Access in Syria

I still don’t know exactly what to make of our trip to Syria.

Before we arrived none of us knew what to expect. We knew we would be going to the Golan Heights and that we’d be meeting with Syrian students. We were told that we might get some time with government officials but nobody knew exactly who. Well, we spend a day at the Golan Heights, a very interesting and moving experience. We also met with Damascus University students to discuss the stereotypes they have of America and the stereotypes we have of Syria – another enlightening experience but on par with things we did in Egypt. The big surprise of the trip was when we learned we would have the opportunity to meet and ask questions of high level government officials. In Egypt we never met anyone from the Mubarak regime or the state’s parliament. In Syria, we met with the deputy minister of foreign affairs, the minister of education and the minister of information.

            To put the significance of these meetings in perspective for anyone not familiar with the Syrian political system (which I’m guessing is a fair amount of our dear readers since who has ever read much about that topic), a minister is the equivalent of a cabinet secretary in the United States. It boggle my mind that these meetings were set up for us and I really don’t know why a group of students were allowed such access. When we spoke to the New York Times bureau chief in Cairo Michael Slackman, he told us he hardly ever had a chance to meet with government representatives.

            The best I can figure is that Syria wants to change the nature and tone of Syria-U.S. relations. I also think they believe that now is the time to do so. Time and again officials told us they were optimistic about the possibility of better relations with the Obama administration than they had during the previous eight years. Obama, they said, has a more intellectual view of the region. He is someone they think will listen to their side and make rational decisions of how to grow ties and trust rather than lumping the country into a silly “axis of evil” list that forestalls discussion and freezes diplomacy.

I found the fact that they were sharing their hopes of better relations with an Obama White House with us very interesting. They knew we are mostly journalism students, but does that explain why we had the opportunity to meet such high ranking officials? Did they think we would be able to make any changes simply by writing about these talks on our blogs, and perhaps in some U.S. based papers or journals? Are things between our two countries so bad they need students to become ambassadors to deliver their message?

I don’t think so. For starters, while we were there a couple of U.S. congressmen were also in the country (they never called to ask if we wanted to hang out) and even if we don’t have an official ambassador in Syria, we do have an embassy full of diplomats. Instead, I think this was a sort of hearts and mind campaign. The officials are serious about changing things with the United States, and they figure the best way to do that is to try and convince both U.S. officials and citizens alike. Since most Americans don’t take holiday in Damascus, they reached out to us, a group of students. That were are writers and bloggers was just an added bonus.

So now the big question is did it work? As journalists, we know that everything we heard was a manufactured message meant to put Syria’s best traits forward. Their claims that Syria is completely innocent in the 1995 assassination of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, their insistence they never gave any support to Sunni resurgents in Iraq and their claim that they do not support Hamas or Hizbollah with money or weapons (all allegations made by the Bush administration) seemed logical. They had good arguments why none of these actions were in their state interest. However, none of us (I hope) are going to give credence to anything any politician says without evidence and unfortunately none of us are in a position right now to investigate these claims in any depth. What I will say is that Syrian officials at least seem sincere when they say they are happy that the Bush era is over and the Obama era has begun and that they want to close the gap between their country and ours. If that was worth the time they gave us and the buckets of sweet tea they provided us, then I say it was a successful campaign.

Worse invention ever

Kamal asked me this question.

“You know what the worst invention ever made is?”

I thought about it for a moment. Gun powder? Chemical weapons? The A-Bomb?

Kamal pointed to the television on the wall. “It’s that. If something bad happens anywhere it is immediately sent all over the globe, from Japan to the U.S. and from Pakistan to South Africa. Everything bad goes everywhere.”

Let me back up a bit. Kamal is a representative of the Tunisian Embassy in Cairo that I met when we were still in Egypt. Kamal and I met in the best place for journalism – namely in the bar, in this instance the one in the Flamenco Hotel. I went to the bar to read some of Robert Fisk’s book “The Great War for Civilisation,” and had it out in front of me when I noticed the man in the corner was eyeing the cover. At first I was slightly concerned I was about to be drawn into an uncomfortable conversation. The cover of Fisk’s book is of an Arab man in a white robe walking across a desert landscape and the title is, you may agree, a bit provocative. Fortunately, this fear, as all my others have proven to be on this trip, was unfounded. It turned out he had read some of Fisk’s work. We didn’t really discuss any contemporary journalistic work, and I think Kamal just used it as a way to start conversation.

