Ready to see Cairo like never before? Join Salem Charabi on an architectural journey that will challenge everything you thought you knew about this ancient city. But here’s where it gets fascinating: Cairo isn’t just a city—it’s a living, breathing palimpsest where history, chaos, and creativity collide. Let’s dive in.
Growing up in Copenhagen with an Egyptian father and a Danish mother, both doctors who met in the 1990s, my story has always been about connection, not displacement. Every school holiday, we’d visit family in Egypt, where my father’s six siblings ensured I was never short on adventure. I remember cruising through Downtown Cairo with my cousin, a fighter pilot, and watching my grandmother, Oufa, ironing in the hallway of her home. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized how these trips from the orderly streets of Copenhagen to the vibrant chaos of North Africa expanded my worldview in ways I’m still uncovering.
This summer, I made the leap and moved to Cairo full-time. And this is the part most people miss: the city’s vastness isn’t just physical—it’s layered in centuries of history, stories, and contradictions. Founded in 969 CE during the Fatimid dynasty as Al-Qāhirah (“the Victorious”), Cairo has been shaped by Ayyubid, Mamluk, and Ottoman influences. It’s a place where the past is constantly rewritten, and the chaos isn’t something to fight—it’s something to embrace. My advice? Plan loosely and let the city guide you.
What truly drew me here was the work of Egyptian architect Malak Abdelhady. As an architect myself, I’d been building a furniture practice near Copenhagen since 2017, working with limited materials. In Cairo, I discovered a treasure trove of craftspeople, techniques, and materials I’d never imagined. It’s already revolutionizing my work.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Cairo’s most intense expression of history isn’t in its museums—it’s in the City of the Dead, a 7th-century necropolis where life and death coexist. Graves, mosques, homes, and artisan studios sit side by side. Here, you’ll find glassblowers, blacksmiths, and silk-rope makers weaving their wares in the open air. Nearby stands the 15th-century complex of Sultan al-Nasir Faraj ibn Barquq, a Mamluk masterpiece with a mosque, school, and breathtaking rooftop views. Is this coexistence of life and death morbid, or is it a beautiful reminder of our shared humanity? Let’s discuss.
Cairo is a city of cars, but to truly experience it, you must walk. One of the best places to do this is Al-Darb al-Ahmar, the “red path” district in Historic Cairo. Home to over 1,000 artisans, it’s a place where plans unravel and new connections form. You might stop to watch a bronze figurine being carved and end up spending hours learning from the craftsman. And this is the part most people miss: Egyptian craftspeople operate on a value system of knowledge sharing—a refreshing contrast to the competitive individualism often seen elsewhere.
Al-Darb al-Ahmar is also home to the Egyptian Architecture House, once the residence of 20th-century architect Hassan Fathy. Fathy wasn’t just an architect—he was a storyteller, blending craft, culture, engineering, and politics. His mud-brick village of New Gourna in Luxor is a testament to his vision. Visiting the American University in Cairo’s Rare Books and Special Collections Library to see his technical drawings is a must for anyone curious about his legacy.
Speaking of visionaries, I’m fortunate to live in a house on the compound of the Wissa Wassef Art Center in Harrania, founded by Ramses Wissa Wassef, a frequent collaborator of Fathy. Established in the 1950s, it’s a community of craftspeople working in adobe studios. I’m setting up my own atelier here, starting with a series of stone chairs carved by Luxor sculptors.
Nearby is the Adam Henein Museum, a lush garden filled with modernist sculptures, including a monumental Noah’s Ark. For me, it’s Cairo’s answer to the Noguchi Museum—a serene space that invites reflection.
Venture further afield, and you’ll find the Fayoum Oasis, about 80 miles southwest of Cairo. Here, potters, weavers, and basket makers live among dunes and lakes. Pigeon is a local delicacy, and the ceramic pigeon towers you’ll see across Egypt are a testament to the ingenuity of its architecture. But here’s a thought-provoking question: Are these towers just functional structures, or do they symbolize humanity’s resilience in the face of adversity?
My favorite place in the world is the Mosque of Ahmad ibn Tūlūn, one of Africa’s oldest complete mosques. Built in 879 AD from red brick, its tulip-shaped minaret is both monumental and minimalist. When I first visited a decade ago, I was struck by how timeless it felt. Climb to the rooftop during the call to prayer, and you’ll understand why it’s so special. In a city where history presses in from every side, this mosque stands as a reminder of Cairo’s unique beauty.
Before you go, don’t miss these spots:
- Foul Zaman Abou Youssef (4 Al Shawarbi, Bab Al Louq, Abdeen, 4280150)
- Tasha Restaurant (39 El Sayeda Zeinab, 11617)
- Adam Henein Museum (adamheneinmuseum.com)
- Al-Darb al-Ahmar Tour (aldarbalahmar.com)
- AUC Rare Books and Special Collections Library (library.aucegypt.edu)
- Egyptian Architecture House (egyptarch.gov.eg)
- Wissa Wassef Art Center (wissawassef.com)
Cairo is a city that demands you lean into its chaos, embrace its contradictions, and question its complexities. What’s your take? Is Cairo a place of overwhelming history, or a city where the past and present coexist in harmony? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments!
