The Catacombs

We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the catacombs themselves, so I had to scan a few images from The Christian Catacombs of Rome: History, Decoration, Inscriptions (1999) by Nicolai, Bisconti, and Mazzoleni to supplement this post.

The catacombs are under the protection of the Pontifica Commissione di Archeologia Sacra and their interpretation is still closely tied to the interests of the Roman Catholic Church. I don't need to recite the basic info. that we got on each of our catacomb tours (the shelves cut into the wall for burial are called loculi, the larger burial niches arcosolea, all of the above dug deep into the region's soft volcanic rock, or tufa, etc.). Just wanted to provide a few glimpses of what waited for us underground...

Galleries in the Catacomb of Priscilla

Plan of the first level, Catacomb of Priscilla

The catacombs that I visited with Andrew, to the south of Rome, didn't have many frescoes on view. Toward the end of the week, I went to the Catacomb of Priscilla, which is located on the Via Salaria and north of the old city walls. At this point, I was by myself, as Andrew had to fly back to NY for a wedding. I took the metro to Termini and then bus out to the edges of the city. It was raining, so I got to wander around under my borrowed umbrella (there were several waiting for use beside the door of the B&B). I went to both the Catacomb of Priscilla and Sta. Costanza, which is in the same complex as the Basilica of Sant'Agnese fuori-le-mura and its catacombs. I didn't get to Sant'Agnese in time to also go through the catacomb there; it was the only one of the catacombs open to the public that I didn't see. But the Catacomb of Priscilla was the most rewarding, I think... the tour included the cubiculum of the Velatio with its extensive iconographical program, and a couple other frescoes depicting the Good Shepherd and the Adoration of the Magi.

Later, as I revisited the Early Christian collection in the Vatican Museums, I was struck by how repetitive the biblical scenes really were. The exact same images from the painted cycles appear on the friezes of sarcophagi. Many of the images deal with the issues close at hand; death, resurrection, and the hope for salvation. Thus, typological scenes are especially popular--the Three Hebrews, Daniel in the Lions' Den, Jonah and the Whale, all of these can be seen as types for Christ's resurrection and triumph over death. The Raising of Lazarus from the New Testament also shows up rather frequently.

Vault of the Velatio cubiculum; Jonah can be seen at top,
with the Three Hebrews in their firey furnace in the right-hand lunette.

Detail of the standing Orant figure in the lower lunette, Velatio cubiculum.

I enjoyed being able to put together the different parts of my visit as I went through the Vatican Museums a second time. After becoming familiar with the churches and monuments of Rome on foot, I could better understand the museum objects in relation to the locations of the city. Like when a museum label for a sarcophagus read, "Catacomb of S. Callixtus" or "the crypt of S. Paolo fuori-le-mura," for its provenance. The display cases in the Vatican libraries contained all sorts of items taken from the catacombs (lamps, pottery shards, glass vessels, coins, etc.). Many of these were brightly colored, or, as lamps and containers for oil or candles, suggested light/warmth, in stark contrast to the setting I'd experienced. In the catacombs there were occasional niches with wire mesh across the front and a jumbled assortment of clay lamps and other objects enclosed. It was challenging to envision the empty galleries and burial niches that I'd seen as furnished, decorated, and occupied spaces. True, they were mostly occupied by the dead! But the traffic of the living would have continually interrupted the cemeteries for funerary processions and memorial practices.

St. Agnes represented in gilt glass; vessel fixed to the mortar
of a loculus tomb in the Catacomb of Panfilo.

The room below is in the Catacomb of S. Callixtus; I think we might have gotten a peek at this one. We did at least see images of the refrigerium meal, which is taking place at the center of the back wall. While the refrigerium was a commemorative feast and strongly rooted in funerary practice, it may also serve as a visual prototype for depictions of the Last Supper. The 'Chapel of the Sacraments' is so called because of the scenes flanking the table and seated participants of the refrigerium. On the left is a tripod with loaves and fishes with some kind of laying on of hands (impositio) represented. On the right, the figures of Isaac and Abraham with the sacrificial lamb. The implications seem Eucharistic enough. (There is also an intriguing iconographical cross-over between the Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes and Eucharistic imagery in this period).

