Cairo, Egypt. Blog Seven.

Memphis and the Red Pyramid

We wanted to visit an agricultural area, and the Red Pyramid because it looked as if it was in the desert rather than sandwiched between cities. Husband negotiated a car without a guide, because we wanted to plan our own route. This took some nifty negotiation, but he managed it.

When the car arrived, there was further negotiation about the route. The driver (who had 42 years experience as a tour guide—a sentence I heard a few times that day!) was insistent that it was much better to drive to the Saqqara area of pyramids, and look at those first. Then, if we wanted he could drive us to the Red Pyramid, and after that if we still had energy we could drive to Memphis (which had a small museum).

The driver spoke only to Husband during this negotiation, which I was very happy with. Male dominance is a thing in Egypt, but to be honest it rather suits me. The men are comfortable in their superiority and therefore only address other men. I don’t much like being spoken to by random men in the street, so was happy for all the touts to confront Husband. The women have a sort of secret understanding between themselves, so as I made eye-contact with women, they would smile, and nod, and I felt great unity with them. Mostly, I liked it. Being underestimated is usually a good thing I find.

Husband politely (because everything is polite in Egypt) insisted that we would first visit Memphis. We knew that Google maps showed this as an agricultural area, so we chose a small museum within Memphis as our destination. I suspect the driver had a planned route, that would take us to various places on the way where we could spend money and he would receive a percentage, and we rather ruined that. I didn’t feel guilty.

The museum at Mit Rahina was wonderful—my favourite museum so far (and Egypt has done very well with having non-pompous museums). The drive there was exactly what we hoped, and we drove beside a canal from the Nile, on a small road passing date palms, and sugar beet, and buffalo and goats. They were digging the silt from the river, and putting on the fields to fertilise them. We passed mosques and villages, hump-backed cows led by a man on a donkey, a camel under a load of branches, children playing, white egrets perched in trees above the water.

The museum itself was a large outside area, with traders selling crafts along the edge, and various ancient artifacts arranged in the middle. I had the impression that these things—the leg from a statue, a plaque with hieroglyphics—had been accidently dug up by builders, who simply drove their diggers to the museum and dumped their finds on the ground. Instead of being in glass cases, things were propped up against trees. Fabulous. We saw a big statue of RamsesII and an alabaster sphinx (smaller than the one in Giza, but in better condition).

The Red Pyramid is also worth visiting. There were very few tourists (only two other groups when we were there) and the pyramid is plonked in the desert, where it should be. The desert was packed hard sand and bits of crumbling stone from the pyramid. We were able to walk round in silence, while the other tourists were talked at by their guides (Husband joined in at one point, and told some Americans how old the pyramids are—I pretended I didn’t know him!)

We drove further across the desert to the Bent Pyramid (there’s a clue in the name). It was windy and there were lots of flies, but it was still brilliant. Behind the pyramid was the remains of a temple, made with ancient bricks. The bricks were made with mud and straw—just like the bricks described in the Bible story of the Exodus (when Pharoah got cross with Moses and told him they couldn’t have straw). How marvellous to actually see them (though I think these would be older than Exodus).

The pyramids and Sphynx in Giza are definitely worth visiting if you visit Cairo, but I really recommend that you go slightly further and see the Red Pyramid. They give a much better sense of history because they feel less ‘commercial.’ There are also no touts there, so you don’t need a guide.

Whatever you do today, I hope it’s good. Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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I will leave you with some more sights as we drove through the countryside.

If you enjoy travel blogs, why not read The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary ? If you have a Kindle, you can read it for free. Also available as a paperback (and it makes a brilliant Christmas gift!)

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Six

Posted by anneethompson

The Coptic District

We decided to visit the Coptic district, which is the oldest part of Cairo. The car dropped us near the ancient city wall, and we followed the crowds, walking along the street to where there were steps going down, and signs directing us to various places. There was no big sign saying This way to the Coptic district so we were a little unsure where to go—usually we avoid underground passages in unfamiliar cities—but we walked down the steps.

There was a short tunnel, under the old city wall, and then we were in a narrow lane, the walls lined with books for sale. It was very unexpected! Tour groups and local people all seemed to be walking in the same direction, so we followed the crowd, round a corner, to a junction with signs on walls and archways in the wall. It was too busy to check our map, but I remembered we planned to see the Church of St. Sergius and Bacchus so we followed the sign for that. It all felt rather disorientating to be honest, and I was disappointed because I knew there were several places I hoped to visit but I was beginning to think it would be too difficult to find them.

The church was built in the 11^th century, in honour of Sergus and Baccus, a couple of Roman soldiers who were martyred for being Christians. I had read that under the church is a cave, where it is believed Mary and Joseph lived when they ran to Egypt with baby Jesus, to escape King Herod. Several places in Egypt claim to have been visited by the holy family during their time here, which I guess makes for good tourism, but it’s easy to mock—and who knows? They must have lived somewhere and maybe afterwards they told people, and it was remembered.

