"Egypt is more than just pyramids," I tell Chucky as we're in the midst of our next adventure. This morning we're 60 miles northwest of Cairo, visiting a famous monastery called Dier Anba Bishoi in Wadi El-Natroun, surrounded by a desert consisting of salt lakes and salt flats. The Egyptians used to extract salt from here. The Christians established their monasteries here dating back to the 4th century.
Dier Anna Bishoi or St. Bishoi Monastery is named after patron St. Bishoi, who immigrated here and lived in solitude. It is one of five churches and is used only in the summer. It is an oasis with greenery and palm trees.
Everything about this place is old. We move from room to room. Chucky is in seventh heaven. The priest takes one look at Chucky, assumes he is a cat who lives at the monastery, and doesn't give him a second glance. Which is good news because this place is a wonderland for Chuck. He is sniffing to his heart's content.
We're greeted by a very charismatic priest who gives us a tour and recounts some of the highlights of the monastery's history--the destruction that was done and the many restorations over the thousands of years. Most notably there is a well on the property called the Well of Martyrs where, you guessed it, martyrs were thrown down to their death centuries ago. Today the well still produces fresh water, which is considered to be a miracle.
We pass ancient signs, frescoes, pottery laid out on tables that was used centuries ago and realize that even though this place is a working monastery, it is in many respects also a museum of sorts.
Out of nowhere, or so it seems, people have arrived and are filling up a beautifully decorated room--standing around, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Dan and I, and Chuck melt into the crowd.
Another priest arrives and the baptism procession begins.
There is incense, cymbal clanging, clapping, singing, chanting and an overall festive atmosphere. Dan is busy snapping photos. I'm in awe, watching everyone as they gather around the parents and the newborn.
And then I hear him. At first--what is that sound? It's not quite singing--a kind of mixture of mewing and meowing and . . . "Chuck, shshsh."
But Chucky, who is plastered to my side (thank God), is swaying in time to the chanting that is reverberating through the room. But his singing sounds more like caterwauling. Which is getting louder and louder.
I'm not going to panic. But I imagine a cat interrupting a baptism would not face an easy fate. I can see it all now--masked men swooping him up and dropping him in the Well of Martyrs!
I have to get him to stop singing. But he is just so darned cute. I hate to interrupt his reverie. Is anyone else noticing that he's horribly off key? The rascal cat can do many things well, but he can't sing!!
I kneel down next to him. "Chucky, no more singing, honey."
He looks up at me.
At that exact moment, everything around me goes quiet.
I place my finger on Chucky's lips.
The priest recites a prayer in Arabic.
Chucky goes silent. Is it a miracle? Or . . . I look over my shoulder. Dan, Mr. Hero Man, holds out a luscious treat and Chucky, needing to make a decision, chooses to eat and not sing.
Crisis is averted. No masked men will be coming for Chucky. The Well of Martyrs will not claim another innocent victim. I heave a sigh of relief.
We've learned one valuable lesson: the rascal cat can do many fabulous things but he can't sing!