The “worst invention in the world” came up when we started talking about how Kamal felt about Americans. Many people have volunteered their opinions of Americans on this trip, and their opinions have mostly been the same. Kamal said he disagrees with the U.S. Government – especially its policy of supporting Israel and the Iraq war – but he likes the American people. He said most Arabs believe in the American Dream and most would come to the States if presented with the opportunity. Since this conversation people in both Egypt and Syria have expressed the same opinions. The Syrian officials we have met have said the same, as did the university students we spoke with last week, as have shopkeepers, hotel staff worker and taxi drivers. Taken at their word, the people in Egypt and Syria seem able to make subtle distinctions that elude so many others.

Kamal then asked me of my impression of the Arab people I have met in Egypt and how what I’ve found during the trip differed from my preconceptions from before I arrived. I admitted that although I never expected the people here to be a bunch of violent terrorists, I did expect that I might find at least some apparent dislike. I thought I might get dirty looks or have people make anti-American statements based on the anger people have for the policies mentioned above. However, this has not been the case.

So, here is the question. Why did I have these false preconceived notions? The reason, I think it is clear, is that most of what we in America see about the people in this region is negative. We hear about the political demonstrations where angry people chant anti-American slogan and burn enough American flags to warm a small village but not interviews with people explaining why they are angry and how this anger is not necessarily transferred from policy to U.S. citizens. We see grainy images of terrorist training camps, but never images of a regular Arab family enjoying a meal or a walk. We never see the day to day life here, so we never understand how similar it is to our own. The things we care about and value are the same things that are cared about and valued here.

Now, I understand there is a legitimate news value of the stories most covered. We do need to know how the policies of our government are taken by other peoples. We do need to know about groups that may try to attack us. We do need to see the results of battles, attacks and wars. As people in a globalized world, we do need to be informed and so we do need to know these things.

All I’m saying is that it’s not all we need to know.

A Syrian Wedding

Ok, something interesting just happened. Some of us students were sitting in a restaurant at the hotel writing blogs and drinking some beer. Suddenly, we were interrupted by a the sounds of drums, horns and chanting emanating from the parking lot. We went outside and saw a group of men in suits clapping and yelling as another man was hoisted up onto a couple of sets of shoulders. Confetti flew through the air and littered the parking lot.
This was a Syrian wedding. Earlier in the day I had noticed a sign posted in the lobby alerting guests that there was going to be a wedding at the hotel. At the time I didn’t understand why it would be necessary to post such a warning, but as the horn players blew at full force and the drummers banged with increased intensity, I came to see why a heads up to was appropriate.
After the men lowered the groom back to Earth, an even more interesting show commenced. Two other men dressed in loose fitting clothes Arabian clothes and scarves tied around their brows entered the circle with golden colored shields and long curved golden swords. To the chants and music they began a routine that was half dance, half battle. One man would spin towards the other, shield held high and sword at full swing. The other parried, did a spin of his own, and the two separated. They then attacked each other with full force, banging sword on shield in such a way that it created a chaotic musical cacophony. During this mock battle, the other men clapped and yelled, the drummers banged out a rhythm with such intensity that they were soon dripping sweat onto their instruments. If I had tried to keep that up in this dry heat, I’m pretty sure I would have missed a few beats as I passed out on the pavement.
When the dance of swords was over, some other men carried over two metal archways adorned with torches. The torches were lit and the groom was led positioned between the arches. Men then carried the arches into the hotel, all the while keeping the groom in the middle. People inside who had undoubtedly heard the commotions were suddenly greeted with the image of a group of men carrying burning gates into the lobby, one man walking proudly between them, men with swords held high behind and a still-playing group of musicians taking up the rear.
I don’t like to make better-or-worse based comparisons of cultures, but this was a bit more exciting than a flower girl.

Hanging in Syria

We arrived in Syria Friday afternoon.

I think out of all the places we are visiting on this little adventure, Syria is the one most of us were nervous about. The reason for this is because we don’t really know very much about the country. What we did know, or at least what we heard, was not very comforting. My perception of Syria is an oppressive government, a police state that has a tight grip on its citizens. I also had the idea that the government was full of ill intent for its neighbors, especially Lebanon, and that it was a war like nation. I mean, it was the unofficial fourth wheel in Bush’s “Axis of Evil.” Not that I trust much of what that guy says, but Saddam Hussein was a brutal dictator, Kim Jon Ill is to all appearances a nut case and Iran’s president Ahmadinejad is certainly a bit wacko, to say the least.