I finish with this image because it also illustrates a running joke... Andrew and I invented the Catacombs B&B on one of our underground tours. Rates were quite cheap (1 euro for a single loculi), although they depended upon the size of one's accommodations (the arcosolium cost 2 euro, and the luxury of the cubiculum perhaps 3-4). Meals could also be included (for just 1 euro more). For just a slight increase, one might even enjoy breakfast in bed! Sounds cosy, right?

Cubiculum of the Sacraments, Catacomb of Callixtus

Along the Via Appia

After my first weekend in Rome, and a glimpse of both its sacred and secular pasts, I wanted to head out to the catacombs. These are the most likely candidate for comparison with the Sinai topographical icons in my potential dissertation topic. As subterranean spaces for burial, the catacombs accumulated the bones of the martyrs, often attached churches/chapels, and were then incorporated into the pilgrimage routes of the city. By the 8th century, most of the martyrs' relics had been removed to the altars and treasuries of churches within Rome (or exported to meet pan-European demands). The catacombs fell into disuse and were forgotten.

Those of St. Sebastian, below, were the only catacombs still known and visited throughout the Middle Ages. They also bequeathed their name to other networks of underground burial once they were recovered! The term 'catacomb' comes from the Greek kata, "near," and kumbas, "pits" or "hollows," which designated certain sandstone quarries at the 3rd milestone of the Via Appia. The cemeteries of St. Sebastian were laid out beside these pits in the ground, and therefore identified as "catacumbas."

Church of S. Sebastiano and entrance to its catacombs.

Andrew and I took a whole day to locate three of the catacombs outside the city walls, following the Via Appia south. These are all open to the public, with various hours in the morning/afternoon. We stopped first at the Catacombs of St. Sebastian, then visited the Catacombs of St. Callixtus and of Domitilla. The tours become a little repetitive three times in a row... but nothing quite compares to that first-time experience of moving slowly through the narrow galleries with empty niches on either side, or the feeling of moist, cool air that presses up against your body in the darkness. I was glad I'd thought to bring a shawl with me.

In contrast to the dark underground spaces of the catacombs, the day we had to wander along the Appian way was absolutely beautiful. Made me wish I had a whole summer to backpack around the Italian countryside. It was also a nice escape from the press of tourists in Rome. (Although, when we were given the 'English' version tour of the Catacombs of Domitilla, we were the only people in our group and ended up squeezing through the galleries with large German-speaking tours both in front of us and behind us. It was rather surreal to be cutting corners here and there in the attempt to get ahead of the other groups, chasing each other through the catacombs.)

Further on from the catacombs were several Roman mausolea, and a stretch of the ancient Via Appia that remained impressively intact. We found the ruins of what looked like a medieval Gothic church. And, for lunch, discovered the best Italian pizza ever in a little diner the next town over. Perhaps these were still Roman suburbs, I'm not sure.

Cypress and olive trees made a picturesque pathway
en route to the Catacombs of S. Callixtus.

Andrew takes a refreshing drink from one of the many water fountains;

this was after we'd learned the correct method from a passing motorist!
Note how Andrew is pluggging up the spout with his hands
so that the water is forced upward through a tiny hole in the spigot...

A bit of the ancient road with ruts still visible
(from carts and chariots, I suppose).

Two cyclists along the Via Appia.

Constantine - Arch, Colossus, and Basilica

I'm going to treat my topic in reverse order from that of my post title... I got to see each of these items on the same day, and in fairly close proximity to one another. But one of the purposes of this blog is to re-combine experiences, considering monuments and their history in isolation and teasing apart the chronology of my trip simply in order to juxtapose them again, setting aspects of each against the other and looking for what appears new or interesting. Can't say that what I include below is 'new.' Especially not in a basic art history survey! It provides an example, however, of the kind of synthesis that can take place after the fact, following the stages of my summer journey (the opportunity first to think on my feet; now comes the reflection on those sites/sights of the trip as a whole).

Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine in the Roman Forum

Surviving apse from the NE wall

Fragments from the colossal statue of Constantine

The Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine preserves the side aisle (with three enormous barrel vaults) along the northeastern wall, the only wall still standing. Even this looks somewhat precarious! There are thick steel cables securing the bit of wall to the northwest, passing through the vaulted space on the far left on a long diagonal.

The Basilica, as was typical in Roman architecture, functioned as law courts and an administrative center of the forum. Since this basilica was completed under Constantine the Ist (in 315 AD), it was his colossal statue that dominated the interior. The fragments of the statue are now on view in the Capitoline Museum. The figure would have been seated within an apse in the northwest wall.

