The Hollywood of the Arab World, Cairo, is a city that never sleeps. Traffic jams are one of the city’s major characteristics, with everyone racing to travel to work or back home. However, unlike most cities of the world, Cairo’s streets are jammed even after midnight. The city of 20 million has layers and layers of social classes which function differently round the clock. There are millions who work during the day time, and millions who work at night as well, or simply go out to grab a bit of Cairo’s nightlife.
12 Midnight
A short taxi ride: the Al Borsa team travels to downtown and pays LE5. Al Horreya Theater, Located in Sheikh Rehan Street, shows a play called Taralamlam in which the famous comedian Samir Ghanem stars. Tickets are all sold out, and the show already started at 11PM.
The ticket window is already closed; the security at the gate gives barely any information as everyone is busy with the show. “Tickets start at LE150 and might go up to LE1000 for the front seats, based on demand,” he says. Also, he advises that booking should be done in advance, at latest by the afternoon of the same day of the show. He adds “For the front seat tickets, you might need to book a week in advance.”
12:25 AM
The team moves to the Ramses Hilton Center. A distance that could have taken 15 minutes walking takes a 20 minute taxi ride, for another LE5. On the seventh floor, people, including families, couples and even young teenagers are arriving late. Tourists with ‘Gulfy’ looks are enough apparent among the crowds.
The movie being screened for the midnight show is Aldectatoor (The Dictator). It is a Comedy by Hassan Housny that has been heavily advertised on Egyptian and Arab TV channels in the past couple of weeks. Tickets are sold for LE35 for a hall seat and LE 50 for the balcony.
Tickets are not all sold out yet, the movie does not start until 12:45 am, but there is good crowd of people still booking and deciding on whether to watch the movie or hit the road for another entertainment destination of Cairo nightlife. A life that seems very active and sleepless.
12:55 AM
Heading towards Cairo Jazz Club, 26th of July Street in Agouza. A nearly 20 minute ride for LE 10. A reservation had to be made in the afternoon as this place is known as one of the most in-demand western style nightlife venues.
The two security guards at the gate check names for reservations before allowing guests in, strictly making sure that only couples are allowed in. Waiters are professional and fast, while no one asks for a minimum charge.
Guests order and pay for every order they make at the bar and take their drinks back to their tables in a ‘help yourself’ manner. Sometimes the waiter serves things that might take time to prepare such as food or cocktails. However, tipping is not a common in the place as service and taxes are already added to each bill.
The prices of the menu items are somewhat expensive, but not too exaggerated. Alcoholic drinks start from LE 27 to almost LE 100 including tax and service. But the quality of both drinks and food, as guests say, is high. Rasha, one of the guests, who works as a tango instructor in a fitness center says “I come here almost every day and stay till 4 am, as I’m addicted to the place and many people here are my friends.”
A waiter who asks that his name not be revealed confirms that the business is doing very well and he sees no relation to the economic crisis “Look at the queues outside, people love Cairo Jazz because it’s up to their standards.” He also adds “Yes we close for the whole month of Ramadan, but we do this every year, it has nothing to do with the crisis.”
The club has a different show every night which varies between jazz, salsa, rock and Egyptian contemporary music, but is most famous for its ‘Boogey Nights’, when music from the 1980’s is performed.
A New Orleans jazz band of Egyptian musicians is playing tonight, and people are heartily enjoying the music and cheer for every piece. An audience of mixed nationalities is present however the Egyptian ‘upper class’ predominates and Arabic with a Cairo local accent is widely spoken round the tables.
For us, our Cairo Jazz experience must come to a conclusion so that we can hit the road for new one. The last cheque is paid and added to a lump sum of LE54 pounds and no one nags for tips as we leave to elegant smile from the waiters who do not know that we are on a mission.
2:15 AM
We move again. This time towards Schehrazade Club, a boat by the Giza Nile Corniche. A 10 minute taxi ride for LE5. The place is an oriental venue for belly dancing and local music performances, commonly called ‘cabaret’.
Once we approach the boat gate, security guards receive us with a hustler attitude, welcoming us like the elite. However, the place looks much below their promises of a wonderful night.
Going down the stairs, we enter the club hall, which is very smoky with a strange smell. Essam, the master waiter, approaches us with a very welcoming smile, shaking hands and repeatedly greeting us over and over with the same hustler attitude as the security guards.
