I went to the Gayer Anderson Museum today for the first time. Now I am really sorry that I didn't go before. The Gayer Anderson is actually two houses from the 17th century (1600s for those of you like me who can't keep that straight) and possibly the best preserved domestic architecture from that time period. You can go read wikipedia for the reason it is called that, and more background (definitely read the legends about this house), so I can rhapsodize. (yes, yes, I will post pictures, I promise, tomorrow)
This man collected mashrabiya and mashrafiya from all over Cairo as old houses were being torn down and preserved them by incorporating them into these two houses, which are connected. Mashrabiya are the fabulous old wooden window coverings that let in air and light but kept women out of sight. Mashrafiya is a variation in which there is a small window that opens in the mashrabiya screen so that the woman can peer out. Anyways, these fabulous things cover every window in the house, and create this beautiful, airy, private rooftop sitting area.
The buildings themselves are gorgeous! All stairs. Climb up, and up and up, stopping in various sitting rooms and studies and bedrooms along the way (bedrooms looked very uncomfortable, by the way). The ceilings! Imported from Syria and Iran! Gorgeous! Syria and Iran's loss! I want! Actually I just want the house. Even if it would be inconvenient to live in. I would live with that for the beautiful Iranian built in shelving, the secret room overlooking the main reception area, the summer room overlooking the courtyard, the fountain courtyard, the rooftop terrace, the hallway with four arches.... There's rugs from all over the Middle East, Egyptian and Syrian antiquities, including an early example of folding furniture that is both more beautiful and more comfortable than any folding chair I've ever met. There are all sorts of implements used by women for making themselves beautiful (for screens) and medical things, and Sufi antiquities.... And I would oil the mashrabiya and mashrafiya every 6 months so they would stay beautiful. Then there's all the mother of pearl inlaid furniture...all right, all right, I'll stop now. But really, I can't say enough.
The guide showed me around. It would be hard to figure out where to go without him. There's some signage, which is reasonably readable, but the guide helps, although he likes to take pictures of you all over the place.
There's a sabil in one of the houses, which was a public cistern for anyone wanting water. The cup on a chain next to it weighed 5 kilos (brass), which is more than 10 lbs. It makes fabulous echo noises when you clap or talk or whistle into it.
I have no idea where they cooked meals though, as the kitchen was not on display, sadly. Nor were bathrooms. Major oversight in my opinion, but maybe that's just me.
And now, for the backstory...
The Gayer Anderson is located in a section of Cairo called Sayyida Zaynab (Zaynab was the granddaughter of the Prophet Mohammed and is considered like a patron saint of Cairo), which is apparently a fairly old and very poor section of the city. This occasioned a lot of concern on the part of my uncle and his driver, Zacharia (him of the many phone lines and rings). Zacharia wanted me to take off my bracelets. After I demonstrated the impossibility, he settled for me wearing a long sleeved shirt instead to cover them up. Then there was concern it might not be open, but we decided that since it is run by the Supreme Council of Antiquities, it probably was. (What kind of name is Supreme Council of Antiquities? And if they are so supreme, then why don't they do more to preserve the antiquities?) Then neither Zacharia (who lives in 6 October City) or my uncle knew really where it was and how to get there, exactly. Then there was how are you going to get back (taxi, duh). All of which I settled by saying that my uncle could just come with me (he is not a fan of museums). :-) Anyway, we finally found it after going around in a circle to avoid one way streets. It is definitely an old and poor section, but the museum was open, and there was the sense of other tourists floating about (but none in sight). And it was precisely where it said it was, next to the Ibn Tulun Mosque. The museum actually shares a wall with the mosque, which was not uncommon at the time.
Anyway! I then proved (twice--once to the men taking the money and once to the lady taking the tickets) that I was Egyptian so I only paid LE2 to get in. That's, let's see, 30 cents. Foreigners pay LE30, which is $4.50, roughly and a steal. {please excuse me while I rant about Egypt's lost opportunity to charge more and actually, I don't know, preserve more monuments! Foreigners would happily pay double or triple or quadruple that to get into monuments! Take advantage people! And have gift stores! Sell gorgeous postcards, and catalogs, and books, and fake mashrabiya and all sorts of dumb knicknacks that make tons of money. Tshirts! anything! I want to be supreme person in charge of all Egyptian antiquities so I can make these sort of decisions and then take all the lovely money and make signage, and walking routes, and restore more monuments, and employ people. I think this is my dream job--take over the supreme council and rearrange all the museums and monuments and fix them up and charge appropriately for them and then use leftover money to make living conditions better for ordinary Egyptians}
I got home by finding a taxi, which was relatively simple as there's a little square outside the mosque. I overpaid by, let's see, about $1.25. Taxi driver loved me. Except he didn't like that I had to tell him directions along the way rather than just saying exactly where we were going, but he got over that. I took the taxi to Manyal, which is where my grandmother lived, so I am fairly familiar with the area, and mailed my letters and picked up passport photos (in preparation for getting a NEW, fancy passport). Then I took another taxi home, for another LE5, or .75 cents. I would have walked, as it was nice, but the khamaseen was kicking up dust and I didn't want to eat dust all the way across the river.
This evening I went over by myself (my uncle had a dentist appointment at 9 PM...can you imagine in the states?) and visited my aunt Zizi. By myself, I was delighted to discover that I could actually mostly hold a conversation, and convey meaning, even when I didn't fully know how to say things. She's not good at correcting, or understanding my questions about how to say things, but she tries hard to understand my accent. My uncle says my accent is quite good, just Jordanian (well, I wonder why!), so sometimes it is hard to understand. I did manage to ask about some money my father had, and how she had distributed it, and was happy with her decisions (it went to some poor families he has helped for years). She's going to teach me to make couscous from scratch! Friday!