So, anyway, as Constantine began building churches for the Christians in the capitol and across his empire, it was the basilica form that was adopted for the Early Christian church rather than that of traditional Roman temples. 'Secular' rather than 'sacred' architecture. It may have provided a break with the pagan religions. It has also been argued that the large interior of the basilica conformed to the needs of a congregation and hosting a service focused on teaching/worship, not the ritual activities of priests. The Church of Old St. Peter's was one of Constantine's commissions (he also carefully avoided building in the sacred centers of Rome; the burial place of Peter was of course on the fringes of the city, as were many of the cemeteries, catacombs, and thus the martyr's tombs). St. Peter's was a basilica with a flat, timber-truss roof (check out the pictures of Sta. Maria Maggiore to follow). The massive vaults that we see here, however, would offer inspiration to the Renaissance architects (esp. Michelangelo) in their design of New St. Peter's. The head, hand, and foot of Constantine's statue were also discovered in this period; I think they were unearthed in the late 15th century.

The Arch of Constantine (312-15 AD)

Of course, the Arch of Constantine is the quintessential triumphal arch, erected to celebrate Constantine's victory over Maxentius (a rival emperor). The decisive battle was fought at the Milvian Bridge, a key moment for Christian iconography as well! Here Constantine supposedly saw his vision of the flaming cross in the sky and heard, "In this sign you will conquer." Constantine adopted the Chi-Rho, the first two letters of Christ's name in Greek, for his army's standards; the rest is history.

Colosseum

The first time that Andrew and I tried to tour the Colosseum, we arrived just after the last tickets were being sold. It took us longer than I'd expected to go through the Roman Forums. We made sure to come back earlier the next afternoon. Both days, however, we were at the Colosseum when its arcades were warmed by the long, yellow evening light. It was lovely.

The Colosseum also is one of those monuments (like the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul) which bears the burden of over-familiarity before one ever sees it. I think it was smaller than I expected. But still a harmonious architectural experience... I'm stumbling over whether to call it a 'whole' or 'ruin;' it is less fragmentary than emptied out, like a hollow conch shell. Perhaps one becomes more aware of spiraled arcades and their form because of the absolute space they now contain.

Andrew's photo of the Colosseum is one of my favorites; he captures an image within an image, including the monument as artist's model in the frame of the photograph. We saw this street artist the first day that we explored the area. Most of Rome we would see on foot; I was surprised at how walk-able the city really was.

I mentioned the Speculum project earlier, something I'm immersed in once again that I'm back in Chicago. Looking at the reception of the Colosseum through the circulation of prints demonstrates just how significant this monument was. Part of its historiography that I have just become aware of are two complementary essays by Percy Bysshe Shelley and Mary Shelley that conjure up the ancient past with all the potency of Romanticism. P.B. Shelley's work was never published, being fragmentary itself. But it is based on an imagined ekphrasis of the Colosseum as a young girl describes the monument to her blind father. His sympathetic insight completes our image of the amphitheater and revives for a moment its past grandeur.

Anyway, I won't repeat the literary effort, just provide a few glimpses of what remains on view...

Interior of the Colosseum, looking at the subterranean rooms beneath the floor.

Detail; a section of repaired seating?

Roman and Imperial Forums

After reaching the Capitoline Hill, we spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the Roman and Imperial Forums. Actually, the Imperial Forums looked rather dismal; there are supposed tours of the area including Trajan's column... but like half the obelisks around the city, the magnificent column and its spiral reliefs were disguised by scaffolding, and the excavated ruins were filled with trash and graffiti. The Roman Forums, adjacent to the Capitoline Museum, were more cleaned up and presentable. Thus, they were also crowded with tourists! Andrew and I joined the milling crowds and got audio guides to better understand just what each bit of broken column and fragmented foundation indicated once upon a time. Some of the temples had been converted to Christian churches. These were more intact, although the ancient buildings were often juxtaposed with modern facades. The many layers of Roman history were also evident in the accumulation of structures inside the forums.

The Roman Forums; view from inside the Capitoline Museums.

A view from ground level.

Andrew in front of the Arch of Septimus Severus.

The audio tour took some time; we followed a little map with numbers at the various spots for which the recorded tour provided information. The English version of the tour was given in proper British form. "Hit the pause/play button" became the catchphrase of the day.

