...or how i felt like Passepartout (around the world in 80 days) and tried to fight the bad luck of my national football team.
Inside of Sayyidna al-Hussein Mosque. Lonely Planet said non-Muslims are not allowed in, but i don't read Lonely Planet and for this reason me and Arturo had no trouble to enter in the mosque. We took off the shoes at the entrance and had a little chat with the shoe-keeper who was very nice with us.Proud of my little Arabic, the old man at the entrance addressed to me very happily, and the best i could do was replying him “Al'h'amdulillah” all the time and he appreciated very much my gesture of respect.
Inside, we sit down on the carpet and had some relaxation, suddenly the time of the pray arrived and everybody standed towards the quibla (the sign on the wall which shows the direction to Mecca). We did the same. and troubles started. A man came to us and said something in Arabic something which sounded like “please go away, tourist no admitted”. We pointed him our feet which were without the shoes, and we pointed the door which we entered (where our shoes were) which was closed because hundreds of prayers were standing there. Moment of panic. We go at the other entrance and we are forced to leave the mosque without shoes, just like Passepartout did in Bombay when he entered in the temple and left his shoes behind running bare feet to catch the train where Mr. Fogg was waiting. Just imagine the scene of an italian and an argentinian guy walking in the suk of al-khalil without the shoes for at least 300 meters to reach the other entrance of the mosque where our shoes (eventually) were still kept! And yes we eventually found the shoes at the end.
Back on the streets where on 7 April 2005 there was a bomb, in the middle of the magnificent market built in 1383 by Garkas al-khalil. No traces of the bombing anymore, but still strange to think that here in the middle of the same kind of touristy and local crowd... and the sellers trying to stop us at every corner, trying to bargain for every piece of spices, taky Chinese reproductions of the pyramids and the Tutankamon, or simply scarfs or very original Egyptian version of whatever souvenir has been produced on planet earth between 3000 BC and 2008 AD. I got stoned by all this. when a familiar sound came from one of the oldest shop, selling antiques and displaying a television from 1983, color. Italy playing against Romania, loosing 0-1, I enter and Panucci...GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLL!
I never though my "italian" pride would have surfaced in the middle of the Khan. Suddenly my walk in the bazar became like a hunting for a cable TV turned on to the sport channel. No more deals or bargains, I was friendly with all the sellers watching the match and supporting the Italian team, with the vague hope to repeat the same situation i had in the first shop when I entered and the team scored... no luck. My hunting was only partially successful, lost in the middle of raw cotton in the tissue market or smelling fried liver in the meat market... Italy-Romania 1-1 in Cairo.
Inside of Sayyidna al-Hussein Mosque. Lonely Planet said non-Muslims are not allowed in, but i don't read Lonely Planet and for this reason me and Arturo had no trouble to enter in the mosque. We took off the shoes at the entrance and had a little chat with the shoe-keeper who was very nice with us.Proud of my little Arabic, the old man at the entrance addressed to me very happily, and the best i could do was replying him “Al'h'amdulillah” all the time and he appreciated very much my gesture of respect.
Inside, we sit down on the carpet and had some relaxation, suddenly the time of the pray arrived and everybody standed towards the quibla (the sign on the wall which shows the direction to Mecca). We did the same. and troubles started. A man came to us and said something in Arabic something which sounded like “please go away, tourist no admitted”. We pointed him our feet which were without the shoes, and we pointed the door which we entered (where our shoes were) which was closed because hundreds of prayers were standing there. Moment of panic. We go at the other entrance and we are forced to leave the mosque without shoes, just like Passepartout did in Bombay when he entered in the temple and left his shoes behind running bare feet to catch the train where Mr. Fogg was waiting. Just imagine the scene of an italian and an argentinian guy walking in the suk of al-khalil without the shoes for at least 300 meters to reach the other entrance of the mosque where our shoes (eventually) were still kept! And yes we eventually found the shoes at the end.
Back on the streets where on 7 April 2005 there was a bomb, in the middle of the magnificent market built in 1383 by Garkas al-khalil. No traces of the bombing anymore, but still strange to think that here in the middle of the same kind of touristy and local crowd... and the sellers trying to stop us at every corner, trying to bargain for every piece of spices, taky Chinese reproductions of the pyramids and the Tutankamon, or simply scarfs or very original Egyptian version of whatever souvenir has been produced on planet earth between 3000 BC and 2008 AD. I got stoned by all this. when a familiar sound came from one of the oldest shop, selling antiques and displaying a television from 1983, color. Italy playing against Romania, loosing 0-1, I enter and Panucci...GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLL!
I never though my "italian" pride would have surfaced in the middle of the Khan. Suddenly my walk in the bazar became like a hunting for a cable TV turned on to the sport channel. No more deals or bargains, I was friendly with all the sellers watching the match and supporting the Italian team, with the vague hope to repeat the same situation i had in the first shop when I entered and the team scored... no luck. My hunting was only partially successful, lost in the middle of raw cotton in the tissue market or smelling fried liver in the meat market... Italy-Romania 1-1 in Cairo.
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