When we touched down after our short flight from Cairo, I admit I was a bit nervous. Also, I had some trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that we were here. Tourists visit Egypt all the time and while it was an amazing place, it does not have the same feeling of forbidding mystery as Syria.

The first thing I expected was a long and difficult customs process. I figured that since we were arriving in a country with strong government oversight entering the country would be difficult. This is a country after all that has a reputation of not allowing anyone with an Israeli stamp in his or her passport to enter. So I thought we would be interviewed or something about who we are and our intentions in the country.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead we were met by our local contact (a man who works for the tourism industry) and were led to a VIP lounge. The people took our passports and handled everything while we sat and drank water in relative comfort. They never even searched our bags. They just asked us if we had anything to declare and when nobody did they led us to our bus.

The fun began when our tour guide introduced himself on the bus to the hotel. He told us his name was Osama and that to remember his name during the trip we could just think about our new president. Osama is like Obama with an “s” instead of a “b”, he explained. Yeah buddy, I’m sure that’s the mnemonic device we are all going to use. Such an easy way to remember your unfamiliar name.

Not that there is any other similarities between our Osama and the bin Laden, of course. Our Osama is a nice and funny guy. He is also well informed and gave us a short history lesson of Syria on the bus and a longer one yesterday when we went to the national museum and a tour of an important city mosque, the market and old Damascus.

After we got to the hotel we changed some money and went out to dinner. A group of us went to a nice restaurant downtown. The food was good and really cheap. Actually, one of the things we heard often before getting here is that Syria has great food and so far I am in complete agreement. I never thought of Syria as a culinary destination, but it is. The shawarma here is awesome and they have pita bread pizzas all over the place that are great.

So, all in all. Good treatment, a nice hotel and great food. Who knew the Axis of Evil was so luxurious?

On risk

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What drives somebody to go into a war zone equipped with only a notebook, a camera and a fistful of questions? Or in the words of seasoned foreign correspondent Robert Fisk, paraphrased: Why would somebody risk their life for a couple of paragraphs?
This is a question that has been on my mind quite a bit recently. I am here on this trip because I am interested in covering foreign news for English speaking readers. I don’t know where it came from, but I have a desire to be where the news is, where things are happening, and to share what I learn. Of course, not all reporting has to be dangerous. Covering international economics, social issues, most political systems, etcetera, can be quite safe. There are plenty of opportunities to go out and find stories of interest to readers back home that can be valuable but not dangerous to obtain.
This doesn’t seem complete some how. There is something about conflicts, political and social oppression, and other acts of humans behaving in inhumane ways that draws me. These are the issues that directly and profoundly affect the lives of many people and their stories need to be told. War, genocide, the response, or lack of response, of governments in the face of humanitarian disasters – need to be brought out into the light. If those in power can do what they will, no matter how evil, with impunity and in the dark of secrecy, they will act all the worse. Exposure and transparency is the only way to get action and sometimes the fear of those in power to being exposed can force them to limit their evils. I feel this and I admire those who have gone out and risked their lives before me because they feel it too.
But do I really want to risk my life for it?
Enter Yehia Ghanem, a foreign correspondent for Al-Ahram, Egypt’s oldest newspaper. Yehia has been working at Al-Ahram since 1988, covering what he called “military” issues and what most people would call war.
It is difficult to explain Yehia. He kept his voice low. He did not appear uncomfortable to be speaking with us but it seemed to me that talking about himself was not something that appealed to him. He had a dry humor when talking about humorous events from his past but did not go the other way and become serious when talking about past difficulties, dangers and tragedies. The only possible indication that he had been affected the things he had seen and undergone was that he chain smoked throughout the meeting.
Yehia has been through quite a bit in his career. He has covered conflicts in Afghanistan, the Congo, Sierra Leon, Israel, Sudan, South Africa and Bosnia. He has seen many casualties of war. He witnessed mass suffering in refugee camps. Once, he saw a friend and fellow reporter killed by a sniper right in front of him – the only story he told that caused him to momentarily lose his composure. He has been imprisoned many times and was beating during most of them – a story he tells with a strange shrug of his shoulders. In short, there were many instances when he nearly lost his life to get a couple of paragraphs for his audience.
Near the end of the talk I asked him why he did it. What made him take these risks? He told us a story of a prison in Afghanistan he was able to see where young men, many of them just teenagers, were being kept as political prisoners. The warlords (I didn’t catch which group was the one holding the prisoners, but in that country, does it really matter?) did not want him to visit the prison but he somehow got access on multiple occasions. Eventually Yehia said his reports of the deplorable conditions of these youngsters caused sufficient problems for the local government to agree to their release. He was able to help with the truth alone. If nobody had ever brought this story out, the fate of the prisoners probably would have been quite different.
“I work to uncover the truth,” he explained, though he said it without a hint of self aggrandizement. “The work is for the misled innocent – those being dis-informed by one party or another. It is to correct the wrong ideas, to prevent young people from being lured into war for no cause to be killed, injured or taken prisoner.”
To do this work, Yehia admits one has to be a “little bit crazy.” I guess that is true. Yehia, though, is also someone who really believes in what he does. He is sure that great things can happen just by getting the truth out to the world. That if people know the worst of what is happening then we can finally begin to address the worse of what we do and allow each other to do.
He ended his talk by quoting a man who inspired him when he was a young reporter. This man, he said “told me if you don’t believe in miracles, you won’t become a journalist. But you have to do your homework because miracles happen to those who work for them.”
I don’t know if I will ever enter a war zone or risk my life for a story. It is a bit crazy to do so and I don’t know if I’m that kind of crazy. I want to be. I believe in it. I feel an obligation to do something meaningful. I also feel an obligation to my family not to go out and take risks for something I know they don’t value as much as they value me. Pretty inconclusive ending to the blog. But I guess that is appropriate because for me the question of how crazy I am is still up for debate.

