"Welcome to Egypt," the captain of my plane announced over the speaker, first in Italian, then in English. He did not need to remind me that I was in a strange place: the imposing, interminable desert loomed in the distance outside my cabin window. If I were landing on another planet, I would not know the difference.
I am taking an overindulgent post-graduation jaunt to this Middle Eastern country, where I will tour for another two weeks. When I am able, I will blog and hopefully try to make sense of what I am experiencing.
Wednesday night, I climbed Mt. Sinai, or at least, one of the places traditionally considered to be the "Moses Mountain." My hike, which began at 2 a.m., was led by a sweet, 20-year-old Bedouin named Moussa. He led me through the dark, rocky terrain, to the top of the mountain where Moses was said to have received the Ten Commandments from God Himself. Other than the challenging terrain, sleep deprivation and ubiquitous scent of camel droppings, it was a lovely trek.
I arrived to the top while it was still dark and cozied up on a rented mattress and blanket that must have cloaked 10,000 pilgrims. By that point, I was too cold and tired to be bothered by the diseases I might have been catching. The glorious sunrise revealed just how high I and my fellow hikers had climbed. Moses would be proud.
Afterwards, I visited St. Catherine's monastery, which, among other wonders, is said to contain the burning bush.. "Touch it and make a wish," my guide insisted.
"I'm making a wish," I said to myself as I touched the overgrown, otherwise un-noteworthy plant. Cigarette butts and dirty wrappers filled its large planter.
My Lonely Planet guide to Egypt pulls this quote from Ralph Bagnold's book "Libyan Sands: Travels in a Dead World" (Hodder & Stoughto, 1935). While I will visit the Western Desert in the following weeks, I already have a sense of the psychological strangeness of the endless sands:
There are deserts and there are deserts. But the Western (or Libyan) Desert, a vast expanse that starts at the western banks of the Nile and continues well into Libya, is the desert of deserts.
And if I must describe the ineffable, I find the desert stunning and horrifying.
In the Gospels, Jesus was led into the desert by the Spirit for a 40-day trial by deprivation. When He is tempted by the devil, Jesus replies that "One does not live by bread alone."
But certainly, in this barren, desolate, parched land, a bit of bread –not to mention water –could never hurt.
While there is ample room to get lost in the deserts of Egypt, there is no place to hide. The fragility of life, and the inevitability of death are the constant backdrop.
But there remains a persistent boldness of the human spirit, a hopefulness that thrives here, in this place.
Welcome to Egypt.
Comments (2)
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Posted July 13, 2007 1:46 AM
Posted on July 13, 2007 01:46
I made the same journey in 1970 while Sinai was occupied by Israel. I, too, arose at 2 a.m., and rode to the top of Sinai on a camel guided by a young Bedouin to see the magnificent view at sunrise.
Then I walked down the mountain to the monastery. Part of the path was comprised of 800 stone steps carved on the mountain more than a thousand years ago, I think.
It was the Israelis who opened the monastery to tourists. They allowed men and women to sleep overnight in the same room. This was protested by the monks, but the Israelis prevailed.
Like Ms. Tenety, I found Mt. Sinai and the Sinai Desert stunning, but I did not find it terrifying. I found it peaceful, absolutely silent, the stars the biggest and brightest I'd ever seen. A wonderful place to meditate.
P.S.: From Robert Frost's "Desert Places":
"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places."
A trip well worth making.
Posted June 15, 2007 7:37 PM
Posted on June 15, 2007 19:37