Heliopolis

Listen for the traffic first. It is a steady, rolling sound of horns, minibuses and street vendors on the northeastern edge of greater Cairo. Under that noise lies one of the oldest sacred names in the world. Heliopolis is Greek for City of the Sun. Today the name covers two different places. One is an ancient religious capital, now mostly buried. The other is a garden suburb built in the early twentieth century.

Let us begin with the older one. Long before the Greeks gave it their name, the Egyptians called this place Iunu. In the Bible it appears as On. It was one of the great religious centres of ancient Egypt. Its priests worshipped the sun god Ra and the creator god Atum. Their temples stood here for thousands of years. Today the ancient site lies mainly under the working-class district of Matariya, a short drive east of Shobra El Kheima.

The priests of Iunu were more than temple keepers. They taught one of Egypt's great creation stories. In this story, the world began as dark, endless water. A mound of earth rose from that water. Atum appeared on the mound and created the first gods. The sacred stone of the city, called the benben, stood for that first mound. Some scholars believe the pointed tip of the pyramid and the obelisk both come from this idea.

Here is the first surprise. Very little of this great temple city still stands. Over the centuries, builders took its stone for other projects. Some of it went into medieval Cairo. Some went much farther. The obelisks known as Cleopatra's Needles were first raised at Heliopolis. Romans later moved them to Alexandria. In the nineteenth century, one went to London and the other went to New York. So pieces of this neighbourhood now stand beside the Thames and in Central Park.

One monument never left. In the Matariya area, an obelisk of red granite still stands where it was raised. It belongs to the pharaoh Senusret the First, a king of the Twelfth Dynasty, about four thousand years ago. It rises roughly twenty metres. Many people consider it the oldest obelisk still standing in its original position. Around it are modern houses, laundry on balconies and children playing football. It is a strange and moving neighbour.

Greek writers knew this place well. The historian Herodotus wrote about the learned priests of Heliopolis. Later writers repeated a story that Greek philosophers came here to study. According to one popular tradition, Plato was among them. Treat that as legend rather than documented fact. By Roman times, the geographer Strabo described the city as mostly empty. Its great age as a temple city was already over.

Matariya also holds a Christian tradition. Locals say the Holy Family rested here during their flight into Egypt. A sycamore tree known as the Virgin's Tree marks the spot where, according to the story, Mary rested in its shade. The tree visitors see today is a later descendant, not the original. Still, Coptic Christians and other visitors come here quietly, and the site shows how many faiths have shared this ground.

Now move a few kilometres southeast, and about four thousand years forward. In the early twentieth century, a Belgian industrialist named Baron Édouard Empain looked at open desert outside Cairo. He saw a new city. His company bought the land and planned a full suburb with homes, hotels, shops and parks. He gave it the old name, Heliopolis. This was a smart choice. It linked a modern real-estate project with Egypt's deepest past.

The second surprise is about transport. Empain did not build the houses first and the roads later. He started with a fast tram line that connected the new suburb to central Cairo. People could live in clean desert air and still reach the city easily. For decades, the trams of Heliopolis were part of daily life. Most of the network was removed in the 2010s. Older residents still remember the sound of the bells.

The architecture is the real reward here. Walk through the Korba district and look up. You will see long arcades, cream and ochre walls, and balconies with carved details. The designers mixed European styles with Moorish and Islamic forms, meaning the horseshoe arches and geometric patterns of North African and Andalusian buildings. People often call the result the Heliopolis style. Shops sit under the arches, which give shade from the strong afternoon sun.

The suburb's most unusual building is the Baron Empain Palace. The French architect Alexandre Marcel designed it, and it was finished in the early twentieth century. It does not look Egyptian or European. It takes its forms from Hindu and Khmer temples, like those at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Stone elephants and dancing figures cover its walls. For years it stood empty and became the subject of ghost stories. It has since been restored and opened to visitors.

Not far away is the Basilica of Our Lady of Heliopolis, a Catholic church that Empain built for the new community. The baron himself is buried there. That detail says something about this place. A foreign businessman came to build a profitable suburb, and he chose to stay forever. Over the twentieth century, the district became a home for many communities, including Egyptians, Armenians, Greeks, Italians and others.

So stand still for a moment wherever you are. If you are near the old obelisk, look at the worn red granite and the hieroglyphs on its sides. If you are under the Korba arcades, notice the cool shade and the smell of coffee from a nearby café. Both places share one name. One was a city of priests and the sun. The other was a dream of tram lines and arches. As you walk on, notice the light on the pale walls, because this is still a city of the sun.