That morning we went by taxi to the monastery of Santa Catalina. As usual, after breakfast we came to find the taxi. From Tarabeen to the monastery of Santa Catalina there are about two hours or so. Normally what people do is ascend to Mount Sinai at night to see the sunrise and then go down to be at 9 am in the monastery that is when they open. What happens is that I was very tired and I did not look forward to any day and finally decided to go only to visit the monastery.
The monastery of Santa Catalina dates back to 330 A.D. When Empress Elena ordered the construction of a small chapel and fortified refuge for hermits. The chosen enclave was where the burning bush was supposed to have been through which God spoke with Moses. In fact it is assumed that the descendant of that bramble is still preserved in the monastery.
St. Catherine's Monastery
On the visit to the monastery of Santa Catalina I will only tell you that it was quite disappointing. As the monastery is still active, most of the facilities cannot be visited and the part open to the public is very small. Considering what we paid and the time we spent getting there seemed like a waste of time, so much, in fact, that it even took a bad body. Was it for the visit? Or for the Bedouin mother who was screaming at her three-year-old son because he didn't insist on tourists to give him alms? Curiously in three weeks I only saw three people asking across the country, which I thought was little to be a poor country. I gave the Bedouin boy a lollipop and we went to look for the taxi driver.
Upon arriving at the hotel, Samer met us and we told him that the visit had been quite frustrating. He told us that Santa Catalina was the weakest in the area, but still had to be seen by history and myths. We ate and lay in the shade to rest the food. I was not well, but I did not know what I had, only that it was very packed and my stomach hurt a little, nothing unusual, it happens to me every time I binge and in Egypt I gave myself a few.
I went to the room to rest in bed watching TV when what I had been fearing during the whole trip happened. I caught a gastroenteritis and I got pretty bad. He had contracted the "evil of Tut" which is what is metaphorically called the gastrointeritis that is usually caught in Egypt. What had caused it? Maybe the tea in the conchambroso glass of the bedouin of Petra? Something I ate? Or perhaps the fact that my brain was beginning to prepare for the inevitable? The holidays were coming to an end and I was bad just thinking about it ...
The basic rules to avoid Tut's disease are: