Oh Baby

This is how one announces a birth in Holland:

Amsterdam

I really like Amsterdam. Most people think of the red-light district, and a certain green-leafy substance, but that is really only one side of this amazing city. We are staying at a bed and breakfast near Vondlepark, (Amsterdam’s Central Park), away from the train station and tourist traps. Our inn-keeper is a charming woman, Monique, who spent ten minutes training us on how to use the key for the front door.


Getting around the city and communicating is fairly easy, since the majority of people speak beautiful English. (This is what happens when an educational systems values other languages.) If someone starts speaking Dutch, just smile with a polite, “Hello” or “Sorry” and they’ll switch right to English. I joked with DH, it’s like finding a button on a remote control, and the language changes.

This is the second time we’re visiting this city, so our “to-do” list of sites is much less taxing. We’ve already hit the Rijksmuseum (which is still being renovated), the Van Gogh Museum, Rembrandt’s House; even the Anne Frank House. Our agenda – to relax and get into vacation mode; so we took a nap.

Jet Lagged

The flight was uneventful, other than being uncomfortable. The airline would not let me select my seats on-line, because I had a one-way ticket. (We are flying US Airways, but my flight to Cairo and returning to the States is with British Airways.) Thus I was relegated to one of the worse seats on the plane, the last row. There’s nothing like having your seat in the upright position and enjoying the bathroom aromas all the way to Philadelphia. The flight over to Amsterdam was somewhat better, but anytime you’re in coach, you’re sleeping like a pretzel, if you are sleeping at all.

Once we got into the airport, my “Mom-In-Charge” mode set in. However, DH pulled me back, “Let’s have the boys figure this out.” My son was going off with his two friends for 12 days and we were going to be meeting up in Rome, this little test was just to see how they could handle the basics. We got though customs, picked up our bags and then went to find the trains. (One of the boys remarks, “I love it here. Everything is in English.”) I heavily suggested that we stop at the ticket counter to buy our tickets into town, and have our Eurorail Passes validated. All four (DH included) stared at me - Eurorail Passes validated? Oh yes, someone else has to fill out the information (start date, passport numbers, etc) before you can use them. No worries, honest mistake.

Then we came to the trains. They were about to get a train heading the opposite direction of Amsterdam, and DH stopped them. Now I’ve personally gotten on wrong trains and off on wrong stations more than once, so I can’t fault the boys for making a blunder when they’re jet-lagged. We went over some basics, look for a train number, destination, etc. I’m not going to lie to you; it was a little nerve-racking saying to them, “See you in Rome!”

The Big Day

Through the wonders of technology, I am writing this entry previous to the date that it will actually be posted. It is doubtful that I will be able to post anything on the day we leave, but wanted to peek into the future and give you an idea what the day will be like, based on past experiences.





I will wake up exceeding early. Back when I was a kid, the only days I would naturally wake up early was the first day of school and day we would leave on a trip (either a move or vacation). This has not changed. There will be a quite calm as my son and hubby are still sleeping. It will feel odd not to have the dog wanting to hop up in bed with me, as we took him to my Mom's the previous day. I will lay there for a moment in the dark, realizing I will not be in my comfy bed again for two months.





I will think and/or say "Oh my God, we're actually leaving today," innumerable times. I will sitting on the plane, and still be saying this.

While we finish packing, the house will already feel empty. The cutains will be drawn, the refridgerator emptied, the timers will be set to light the house and water the grass, giving an illusion that someone is at home. But it will be a shell, as our bags and hotels will become our place of refuge.

I will be obsessively checking to make sure we have our medications, passports, tickets, Euro-rail passes, money and maps. I know we will be forgetting something - we always do. Instead of fighting it, I have learned to embrace it and just hope it is something small and replaceable, like a toothbrush, rather than something crucial, like a passport.

