Jesus, Mary & Joseph

Tired of lugging around the bulky souvenirs we purchased in South Africa and Kenya, Gene and I made locating a post office our number one priority for the day. Having already gotten a late start on our morning, we were determined not to waste any more time and headed down to the guest services desk to inquire about packing materials at the post office. The woman assured us that the hotel could provide any necessary packing materials and prepare the package for delivery for us. We were sent back to our room, souvenirs in hand, and advised to contact a separate extension for assistance. After being redirected back to the Guest Services desk, the same woman advised us that she would make a call and get back to us.

Approximately 20 minutes later, an English-deficient hotel representative knocked at our door and handed Gene an undersized, worn-out cardboard box. Unable to communicate in Arabic that we needed a bigger box, we invited the employee inside to show him the contents that would need packaging. Gene did his best to convey through sign language that we needed a larger box as well as packing materials. The man indicated “one moment” with the flick of his index finger and disappeared through the front door.

Gene and I sat dumbfounded, wondering whether we would ever make it out to the sites in Cairo. While we always thought government workers at the post offices in the States were lazy, the services offered back home seem state-of-the-art compared to those we’ve encountered during our travels.

Another 10 minutes later and the guy was back at our door with another box - sans packing materials, of course. Our request for bubble wrap was an utter failure. We did, however, successfully communicate a need for newspaper. The only question left was exactly how long we would have to wait for the man to return with it. “Oh, we can provide those services for you,” I mimicked under my breath, as I contemplated heading back down to Guest Services to pop the lady in the head.

When the hotel representative finally turned up with our newspaper, my level of frustration was only elevated - the amount of paper handed me wasn’t even enough to wrap up a “No. 1” toilet duty. Gene and I decided to take matters into our own hands and started stuffing the box with old t-shirts and socks. The entire time, the man just stood there looking over us. How do I say, ‘Goodbye!’ in Arabic?

Unfortunately, we could not get rid of our Arabic friend, who directed us to follow him to the complete opposite end of the hotel to buy some tape. When he made a nuisance of himself trying to help Gene tape the box, we knew the only way to ensure his disappearance was to give him money - a few Egyptian pounds later and he was on his separate way.

Nearly one hour after we had left the Guest Services desk, we were finally off to the post office. To be expected, that was an experience in and of itself. In an office full of postal workers, there seemed to be only one lady working the counter, while another sat in open view sleeping at her desk. While the woman behind the counter appeared overly efficient, that only meant that our wait in line would take that much more time. I concluded that Egypt shares the same problem of mail theft had by other African countries as I watched the woman behind the counter wrap every visible square inch of every package with tape - either that or she was Type “A” personality.

With only a few hours to kill before checkout time, we wolfed down lunch at a nearby pub, with the intention of paying Coptic Cairo a visit before our departure to Luxor.

Coptic Cairo is the epicenter of Egypt’s Coptic community. Archaeologists allege that there was a small Nileside settlement on the site as far back as the 6th century B.C. Early in the 2nd century AD, the Romans established a fortress there called Babylon-in-Egypt. Babylon has always been a stronghold of Christianity and, at one time, there were more than 20 churches clustered within less than 1 sq km - although there are only a handful that survive today. The churches are connected by narrow cobblestone passageways running between high stone walls. The place is said to feel quite similar to parts of Jerusalem’s Old City, which may not be coincidental since many Jews found refuge in Egypt after they were exiled from their holy city in AD 70.

As Gene and I made our way through the ancient alleyways of Coptic Cairo, I felt as though I had been sent back in time. The area exuded a sense of reverence and history of political and religious strife. I wondered what life was like in Coptic Cairo in the 3rd and 4th centuries AD. I was fascinated to learn that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were believed to have fled to these same grounds to escape the persecution ordered by King Herod of Judea, and that I set my eyes on the well where the pharaoh’s daughter purportedly found Moses in the reeds, and where Mary drew water to wash Jesus. As a Catholic, I felt very close to my religious roots. .


The Church & Convent of Saint George: St. George is one of the region’s most popular Christian saints. A Palestinian recruit in the Roman army, he was executed in AD 303 for resisting Emperor Diocletian’s decree forbidding the practice of Christianity. The Church of St.George dates from 1909. Inside of the chapel is an 8-meter high wooden door, behind which is a small room still occasionally used for the chain-wrapping ritual that symbolizes the persecution of St. George during the Roman occupation. It is said that on occasion the nuns will show you chains that they claim were used to bind early martyrs.

Church of St. Sergius: This is the oldest church inside the walls, with 3rd- and 4th-century pillars, although the earliest known written reference to it dates from the 9th century. It is said to be built over a cave (now a crypt) where Joseph, Mary and the newly born infant Jesus sheltered after fleeing to Egypt to escape persecution from King Herod of Judea, who had embarked upon a ‘massacre of the first born.’

Church of St. Barbara: St. Barbara was beaten to death by her father for trying to convert him to Christianity. Her relics supposedly rest in a small chapel inside of the church.

Ben Erza Synagogue: Egypt’s oldest synagogue, dating back from the 9th century, occupies the shell of a 4th century Christian church. In the 12th century, the synagogue was restored by Abraham Ben Ezra, rabbi of Jerusalem; hence, it’s name. Tradition marks this as the spot where the prophet Jeremiah gathered the Jews in the 6th century after Nebuchadnezzar had destroyed the Jerusalem temple. The adjacent spring is supposed to mark the place where the pharaoh’s daughter found Moses in the reeds, and where Mary drew water to wash Jesus.

Hanging Church: Dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the Hanging Church was named the Hanging or Suspended Church because it is built on top of the Water Gate of Roman Babylon. The thirteen slender pillars inside of the church represent Christ and his twelve disciples. The one pillar, which is darker than the rest, is said to symbolize Judas. The ornate floor-to-ceiling pulpit is used only on Palm Sunday. In addition, there is a panel cut out of the floor inside the church, which reveals the Water Gate and one of the gate’s twin towers.