We found a sign to the cave, and went down some steps, to the area below the church. Much of the Coptic area has stuff below it, because it was built on top of a Roman city. We were in a long line of tourists visiting the cave, so there was no great atmosphere to it, and it was hard to imagine how it might have been, with a young couple and a baby sheltering there.

The church itself was very glitzy, with lots of icons, gilt and tourists. Places like that don’t inspire me to pray, I find it hard to discover God under all the religion, but I guess people are different. To be honest, I found the mosques, with their ornate outsides and big empty interiors to be much better at inducing thoughts of God and prayer. I feel there must be a balance, something between the plain ugliness of a Baptist church and the distracting gloss of a high church. Somewhere special, but that doesn’t distract away from God.

Anyway, next we went to the Coptic Museum (because the Ben Ezra Synagogue, which I really wanted to see, was closed for renovations). We wandered into a private area by mistake, and were stopped by a friendly smiling man who turned out to be head of security. People in Egypt were always friendly. After being pointed in the right direction, we went to see the Nag Hammadi manuscripts (which are the source for Gnosticism—the belief that spirit is entirely separate to anything physical, and that Jesus was spirit, not physical). They also have the oldest surviving copy of the Psalms of David, but that was being restored so we couldn’t see it. We did see some very cool examples of early letters, written on pottery, in ancient Greek. (The museum also has very clean public toilets, if you’re interested.)

Finally, we visited the Hanging Church or Al Kineesa Al Mu’allaqa. It has a barrel-shaped ceiling, and white pillars that represent the 12 disciples, with a black one for Judas. Again, there were lots of icons, and gilt, and red bricks, and tourists. Part of the floor was glass, so you could peer down at the Roman towers below. (Which actually makes it less of a ‘hanging’ church and more of a ‘suspended’ one.)

We walked back to the hotel along busy roads. It was more of a slog than yesterday, and I found the constant honking of horns, the music of Cairo, to be very draining. We saw more poor people begging this time, including a young boy. I am uneasy refusing children, but I had no food to give him and money would possibly end up with the wrong person—so I told him no, and then felt guilty for the rest of the holiday and carried packets of Hulahoops everywhere in the hope I would see him again (but I never did).

At one point the road was very crowded with men, all waiting outside the Kuwait embassy. They queue there to apply for visas so they can go to work in Kuwait. It rained, quite heavily at one point, which I think is very rare here. Fingers up noses and men peeing behind parked cars seem to be a thing here. But mostly, I am interested by how friendly everyone is, how children smile and say hello, and people wave at us from buses, and greet us when we pass.

Later, there was a thunderstorm, and more rain. We watched from the balcony as big puddles formed on the roads. An unusual sight in Cairo. Thanks for reading. Hope you have a good day. Take care.
Love, Anne x

If you enjoy travel blogs, why not read The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary ? If you have a Kindle, you can read it for free. Also available as a paperback (and it makes a brilliant Christmas gift!)

What I Think About Dying

Posted by anneethompson

In England, it is Remembrance Sunday, when the churches are full of people wearing poppies and singing rousing hymns about young men who died protecting their country. It’s one of the few occasions when we think about death, the apparent waste of a young life, someone ‘giving their today for the sake of our tomorrows.’ Death of a young person always seems like a waste, doesn’t it? Unfulfilled potential.

Actually, I think death of other people is always horrible. Whatever words people say, trying to be kind, about the person ‘living on in our hearts’ is mostly not true. They are gone, and we miss them. Sometimes we miss them for the rest of our lives.

But I don’t want to talk about that, I want to talk for a little while about our death—yours and mine. Because whatever else we might know about life, we can be sure that one day, it will be our turn. When I had my brain tumour, I thought a lot about death. Everyone with a brain tumour knows that death is real, and it might not be very far away. Some people choose to push the thought away, to ‘keep being positive,’ but I’ve never been one for avoiding difficult issues, so I thought about it, and prayed about it, and came to some conclusions. I share them with you now because one day, you will die, and maybe these thoughts will help you when the time is near. Maybe someone needs to hear them today.

For me, death is intrinsically linked to God, so even if you don’t believe in anything, bear with me.

Firstly, I do not believe that death was some ghastly mistaken afterthought. Nor do I believe that it happened because mankind sinned. If you read the story in Genesis, about the creation of humans and what their purpose was, then we can see, right at the start, there was a ‘tree of life.’ Why do we need a tree of life if there was never intended to be any dying? No, it was all part of the plan. We were created with an expiry date! I find that comforting. Death, when it comes, is not due to anything bad, something humans caused; it was always part of the plan.

Therefore, when it’s time for dying, I absolutely believe that God has it sorted. And if God has it sorted, it will be better than we can imagine—which is why it’s also scary—because it is beyond our imagination. Anything we can’t imagine happening is scary. I suspect that being born was scary, but we don’t remember that far back. The thing is, I think it is meant to be scary, because we are not supposed to be dead, not yet. If we all went around wanting to be dead, then imagine the mess! It would be very untidy. Being alive, wanting to be alive, means that we do not want to be dead. Which is how things are meant to be.

