed a neighborhood dessert shop. The Egyptians didn’t want to pass up the opportunity for us to ‘sample’ their sweet treats (even though most of us non-Egyptians had lived in the Middle East and eaten the same desserts many times before). The sample turned out to be a full plate of sticky sweets, which we carried to the bar.
The bar was a very comfortable lounge—not too loud, not too smoky, not too crowded—and we passed the rest of the night talking politics and religion and sharing travel stories and bits of wisdom and plenty of laughs. As we left, the waiters asked for the last of the desserts that we didn’t eat.
Altogether, nothing spectacular transpired, but it was just my speed. A little history at the KFC, a bit of excitement at Tahrir, camel liver at dinner, colorful balloons with tea, and dessert, drinks, and pleasant conversation. Just another night in Cairo.
