How I Found Religiosity

Please note, this title does not say that I have found religion. True, "inshallah" (God willing) has entered my vocabulary as a regular catch phrase for anything from "we will leave on time today inshallah" to "inshallah I will not be hit by a car as I cross the street. Unlike some place-specific phrases (i.e. Pura Vida in Costa Rica), this one has real relevance. Life is kind of a death defying experience and the evil eye is a constant threat--between these two dangers, people tend to leave a lot to God's hands and his choices.
But since I have not found religion, how did I find religiosity?
Well, consider it a by-product of being mistaken for an Eastern Orthodox, a heathen, and a Catholic in one day.
Last Satuday, I decided to take a wander around Cairo. First, I took the subway to Coptic Cairo. The subway is an interesting and very efficient mode of transportation--it runs almost constantly, has 2 women-only cars in the front, and costs 1LE to go anywhere you want (1LE= 1 Egyptian pound~ .18 USD). Cleaner than the New York Subway (ick!) with a little more creaking and groaning than the Boston T, but altogether satisfactory.
Having arrived in Coptic Cairo, I first went to the Hanging Church of St. George, a Greek Orthodox church known as a hanging church due to its placement ontop on a round Roman Tower, thus hanging over the rest of the walled Coptic area. It's a round church on a round tower, and filled with both orthodox and coptic Christians on Sunday. So, I gave them 10LE, lit a few candles, and intently studied the elusive St. George. Apparently, this was enough for me to be accepted as a believer and due to the blonde hair and blue eyes, I am clearly not Greek and must therefore be Slavic. Okay with me! Jacqeline introduced herself in halting English, I reponded in a few of my 10 arabic words, and hugs and kisses ensued. The little girls here almost make up for the creepy little boys hissing at me.
Next, it was more St. George. St. George is a Palastinian saint who slew a dragon and was tortured. Today, the chains that bound him are said to cure mental illness and bless all who are wrapped in the chains. The nuns at the convent of St. George oversee the wrapping of people in chains, but on this Sunday, it was a crush of humanity draping the chains over their head and the heads of their children, kissing photos, and looking at the light-up, moving picture of St. Peter slaying the dragon (whose tail swings back and forth). It was a Christianity entirely unlike that found in the United States. It was bright and in your face and superstitious and so close to humanity and innately part of their lives as to be more relevant to the living of this life and its blessings than the metaphysical distance and one-on-one relationship often found in protestantism.
Entering the nearby church, I was set upon by a swarm of little girls, all wanting to hug the crazy American girl.

Meandering out the gates of Coptic Cairo, I went to the East, determined to find something in the blank spot on my map. And yes,the southest really is a blank spot on most maps of Cairo. As with most white areas on maps (except maybe the Sahara), there is an entire life ignored by the elite or absent cartographers. Cairo is internationally known as a dirty city and yet, from my experience, it actually is quite clean and the city hires people daily to clean up garbage. But I've never seen a garbage truck... where is it going? Oh yes, to the southeast by donkey cart, where people find all reusable trash items, thus forming an unofficial but strangely efficient recycling system. Not just garbage, shantytowns exist here, fronted by miles of clayware stores. You can buy anything from a small flowerpot to a thirty foot ionic column for your backyard. Mind you, that's if you have a backyard, which 95% of Cairoans lack altogether.

After several more miles of hoping that I am going in the correct direction (maps= not so helpful when there are no street signs), I found a huge Roman-style acqueduct, which led me to a mysterious red wall. Inside the red door was a Catholic cemetary, where the elderly caretaker showed me the monuments to all the French and Italian soldiers who have died in wars from the Napoleonic excursion to WWII. He spoke a little Italian and I speak some French, so we managed to stutter through a tour. And then, we went into different mausoleums, where he gave me an ancient, antique crucifix, with the Marys standing on either side of him. Covered with cobwebs, he asked me to take it and told me the lady of the tomb would have wanted me to have it. Having never actually dissillusioned him to me being French, he apparently assumed I was catholic in need of a crucifix. My roommate is creeped out, everyone else thinks my new Jesus picture and my crucifix are a little odd (the Catholic kids are really jealous!!!), and I found religiousity in Cairo. Today, our maid came and I found the crucifix right next to my bed. Apparently even our Muslim maids are trying to tell me something, but I'm not quite sure what it is. Anyway you take it, my religious relic was promptly moved back to its home on my desk, where I can see it now, but it's not staring at me while I sleep. Any chance it can send a few muses to me this semester?

I then went to Alexandria, but more later on that...