I also believe, absolutely, that when it is time for me to die, God will make me ready. But not beforehand. If a child is given a train ticket to hold at the start of the journey, they will probably lose it, so a good parent gives them the ticket at the end, just before they need it. God is a good parent, so we will be ready to die when we need to be, and not before. Whenever I talk to people with terminal illness, and they tell me they are scared of dying, I tell them that they probably won’t die today. When it’s time, maybe not until the actual minute, God will make us ready. And ‘dying’ isn’t really a thing. The people who I have been close to have all been living even if living more slowly, right up until they died. Their bodies may have been broken, but they never stopped being themselves and having opinions and emotions. Until you are dead, you are alive.

Personally, I believe that when it’s time, Jesus will collect me, because that’s what he said he would do. We don’t die alone, even if no other person is close. Dying is about God, and souls, and probably where we physically are doesn’t matter much (though I hope to have sight of the sky and something beautiful). We tend to think of Heaven as ‘up there’ and far away. But I think that Heaven is near, all around us, through a veil that’s very thin, but we don’t see it. Heaven is a different dimension, not a place far away. I think passing through that veil will be very easy, and then we will rest, until it’s time for a new earth, and a new body (and I’m hoping the new body has a better singing voice than the current one!) But that’s all for later, not something worth thinking about really.

My own view is that when Jesus died, he paid the price for everyone, for all time, and that no one needs to be scared about dying. We can all trust God on this one. Other people disagree, so you must make up your own mind—but looking to God for answers is definitely a good start.

So that’s it: What I think about dying. Not very complicated, and not scary, not if you trust God.

But I hope you won’t die today and you will enjoy every day that you are alive. Make the most of it! Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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One of my novels, Invisible Jane, includes the death of a child. Invisible Jane is a lighthearted love story, but includes a description of explaining to a child about death.
Available from Amazon as a paperback or Kindle book:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Invisible-Jane-Anne-Thompson-ebook/dp/B073T3TX6G/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?crid=379H2328YJXDN&keywords=invisible+jane+by+anne+e+thompson&qid=1668341175&sprefix=invisible+jane+by+anne+e+thompson%2Caps%2C68&sr=8-1-fkmr0

An account of having a brain tumour (which will only be of interest to fellow sufferers or their family) is in: How to Have a Brain Tumour. You can read it for free if you have a Kindle. Also available as a paperback.

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Five.

Posted by anneethompson

Visiting a Souk

After breakfast in the hotel lounge, we took a hotel car to Khan Al Khalili – a sort of bazaar in the Islamic district of Cairo. The hotel cars are more expensive than using local taxis, but they’re easier than trying to explain in non-Arabic where we want to go, and we know they’ll have seatbelts and not take us to the wrong location. We found places in the guidebook that looked interesting, booked a car to take us there and then walked back to the hotel. Neither of us especially like museums or monuments, and this proved a good strategy for seeing some of ‘real Cairo.’

The car dropped us, and we walked round the corner, into a myriad of ancient lanes lined with stalls, a whole mishmash of sights: Chickens and rabbits and pigeons in cages. Men pulling wheeled carts. People balancing crates on their heads—one young man on a bicycle had a plank on his head stacked with eish baladi the local flatbread. Stalls selling fruit, and cloth, and drinks.

There were stray dogs and skinny kittens—cats were everywhere—sleeping on a food-cart hotplate, sharing a beggar’s blanket, curled under stalls. We watched eish baladi being fried in a sizzling vat of oil, hoisted out by a net on a long pole, the oil dripping off, then heaped on a stall for the flies to feast on. There was a fabric shop, with burst sacks of fresh cotton on the street outside. The streets were busy, with uneven hard-packed mud to walk along, and I felt as if I had wandered into a stage set. It was marvellous. It was also the wrong place! We checked the map, and realised we should have been across the street, in the lanes that make up the bazaar—we were in a market intended for locals (much better, in my opinion).

When we entered the bazaar proper, it was very crowded. Many of the shops were aimed at tourists, and stallholders called to us, inviting us to look, telling us they had the best products, the lowest prices. We had come to look, not to buy, so we disappointed them. Like all roads in Cairo, traffic and pedestrians shared the space. There were tuktuks here (we didn’t see them in the centre of the city) and they mingled with the lorries and bikes and pedestrians, vying for space in the narrow lanes. The air was full of pollution and spices and the sharp tang of limes from a nearby stall. A woman sat on the kerb, her short round body swathed in flowing black, selling bunches of mint. Children sat nearby, screaming at cars when they passed in some noisy game. Men with shiny round trays carried glasses of tea.

We passed the faded finery of ornate mosques, and crumbling walls, and red brick buildings; all powdered in brown pollution. The road was often uneven, often with holes or dirtied by dog mess.

When we reached the centre of the market it was even busier, and many of the products were the same as you would see in an English market—cheap clothing and plastic houseware. Inflatable legs were strung over the walkway, modelling various brands of trousers. Large dolls (like American Girl Dolls) stood in rows, modelling baby clothes. There were windows displaying sexy lace underwear on voluptuous mannequins—yet all the real women seemed to be covered from head to foot in flowing robes. (No one seemed to see the irony of this.)

