I Remember Leaving Sinai

I remember racing down Mount Sinai as the sun began its initial ascent, and running past the old nuns from the monastery that lingered 3/4 the way up the biblical desert mountain. I remember the early mourning sun sparkling over the mountainous desert landscape like a clarion call back to ancient antiquity when times were mystical, pure, and strangely simple. I remember the oranges, the reds, the browns, and mixes of sand colors that shimmered like a swaying desert ocean. I remember the camel dung on the pathway leading me on the correct path, and keeping me from losing my place. I remember the anxiety of feeling lost, and the driving fear of being left behind in a foreign country. I remember listening to The Silversun Pickups on my i-pod shuffle to keep me calm as I ran and sweat, I remember turning the i-pod off part-way down the mountain just to listen to the land and the air, and I remember how I felt. I remember speaking to a young boy wearing a turban, a motif of many of the Arabic men and boys in the Sinai Peninsula, to seek help to find the bottom.

I remember finding the bottom. When I made the final descent of the mountain and I was at the security gate, I asked the guard for the time. The guard spoke broken English, and even after my question he first asked me, "You want taxi?"

No. I did not want taxi. I wanted the time.

The guard, who had an automatic machine gun sitting near by him and a pistol secured to a holster by his hip, said, "7:10am. You want taxi?"

No. Thank you. Are you sure it is 7:10am?

"Yes. 7:10am."

Have you seen a bus? Or two big buses? With lots of people? People of many different nationalities?

The guard looks at me perplexed. "No. It is still early. You want taxi?"

No. Thank you.

I walked past him wondering where my brothers and the rest of the 50+ people in the group could be.

I remember the bazaars off to the left of the parking lot where the buses should have been. Dark green and dirt covered tents with jewelry, clothes with Sinai symbols, and men inside wearing light grey robes with turbans and long, thick beards. I remember the man in the bazaar with the long, thick, grey beard coming to speak with me as I walked by myself out into the parking lot.

"Do you need a taxi?" he asked in a clearer English accent than the Sinai security guard.

No. Well maybe. Have you seen a bus or two buses arrive and pick up a bunch of people?

The man looked at me curiously. "No. The buses do not arrive this early. Do you know your hotel?"

I, of course, was put off by his reply that the buses do not arrive this early. The buses have not arrived?

"No. Not until almost 8 o'clock. Do you want to buy something and wait for your friends? Or do you want a taxi? Where is your hotel?

My hotel is the only one with a pool. I don't think I'm going to buy anything. I think I will walk along this road--it was the only road in the desert for miles--and hope that I will run into the buses. Maybe they are not parked in the parking lot. If you see me walking back, then you can send a taxi.

"Okay my friend. But there is no buses. There is no. You sure you don't want to buy?"

Yes. Thank you my friend.

So I kept walking, and as I kept walking I remembered what we were told at the beginning of the tour 14 days before: You all have maps of where we are going, and names of the hotels. If you get left behind somewhere, then you grab a taxi and you search for the next location we will be staying. You are one person in a group of 96 of us. We will not wait for you if you get lost and do not follow directions. You all have extra money. If you do not find us at the next location, then you go to the next one. Keep going until you find us. If you must fly home, then fly home.

I took this threat seriously. I don't think most people on the tour did.

I remember walking a couple miles on the road and not finding the buses. I remember never being scared, but thrilled by this prospect of new adventure. Which was strange because running down the mountain I was afraid, but at the foot of Sinai I felt strangely calm. I remember walking back towards the bazars and a taxi meeting me before I arrived at the parking lot. I remember the taxi driver spoke hardly any English, but by way of hand signals and two or three English words I was able to figure out that the man at the bazaar explained to him where I needed to be taken. I remember the drive in the taxi to the hotel, and I loved every minute of it. I remember arriving at the hotel and seeing all of the buses still parked, but nobody was around. I remember the taxi only cost $4 U.S. including tip, and thinking that if I was in New York City the taxi would have cost maybe $16-20. I remember the taxi driver spoke perfect English when talking money, and that he said goodbye to me in Arabic. I remember my conversation with Michael, the Scottish Tour Guide and owner of Maranatha Tours, when I found him by himself lounging on some steps in front of the dining room building, petting a couple of cats.

Hi Michael.

"Hello Indiana." (He called me Indiana because I brought an Indiana Jones hat that I wore throughout the beginning of the tour.)

So where is everyone?

Michael pauses, stops stroking the cats, looks up at me with squinted eyes shielding the sun rays. "You missed them. When you went to the bathroom you didn't get back in time."

His answer baffled me. Bathroom? I didn't get back in time? Wait. What are you talking about. I took a taxi. I did not go to the bathroom. I mean I did, but no one's here. If I didn't get back in time then they would all be here at the hotel.

Now Michael looked confused. "Taxi? Everyone left without you. They are still on Mount Sinai."

I climbed Mount Sinai.

"You climbed Mount Sinai!? Where did you come from?"

I was on the bus last night. I thought everyone had left me on the mountain because I was told over the walkie-talkie this morning that the buses were coming early and we had to be down the mountain by 7am. I waited just until after the sunrise to walk down the mountain, but I had to use the bathroom. I went to the bathroom on the mountain, near the top, and that took a long time for me to find because there is nothing but some random bazaars near the top. I had to pay some Egyptian man money to use the bathroom in the back of his bazaar. When I came out I didn't see anyone and I thought everyone had left me. So I ran down Mount Sinai and caught a taxi back here.

"You ran down Mount Sinai!"

Yes.

"In the entire history of my life as a tour guide you are first person that I have heard to have ran down Mount Sinai!"

Well I hurt my ankle at one point because I slid on some rocks and thought I twisted it, but yes, I ran down Mount Sinai.

"So then you weren't in the bathroom when we left last night? Hmm. Must have been your brother."

Well both my brothers were on Sinai for the hike up. So he made it on the bus.

"I thought you had overslept. I wasn't going to feel sorry for you. You took a taxi?"

Well you told us you would leave us if we got lost or left behind.

"And you took me seriously? Well I'm glad someone did. But we wouldn't leave you behind."

I guess this means everyone will be worried about me when the buses arrive and I'm not on them. Will you tell everyone what happened.

"Of course."

I remember Michael didn't tell them what happened and people were worried I got lost on the mountain.