|emily and i in front of Amr ibn al-As mosque|
(Okay, I just heard "man on floor" shouted for the first time since I moved in a week ago. I really hope that it's not my roommate moving in - I've been really messy today.)
Although we couldn't visit the mosque properly, we could and did visit many Christian churches, and also the Ben Ezra synagogue, where I accidentally took pictures, because I totally missed the giant sign that said not to. I feel really guilty about that, but I didn't use the flash, so I guess I didn't hurt anything.
|our group at a church, pic taken by creeper tour guide|
|the lady herself|
My favorite church that we visited today was the church of Saint Bapara, or as you might know her better, Santa Barbara. It was a little bit surreal to be visiting a church built hundreds and hundreds of years ago, dedicated to the same woman that my part-time hometown is named for.
Her relics are actually in the church, and there was a nice little alcove where people could go to touch them (all wrapped up of course) and light candles and pray.
|we found dumbledore in old cairo!|
|an actual roman fort!|
|the well where moses' mother put him into the nile|
|saint george, or gerges as he's known here|
Ramadan, you take away the delicious Egyptian food that was promised to me. You hold it captive until 7 o'clock, and the hold it captive some more, as the city closes its doors and windows to foreigners as its inhabitants eat.
I respect you for what you are, I promise. I think you are a powerful manifestation of the faith of millions of people around the world, and I don't think you do anyone any harm.
I know I chose to move here, and I know that I made that choice in full (or at least adequate) knowledge of where I was coming and what that entailed. But why? Why do you make me feel guilty, Ramadan? Why is taking a drink of water in public during the day so different that not wearing a scarf to cover my hair? How can one violation of a public religious code that I don't follow make me feel so guilty, and the other not affect me at all? Why do you make me angry and frustrate me to the point that I would rather eat at McDonald's again than face the traffic jams you cause.
I don't know. Maybe I'll never understand Ramadan properly. Maybe, if I'm lucky, someday I will. Until then, I'll practice my patience and covert water drinking skills, and concentrate on this: five more days.