Random men approached us at intervals, to practise their English, or to give unwanted directions. Always polite, always with smiles, sometimes overly persistent. We smiled back, and walked on.

There were constant car horns. Speakers blasted a sport’s game commentary or an Islamic sermon. The call to prayer echoed from minarets. I saw smiles, lots of smiles, especially when we responded to vendors’ calls in our limited Arabic. There was also lots of spitting in the street, and fingers pushed up noses, and loads of shopping carried on heads—all very different to an English market.

It was a fabulous walk back to the hotel. The sun was hot, the air thick with pollution, but there was so much to absorb, so much life to be part of. Wonderful.

Thanks for reading, I will tell you more about our visit in another blog. Hope you have a lovely day. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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*****

Visiting the Pyramids. Cairo, Egypt. Blog Four.

Posted by anneethompson

It was Sunday, and we had booked a tour to visit the pyramids, so when I woke with a headache I was disappointed. The trouble is, I am a fairly anxious traveller — I force myself to visit interesting places because I really want to see them, but sometimes my body reacts and pretends to be ill. I have to try and decide whether I actually AM ill, or if it’s just nerves and my silly brain playing tricks. I took some pills, and felt very sick, but I was almost positive that this was all due to nerves. I don’t usually mention my anxiety in blogs, because I don’t want it to be what defines me, but if you suffer from nerves, take comfort in knowing you are not alone. I find that praying then forcing my mind to think about something unrelated (like playing Duolingo) usually makes me feel better. I forced myself to get up, slinking round the room like a slug while I sipped water trying not to be sick again, got dressed, and informed Husband that I was fine, no need to cancel. He gave me worried looks. At 9am we went down to the hotel lobby, and met the car we had booked. As soon as I was in the car, watching the streets of Cairo as we travelled through Giza, I felt better. That’s the thing with nerves, if I can distract myself, they disappear and I can be the person I want to be.

The car came with a guide, which isn’t my favourite thing because generally they talk too much. I let Husband (who is more polite than me) chat to the guide, while I looked at Egypt. We drove through various districts that are poorer than central Cairo, where the hotel is. It reminded me of India, though I didn’t notice the same abject poverty, the same despair, that I have seen in India. Then we left the city and entered the desert.

As we arrived at the pyramid area, I was surprised to see another city — a sort of satellite city, out in the desert. I had assumed the pyramids would be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but sand, plonked deep in the desert. It was a shock to glimpse them between buildings as we drove through the edge of a town. We came to the parking area, and went to buy tickets. Our guide was very helpful here. He seemed to know everyone, and he stopped people approaching us to offer horse rides and camel rides and photographs, and a myriad of other offers. I have read that touts can be a problem by being overly persistent, but he shielded us from all of that, so I forgave him for talking too much. He was called Samii, by the way.

Husband wanted to go inside the Great Pyramid, so he paid an extra £20 and joined the long queue. I knew it would be a steep climb down a narrow shaft, deep into the inner chamber of the pyramid. Not something I will ever want to do. Instead, I walked round the edge with Samii and tried to ignore all the facts he told me, as I wanted to soak up the atmosphere of the place. Actually, there wasn’t much atmosphere worth soaking up, as the sky-scrapers of the nearby city distract from the desert, and there are too many tourists. The pyramids of Giza are wonderful to visit, but it’s hard to find any romance there. We wandered round the area where the workers (Samii didn’t call them slaves) lived. There were ancient carvings around the doorposts, but some had modern graffiti on them. Shame.

Samii showed me the round indentations in the stones, where rivets would have held them in place. There is something awesome about the pyramids, even with all the tourists. They would have been bigger (you can see the edge of where they would have reached) but stones were removed over the ages to build other buildings. A bit like the Colosseum in Rome, which had bricks pilfered over the years. The age is astonishing. Way back, in the time of Moses (if we date him about 1400 BC) he would have seen pyramids that were already a thousand years old. The Romans would have seen them as ancient structures.

I also hadn’t realised how many pyramids Egypt has. As we wandered round the Great Pyramid at Giza, we could see other pyramids in the haze in the horizon. Different Pharaohs from different ages built pyramids in places convenient for them.

We drove down to the Sphinx (which is on the same site, but a long walk in hot desert sun). At one time, a canal from the Nile would have lapped around the Sphinx, and you can see where the limestone has been worn away. He would have had a beard too, but I think it fell off and is now in the British Museum in London. And he once had a nose, and there are several rumours as to where that might be!

We left via a little souk (a market) selling various statues and carvings. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a papyrus shop. Guides often take you to visit their friends rather than to what you want to visit! This was interesting though, and we saw a demonstration of paper being made from strips of papyrus, as they would have made it in ancient times. Samii offered us a drink, and I managed to ask in Arabic for a cup of tea with sugar (and actually received a cup of tea with sugar, which was by no means certain!) It was hot, and very black, and it arrived in a tiny glass. Perfect.