I was most excited to take in the monuments that I'd memorized while TAing and then teaching intro Art History surveys... the Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine, the Triumphal Arches of Titus and Constantine (just outside the Forum), and later on the Colosseum. These were all impressive. But I appreciated seeing them in context instead of in glossy photo isolation within a heavy textbook. The experience of wandering through the forums also made me question why these monuments have become so emblematic of their culture. I wasn't aware of the existence of the Severan Arch until this past year, when I began working on a digitization project of 16th and 17th century prints (the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae) with another faculty advisor on my committee. It is as majestic and as interesting as the Arches of Titus or Constantine!

Detail of captured Parthians on the Arch of Septimus Severus.

Original bronze doors from the Temple of Romulus.

The Arch of Titus.



The Forum and Capitoline Hill from the Arch of Titus.

The Campidoglio

Another Michelangelo triumph (paving the transition between Renaissance and Baroque), the Campidoglio provides the secular navel of Rome in contrast to St. Peter's (the sacred). On day two, Andrew and I headed to the Capitoline Hill and the Forums. My list of things to see was overwhelming... and I'd realized immediately that my week visit was far too short. We were tripping over the past, whether that meant Antiquity, the Middle Ages, Renaissance, or Baroque (history didn't stop there, but the monuments I was familiar with pretty much do). Even my attempts to describe itineraries are crowded with the parenthetical!



Reaching the Campidoglio required the ascent of a long ramp, with the alternative of stairs on either side. The piazza didn't open up in front of us until we'd gotten to the top. The trio of building facades was impressive enough; these now preface the Capitoline Museums. The Palazzo Senatorio is the central structure with the Palazzo dei Conservatori and Palazzo Nuovo on right and left respectively. I wanted to find the real Marcus Aurelius on horseback inside, besides a few other well-known Roman statues. Andrew was going to explore the area on his own and we agreed to meet back at the square in an hour and a half...

The center of the Campidoglio with a replacement for Marcus Aurelius
(note the bride and groom walking in from the right for their wedding pictures).

Marcus Aurelius and his equestrian mount; inside the Capitoline Museums.

The Etruscan She-Wolf (Romulus and Remus are Renaissance additions).

While I was browsing the museum, Andrew discovered his own statuary, which he showed me later. This street artist always had a crowd and the best costuming I saw (there was a gladiator running around down by the Colosseum, I think for tourist photo-ops). In fact, he was so convincing that Andrew thought he was the real McCoy at first. He was checking for some kind of identification or inscription at the statue base when the actor moved. I wish I'd seen Andrew's reaction!

Street performer by the Imperial Forums.

The Gallery of Maps

One of the surprises waiting for us in the Vatican was the Gallery of Maps. Andrew and I explored slowly, enjoying the details of the maps which included topographical views of various Italian cities, elaborate cartouches, personifications, ships, and historical vignettes. I bought a picture book of the frescoes; it was difficult to take in everything at once!

My favorite detail was a chariot pulled by two white griffins... they looked like smthg. out of J.K. Rowling (Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid).

Andrew in front of a map fresco.

A detail of Tuscany's cities; Siena and Florence

A fantastic sea chariot bearing Christopher Columbus

The rearing griffins

St. Peter's Basilica

St. Peter's Basilica - Bernini's piazza

St. Peter's was the first on my 'to do' list for Rome... it was also the closest of Rome's monuments in proximity to my B&B, either that or the Castel Sant'Angelo. I met my friend Andrew in Italy; he'd arrived the day before me (when I was actually supposed to be coming into town but had a cancelled flight). We both found Bed & Breakfasts in the Borgo neighborhood. The B&B option was definitely the most economic of what was on offer!

Andrew is a good friend from college, and married to my roommate, Heather. =) I was sorry Heather couldn't also join us during the trip. But as a free-lance photographer, Andrew did a lot of roaming around on his own (the pun is his, too). I plan to link to more than one of his photos in this next section. What I esp. enjoyed was getting to see the eternal city, its monuments and people through another's eyes. My attention and photo-taking was focused on the historical past, while Andrew captured much of the living pulse of the city.

Since St. Peter's and the Vatican were close by, it wasn't as difficult to be up early my first morning (Saturday) and to claim our place in line. I think we got to the queue at 7.30; tour groups quickly pushed the waiting crowd around two more corners of the wall/sidewalk. But at 8 am, the line began to move and we were admitted to the museums without further ado.