Even with all this checking, we'll do something absolutely clueless. Like the time we went to the US Airway ticketing desk, and our flight was with Northwest. Or DH (darling hubby) forgot his wallet in the van. Or when I forgot my entire make-up bag at the vanity sink. Something will happen, which reminds you that this is not a trip to the grocery store, this is a Trip with capital "T".

St Mark

In preparation for Egypt, the Fulbright group met for three 8-hour orientations. Not only was a great chance to meet everyone on the trip and go over practical matters, but we also had guest speakers on various aspects of Middle Eastern/Egyptian history, culture and politics. Dr. Joy Lapp gave a talk on Coptic Christianity, which peaked my interest as I was teaching a class on Byzantine Art.

The word "coptic" linguistically comes from the Greek word meaning, "Egyptian." The Coptic Church (also known as the Coptic Orthodox Church of Alexandria) split from Christianity in 451, over the nature of Christ. The Church regarded Christ of having two natures, one divine and one human. The Coptic Church regarded Christ as Monophysite, there being one nature of Christ that was both human and divine. One of the most important saints in the Coptic Church is St. Mark, the Evangelist, as it is believed that he introduced Christianity to Egypt. His relic were located in Alexandria until the two Venetian tradesmen stole/borrowed/pilfered the relics in the 800's and brought them to Venice to be housed in the Basilica of San Marco. Some of the relics have now been returned to the St. Mark's Cathedral in Cairo.


It was there sitting in the orientation that I realized that was going to all three sites: Venice, Cairo and Alexandria. What are the chances of that?

So I started to do a little research on St. Mark, and in one of my Google searches I found out that there is a St. Mark's Coptic Church right here in Denver. Originally, I was going to get in contact with the Priest, maybe take some photos, etc. But as we're leaving this Thursday, I really didn't think I would have time.

Then Saturday night I had a long conversation with a dear friend, and I was telling her about the St. Mark aspect of the trip, including the fact that there was one here in Denver. "Oh, Christine, you have to go! This is a sign!" Her faith was always stronger than mine, and I did have to agree, I really should go. But the lazy, I-rather-sleep-in-on-Sunday-morning side of me, complained. At 11:30 Saturday night I went their web site to see what time services started - 8:30. And this Sunday's feast day?

"Entry of the Lord into Egypt"

Ok, ok, I'll go.

8:30 the next morning I was there, but no one else was. A very kind family parked their car a long-side mine and said that services didn't start until 9, but I was welcome to come in and watch a baptism.

The church was on the small side, an older church whose original congregation move on to larger complex. In front of the altar, there was an iconostatis, with icons of various saints. The baptism took place in a small room in the back with a utilitarian baptismal. I was asked to take off my shoes, symbolizing a holy event taking place on sacred ground. At first everyone faced West, as the parents recited prayers that rejected evil. We all then turned to the East, raising our right hand to bring God closer to this beautiful baby. She was then placed in the holy water, and fussed like all babies do. Her baptismal name? Catherine. (This is where my Byzantine Art students gasp, as they are reminded of St. Catherine's Monastery at Mount Sinai and the fact that I was hoping all semester that I would be able to go there. Another sign.)

The three-hour (!!) service was lovely; a mixture of English and Arabic in chanting and prayers. There was a procession of the Holy Icon around the church with chanting, banners and incense; and later a second procession with Baby Catherine as the sacred one. Even when I couldn't understand the Arabic prayers, the realization came that I am actually going to Egypt. A year ago, heck, nine months ago, I had no clue what was about to happen in my life. And now I'm about to embark on a journey of epic proportions. This still baffles me, how did I get so lucky? Why me?

After the baptism, as I waited for the services to begin, I was looking through the lectionary and found this (I know this is a bad photo, but it very hard to take a photo in a church and not appear obvious.):




Pray for our fathers and our brethren who are traveling and those who intend to travel anywhere, that God may straighten all their ways, whether by sea, rivers, lakes, roads [air] or those who are traveling by any other means that Christ our God may bring them back to their own homes in peace and forgive our sins.


Amen.