Returned to the hotel exhausted, but extremely happy. Sometimes, it is definitely worth forcing yourself to do things that seem scary.

Hope you have a great day. Thanks for reading.
Love, Anne x

***

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Three.

Posted by anneethompson

We set off to explore another part of Cairo. This is always fun, except for crossing the roads, which I was never comfortable with. Basically, central Cairo has many four-lane roads, with a variety of cars and bikes and lorries constantly filling. Everyone honks almost continually (one driver told us that brakes in Cairo are optional, but a horn is essential!) It is the music of Cairo. Traffic ignores lights (unless there is either a camera or a policeman) and switches lanes, and sometimes direction, at random. Crossing the road is an artform, like a dance, and the man who shouted to us that we should shut our eyes and just wander across was not far wrong. You have to wander out, into a space, and allow the traffic to flow around you. I spent hours on our balcony watching the busy junction below, where traffic whizzed and stray dogs and elderly ladies and striding men, all wandered across the road. No one ever seemed to be hit, no one seemed to be angry, it was expected that the traffic would never stop but nor would it hit you. As I said, I never grew comfortable with this, but we did get better at it.

We walked up river (which is South) to University Bridge. The bridge was covered in sand (we later learnt that sand from the desert blows in, but also any road repairs sometimes leave sand, so I don’t know which had caused it). Men were setting up plastic chairs, ready for an evening of sipping tea from the stalls and watching the sunset over the river.

We walked to Al Mahial Palace (Prince Mohammad Ali Palace). We paid £5 entrance, even though it was closing in half an hour and lots of it had shut for weddings (they did tell us this, but did not lower the price). There was a mosque, and the Imran showed me round. I left my shoes with Husband, and went into a large public space, with beautiful tiles on the walls, and an indent to show which direction is Mecca. There were rugs on the floor (though not in the corner where the women pray. Women are definitely lower status here – more on that in a later blog).

We wandered round the gardens. There were several wedding parties having photographs taken. All the women were very covered, no hair showing (except for the brides, in their flouncy silver-white dresses). The Islamic style of covering heads seemed threatening until I got used to it. But when I smiled at people, they smiled back, and the young bridesmaids were posing and giggling just like they would in England. I felt an unspoken bond with the women here, as if they know that the male-dominance thing is there, but they have great unity as women. Even a woman wearing full-burkha can smile with her eyes, and I found them friendly and welcoming. If you come, I recommend wearing a scarf rather than a hat – you will be less obvious, it feels polite, and it’s nice to protect your hair from the sun and pollution. It’s too windy for a hat anyway.

Bridesmaids from one of the bridal parties.

We went back to the hotel, crossing the bridge and walking along the Nile (not that we could see it as there are lots of clubs along the water’s edge). After thousands of years, the River Nile remains the focus here. A satellite map shows the life that clings to the water’s edge, and when we went further from the centre of Cairo, we were never far from the river. Anything a distance from the Nile is just desert, and it’s hard to live in a desert.

I like Cairo. I like the friendly people, the way everyone smiles at strangers. The tipping and the roads are hard to learn, but everything else I like. It feels very safe here, which is unusual for a culture that is so very different to England. I’ll tell you more in my next post – we went to see the pyramids up close. Wow!

Thanks for reading. Hope you have a safe day.
Love, Anne x

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Two.

Posted by anneethompson

Our first day in Cairo, Egypt. After breakfast, we decided to visit the Egyptian Museum, which is about half an hour’s walk from the hotel. I donned a long-sleeved shirt and trousers, and wrapped a scarf over my hair. Although many women wear western clothes, most people wear very conservative clothes, and I didn’t want to stand out too much. We also followed the guidebook advice, and carried valuables in money-belts, and things like water bottles in cheap bags slung over our shoulders. (This was one of several good tips—I recommend the ‘Lonely Planet’ guidebook.

We stopped at an ATM to withdraw some Egyptian pounds. It’s a closed currency here, so we couldn’t buy Egyptian money before we came. They will accept dollars in most places, so it’s worth bringing some, especially one-dollar notes, as they make good tips until you have some local currency. In Egypt, everyone expects to be tipped, it’s how things work here. Another good thing to carry is toilet paper. When you use a public toilet, an attendant will try to sell you toilet paper as you enter. If you learn enough Arabic to say ‘No, thank you,’ politely, then you avoid paying an extortionate amount. You will then be shown to a cubicle (these vary, but most were very clean). There were no locks on the doors, but as everyone is shown to one, a closed door is enough privacy. Then, as you leave, it’s good manners to give a tip and say thank you. This is rewarded with nods and smiles. Taking your own paper means you can decide on the amount you want to tip, and you don’t appear rude. Politeness is very important in Egypt.

