Cairo: Sleep Deprivation and Joy

Well, we have arrived.

I'm not sure how. I mean other than the great tub of the plane that carried over 200 souls in a 300 passenger capacity Boeing 777. We were delayed at the baggage claim because a father and son team had their luggage delayed by 24 hours. The airline was thoroughly apologetic and told the father and son to go out and get whatever clothing, toiletries, etc., they needed and send them the bill.

Well, we were all just punchy enough to try and barter our own way into a similar deal. No dice. These Egyptians are highly skilled barterers and we were regular probies (as they say on NCIS).

The arrival at the hotel was a bit chaotic, mainly because the driver was trying to sell bottles of water (3 for $2 - a much better price than the hotel would charge us for it, we were told), and we need it to wash our faces, brush out teeth as well as drink. So there was all that going on while we were getting rooms assigned and arrangements for luggage to be dropped off, and tying to pay attention to places to have lunch and the currency exchange, and, and, and . ... . . .

We must have heard it twice from each guide: Do Not Drink The Water. Do Not Brush Your Teeth or Rise Your Mouth With Water. Do Not Eat Salad. Apparently the Revenge of the Sphinx is 10 times worse than Montezuma's Revenge. I don't want to have either - ever! - so I put down my $2 and walked into my room with three bottles of water. 

I kept getting flashbacks of the scene in Slumdog Landlord when the boys are in the kitchen and one of them is filling the bottles with regular tap water and then sealing the twist off top with Crazy Glue. 

 

Yes, I've checked the rim of the bottled water. They are covered with plastic you have to peel off.

My hotel is lovely with a promised spectacular view. Additionally, there's a wedding and reception happening in the hotel plaza with a live band performance after the ceremony. I can look out the window and out onto the festivities. 

 

It's wonderful to see people happy and dancing and singing.

I'll tell you what, though: These Egyptian women know how to dress. They may be covered from head to toe with flowing fabric but OMG they are gorgeous and their outfits are gorgeous and their eye make up is a work of art and they have just the right amount of glitter and sparkles here and there and the whole megillah is a look that is positively stunning. 

 

As far as I know, Sr. Joan is not yet here. There was an additional opportunity to precede this pilgrimage with one in Jordan, which Sr. also led. I'm such a huge Sr. Joan fan-girl that I've actually been practicing my greeting so that I'm dignified and respectful and, well, adult. 

 

Even so, I'm sure when I see her I'm going to gush and say something stupid like, "Oh, and I've read ALL your books," which is totally not true - close but not ALL of them - but I'll still say it and smile broadly like a goof and not be able to hold up my end of an intelligent conversation. 

 

She's with us in the morning. Yay!

I did take a wee bit of a nap and had some amazing fish on a bed of mashed peas that was to absolutely die for. And, I wanted to not waste the whole afternoon in a nap so I did walk around a bit but it was so HOT and I am so punchy that I just gave in and rested. 

We're up and at 'em tomorrow at 6 AM and off to visit the holy places in Cairo. Tomorrow is the closest we get to being tourists as we ease into the desert and prepare ourselves for the Nile.

We did talk to our guide, Esau at dinner tonight and he has arranged for a 30 minute camel ride for those of us who want it (Ummm . . . yeah! Are you kidding me right now?). 

 

And, and, and, and, and, and, AND . . . . . Esau personally knows a relative of Razouk, the Egyptian tattoo artist I met in Palestine (thank you, Lindy) who did my latest tattoo. Razouk's family have been tattoo artists for over 700 years. This tattoo artist may be able to meet me in Aswan and add another tat to the stack on the outside of my left leg.

I know. I know. I'm on a pilgrimage. But riding a camel, like riding an elephant, is a spiritual experience. Trust me on this. And, you know, I can't put into words what it's like to add ink to your body - to mark an event or an experience on your body with something that will last as long as you have skin covering your bone. It's a whole creative process, which always involves the Holy Spirit. I can't wait to see what we come up with this time. 

 

I'm think it will be or include a Horus who, for me, is the prototype of the eagle symbol for St. John's Gospel because John's soaring poetic rhetoric, like the eagle, flew so high, the eagle was believed to be the only one of God's creatures to see the face of God and live.

It's now a little after 9 PM and I'm starting to fade. I'm going to take another hot shower, drink some camomile tea that I bought while I was out and about, and turn in early. Tomorrow is a very full day. 

Not a lot of picture. Yet. I'm still getting my bearings.

Film, as they say, at eleven