Cairo usually gets a really bad rap about being chaotic. Which it is. And if you ever forget that, just go sit in traffic for a while. But the crazy, spontaneous energy that Egyptians are so known for can create really beautiful moments, that while chaotic, should be no other way.
It was a perfect summer night. I was sitting on a wall, legs hanging over the stone blocks surrounding the venue and enjoying the breeze high above the chaos of the city. There were thousands of people in front of me, all there to watch the live outdoor concert at the nearly thousand-year old venue. The citadel is a sprawling structure on top of the city, and the concert was set in one of the ancient courtyards.
It was an amazing classical performance, but the environment was far from stuffy and proper. The crowd was fluid and alive as people moved up and down the aisles, children bounced up and down in their seats, and teenagers took selfies with their friends. Chairs in what used to be lines, were now zigzagging through the crowd as people adjusted them to where they wanted them, being careful to not move the red cushions that come off when pulled the wrong way.
I love people watching, so this was like a special treat. Thousands of Egyptians had come up to the citadel, bought a five pound ticket (less than a dollar), and enjoyed the fresh air and strong breeze. It was like all the worries of the city had been left below. The relaxed atmosphere littered with chatter and light from cell phone screens seemed perfect for the mood, rather than annoying crowd behavior as it might be seen elsewhere.
From my spot on the wall, I had a white cloth tarp on one side lining the "auditorium," my friend Weam in front of me on the stone block below, and the aisle way on the other side of me. I kept my dangling legs close to the stone so that people could pass me as they met up with friends, found seats, and went back and forth to the concession stand where they sold Doritos for two pounds and water for three.
It was never still. People who were there before we came left early, leaving seats for those who came after us. The chairs were arranged and rearranged countless times, flowing with the crowd.
A group of teenage boys sat on the blocks behind me, laughing and teasing each other the whole time. A little girl in the row nearest to me kept looking back each time Weam and I started a new conversation and would smile shyly.
An elderly man and his wife sat two rows back, dressed up in what they might wear to the opera. The husband in a formal button up shirt that was slightly too big for him, and the wife in a classy modest dress that matched her sparkly black hijab, accented by bold jewelry and red lipstick. Behind them sat a couple in their late twenties, the husband obviously had been drug along by his wife for date night, but was surviving by checking sport updates on his phone.
Past that the crowd was absorbed by teenage girls posing in front of their camera phones with their friends, families with three generations there together constantly shuffling seats as grandkids became restless, and suitors carefully escorting their blushing company to two empty chairs next to each other.
Weam and I stayed for the orchestra and a harpist she was excited to see. Both performances were amazing, but hands down I loved the crowd the most. Cairo doesn't have to be a hectic chaos all the time, it can also be a relaxed and refreshing chaos on the top of a hill, with good music, a fresh breeze, cheap Doritos, and great crowd watching.
It was an amazing classical performance, but the environment was far from stuffy and proper. The crowd was fluid and alive as people moved up and down the aisles, children bounced up and down in their seats, and teenagers took selfies with their friends. Chairs in what used to be lines, were now zigzagging through the crowd as people adjusted them to where they wanted them, being careful to not move the red cushions that come off when pulled the wrong way.
From my spot on the wall, I had a white cloth tarp on one side lining the "auditorium," my friend Weam in front of me on the stone block below, and the aisle way on the other side of me. I kept my dangling legs close to the stone so that people could pass me as they met up with friends, found seats, and went back and forth to the concession stand where they sold Doritos for two pounds and water for three.
It was never still. People who were there before we came left early, leaving seats for those who came after us. The chairs were arranged and rearranged countless times, flowing with the crowd.
A group of teenage boys sat on the blocks behind me, laughing and teasing each other the whole time. A little girl in the row nearest to me kept looking back each time Weam and I started a new conversation and would smile shyly.
An elderly man and his wife sat two rows back, dressed up in what they might wear to the opera. The husband in a formal button up shirt that was slightly too big for him, and the wife in a classy modest dress that matched her sparkly black hijab, accented by bold jewelry and red lipstick. Behind them sat a couple in their late twenties, the husband obviously had been drug along by his wife for date night, but was surviving by checking sport updates on his phone.
Past that the crowd was absorbed by teenage girls posing in front of their camera phones with their friends, families with three generations there together constantly shuffling seats as grandkids became restless, and suitors carefully escorting their blushing company to two empty chairs next to each other.
Weam and I stayed for the orchestra and a harpist she was excited to see. Both performances were amazing, but hands down I loved the crowd the most. Cairo doesn't have to be a hectic chaos all the time, it can also be a relaxed and refreshing chaos on the top of a hill, with good music, a fresh breeze, cheap Doritos, and great crowd watching.
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