We left the hotel, and walked across the Nile (The NILE! Oh wow! Can’t believe I am writing this!) Even at 9am in October, the sun was hot. At Tahrir Square (which is not a square, it’s a roundabout, famous for the Arab Spring protests) anyway, at Tahrir Square you can see the Egyptian Museum. It’s prawn-pink, and fat. The lines weren’t too bad, though there were several. You queue to go through a metal detector into the complex. Then you queue to go through another security check at the gate, then you queue to buy tickets. If you are a tourist, it costs more than a local ticket (this seems to apply everywhere in Egypt – which I think is good). If you want to take in a camera, you pay extra (but taking photos on a mobile is free).

The museum was brilliant, even though I don’t usually like museums. Built about 1900, it really hasn’t changed much, with old-fashioned display cases and typed information cards next to them. There are wooden bannisters, and windows that don’t quite shut, and a maze of corridors. Some parts were too dim to see properly (so take a torch if you’re serious about seeing something particular). Other rooms were flooded with sunlight, which shone directly on ancient artefacts ( presumably fading them). There were signs saying ‘Do Not Touch’ but lots of people ignored this, and the guards didn’t seem to stop them. It was all wonderfully relaxed and dingy and more like Grandma’s loft than a major museum. (There’s a lot I could write here about who should own world history and how it should be preserved, but for now, just enjoy the jumbled atmosphere of the place.)

We walked back to the hotel. Attempted to stroll in a park, but a man told us we needed to buy a ticket. This was probably a lie, but we were too hot to care, so simply left. Being tourists here makes us a target for scams, but I think if we are careful there’s nothing threatening about it. Mostly they are trying to persuade us into giving them money, or selling their services as a tour guide, though it’s all very polite and good-humoured. Many people who speak are simply being friendly, and we found that answering politely, and always smiling, worked much better than a rude rebuff. Lots of people said hello and asked where we were from. When we smiled and said ‘London’ they usually ended the exchange with a big smile and a Welcome to Egypt! I expect there are conmen – most cities in the world have them – but in Cairo I only encountered people who were friendly and polite. (Actually, that is not quite true, but I will tall you about my airport experience another time.)

We showered and changed. While we were here, we found going outside to be a hot, sticky affair. The sand from the desert has coated all the buildings in dingy brown, and lots of men and dogs pee on the street, so when we returned to the hotel we wanted to change into inside clothes. We went to the lounge and drank cold cokes, then realised that we could see the pyramids through the haze on the horizon. This was very exciting!

Thanks for reading. I will tell you more in another post. If you sign up to follow my blog you won’t miss it.

Hope you have a lovely day. Take care.

Love, Anne x

Visiting Cairo

Posted by anneethompson

I have always wanted to visit Cairo, to see the pyramids. I have heard about Egypt, that mysterious place that people in the Bible ran to whenever there was trouble, ever since I was a tiny child in Sunday School. As I study the Old Testament, and learn about Moses, and the Hebrews living in Egypt and then miraculously leaving, it makes me want to visit even more. Our trip to the British Museum, to look at all the stuff the English took from Egypt in the past, and my knowledge of Pharaohs and how they were buried, has all fueled this longing. So, when Husband suggested a trip to Cairo, I leapt at it!

I prepared by downloading the Duolingo Arabic app, and practising my Arabic every day. I mainly wanted to know how to ask where the toilets are, and to be able to recognise which door has ‘Ladies’ written on it. Unfortunately, neither Duolingo, nor the CD I bought, ever got to this essential information. I set off for Egypt able to say things like, ‘Hamid is from Oman’ or ‘The house has a new door.’ Not as helpful as I had hoped.

I read a few guidebooks, and chatted to friends who have visited Egypt, and packed things they recommended. My case was full of long skirts, chaste shirts, and tatty bags to carry a water bottle and an umbrella, without appearing ‘rich.’ I took my money-belt, as apparently pickpockets are common in Egypt. I also ordered a hijab and hair cap from Amazon. In Dubai, I disliked being stared at, and found the best thing was to dress like a local. I decided I would watch from the taxi from the airport, and see whether most women covered their hair or not, and then I would copy. Warned Husband I would not be looking my best during the trip. I showed him my hijab, and he laughed, told me I looked exceedingly grim, and no one would dare to come near me with that face. I’m sure he meant it kindly.

I also bought some books, mainly about the Exodus, and whether it could possibly have happened or not. They were hugely interesting, but too heavy to take, and I only read a little before it was time to go. Might have to plan another trip. Many of the places mentioned were several hours drive from Cairo, and this was slightly less secure. The travel advice was that touristy areas were safe, but possibly not other places. We decided we would stay in the city, and see what we could. (I secretly told myself I would visit again if I like it.) Husband booked The Sheraton, which also has a casino, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too tacky. It was walking distance from the Nile (Oh wow! Can’t believe I am going to see the Nile!) and right next door to the Russian Embassy (which perhaps wasn’t quite so good, given the current politics).

We arrived Friday evening. As we drove from the airport, I saw faded villas that had once been beautiful, mingled with ornate minarets and tall concrete apartment blocks. Cairo is busy and noisy and has a faded charm. I loved it.