A little taste of American freedom

During this trip we have met with a few Egyptian journalists and other professionals who either study the state of Egyptian journalism or whose work has exposed them to it. One of the things we keep hearing about is how difficult it is to be a journalist under a repressive regime that exerts its power to control what is published in order to protect itself. One way the government does this by taking actions against journalists and editorial boards that publish material criticizing the government, thereby creating an atmosphere of fear that essentially “chills” media outlets and causes them to perform self-censorship. Another way of suppressing reports used by the regime is to withhold information. Reporters here have told us time and time again that it is difficult to get key information about Egyptian politics from the government. There is a considerable lack of transparency. The message is that attempting to contact officials for informtion on controversial subjects is more or less a pointless enterprise.

Fortunately for us in the journalism department working on stories, we got a respit from this control on information today. You see, we paid a visit to the American embassy in Cairo. We were on American soil — the land where freedom of the press is gauranteed in the First Amendment of the Constitution. Where civil servants, paid by tax dollars, are accountable to the people. Where the freedom of information is held sacred and government transparency is an essential part of the democratic system that is the envy of the world.

For those of us interested in relations between the U.S. and Egypt and our government’s work in this country, this was to be an opportunity to get some answers.

For instance, we asked the two embassy representatives what was the symbolism behind choosing June 4, the day before the 36 anniversary of Egypt and Syria’s failed attempt at retaking the Sinai Peninsula and the Golan Heights from Israel, as the day President Obama will speak to the “Arab World” in Cairo.

The answer was “Off the Record.”

We asked what the Embassy would do if an American citizen was quarantined by the Egyptian government as part of its efforts to keep the H1N1 virus out of the country. If citizens could count on support from the embassy.

An interesting response that was “Off the Record.”

We asked how embassy officials put pressure on the Egyptian government to improve their human rights policies and to ensure free elections considering the U.S. supplies roughly 80 percent of the military budget – aid that helps keep a strong arm-regime in power.

The argument for the embassy’s policy in this issue was a good one –”Off the Record.”

We asked why tourists and other foreigners, including ourselves, have been followed everywhere we go by tourist police and if this has been the traditional procedure of the Egyptian government to visitors.

The embassy representative had an insightful response, one filled with nuance and depth that demonstrated why he earned his bread. It was “Off the Record.”

Finally, because no good news story is complete without some accompanying art, here is a photograph from our discussion at the U.S. Embassy in Egypt.

