A while ago, I promised to show a visiting Englishman a bit of the Cairo nightlife. He'd seen the pyramids and a few plush hotels, but so far he'd neglected to explore one of the city's key attractions, the Horreya bar in Babeluq. With its marble table-tops, old wooden chairs, high ceilings and nicotine-yellow paintjob, Horreya is the paragon of Cairo baladi bars. The place is spacious and just a little bit filthy, while the grumpy waiters lend that extra touch of authenticity. Such is its popularity, however, that the bar can get a little crowded of an evening. So much so that when I took my friend along for his baptism by Stella, we found no free seats. As we were waiting in vain for a table, it occurred to me that I knew of no genuine alternative to Horreya, nowhere to take my visitor for a similarly baladi boozing experience. Somewhat disorientated by this revelation, we moved on to the Cairo Jazz Club, where we paid LE25 per bottle (as opposed to LE9) and stood until the wee hours like two sardines in a very crowded tin. Luckily, not long after this traumatic event, I was given a copy of the conveniently pocket-sized Baladi Bar Flyer, a product of the Stella beer company. This lightweight guide consists of a map of the Downtown area, marked with 51 bars, along with a short review of each establishment. Included are tips on the availability of food, belly-dancing and sheesha's, as well as an indication of how "women-friendly each venue is. What all of the venues have in common is that they sell Stella beer, and the price of a bottle is also conveniently displayed on the flyer. A few of the listed venues were already known to me: the breezy rooftop bars of the Carlton and Odeon hotels; the once-grand Windsor; the Greek Club with its ever-increasing minimum charge. I'd even wandered into the Carol once or twice and escaped with my life. But none of these was quite what I was looking for. And so I plotted a one-man pub crawl from Falaky Square across to Opera Square, then back home via Sherif Street, taking in five or six venues that seemed promising. First on the list was Le Bistro, a small bar just behind Horreya. While geographically close, the two venues are actually a million miles apart in terms of ambiance. Le Bistro is chic and cool, freshly decorated and staffed by waiters in bow ties. While there is indeed reasonably-priced Stella on offer (LE 15), one might easily spend an evening exploring the list of cocktails. I half expected to see Simone de Beauvoir saunter in and shake the snow off her Parisian beret. Not particularly baladi. Next stop, the quiet rooftop bar at the Happy City Hotel. "Quiet is perhaps not the word I'm looking for. "Deserted might better describe the place. Aside from myself, there was one other patron, who spent the whole time smoking a pack of Marlborough and then coughing it back up again. The view from the roof is not quite on a par with the Carlton, and I had the distinct impression that my mezze had been previously picked at by someone else. Moving on, I gave a wide berth to the Hawaii, which is described in the flyer as being a "full-on girlie bar. In my experience, such places are best avoided unless one wishes to be stripped of one's money, honor and innocence in one sitting. Of course, if that's what you're looking for, this would be one place to start. Instead, I headed for the Oxygen Bar, which nestles in the basement of the Atlas Hotel. This is probably one of the darkest bars in the city, if not the Arab region, illuminated mostly by dim red and green lamps on the walls. And yet through the gloom one can make out some intriguing features. A bi-concave pillar in the center of the room supports the ceiling and presumably the hotel above. A complete set of 1972 plastic swivel stools adorns the bar, behind which is a spacious fish tank containing a single, apparently ravenous sucker fish. I spent my time at the Oxygen watching a hilarious old Egyptian movie, aided in my appreciation by a very obliging waiter by the name of Ismail. This, I decided was a very smooth and comfortable place in which to enjoy a beer, wallowing in 1970s kitsch, but baladi it was not. I left Oxygen and headed for El-Muriaz, which is listed as "a must for serious baladi bar hoppers. Gathering confidence, I entered this discrete establishment on Adli Street, only to find it cramped, gloomy and just a little sleazy. Upstairs somebody appeared to be suffering a slow and painful death by karaoke. By pure chance, I found some journalist friends of mine seated in a corner by the stairs, nursing Stellas and grimacing occasionally at the howls from above. "You won't find anything like Horreya, said one. "I'm afraid it's unique. Sensing my disappointment, my friends suggested one beacon of hope on my way home: the Cap D'or. This, they said, was smaller than Horreya by half, but possessed many of its key qualities. And they weren't fibbing either. The Cap D'or has the same faded pre-war charm of Horreya, a floor littered with spilled drinks and termis skins, and waiters who might once have starred alongside Lon Chaney in a vampire movie. However, the place is very much smaller than Horreya and gets just as crowded, the sense of claustrophobia amplified by the lack of windows. And since there are usually no foreigners, and few of the young, Bohemian Egyptian class, the place lacks the variety and intellectual buzz of its cousin across town. I returned home somewhat deflated. Clearly, this first reconnaissance had failed to turn up the goods. I am, however, cheered by the fact that of the 51 bars listed, I have so far visited no more than 15 during my time in Cairo. Surely, there is plenty of room for further research. I am, of course, just the man for the job. Baladi Bar Flyers can be picked up at Drinkies stores across Cairo.
