Cairo According to: Haya Khairat

Long before winning the Angénieux Special Encouragement Award at Cannes, becoming the first Arab woman to do so, Haya Khairat wrote a series of posts on tumblr that turned into ‘Stranger’, a short film that was one of her first forays into the world of independent filmmaking. Since then, the filmmaker and cinematographer has garnered much acclaim at home and abroad, but has retained the very same kind of atmospheric, dreamy visual language that marked her earliest works. When we learned how special backseat drives along the 6th of October Bridge were to her, it all made sense.

Here, Khairat tells us about her favourite spots in Heliopolis-Korba, recalls the very Cairene memories that tie her to the 6th of October Bridge, and breaks down the diversity (or was it lack of consistency?) of Cairo’s architecture.

What’s a place that means Cairo to you?

6th of October Bridge. Haha. It somehow has everything, and practically takes you through all of Cairo.

I’ve known it since I was a little kid in the backseat, driving from our home in Heliopolis all the way out of Cairo to Sahel every summer. I’d look at the buildings, the balconies, the cars around us, the people. My school was in Abbasiya, so I’d even look down at it from the bridge.

It’s the chaos of it too; always crowded, always moving and then somehow, on a Friday morning, it can be so beautiful and quiet, especially driving underneath that suspended part where the bridges meet. I’ve stopped by the Nile on it for quick conversations with friends coming back from Sahel. I’ve crossed it going home from parties, going to and from shoots, heading to Zamalek on Friday mornings.

I feel like it has seen every version of me, and almost everyone who has ever been special to me. That bridge is Cairo to me.

Complete the following: Cairo is…

The full range.

Tell us about your neighbourhood.

Heliopolis is home. I still live in the same place I grew up in, although sometimes I’m slightly in denial about how much it has changed. It used to be greener, quieter; the cars moved slower. Anyone who grew up on one of Heliopolis’ main streets probably knows exactly what I mean.

But no matter how much it changes, it’s still home. So Heliopolis comes first. Zamalek comes right after.

Your go-to food spot?

Il Mulino, Heliopolis. You can almost always find me there. Haha.

And if not, Chili’s Koleyet El Banat. Sometimes you just have to hold onto whatever strings are left from the good golden days (Chili's Korba).

Your go-to café or bar?

Cafe: Seven Fortunes, Korba.

Bar: Andiamo, Heliopolis.

Your go-to date spot?

Pepenero Korba or Le Chantilly Korba.

What isn’t a Cairo landmark but should be?

The diversity of its architecture. or maybe the complete lack of consistency in it. Haha.

You can walk down one street and pass an old Heliopolis villa, a European-influenced building, something Islamic, something very 70s, and then suddenly a completely random modern building squeezed in between all of them.

And then there are all the details that make those buildings feel so alive: balconies full of plants, laundry, plastic chairs and satellite dishes, windows shut tight against the dust and noise, little additions and changes people make over time. Nothing really matches, everything is layered, overcrowded, altered, lived in. Every era just kept building on top of the one before it, and every family left a small trace behind.

Tell us a song that feels like Cairo.

“The City Holds My Heart” — Ghostly Kisses.