Our hotel room was lovely, with a tiny balcony that gave a glimpse of the Nile. Oh wow! I am looking at the actual NILE as I write this! When I was a child in Sunday School, listening to stories of Egypt, I never imagined I would actually see the river Nile. Amazing.

I will tell you more about our trip in another blog. Thanks for reading. Stay safe.

Love, Anne x

How Should the Bible Form Our Ethics?

Posted by anneethompson

A review of The Moral Vision of the New Testament by Richard B. Hays, continued.

As discussed in my previous blogs, I have found Hays’ book to be insightful as well as very interesting (and easy to read, which is not always the case with theological books!) However, when he starts to discuss actual ethics that he has gleaned from the Bible—that is, the final conclusions of his study, I disagree with him. I agree with his evidence, the way that he has formulated his views, but I don’t agree with where he lands. Not always. As the book was published in 1996, maybe he has now changed his position, but chunks of the book I disagree with. It’s still worth reading though.

Hays writes that even if we say that we form our ethics from the Bible alone (referred to as Sola Scripta by theologians) this is actually impossible, because everyone brings their own understanding and we all live in a culture that influences us. He suggests then that we should be aware of other factors when we form our ethics. He lists these as: Tradition (what the Church has believed for centuries—this is what the Reformation struggled with) reason (what we know to be true from science and logic—this is what the Enlightenment struggled with) and experience (what we have personally learnt about God, and what our church has experienced of God—this is what I struggle with!). These three will influence the type of authority we give to the teaching of the Bible.

The teaching itself falls into various categories. It might be a rule (it’s obvious what this means!) Or it might be a principle (like when Jesus explained about love). Or a paradigm (which is when a story or character teaches us something—like the parable of the Good Samaritan). Finally, it might be the symbolic world (for example, throughout the Bible we learn that humans get things wrong, though this might not be specifically stated).

The most important point that Hays makes (in my opinion) is the more pragmatic one: what is the outcome of our ethics? It’s all very well claiming they are Bible-based and the result of genuinely seeking God’s will—but what actually happens? What, in other words, is the fruit that these ethics will produce? The good ‘fruit’ is listed as: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Do our ethics illustrate those things? (Notice that ‘being self-righteous’ is not one of them!)

Hays then takes various teachings from the New Testament, and looks at how five different theologians have interpreted them in light of the above. Which is very interesting. He then forms his own conclusions about certain ethics, which is also very interesting, though I strongly disagree with some of his conclusions.

One such view is that Christians should be pacifists. Hays explains very clearly how he has formed his view, how the life and teaching of Jesus show that we should not retaliate when wronged, that we should ‘turn the other cheek’ when hurt. He shows that Jesus never used force, and rebuked his followers when they did, even when in defence of someone else. Hays logic is very clear, and I cannot argue with it—but I think he is wrong. I believe that in certain situations, force is correct. For example, I do not believe that God would have wanted Christians to remain pacifists when Hitler was gassing all the Jews. If people had not fought, then Hitler’s evil would have continued unstopped. I agree with Hays that often nations fight when they shouldn’t, that economics are often the motive, and innocent people are hurt unnecessarily due to greed or power-hungry politicians. But sometimes, I think it is necessary to fight.

I also find it telling that the only time we read of Jesus being slapped in the face, he did not ‘turn the other cheek’ but instead told them they were wrong. I think this teaching is a principle, something we should strive to follow, whilst knowing that there are situations when it does not apply.

I also strongly disagree with Hays that homosexuality is wrong. Again, his logic is sound, but I feel he has come to the wrong conclusion. He looks at the various biblical passages that are used to condemn homosexuality, and concludes that only the passage in Timothy is definitely written in condemnation of homosexuality (as the other passages are either unclear or are discussing other issues). He then makes a strong case for homosexuality being wrong. I disagree.

Although Hays’ evidence is sound—and I do agree that Paul probably believed homosexual activity was wrong—I believe that this should be interpreted in the light of today’s culture. Paul lived in a different culture in a different age, and what he wrote was applicable then, but today, when loving same-sex couples can live in monogamous relationships, the world is different. In the same way that I would agree that Paul believed women should cover their heads in church—but I think this no longer applies (and he possibly believed that slavery was acceptable, as he never explicitly wrote against it). As Hays said, one test of our ethics should be the fruit they produce. When the church preaches against gay relationships, it alienates a whole sector of society, it encourages gay people to look elsewhere for guidance, it causes untold harm to gay people who are taught they are ‘wrong’ (not infrequently leading to suicide of gay teenagers within the church). None of this can be right.

Hays discusses several other issues, including divorce and remarriage, abortion, anti-Judaism. Whilst you might disagree with his conclusions, I would still recommend this book to you. I think you will learn something, and that is always good.

Thanks for reading. Have a great day, and try to think about what ‘fruit’ you are producing today.