The dome of St. Peter's as seen from inside the Vatican
(Michelangelo's handiwork; at least, his design).

The Vatican Museums are set up on a one-way viewing route. I suppose it manages the crush of visitors to Michelangelo's ceiling and Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. All signs point to this destination and it was our goal as well. To avoid museum fatigue, I wanted to just do the highlights our first day (the Stanze Rafaello and the Sistine). I planned to come back to the Vatican again at the end of the week when I could spend more time in its early Christian collections and synthesize what I'd seen on foot with what was labeled and on display.

Photography wasn't allowed in the Sistine Chapel. So Andrew and I took our time to move from one end of the room to the other, craning our neck to look upwards at the ceiling with occasional breaks for finger massages. We discussed the levels of iconography at work, the progression of artistic vision and expressive power from one end of the ceiling (the Deluge) to the other (the Creation), but mostly just absorbed one of the greatest painted cycles in the Western canon. There are some things that can't be put into words. The experience of standing in front of/beneath these High Renaissance frescoes is just that. The frescoes surrounded me. Instead of my body dominating the viewing experience, determining how I see the image, it was the painted surfaces of the rooms that directed my movement through them, movement of both vision and feet.

Raphael, "School of Athens," 1509-12



Raphael's self-portrait tucked away among the "School of Athens."

The interior of St. Peter's Basilica

I can't resist the impulse to art historical discourse for a moment... Just wanted to point out the working relationship between Raphael's frescoes and the architectural project of the High Ren to rebuild St. Peter's basilica. A quick comparison of the "School of Athens" with my shot of the interior of St. Peter's shows off the affinity of architectural spaces. The huge piers and coffered barrel vaults in the fresco have been interpreted as Raphael's homage to the new crossing of St. Peter's. Bramante was the architect first given the project, and served as Raphael's mentor (He shows up as Euclid on the right hand side of the Athens gathering; many of the famous artists of the High Renaissance are given cameo appearances among the natural scientists and philosophers of ancient Greece).

The piers of the crossing were about all Bramante accomplished before he passed away. Raphael would also try his hand at the St. Peter's project (it went through quite the series of architects) before it became Michelangelo's responsibility. Finally, a view of the facade of Old St. Peter's, the basilica constructed in the 4th century, peaks out from behind the pope in another Raphael fresco, "Fire in the Borgo." Old St. Peter's is only known in bits and pieces, so I was fascinated by this glimpse of the early Christian church to add to my list of reconstructions.

Raphael, "Fire in the Borgo," 1514

Finally, from the large courtyard within the Vatican Museums, the bronze pine cone that used to be at the center of St. Peter's atrium courtyard. It was a fountain, I believe, spurting water from each of its bristles.

Leaving Egypt

These last few shots are from our hotel in Zamalek, the Longchamps. It was actually really delightful, run by a German ex-patriot and provided with contintental decor. I'd stay there again if I ever return to Cairo; and was thankful for the island of quiet in the evenings... With all the fiasco of a cancelled flight right before I was supposed to go on to Rome, I espeically appreciated the helpfulness of the staff, and their flexibility in giving me a room for one more night.

I didn't think about taking pictures of the hotel until my final evening there. These two are of the large balcony on the main floor (5th floor of the building; we sat on top of the 'Horus Hotel'). I ordered dinner from the hotel restaurant that last evening rather than wandering around to eat out by myself!

I also wanted to include a photo of the Nile at dusk after mentioning those evening walks in my last post. Lights on water are always magical, somehow. These are several floating restaurants permanently moored along the eastern edge of Zamalek. There were also tour boats that traveled up and down the river; I'd given a quick look at the options suggested in the guidebook, but neither Dave or I were interested in the bellydancing show that seemed to come along w/ the boat tickets! We could have tried for a more local activity, like taking a river-taxi or felucca. Still, just walking along the riverfront was fascinating enough.

A day on my own

Entrance to the Coptic Museum

I ended up with a day on my own in Cairo... not something I'd originally planned! My flight from Cairo to Rome with Alitalia was canceled last-minute. After some frantic phone calls, I found an alternate flight out the next day.

David left early Thursday morning (like, 4 am). I said goodbye and went back to sleep... But after tying up the remaining loose ends as to travel details, I decided to brave the streets of Cairo that afternoon and set off for the Coptic Quarter.

