The Decline of Downtown

Cairo’s downtown—the area centered on the quadruple squares of Talaat Harb, Tahrir, Ramses, and Attaba—was never designed to be anything but a downtown. Conceived by Muhammad Ali’s grandson Ismail (who ruled Egypt from 1863-1879) as an oriental version of Paris’ centre-ville, Ismail's ambitious plan called for a landscape of formal gardens, wide boulevards, and grand department stores, interspersed with European-style coffee shops and bars where well-dressed men and women could come together to relax, drink alcohol, and enjoy themselves late into the night.

The early 20th century saw Cairo swell with foreigners seeking adventure or a change of climate, and the downtown expanded accordingly to include financial centers, consulates, and elegant residences suitable for the native elite and visiting foreign dignitaries alike. As most of the larger garden areas in Ismail's original blueprint were gradually abandoned in favor of multi-storied apartment buildings capable of accommodating the growing population, downtown began to assume its modern face—an eclectic mix of Parisian and oriental architecture with livable space maximized by high-rise hotels and apartments.

So what happened? More recent years have not been kind to downtown. The population has declined since Ismail’s era, as those who could afford it moved elsewhere to escape the pollution, noise, and perpetual traffic that plague the city center. The aristocrats who formerly patronized its shops, restaurants, bars, and movie theaters now prefer to spend their leisure time in ritzy Western-style cafes in Zamalek or out for a late-night dinner and drinks in Mohandiseen. Talaat Harb Square's modest clothing boutiques pale in comparison to the extravagant City Stars mall in Heliopolis, which boasts European brands at European prices, a food court complete with Panda Express and Fuddruckers, and one of the the only three Starbucks in the country (I confess to having once trekked out to City Stars solely for a grande nonfat latte). By comparison, Sednaoui, the old-time department store occupying one whole side of the Talaat Harb Square, employs about five sales representatives for each customer who comes through its doors; its decor is shabby, its products are underwhelming in their outmoded and poorly organized plenitude.

It is no wonder that upper-class Cairenes speak about downtown with such obvious dislike. At once an embarrassing testament to how far Egypt has fallen since its glory days and a painful reminder of the mismanagement and lack of foresight that have cost its people so much in the years since Nasser's grand but ill-conceived revolution, downtown poses a problem to anyone trying to claim Cairo as a place defined by City Stars and posh European cafes. Because frankly, it isn't this sort of place at all, but would it really be Cairo anymore if it were?