Quote: Exiting the Ibn Tulun Mosque turn right before you exit the ziyada. A narrow stepped passage leads through to the Gayer Anderson-Museum (LE30). This a superbly beautiful evocation of a long-vanished Cairo and I would really encourage a visit.

Formerly known as Beit al-Kritiliya, "the House of the Cretan Woman", the museum is actually composed of two houses abutting the mosque. One dates from the sixteenth century, the other from the eighteenth. Major Gayer-Anderson settled in Cairo after his retirement from military service. He seems to have been one of that breed of educated British gentlemen who fell for their posting in the age of Empire and never went home - similar to the British servicemen who insisted on 'staying on' (in the title of Paul Scott's novel) in India post-independence, or 'Glubb Pasha' who commanded the Jordanian army until the late '50s. Here Gayer-Anderson could combine his love of orientalism with a stratified social structure that was dying out in 1930s England. Here he could reside in opulence with servants (whom he genuinely seemed to like from the letters displayed on the walls), and enjoy his privileged position. Perhaps the most psychologically-penetrating exhibit is a self-portrait of the Major clad in a pharoanic head-dress...

If that sounds a little critical, then I apologise. In fact Gayer-Anderson deserves our respect for salvaging a quite remarkable collection of beautiful furnishings from across the oriental world. Not only are Egyptian art and crafts exhibited here, but also work from other traditions - Persian, Syrian, Turkish, Indian. Certainly the Damascene bedroom is quite stunning - a jewellery-box of lacquered Syrian accoutrements framing a spindly (and somewhat rickety-looking) bed. There is another room kitted out in a Persian style. For while there are a few cases of 'typical' museum pieces - ancient Egyptian gewgaws, and Roman-era statuettes - the most noteworthy thing is that this was a place of residence. Major Gayer-Anderson liked being surrounded by beautiful objets d'art, but he expected them to be functional. Hence the cool tiled reception hall on the ground floor, further cooled by low fountains creating a restful ambiance (the watchful will recognise it is a location from Roger Moore's 'The Spy Who Loved Me') The upper stories are partitioned with ornate 'mashrabiya' (carved wooden screens) shading the interior from the scalding Egyptian sun. Mashrabiya also decorates the harim, the women's quarters, so that female members of an Islamic household could see out to the street or down onto the men entertaining below, and not themselves be seen. In fact this leads to one of the most special moments. A guide showed me a cupboard built into a corner. He opened it - empty. A flick of a latch, and this time the entire cupboard swung out to reveal a screened balcony overlooking the fountained main hall.

Further screened terraces overlooked internal lightwell courtyards. Low chairs and tables marked where the Major would take his morning tea. The roof is again marked with a maze-like mashrabiya bower looking down onto the street and across to the Ibn Tulun mosque. James Bond had a fight here I recalled. His opponent was eventually thrown through the screens and off the roof - I only hope they were reconstructions!

For LE30 (and a tip for the guide) I can't really fault a visit to the Gayer-Anderson Museum. What becomes clear is a view of a prosperous Englishman of a certain class, but with a non-condescending love of the historic east, a shrewd eye, and impeccable taste. The house is not a sterile environment; instead the personality of its owner and the paraphenalia of his life provide a warmth, and show that Islamic arts were decorative, yes, but also intensely practical and functional.
From journals Conquering Al-Qahira: a Walk Through Old Cairo