Coptic Egypt seemed applicable to the general time-frame of my dissertation ideas, and I've always been curious about the forms and practices of Early Christianity. The Coptic Museum was newly-opened (the cafe wasn't yet operating... thus my plans for lunch fell through and I nibbled on left-over luna bars while exploring the sunken streets of the old quarter). Its exhibits were informative and had extensive labels, unlike the Antiquities Museum! I was surprised at the amount of carved stone-work from chapels and monasteries; these were really deep reliefs, and full of frolicking, pagan subject matter. The bits of fresco and wall-painting preserved the monasteries were less shocking =) Typical, byzantinizing iconography.


As I mentioned, the street level of the Coptic Quarter, the old city of Cairo, was quite far below the level of modern streets surrounding it. I missed the entrance the first few times I tried, because I simply wasn't looking for stairs leading down! But I had time to see some of the old pilgrimage churches there, St. Sergius and St. Barbara, as well as the Ben Ezra Synagogue, before returning to the main street in order to find the Hanging Church. This was a church suspended above a Roman water gate. There were one or two spots where glass was inserted into the floor to provide a glimpse of the masonry underneath. The interior was much better lit than the other Coptic churches, and more ornate.

As I was leaving, two girls came up to me and struck up something of a conversation. They wanted to try their English, although it took a while for them to remember how to ask what my name was! It was fun to establish the basics of communication. They were thrilled to get a photo taken with me, yet I also wanted to be able to leave a souvenir with them. Since I had two postcards from the Sinai Monastery tucked into my guidebook, I signed these as gifts. I was wearing the pilgrim ring from St. Catherine's that Father Nilus gave each of us. This had prompted them to ask if I was married. I said no, and tried to explain. I don''t think the connection between the ring and the postcards ever got through!

The Hanging Church (a view of the interior above).

A Mosaic of the Holy Family, said to have taken refuge
during their Flight to Egypt in old Cairo.

My new acquaintances, Rowida and Maru.

I then took the metro from Mari Girgis (St. George) back to Maidan Tahrir, and walked back the length of the island to our hotel. I enjoyed the final opportunity to walk along the Nile in the evening; Dave and I had done this previous evenings as well.

The metro was one of the most impressive aspects of Cairo! Clean, efficient, easy to use... It was also relaxing to sit in the front cars, reserved for female passengers. I definitely noticed the difference in walking about by myself for one afternoon in contrast to being a tourist w/ Dave along as my 'chaperone.' I got a lot more comments from the Egyptian men sitting out on the street or in front of their shops. In general, the public spaces of Cairo are male-dominated.
But I was pleased that we'd spent enough time in Egypt for me to gain some confidence and the ability to get around on my own. It was definitely the most foreign of the cities I experienced. Perhaps the most 'medieval'...

Adventures in Cairo

It is time to move on from Mt. Sinai and the Monastery of St. Catherine's, and re-enter the fray. I've been slow to keep my blog going the past few weeks and have stranded my audience in the Sinai desert! In fact, returning to Cairo was rather frazzling...

Dave and I enjoyed an additional two days during my trip in Cairo, doing the usual tourist thing. I think we enjoyed it. It was unforgettable, at least.



Our first goal was the pyramids; we went to the big three at Giza and to Saqqara. Since we hadn't indulged the bedouins and their camels at Sinai, Dave and I agreed to try a camel ride here. We'd hired a driver from the hotel for the day, and Amro set us up with one of his friends at the base of the pyramids. I don't know how we would have ever chosen from among the persistent tourist options on our own; but it was also rather challenging to accept the negotiation done on our behalf. We never felt exactly in control of the situation, where we were going, or how much money we were spending! The expectation for tips, or baksheesh, was rampant, and inflated our camel ride by another 60 or so Egyptian pounds (tips for the 'guide' and for the boy who held the ropes and lead the camels). We also had a hard time avoiding the unofficial tour guides at Saqqara (another 50 pounds, including the privilege of taking pictures... we were told insistently that we weren't supposed to take photos, "no camera," but as soon as we were tucked around the corner away from any other tourists and their guides, "take photo! take photo!," in the imperative).

These were some of the culture adjustments we had to make; overall it was exhausting... and so after an inflated lunch near Memphis (lots of greasy mezes for twice as much as what we paid in Cairo, and far too much to be able to eat), Dave especially was ready to call it quits. He had a more suspicious meat for his main dish than I did... And certainly wasn't willing to spend any more money on the 'hidden costs' of being a tourist.

