Gathering my things, I (or rather, the doorman) got a taxi and away I went to Cairo Gateway. I purchased my ticket to Saint Katherine's monastery (Ad-Deir Sant Katreen). Being very unsure of when the bus to the monastery would leave that day - if it would leave at all - I had arrived by 8 am; the bus, I found out, was running at would leave at 11 am. That gave me three hours to wait in the giant bus station and mall. The first storey/entrance consists of the ticket windows, lots of elevators, stairs, and escalators, and a food court; the upper floors are a shopping mall; and the ground/basement floor is filled with curved metal seats for waiting for the buses that pull up just outside the sliding glass doors. I waited for a good two hours and then went to ask which gate my bus would be leaving from. Some confusion (and some help from a nice English speaking young man) later, and I was waiting by the correct gate. I saw a primly dressed elderly Western couple waiting as well. I smiled at them, and they came to site beside me.
"Where...are you going?" The man asked.
"Saint Katherine's," I replied.
"Which....?" he motioned to the doors.
I pointed out the gate. There was very little conversation as the man spoke very little English, and his wife none at all. However, we smiled and I determined that I would make sure they got to the monastery with me with no problems.
We boarded the bus and I got them to their seats, just across from mine. The bus driver's son was taking up various front seats, kicked in and out of them as passengers arrived. He ended up in the seat beside me and away we went.
The bus lurched along the familiar path I had just traveled to Iskandria; at the final small bus-stop, we picked up a few passengers, including a new seat mate for me, a middle-aged woman "Farah." She and I talked a little bit, but again my lack of substantial Arabic prevented our saying much beyond our general histories.
Again, the bus played the quranic chanting. Loudly. For seven hours. Straight. Across the Sinai desert. Combined with the same smell of stale incense, sweat, and bad cologne, it was an experience I will not soon forget. The scenery was beautiful, if barren - and there was a lot of it, as we traveled from Cairo to the very tip of the Sinai peninsula.
We made 1 major stop, about 4 hours into the journey, at a tiny rest-stop in a tiny town. I assisted my seatmate and my new friends the "Romanis" in finding restrooms and food. I bought a package of biscuits to try to share with my seatmate; Farah had brought sandwiches that she had forced on me earlier. When you are traveling, you have to bring food to share; and you have to be prepared to partake of other people's food. I have never yet been on a bus ride in which (when it was long enough and the other person brought food), I didn't at least have food offered me if not thrust into my hands. Farah would not, however, take any of my tea biscuits despite my doing my best to make her take them. She merely smiled and bought me a glass of tea. I don't know why it would be rude for me to refuse the tea but not for her to refuse my tea biscuits, but it made sense to her.
More driving - have I mentioned, seven hours of it? - across the Sinai desert. (With the quran blasting and the incense wafting.) The bus driver, at least, was enjoying himself as he meandered across the road, driving down the middle just as he pleased. The sights - beyond the beautiful desert itself - were interesting, as we passed a few small towns, some crumbling resorts, and many Bedouin villages located in oases. We passed one hospital, located among these small settlements, and I could not help but wonder what kinds of doctors practiced there; what brought them? I'm assuming it was a government hospital, possibly military.
We finally arrived on the Saint Katherine's protectorate, and Farah disembarked on one of the small settlements within the nature reserve. I had some nervousness as to when I should actually disembark to get to the monastery itself. I spoke with the bus driver in Arabic, and got the idea that it would be farther down, and then at the stop we'd get a taxi - which we did. It was the final stop when we disembarked; I helped the Romanis with their things, making sure we all got a taxi. I spoke for a brief moment with the bus driver - this time in English, which he spoke very well (why he had let me meander on in Arabic before, I don't know). He had used to work in Jordan, it turns out, and we spent a few moments doing the "Oh, really? Do you know such and such a place?" game, which is always such fun to play.
We arrived at the monastery guest house, and I got a room for myself and my friends; we then went to dinner, which was absolutely amazing - rice and meat and salad and bread and oh! gustatory delight. Now, the purpose of coming to St. Katherine's is to climb Mt. Sinai and see the sunrise from it. So, I spent the better part of the evening in one of the most frustrating exchanges of my life - all in Arabic, mind you - trying to arrange a guide/flashlight situation with one of the guesthouse managers for myself and the Romanis. The problem was, I wanted to go up one way ("The Stairs of Repentence") by myself with just a flashlight around 3am. The Romanis, however, I was sure needed a guide. I just wasn't sure if I wanted to go with them or not. So there was considerable confusion. Finally, however, I thought we had it straight, and I went to get a few hours of sleep.
I arose again in the cold silence of the night, just before 2, and knocked on the Romanis' door, making sure they were awake. I took them over to the place where the manager had said there would be guides waiting, told them this is where they could get their guide, then went back to my room for a few minutes before I was going to set out alone. A few minutes later, however, there was a knock at my door, with the poor guides looking rather confused and frustrated. Now, it's a good long hike to the top of the mountain and the Romanis weren't young. However, they wanted to go with a "group" of some sort - to this day, I don't know what they wanted. I think Mrs. Romani had this idea of going up with candles, singing hymns and praying with a Russian Orthodox Group. However, there were none. I then spent the next 20 minutes trying to convince them to take a guide and go up - if there was a group coming after them, the group would catch up. They were having none of it. Finally, one of the guides realized they spoke Russian, which he also spoke. He was able to get through to them much better; still, however, Mrs. Romani stubbornly insisted that they would wait for a group. About half an hour after getting up, a few other people showed up and Mrs. Romani was finally convinced to start on the way. She refused a guide, insisting on going with the group; since they weren't officially with the other tourists (who were from Britain), they weren't waiting for her. Deciding they needed a guide, I hired the one who spoke Russian and English, and we set off on our way.
Climbing slowly, we rounded the curves of the path. To one side or another, growling and bellowing emanated from the dark. Gurgling noises and foul stenches met us as we passed the camels waiting for passengers. It felt as though we were passing colonies of Balrogs and other monstrous beasts.
I won't describe the climb in all its gory details - but suffice it to say that it was very long. Very cold, and the Romanis were very stubborn. We stopped at various Bedouin-run coffee huts along the way to regain our breath and get warm. Twenty minutes or so before sunrise, we finally reached the small plateau where our path met the other path of the Stairs of Repentance. I enjoyed meeting another guide who spoke Russian, Arabic, and German.....he and our guide spoke in Arabic, talked with the Romanis in Russian, and then asked me questions in German to which I would reply in Arabic. At this point, the path became all stairs, and neither the guide nor I thought Mrs. Romani could make it to the top. So, I took off alone, going as quickly as I could up to see the sun rise over the mountains. Coming back, I met the guide who had brought the Romanis camera with him to take pictures for them. We continued back together - where we met the Romanis struggling up. Our guide took me to one of the coffee huts, put me in back and instructed me not to talk to anyone, then went out to lead the Romanis up to the top.
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