Mosque of Amr ibn al-As: The first mosque built in Egypt. It was constructed in AD 642 by Amr ibn al-As, who conquered Egypt for Islam, on the site where he pitched his first tent. The original structure is said to have been made of palm trunks thatched with leaves, but was expanded to its current size in AD 827; the mosque has been continuously reworked since then. Of the 200 or so columns supporting the ceiling inside, no two are said to be the same.


One can only imagine how excruciatingly hot it gets in Egypt during the summer. Gene and I almost gave our visit to Coptic Cairo a second thought after being advised by the Lonely Planet to dress appropriately when visiting the sacred quarter - meaning that we would need to wear pants and short sleeves in the 40 degree C (105 degree F) weather. Reluctantly, we changed into our matching hiking pants with the zip-off pants legs and surrendered ourselves to the holy land.

All was fine and well - even with pants stuck to our clammy asses - until we reached the Mosque of Amr ibn al-As and the gatekeeper insisted that I wear a green Ku Klux Klan-looking robe over my attire. As I began to overheat inside the ruins of the ceiling-less mosque, I wondered how many other peoples’ sweat molecules were mingling with my own. Another five minutes and they would have had to peel me off of the carpet.

Gene and I headed back for the entrance to again be greeted by the doorkeeper who was now requesting a donation for our visit. When Gene handed him the equivalence of $1 USD in Egyptian pounds, the man began to raise his voice in Arabic, presumably pissed because we didn’t give him more money. With one mad man behind us and another beggar in front of us, we decided it was time to call it quits.

Our cab ride back to the Marriott was yet another frustrating experience, as the driver repeatedly tried to flag down extra customers while we were still inside the vehicle. To our benefit, our bare white skin put off any chance for picking up any Muslim customers. I joked with Gene that I would start undressing if anyone else even thought of coming near our cab.

With so much to see in Cairo and so little time, Gene and I agreed that we would have to squeeze in a visit to the Egyptian Museum in the few hours remaining between check-out and our overnight train departure to Luxor. After all, we paid $60 in Chicago to get into the Tutankhamun exhibition at the Field Museum, only to discover that the Pharaoh’s mummy was excluded from the exhibit. Needless to say, we griped about the exorbitant entrance fee, cursing the Egyptian gods.

The Egyptian Museum houses more than 120,000 relics and antiquities from almost every period of Egyptian history, including a Royal Mummy Room and Tutankhamun Galleries, which contain approximately 1700 items discovered inside the tomb of Tutankhamun. Alas, we would see the Pharaoh’s mummy.

After scanning several rooms containing various artifacts, Gene and I determined there was no use mucking about - we were there to see one thing, the mummy of Tutankhamun. As we entered the Tutankhamun Galleries, overcrowded with tourists, we took our time perusing the treasures on display - life-size statutes of Tutankhamun, lion throne, funerary couches, Canopic jars, golden sarcophagi, clothing and death mask. It was only after circling ourselves silly that we came to the sad realization that King Tut’s mummy does not lie in the Cairo museum. Where the hell is this crazy bastard!?! According to a tiny placard encased with one of the sarcophagi, his mummy was returned to the inside of his tomb in the Valley of Kings in Luxor. I was now on a mission.

Gene and I had no idea what to expect of our $200 USD per night stay on the Egyptian sleeper train to Luxor. I hoped for at least a decent meal and clean sleeping arrangements. At this point in our trip, however, I knew I could be asking for a bit too much, especially in Egypt. However, as Gene and I boarded the train, the most problematic situation we would face was the dilemma of single bunk beds.

“How are we going to sleep with one another?” Gene asked with a pout lip.

“We’ll just have to snuggle!” I chimed back, knowing that meant that we would sleep like sardines all night. I felt a sense of security, however, in knowing that there was a safety bar on the top bunk.

Complaining of hunger pangs, Gene informed me that the train line’s website had beef listed as one of the dinner options and that it looked quite good. When the train car attendant knocked at the door with our food trays in hand, I asked him what was being served, hoping that it was the beef dish Gene saw on the website.

“Beef and fish,” the man replied. With that said, I knew I’d at least eat half of my meal.

Gene, who was served first, had already removed the tinfoil from his plate before I could even venture to open mine. After poking around at his food, he remarked that it looked like a piece of leather and was sure to be less than appetizing. Disappointed, I peeled back the tinfoil and let out a yelp of joy when I uncovered a tin of spaghetti.

Gene, who seemed traumatized by the ordeal, whined, “How come you got spaghetti?”

“Not sure, babe,” I replied, as I gleefully uncovered my tin of red sauce.

“Well, are you going to share with me?” he retorted, looking like a child cheated out of his favorite cookie.

Before I could even answer, there was another knock at our door. Looking up like a deer caught in headlights, I was instructed that I had been given the wrong meal and that it was for a vegetarian customer next door. Before I could even spit on the food to claim it mine, the tray was lifted from in front of me, tins still uncovered, and taken away. If only I had started eating sooner - he couldn’t have taken it away from me! Before closing the door behind him, the attendant wiped his hand across his mouth - the Egyptian way of indicating, “This is our secret.” For all he cared, I had already dunked my dirty paws into the dish - the girl next door was still getting it. Sulking, I dug into my overcooked beef.

Gene and I determined that, aside from the food, we really enjoyed the unique experience of taking the overnight train. What a sight we were - lying on our sides, smashed together on the top bunk, each listening to one earpiece from my ipod headset until we fell blissfully asleep.

A few hours later, after a few elbows in the ribs, Gene was back on the bottom bunk.

---

---

---