But I am glad we got our camel ride in. It was a great view of the pyramids, even if I would have liked to get closer to the sphinx. Our so-called guide, by the way, informed us that the sphinx has the head of a man, the hair of woman (!), and the body of a lion. No reason for this hybridity of being. Not to mention the quite clear iconographic reference of the sphinx's 'hair' to the pharonic headdress. Oh, well. I didn't know enough Arabic to argue, as my only vocabulary word was "thank you" (shokrun). I used that one word an awful lot!

I could feel that camel ride in my muscles, bones and entire body for the next several days. Good thing we did a lot of walking.

The Pyramids at Giza (Menkaure, Kahfre, and Khufu)

The Great Sphinx

Supposedly the way I have my feet crossed in front of the pomel
is the 'bedouin' way of riding. I don't think it made things
any more comfortable...

The following are some of the 'forbidden' photos from the Mastabas at Saqqara. The reliefs were quite nice, and I would have liked to browse them more at my leisure instead of at the pace of our tour guide's memorized English commentary! We didn't get to see the funerary complex of Zoser of the famous stepped pyramid. I was disappointed about this. But I think that was just at our breaking point of communication and patience with the whole experience. However, it was quite something to duck down into the entrance shaft of one small pyramid and crawl into the burial chamber at its heart. Dave, all of 6'2" or more, was stooped over double!

False door in the Mastaba of Mereruka, Saqqara



Our 'guide' and Amro's son Hossam, who was along for the ride,
both standing beside a large black sarcophagus (inside the Pyramid of Teti).

On our second day in Cairo, we did our own thing. We navigated fairly well w/ the maps in my 'Rough Guide' (it helped that our hotel was on an island in the middle of the Nile; there weren't too many ways to get lost!). We went first to the Egyptian Antiquities Museum, and spent several hours exploring the vast rooms there. In the afternoon we walked around Islamic Cairo between Khan el-Khalili (the bazaars) and the Citadel. By this time, we were pros at finding taxis and fairly confident with the local rates.

Lions at the Tahrir Bridge;
this was how we crossed over to the Antiquities Museum from
the bottom of Zamalek, the island where our hotel was located.



The Egyptian Antiquities Museum



The lotus pool in front of the museum.

Purr request...

Click to play

Sinai kittens

We'll see how I do with my posting expertise and digital savvy... I'm trying to figure out how to include a Quick-Time video clip. I should also take the time to acknowledge some of the other contributors to my Sinai pictures. This video is one that David took outside the charnel house of two frolicking kittens. Their antics reminded me of the stories of monks and leopards, even though these felines were much more diminutive than their spotted cousins. In their play, however, they seem to be just as ferocious!

Dave also took the photo inside the charnel house of all the skulls, a couple that I included from our hike down Mt. Sinai, and a nice shot of the monastery basilica. Carissa photographed the group of Korean tourists/pilgrims who were singing on top of the mountain. I also owe Carissa for the picture of Father Nilus; I never got around to asking him for one as we explored the monastery together.

Now, for the Sinai kittens:

Click to play

The Charnel House

Our very last tour at St. Catherine's, appropriately enough, was of the charnel house where the Sinai monks are interred. Father Nilus showed us the small cemetary first; it seemed only to have enough room for the 3 or 4 persons currently buried there. I don't know the amount of time required before the bodies would be taken up out of the hard soil and placed among the company of fathers, hermits, and saints who'd died long before.



This was the only picture that any of us took; like visiting the monastery church, the charnel house was a place set apart and hardly felt appropriate for snapping photographs (although it was fascinating, and one of the most unforgettable things we saw at Sinai).

The charnel house was small, and nondescript on the outside. I didn't know which building it was before we entered. The interior had two 'cages' of wire mesh. One held the skulls of the deceased fathers, the other their assorted bones. Along the wall were square niches that evidently contained the bodies of former abbots to the monastery. Only one skeleton remained entire; this was propped in a seated position inside a case of some sort. Through the glass door, we could see bony arms extending from heavy liturgical robes. As we were looking around, several Orthodox visitors also came into the charnel house, and one of the men asked Father Nilus if he could offer incense before the enshrined monk. He was St. Stephen, a 6th -century hermit of the Sinai who spent most of his life out on the mountains rather than inside the monastery walls. I think Stephen is also supposed to be the monk who heard confession from pilgrims as they ascended Mt. Sinai. He was definitely the desert father about whom a couple of stories circulated in monastic literature... our reading during the week included some excerpts (translated by Father Justin), and St. Stephen was one of our favorites. He'd been upset by rodents and wild animals who kept raiding his garden. After praying about it, God sent a leopard to guard his vegetables. The leopard had previously brought its wild young to be healed by the saint.