Actually they confiscated our cameras, flashdrives, audio recorders, cell phones and I-Pods (really, I guess they didn’t want us listening to the theme from ‘Mission Impossible’ and putting ourselves in the mood to do some spying), so this is the only picture my diligent little camera could get.

Ahh, it was good to be home.

Sailing awayyy

Enjoying a sailboat, a couple of bottles and dusk. What more do I need to say

The sunset as seen from our boat on the Nile

Emily, Clarice, me and Colby and some wine. Life is good.

Luxurious travel and wine -- this picture makes me feel like Hemingway. With less war

My new do

I had to take care of some basics the other day. Namely, the Egyptian sun beating down on my curly hair was making my head uncomfortably warm and so I decided it was time for a haircut. My first Egyptian trip to the barber.

When I started walking down the street in search of a barbershop I was trying to not make it obvious for what I searched. As I mentioned in a previous blog, some shop owners are quite pushy here and I wanted to locate a place that looked comfortable and clean before being pressured to enter. My plan was to casually peer inside each shop I went by until I found one that appealed to me. However, perhaps these guys have a sixth salesman sense or perhaps my shaggy appearance made it obvious to everyone I was in need of a trim because even before I noticed that the shop I was approaching was a barber, a man was in the street, a big smile on his face, one hand gesturing to his own head and the other mimicking scissors with his fingers, inviting me in. These guys are good. I figured that since my Arabic is nil, if he had some psychic ability to perceive what I wanted it might be easier to avoid accidentally getting a cut other than what I wanted. So I went inside, all the while trying not to accidentally send a mental image of a crew cut or a Mohawk.

Fortunately the two men inside were able to understand my English, supported by some hand gestures, well enough to decipher the kind of style I prefer. Unfortunately, because we both inherently knew that we did not share enough of any language for my barber to give me the basic demands necessary for the haircutting process, I was to undergo a bit of manhandling. Instead of asking me to tip my head back, the barber, whose name was Wassel (I’m sure I’m misspelling that) decided the best way to get my held tilted just right was to put his thumb on my forehead and push. If he wanted me to turn to the right, he would but his thumb on my cheek and push. Look left, thumb on left cheek and push. Look down, thumb on back of head and push. Effective if callous.

The rest of the experience was better. In fact, these two men, Wassel and his partner, Rashi (again, misspelled, sorry gentlemen), went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. When I entered I was given a cup of sweet green tea and every so often Wassel would quit playing with my head like a cat attacking a dangling string and gesture to the cup with a big smile – inciting me to drink up.

The best thing, however, was when the men noticed that I have an issue with dry skin. I have psoriasis that results in pretty bad dandruff and though I’ve tried a variety of shampoos and treatments, nothing has ever really worked very well. Most times when I get a haircut at a new place the barber will offer me some suggestions from their experience with other clients. Wassel and Rashi, however, were not content simply to point me in the right direction. They launched into a heated talk in Arabic and then Rashi gestured for me to stay in the seat and left. He was gone for about ten minutes, which was funny because at this point my haircut was just about complete and Wassel apparently decided that instead of trying to explain to me that I should stay put started searching my head for any single strand of hair that was perhaps a tad long in order to kill time. Where before he was quick and efficient, now he was like a master sculptor, examining my head with great care to find some reason to stretch out the process.

Eventually Rashi returned with his mystical treatment, which turned out to be a bottle of Johnson and Johnson antiseptic gel. I was a little disappointed because I had been hoping or some ancient Egyptian recipe – something, maybe, with papyrus or lotus flowers or camel bits. Oh well.

Karnak Temple

As I mentioned before, we spent last weekend in lovely Luxor. Luxor is a great city and I wish we had been able to spend more time there. The people were very friendly, though the people everyone in Egypt have been friendly, and the city was clean and is home to many interesting historical sites. After a relaxing morning following our overnight train from Cairo we spent the afternoon Friday visiting the Karnak and Luxor Temples, two ancient ruins. Construction on Karnak Temple began in the year 1800 BC and took over 2000 years to complete as Pharoahs kept adding their own additions to honor their gods and the Luxor Temple was started around 1400 BC in honor of the god Amun.

