The Tourist Gaze

The next morning, following breakfast, we set out once more, this time bound for St. Catherine’s Monastery at the base of Mt. Sinai. Here, we plan to reunite with our groupmates who have climbed to the summit for the sunrise.

Leaving the comfort of the resort behind, we make the journey from Taba Heights to St. Catherine (the name of the town itself). As we wind through the untamed terrain of southern Sinai, we find ourselves surrounded by rocky mountains and large areas of barren wildness the farther we get into the desert.

The drive is an adventure in and of itself. Our bus is part of a military convoy, which is a regular safety measure for tourists traveling through this area of Egypt. It’s a bit exciting and unnerving, though Michel, our guide, assures us that it’s just a precaution. There have been times of instability on the Sinai Peninsula, especially in the northern region, where militant organizations have recently been active, and while South Sinai is generally considered safe, the Egyptian government prefers to exercise an abundance of caution. As if the convoy isn’t enough of a safeguard, throughout the trip, a tourist police officer sits at the front of our bus. Which is fine because he acts as the point person as we go through checkpoints–and Sinai has a lot of them.

About two hours later, we reach the gate that marks the entry to St. Catherine’s Monastery. Our bus stops. We step off and begin the short walk to the security checkpoint. The rocky mountains that seem to defend this historic place give the surrounding area a sense of seclusion and remoteness. The stony, dusty landscape is peppered with scant flora, and the clear desert air is still, save for the faint murmur of distant voices and the sound of other tourists’ shoes crunching on the sand. A few stone houses are scattered throughout, their worn walls fitting in well with the desert colors. Close to the checkpoint are Bedouin guides sitting peacefully with their camels, patiently sleeping in the blazing sun.

At the checkpoint, a guard stands beside a basic metal detector. The setup might be low-tech, but the process is thorough: each of us is required to open our bags for manual inspection. It’s a quick process overall, though, and once the guard has deemed us all cleared, Michel presents us the option to either walk the remaining 800 meters to the monastery or take a taxi. The path is slightly inclined, and while some in our group decide to walk, I opt for the taxi, still feeling the fatigue from all the walking we’ve done at the previous destinations. The brief ride gives my legs a chance to recover, if only slightly. Moments later, we arrive at the foot of the monastery, its ancient walls standing quietly against the rugged Sinai landscape.

At the gate of the monastery itself, we finally meet with the Mt. Sinai climbers, who are so excited sharing their experience seeing the sun rise at such a sacred place. Michel then gathers us all together and takes us inside.

St. Catherine’s Monastery is an ancient fortress monastery in that dates back to 527 CE. Built under the orders of Emperor Justinian, the basilica-style church features impressive granite columns supporting the nave. Inside, the church boasts treasures like 6th-century mosaics depicting the Transfiguration of Christ and chapels adorned with ancient and modern icons lining its side aisles. Recognized as the oldest Christian monastery still serving its original purpose, it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the early 2000s.

The sanctuary includes a small alcove leading to the Chapel of the Burning Bush, believed to be where God spoke to Moses. “This bush is of an unknown species, actually,” says Michel as he directs our gaze towards a a low, scraggly shrub with thick, twisted branches that seem to curl and weave in various directions, giving it a somewhat tangled look. “The monks have tried moving this to other places within the monastery grounds, but it simply wouldn’t grow anywhere else. It seems to thrive only where it stands now, in this small, protected area of the monastery.” It’s easy to take Michel’s words as they are, with the passionate way he shares his knowledge. But I’ve read some sources beforehand–scholars debate whether the bush is actually the one from the Old Testament as it’s highly unlikely that the same plant has survived for thousands of years. Nonetheless, the tradition of reverence for the site remains strong.

Another notable feature in the monastery is the Well of Moses, which, according to tradition, is where Moses rested and watered his flock of sheep after fleeing Egypt and before his encounter with the Burning Bush. The well itself is a simple, stone structure, its cool, clear water offering a refreshing contrast to the harsh desert surroundings. Tucked away in a corner of the monastery, it’s surrounded by low stone walls and a courtyard. The environment is chaotic as a group of schoolchildren, probably on a field trip, are gathered around the well, laughing and chatting excitedly. They seem to take an interest in our group, waving at us shyly. Other tourists wander around, some taking photos, others pausing for a brief moment of respite.

Other features in the monastery are a library of rare manuscripts and a museum showcasing an exceptional collection of icons, though access to these areas requires prior permission.

Back outside the monastery walls, Bedouin vendors approach us, offering stones that have been cracked open and hollowed out, revealing intricate etchings of the Burning Bush inside. Michel tells us that these etchings inside the hollowed stones are signs of something spiritual, a direct connection to the miraculous events that took place here centuries ago. But I don’t know. It’s counterintuitive to think such in a religious pilgrimage tour, but I feel like it’s similar to seeing Jesus on a piece of toast.

Nevertheless, divine or not, I don’t have the budget, so I just make my way back to the taxi. We’re at the bus a few minutes later to head to a nearby restaurant for lunch, and afterwards begin the seven-hour journey to Cairo.