Megan E. Rooney
Sinai:
Misconceptions along the footsteps of history
Why do we travel?
To see things.
Pictures do that. There must be more.
To feel things.
What things?
The past. The lingering consciousnesses of important events,
We go to participate in the footsteps of history.
"And the L ORD came down upon Mount Sinai , on the top of the mount: and the L ORD called Moses up to the top of the mount; and Moses went up" KJV
Even to this day, in the back corners of my mind, I envision most biblical events occurring in cartoon form. I credit this contorted view to the fact that my first bible was The Illustrated Children's Bible. The reality of Moses, Abraham, Jesus and the Disciples is obscured by thought bubbles and googely eyes. I had hoped to find a physical place to put my thoughts on God, man, miracles and the like; to feel the echoes of God's presence, crossing my fingers for inspiration of the divine variety. As you can see I'm not exactly one to aim low in order to avoid disappointment, hell, I invite it. Luckily I didn't bet the farm on divine understanding.
I wasn't thinking about world peace and Easter eggs as I sat on the dirty cement steps outside The Cosmopolitan Hotel waiting for our van to arrive. Instead my thoughts turned to suicide bombers, Al Qaeda, and the grave expressions of CNN news reporters. I gagged down all the 'what-ifs' welling up in my throat and maneuvered myself back toward rationality.
The city of 20 million faded into desert as our dilapidated excuse for a van bounced and rattled along the washboard highways. Any fear I had was jostled out and replaced by a crisp anticipation of the possibilities ahead. As the sun dipped below the horizon we had left any recognizable civilization behind and were alone in the company of unending mountains. I had erroneously envisioned our destination as a solitary, triangular mountain, surrounded by a flat, empty desert. This again may be a product of cartoon-bible influence. Contrary to my ignorance, the entire peninsula is covered in low mountains of bare rock resembling lumps of clay that has been cut haphazardly with a razor. The deep folding crevices were accentuated at night and the edges blurring into the sky like a charcoal painting. The paper-bag browns of the desert were transformed by inky blues of the dark sky that spilled over everything. It took me a few minutes to realize that there weren't any street lights; the road was illuminated solely by unimaginably bright moon and stars. The stars were as densely packed as the city lights of Cairo , looking more like dust than individual points of light.
The van eased to a stop; slowly blinking I refocused onto earth and reality. Before us sat what I would categorize as, more of a strange pavilion than the anticipated hotel. Colorful mattresses and pillows were strewn about on a plank floor, the makeshift roof that seemed to be more of an afterthought. Despite its rather pathetic nature and flashing neon sign declaring it "Fox Camp" the refuge managed to retain quite a bit of charm. We rested there for a few hours until around 2am , allowing ourselves just enough time to reach the top by sun rise. Groggy and disoriented we followed our guide to the base of the mountain, adrenaline and surprise sharpening my senses when it came into view. . .
Keeping in line with my recent tradition of holding entirely misguided ideas, I imagined the site as deserted. Thinking that somehow it wouldn't occur to anyone else to visit one of the most historically and religiously significant sights in the world . . duh Meg . . . it was obviously swarming with people. The feeling in the air was reminiscent of the hour before a huge marathon; the exhilaration was as palpable as rain. Hordes of people from every ethnicity frantically passed around water and fanny packs. There was almost no English spoken around us, Americans seem to be more skittish about the whole terrorist bit. Note: the mountain was not in fact cartoon, though I didn't share that particular revelation with the class.
As soon as we passed through the metal detectors and gave the armed guards our identification (just like Moses did) our group of ten began our ascent. As we stumbled up the dark path, navigating rocks and herds of tourists, hundreds of haughty camels looked down their noses at us thinking, "stupid human, learn to walk." I soon became very aware of my own heavy breathing and burning calves. Jealously watching the tourists sitting atop their own camels I reached for my wallet, but was interrupted by a gray haired couple wearing business suits and dress shoes. They trotted by chatting happily in Japanese and my pride kept me grounded. Apparently, in a foot race, I would lose to the entire country of Japan , grandparents, dress shoes and all.
The top was exactly the same and completely different from what I had anticipated, although it wasn't cartoon it was just as surreal. My legs burned through the last few hundred rocks posing as stairs and I began to hear long monotonous calls of, "Blankets. . . mattresses. . . . blankets. . . .!" The buzz of a hundred different languages all spoken at once became louder as I rounded over the last stairs and saw, what I can only describe as, a circus with a helluva view. People milling around like ants, jockeying for the best view and bickering over which way is east; families disguised as five headed monsters under their large wool blankets. All the way down the east face of the mountain a series of ledges held sleeping campers, impervious to the noise. I broke down and paid ten pounds for a dirty wool blanket and followed the group to what was determined "the best spot ever." True: you couldn't find a better spot than perching on a slanted rock on the east face of the mountain. Also true: you could find a more comfortable spot. But no matter, butt-numbness was farthest from our minds as tendrils of smoky red light began to shoot out from behind the mountains.
Post Script: I went to Sinai with hopes of divine revelation. As most lofty and unrealistic goals do it fell hard. Big surprise, I'm not Moses. I didn't get chat with the most high, but I now understand why I want to, why I need some explanation. I can't help but continue to search and wonder. And on occasion, climb a big mountain.