As Carissa loves the stories of Celtic saints and their interaction with animals, these stories were esp. memorable. The one I liked best was the story about two monks who saw a dragon sitting in the valley as they were out and about, away from the monastery (perhaps taking a daily constitutional, like one of the Sinai fathers who we kept seeing on his walk down to the Village of St. Catherine's each afternoon). One monk wanted to run away. The other said they should pray; and voila, as soon as they'd tried that, the dragon rose up into the air. It flew higher and higher (so that it looked like a cloud) until all the sudden it came tumbling down out of the sky. When it hit the ground it broke into little pieces. After I read that story, every cloud I saw (and they were rare) became a dragon.

Sorry for the digression; what I meant to bring up was the utter foreignness of this experience in the charnel house and a bit of discussion about relics.

First, I have to attempt describing the smell. The incense helped a bit. And maybe some of what we smelled was the accumulated pungeance from incense that had been burned before. When we walked into the charnel house, however, all of us were struck by the odor of who knows what. Bones? Dessicated skin and mummified human flesh? Death? (Hans claimed that he smelled death in Istanbul, at a little shrine w/ two or three sarcophagi in the Mevlevi Monastery. It was more like the smell of dust.)

As Father Nilus explained some of the history of the desert fathers, he also pointed out the brown color of many of the bones. This, he said, was evidence of their sanctity. For divine grace received by the soul is also held in the body, and provides saints with incorruption after their physical death. Timothy Ware had said something very similar in his book on Orthodoxy to defend the veneration of relics. I suppose all this clarifies for me just how 'western' and empirical I tend to be in my assumptions and how I understand the world, as well as my faith and theology. We all smiled and nodded as we listened. But what skeptics! I'm not sure what I think will happen to my own body between Death and Last Judgment. Nor its place in a New Jerusalem. Like the allure of gene manipulation, there are lots of things I'd hope to change =) Ah, well.

Courtyard and the coffeeshop

And, of course, cats! The feline species seemed to be a constant on this trip... which I didn't mind in the least. More on this later, if I can figure out how to upload a short video clip onto my blog.



We spent a great deal of our time in the afternoon and evening sitting in the courtyard at the guesthouse. There were a few others who frequented the same spot: a group of Russian women who seemed to be pretty dedicated to the liturgical schedule (they were usually going back and forth to the monastic services), the guesthouse staff, and a monk (maybe also a visitor?) who would listen to sports broadcasts on a portable radio. I should have brought more reading with me. Dave quickly went through the murder mystery that Carissa had along. Carissa, meanwhile, was reading Timothy Ware's "History of Orthodoxy," and filling us in on the finer points of doctrine. I suppose I had enough to do catching up on my journal notes from Istanbul and filing pictures on my computer. =)

But our quiet afternoons were something I wouldn't experience elsewhere on my trip! In both Istanbul and Rome, it always felt like there was one more thing to see/do. I was always exhausted by evening (literally foot-sore). The opportunity to accustom our schedule to that of the monastery was refreshing.

We didn't exactly attend all the services... it would have meant getting up regularly at 4 am. For Sunday morning, Father Nilus suggested that 6 or 6.30 would be fine. I think we were all relieved to hear that! But listening to the chanted liturgies and being able to observe the quality of sunlight in the basilica change through the duration of the service, staying alert to the moments at which we were supposed to stand up from our wooden stalls (seats fitted between the columns on either side of the central aisle), all this suggested the life and pulse of the Sinai monastery (vs. a museum).




The monastic routine was as simple and repetitive, in a sense, as the rugged landscape around us. And as subtle in its variation. I never got tired of watching evening fall. We would read in the courtyard until it was too dark to see as we waited for the cafeteria to open for dinner. Each night the sky held almost the same colors; there was only a hint of warm yellow or gold at the horizon (there weren't clouds to create any stunning sun-sets). Yet it was always mysterious and beautiful.