This man collected mashrabiya and mashrafiya from all over Cairo as old houses were being torn down and preserved them by incorporating them into these two houses, which are connected. Mashrabiya are the fabulous old wooden window coverings that let in air and light but kept women out of sight. Mashrafiya is a variation in which there is a small window that opens in the mashrabiya screen so that the woman can peer out. Anyways, these fabulous things cover every window in the house, and create this beautiful, airy, private rooftop sitting area.
The buildings themselves are gorgeous! All stairs. Climb up, and up and up, stopping in various sitting rooms and studies and bedrooms along the way (bedrooms looked very uncomfortable, by the way). The ceilings! Imported from Syria and Iran! Gorgeous! Syria and Iran's loss! I want! Actually I just want the house. Even if it would be inconvenient to live in. I would live with that for the beautiful Iranian built in shelving, the secret room overlooking the main reception area, the summer room overlooking the courtyard, the fountain courtyard, the rooftop terrace, the hallway with four arches.... There's rugs from all over the Middle East, Egyptian and Syrian antiquities, including an early example of folding furniture that is both more beautiful and more comfortable than any folding chair I've ever met. There are all sorts of implements used by women for making themselves beautiful (for screens) and medical things, and Sufi antiquities.... And I would oil the mashrabiya and mashrafiya every 6 months so they would stay beautiful. Then there's all the mother of pearl inlaid furniture...all right, all right, I'll stop now. But really, I can't say enough.
The guide showed me around. It would be hard to figure out where to go without him. There's some signage, which is reasonably readable, but the guide helps, although he likes to take pictures of you all over the place.
There's a sabil in one of the houses, which was a public cistern for anyone wanting water. The cup on a chain next to it weighed 5 kilos (brass), which is more than 10 lbs. It makes fabulous echo noises when you clap or talk or whistle into it.
I have no idea where they cooked meals though, as the kitchen was not on display, sadly. Nor were bathrooms. Major oversight in my opinion, but maybe that's just me.
And now, for the backstory...
The Gayer Anderson is located in a section of Cairo called Sayyida Zaynab (Zaynab was the granddaughter of the Prophet Mohammed and is considered like a patron saint of Cairo), which is apparently a fairly old and very poor section of the city. This occasioned a lot of concern on the part of my uncle and his driver, Zacharia (him of the many phone lines and rings). Zacharia wanted me to take off my bracelets. After I demonstrated the impossibility, he settled for me wearing a long sleeved shirt instead to cover them up. Then there was concern it might not be open, but we decided that since it is run by the Supreme Council of Antiquities, it probably was. (What kind of name is Supreme Council of Antiquities? And if they are so supreme, then why don't they do more to preserve the antiquities?) Then neither Zacharia (who lives in 6 October City) or my uncle knew really where it was and how to get there, exactly. Then there was how are you going to get back (taxi, duh). All of which I settled by saying that my uncle could just come with me (he is not a fan of museums). :-) Anyway, we finally found it after going around in a circle to avoid one way streets. It is definitely an old and poor section, but the museum was open, and there was the sense of other tourists floating about (but none in sight). And it was precisely where it said it was, next to the Ibn Tulun Mosque. The museum actually shares a wall with the mosque, which was not uncommon at the time.
Anyway! I then proved (twice--once to the men taking the money and once to the lady taking the tickets) that I was Egyptian so I only paid LE2 to get in. That's, let's see, 30 cents. Foreigners pay LE30, which is $4.50, roughly and a steal. {please excuse me while I rant about Egypt's lost opportunity to charge more and actually, I don't know, preserve more monuments! Foreigners would happily pay double or triple or quadruple that to get into monuments! Take advantage people! And have gift stores! Sell gorgeous postcards, and catalogs, and books, and fake mashrabiya and all sorts of dumb knicknacks that make tons of money. Tshirts! anything! I want to be supreme person in charge of all Egyptian antiquities so I can make these sort of decisions and then take all the lovely money and make signage, and walking routes, and restore more monuments, and employ people. I think this is my dream job--take over the supreme council and rearrange all the museums and monuments and fix them up and charge appropriately for them and then use leftover money to make living conditions better for ordinary Egyptians}
I got home by finding a taxi, which was relatively simple as there's a little square outside the mosque. I overpaid by, let's see, about $1.25. Taxi driver loved me. Except he didn't like that I had to tell him directions along the way rather than just saying exactly where we were going, but he got over that. I took the taxi to Manyal, which is where my grandmother lived, so I am fairly familiar with the area, and mailed my letters and picked up passport photos (in preparation for getting a NEW, fancy passport). Then I took another taxi home, for another LE5, or .75 cents. I would have walked, as it was nice, but the khamaseen was kicking up dust and I didn't want to eat dust all the way across the river.
This evening I went over by myself (my uncle had a dentist appointment at 9 PM...can you imagine in the states?) and visited my aunt Zizi. By myself, I was delighted to discover that I could actually mostly hold a conversation, and convey meaning, even when I didn't fully know how to say things. She's not good at correcting, or understanding my questions about how to say things, but she tries hard to understand my accent. My uncle says my accent is quite good, just Jordanian (well, I wonder why!), so sometimes it is hard to understand. I did manage to ask about some money my father had, and how she had distributed it, and was happy with her decisions (it went to some poor families he has helped for years). She's going to teach me to make couscous from scratch! Friday!
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