Return to Cairo via El Alamein and Wadi el Natrun
That last morning in charming Alexandria, I sat at the tram station, camera in one hand and a sweet tea with milk in the other. I like this city: the colors, the mood, the food, the sea air, the breezes, the old buildings, and the fantastic old trams. It was alive and vibrant, yet old and historical. Today we were returning to Cairo via El Alamein and Wadi el Natrun–a cemetery and a monastery–places with very different moods than beautiful Alexandria.
El Alamein
Along the Mediterranean Coast line, we passed decadent homes and hotels, perched there in the fringes of the desert by the sea. We were headed for El Alamein, a memorial cemetery that commemorates the 11,866 Commonwealth force soldiers who died during World War II. The place is peaceful and stark there at the edge of the Sahara–surrounded by warm walls to keep the desert sands at bay. Names and names and names are engraved in the warm walls and arches. They are so very far from home.
Wadi el Natrun
After a quiet, contemplative hour at the cemetery, we got back on the bus and headed southeast.
Our next stop was at the Coptic Orthodox Church’s Monastery of Saint Bishoy in the Wadi el Natrun valley. Founded in the 4th century, it is today a large parcel of land containing five churches, the Well of the 49 Martyrs, plus poultry, cattle breeding and dairy facilities, retreat houses, a papal residence, reception areas, an auditorium, and conference rooms.
A Coptic monk gave us a tour and explained that the rolled-up cloth in the chapel contained the uncorrupted body of St. Bishoy. The story goes that once, an old monk asked Bishoy to help him climb a mountain, so Bishoy carried the old man on his shoulders up to the top. Turns out, the old monk was Jesus, who then told Bishoy that, for his love and kindness, his body would never corrupt.
Saint Bishoy was also said to have been visited by Jesus at this monastery. When the monks learned that Jesus was coming, they gathered to see him. But earlier, an old man had asked these monks for help, and they ignored him. When Saint Bishoy saw the old man, he helped him and washed the old man’s feet. Once again, turns out that the old man was Jesus.
Unconditional kindness bestowed upon strangers. Seems like we still struggle with the concept in these times too.
The guide monk asked us to promise…”one minute in the morning for god”. I made the promise. I think of it as daily moments for unconditional kindness. That is god.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