I’ll let you know if I read anything else that’s especially interesting. To be honest, many of the books I read are pretty boring, and they tend to use a lot of language that sounds very intelligent but I suspect is more to do with the pride of the author than actually necessary. If I ever meet of the the theologians who write like this, I will ask if they would like feedback. (Unless they will be marking any of my assignments of course!)
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading anneethompson.com

The Moral Vision of the New Testament by Richard B. Hays

Posted by anneethompson

As I read different theology books, there are some authors who I find very easy to learn from. Richard Hays is one of them. In The Moral Vision of the New Testament, Hays discusses various books in the New Testament, showing when they were written and why, and then uses them to form his ethics (‘ethics’ is things like: ‘is lying always wrong?’) I enjoyed the book, found his ideas interesting, agreed with his method of forming ethics and disagreed with some of his conclusions. Although his process for deciding ethics is a good one (in my opinion) I didn’t always agree with what he concluded. The book is meaty, so I will write a few blogs, picking out the especially interesting bits.

Chapter on Mark. I will give you the main points.

The Gospel of Mark was written as a whole, and the order of events matter. Mark begins with a declaration, that Jesus is the Son of God. The reader therefore reads the book knowing this fact, whilst watching all the characters in the book grapple with the question—who is Jesus? It’s not until the end, when he dies, that the centurion declares the same statement: ‘Truly, this was the Son of God.’ Mark is making the point that to understand who Jesus is, we need to understand the way he died.

There is, midway through the book, a scene when Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah. In Matthew’s Gospel, he is praised for this, but in Mark’s book, Jesus rebukes him. The word for ‘rebuke’ is the same word used when the demons are ‘rebuked.’ The point is, Peter’s declaration is linked to the expected political power that the Messiah would have (Jews of the time didn’t think the Messiah was a spiritual saviour). Mark shows that Jesus is teaching the disciples (and the reader) that Jesus’s mission was a spiritual one, not to get rid of the Romans.

Another interesting point is the healing of a blind man, when Jesus asks him what he can see, and to begin with, he can only see dim shapes, people look like walking trees. Jesus then heals him completely, so he can see clearly. Hays makes the point that this account is linked to Jesus describing people as being blind, as ‘having eyes but not seeing, and ears but not hearing’. It seems to be an illustration that he will show people the things of God, but gradually.

When Jesus explains that his disciples must be prepared to ‘take up their cross’ to follow him, he is explaining that he can only be understood in terms of the crucifixion, and that when his followers recognise this, they are recognising their own destiny too. Jesus explains this again in chapters 8, 9, and 10. Each time the disciples misunderstand, and need to hear it again. The second part of the Gospel is less about big miracles, and more about the preparation for death. The healing of Bartimaeus happens all at once (not like the previous blind man) which signifies that the disciples now understand who Jesus is. The miracle ends with Bartimaeus ‘following’ Jesus, which mirrors the same verb used in chapter 8, about his disciples following him. (The miracle is an illustration of the theological point.)

The Gospel then gives examples of all the disciples failing to ‘follow’ Jesus. But despite their failures, they are still disciples, the call to follow is still there. In Mark’s Gospel, the key to following Jesus is obedience, not love. He does mention love, when he quotes Deut.6;4-5. These verses are known as the Shema and they were (and are) recited by Jews morning and evening. Jesus adds a Leviticus quote, about loving people, and Mark uses it to give an overview of the Law (but not especially as a definition of being a follower of Jesus). The Gospel gives fairly vague hints about future hope, basically teaching that this is in God’s hands, and we should trust him. He teaches that the Son of Man will return soon, before the disciples have died. In Chapter 13 Jesus tells them to watch, and stay awake (spiritually), in Chapter 14 there is a scene in the garden, when they fall asleep (physically).

The original ending of the Gospel describes the death of Jesus and the empty tomb, but no sightings of the risen Jesus. This illustrates the futuristic element of Jesus’s mission, that the Kingdom of God is still to come. In brief, the Gospel is about the disciple’s calling to follow as servants, the replacing of the Jewish Law with the teachings of Jesus, the promise that Jesus will return in glory. Mark gives a picture of the ‘world torn open by God’ and a new order established. History is re-established, but in an unexpected manner. Old prophecies are fulfilled, and there is a ‘sense of urgency’ in the book. Mark writes about Jesus’s ministry like someone today might describe having an ice-bucket thrown over them. It is lowly, suffering people who receive the message, and the power of God is expressed by suffering and death. (Which sort of makes no sense logically.) People constantly fail to understand Jesus, especially the people trying to follow him. (I really like this point. Sometimes today, the church, and Christians, are way too smug about thinking they understand God. Mark mainly shows how the disciples didn’t understand, and they had direct access to Jesus. We should remember this when we think we understand something. God was, and is, unexpected.)

There is lots more to Hays’ book, I have just summarised one chapter, and will tell you more next week. Definitely a book worth reading.

Thanks for reading my blog. Hope the rest of your day goes well.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Anne E Thompson

Author

blog

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Seven.

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Six

What I Think About Dying

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Five.

Visiting the Pyramids. Cairo, Egypt. Blog Four.

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Three.

Cairo, Egypt. Blog Two.

Visiting Cairo

How Should the Bible Form Our Ethics?

The Moral Vision of the New Testament by Richard B. Hays

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