Though the two temples may not be as well known as the Pyramids or the Sphinx, they are both incredibly impressive and amazing all the same. Karnak is by far the bigger of the two and as we walked up to the entrance I was amazed by its grandiose style. The path leading into the temple is lined by a long row of sphinxes, smaller than the great Sphinx we all know, but impressive all the same. Apparently in olden times the two temples were connected by a long corridor of these statues (the distance must be nearly a mile) and there are plans to restore them and make the area as close to what it once was as possible. This is causing some grief among the people who own houses and shops in the area who may lose their property and I believe a news story about this conflict will soon be posted to our group’s main page. For now I’ll leave that debate to those who are investigating it and just talk about my impressions of the sites.

Here is a picture of me with a couple of the sphinxes outside the temple of Karnak.

Me in front of the sphinxes at Karnak Temple, Luxor

Once inside the temple we saw many other statues, obelisks and other monuments. Rather than spending a lot of time explaining them (also because I’m not well versed in the history) I’ll add some pictures and try to explain what each is as best I can.

One of the statues of Ramses II. Notice the little bird on his shoulder. Pirate Pharoah!

A wider view of the ruins of Karnak Temple

This next picture is of a specific type of hieroglyphics called a Kartush. Kartushes are used to write the names of kings (traditionally they were only for kings) and they can be found throughout temples and other ruins. Our guide explained that the oval around the name symbolizes that the king is protected by the whole world and the line underneath represents eternal life. Not a bad gig. Who wouldn’t want to have the earth getting your back while at the same time being able to kick around for all eternity all  the while having the power and benefits of being pharoah? It’s good to be the king.

Kartush of Ramses II

One of the most impressive parts of the temple, at least to me, was the abundance of giant pillars. Our guide told us that Karnak Temple has 134 such columns. Normally I don’t like to post pictures with a bunch of tourists I don’t know, but I think in this case they act as useful human measuring sticks.

Karnak Columns

Finally, here is a picture of man who seems to have the job of posing in traditional clothes at the temple. After we took his picture he asked us for some money. We gave him a couple of pounds. I think that if the newspaper industry falls apart and I’m unable to get a job I’m going give this a shot. I’ll buy some old Revolutionary War style outfit and a white wig and hang around the Washington Monument. Could work.

A picture for pounds

Mosque of Amr Ibn Al-Aas

Here are some pictures from the Mosque of Amr Ibn Al-Aas. This mosque was built on the site of the oldest mosque in Egypt and so has some special significance to the history of Islam in the country. Though we have visited other mosques since, this was our the first time in one for most of the people in our group.

Mosque of Amr Ibn Al-Aas

To be honest, I didn’t really have any idea of what to expect before we went inside. During a pre-entry talk in the street, Denis Sullivan, one of the professors on the trip, explained that before entering we had to take off our shoes and leave them with a man whose job it is to look after the doorway. Also, the women in the group were encouraged to wear headscarves to cover up as much skin as they could out of deference to the more conservative tenants of Islam. There were other examples of this double standard (I don’t actually like using that term but I don’t know what else to say). Namely, we men were able to enter by the main doorway while the women entered in by a side door. Also, once inside we were told that we could all sit on the carpeted floor, but it is proper only for the men to lie down. Don’t worry ladies, the floor wasn’t really all that comfortable.

Here is a pic of the women in our group with their head scarves in the mosque.

Our ladies go local

Like I said, I did not know what to expect from the interior of the mosque. I have seen quite a few old churches in various tours in my time and one of the things I’ve noticed is that most of them seem to be pretty packed full of stuff. Usually there are many statues, carvings, pews, a big altar and other items that take up most of the room inside the building. What first struck me about the Mosque of Amr Ibn Al-Aas was how open and spacious it was. The design was a big courtyard open to the sun, which we were told was a traditional way letting in light and air with shaded areas around the edge to allow people at the mosque to stay cool. In the center of the courtyard in most mosques (maybe all, I’m not really sure) there is a Fountain of Ablution where people can wash away the contaminants of the outside world to be clean and pure while inside.

The Ablution Fountain in the center of the courtyard

Another interesting thing about mosques, they are not only for prayer and religious sermons — they are also a meeting place for varous uses. Many of them have libraries and people will sit and read and classes for students of Islam are held there. After being inside for just a minute I can see why. The atmosphere was comfortable and relaxing. The interior of the mosque seemed like a little oasis of peace and quiet compared to the hectic atmosphere of the streets of Cairo.

A man reads in the Mosque of Amr Ibn Al-Aas