We ask him about the minimum charge before becoming involved in a place that looks shady. He replies “250 pounds a person without tips, just for you Pasha.” Obviously, it is too exaggerated, especially for a place that looks so fishy. We manage to bargain with him and get the price down to 150 a person, as he comments “Just for you, Pasha and your sweet girlfriend, but you should come here often from now on.”
Cabaret and the art of belly dancing are a major night life activity in Cairo that is for some reason surrounded by a lot of secrecy although it is mainly legal. However, this kind of secrecy seems necessary to keep the business going as it represents a radical social contradiction to mainstream Egyptian society.
A big ‘obligatory’ fruit dish is served that is definitely deducted from the minimum charge, as well as a big bottle of water and four drinks. The number of waiters, who are mainly females in their 30’s, represent almost 25% of the whole audience. Amani, who is our assigned waitress, comes and shake hands with us, asking for everyone’s name and pouring drinks that we did not even order.
A singer and a belly dancer are on the stage in the centre surrounded by tables and are performing their local art that commonly called ‘sha’by songs’. We ask Essam about the program and he replies “We have the best program in Egypt. We introduce a new belly dancer every half hour until 6 am,” and adds “You’ll have an unforgettable night.”
Unforgettable it indeed is. Besides the waiters, the audience mainly consists of gangster type men and a few women. The belly dancers are working hard not to perform their art but to show as much flesh as possible. In an insistent manner, they go round the tables pushing men to dance with them on stage and pay them no’ta (tips only for the dance).
The no’ta seems to be the backbone of the cabaret business as men have to pay every time they go on stage to dance with the lady. It is highly unacceptable to dance without paying. However, the most interesting part is how the process works, and how much is paid.
Any waiter can be called around as asked to change big bills into 10’s, whereupon one stands up proudly, full of manhood and dances with the dancer, showering money over her head while dancing. Each time, it should not be less than a hundred pounds of no’ta.
Half an hour later, the belly dancer changes, but not yet the singer. She is significantly more attractive than her predecessor. The atmosphere gets heated and a competition rises among the men. Some of the audience repeatedly tip the lady, some pour a shower over her head at least LE1000, and some do not leave their table but gesture to the singer to come and a bunch of bills and tip the dancer individually, who greets the ‘confident’ guest by name.
Stunningly, a man in his 40’s wearing a gray suit over a black shirt with no tie but a thick golden necklace gestures to the singer to come to his table. The singer rushes to his table with the dancer as he gives them a big pile of bills that is definitely not less a couple of thousands.
Very unsatisfied, we start to check out of Scheherazade, paying the LE300 bill, LE30 tips to Essam, LE10 to Amany, and LE20 to a waiter who is not related to our table but who almost begs for it saying “It’s nothing for you, Pasha, you have already paid a lot,” and he is right for sure. We leave the place which definitely has no connection with the economic crisis, as such a flourishing business might make tens of thousands a day as net profit even during a recession in the city that never sleeps.
3:45 AM
Finally, we take our breath outside walking for 5 minutes along the busy Nile Corniche before stopping a taxi to our last destination for the night. 20 minutes across the busy streets, so far as this time of the early morning, and we reach Tala’at Harb Square. We pat the taxi driver a LE10 fare that he seems unhappy with.
We go around looking for a local coffee shop -usually called Ahwa Baladi-in the area in downtown which is known for such places, which average middle class Egyptians share with foreigners and Arab tourists, staying until the sunrise chatting, having soft drinks and smoking shisha.
The cafes look less abundant than the same time last year. Maybe it is because in a couple of hours the working day is just about to start. Or maybe the baladi coffee shop business has been hit by recession.
Wandering around and around for a bit in the same area we find that most places are quiet and boring. We try to ask waiters how the business is going however they look at us suspiciously, besides the fact that they seemed very exhausted.
Their exhaustion is a positive sign for us that the business is still doing well, as they must have had enough clients earlier this night to make them that tired, just as we are after our busy night of entertainment.
4:15 AM
We decide to wrap up and finish the Cairo night journey and go home, believing that it could have been much more intense and longer on a weekend. But we came out with the belief that Cairo, the sleepless capital with its huge night entertainment industry, is very well shielded against the so called economic crisis. We take our last taxi, driven by an old bearded man who seems to have just woken up to start a new day, a normal day. A day that exists in every other city, or every normal city, unlike Cairo.
This article is originally published by Al Borsa