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Desert Fathers. Monastery of Saint Anthony and Saint Paul

Palm Sunday, just before Easter, was the perfect day to visit monasteries - St. Anthony and St. Paweł Although it was my next trip to these places, visiting monks and beautiful temples always gives me a lot of joy. This time it was similar.

Undaunted by the early hours, we left Hurghada at 7am. 250 kilometers north towards Cairo is just a 3-hour drive with a stop to wipe your still sleepy eyes. The landscape behind the bus window, perhaps monotonous for many - the Red Sea on the right, the desert with hills on the left - perfect for me to prepare to cross the threshold of the first monastery.

St. Antoni's was our first stop. Just a kilometer before the gate, two towers with crosses appeared on the horizon, and in a few minutes we were to be greeted by a friend - Father Rawis. Taught by experience, despite the high temperature, I put a scarf and an ankle-length dress on my shoulders. Otherwise, the monks will present a "welcome pack" in the form of ankle-length Abei. We laughed that they looked like hospital pajamas, but that didn't deter two girls from not putting long-sleeved tops and pants in their luggage.

From the very beginning, I can see the enchantment in the eyes of my friends. A beautiful olive garden, pale yellow walls surrounding the monastery and Father Rawie, who started our journey by painting the image of Mary on the girls' hands. We help our elderly father in showing us around - initially around the walls of monasteries, which were closed 100 years ago and the gates were bricked up. Visitors and groceries were hauled in with ropes and baskets, for fear of looting the temple by Bedouins and other hostile Egyptian Copts.

For the next hour and a half, we are led to the fortress, the church with the relics of St. Anthony, where Father Rawis blessed and anointed us with oils. It is nice and cool in the thick walls of the temple, you can smell the oils everywhere. On the carpets, on which we walk barefoot, there are palm leaves left after the liturgy. They are completely different from our Polish palas - beautifully decorated and colorful. Father Rawis gave each of us such a leaf.

We continue our journey through the monastery through narrow streets, asking my father a lot of questions about the life of monks, history, rituals, which are similar to those known to us from the Catholic Church. The legend of St. Antony, told to us by our father in the old monks' dining room, where the table and benches are made of rock, makes a great impression on everyone. The saint sold his property and lived in a rock grotto, where he spent about 80 years in prayer.

Due to my father's age, we drove the car 300 meters up the hillside to the place where the history of the monastery began. In front of us we saw stairs, winding high up the rocky hill, all the way to the grotto of St. Anthony. And here part of the group decided to rest in a new chapel carved into the rock. We, on the other hand, decided to climb 1153 or 1152 stairs in the heat with scarves on our heads and bottles of water in our hands, which were already halfway empty.  

My father had asked each of us to write down our wishes or something for which we would like to thank them on small pieces of paper. The cards had to be taken to the grotto.

Halfway down the road, we took our eyes off the stairs. An amazing landscape of mountains appeared in front of us. The view gave us strength. Halfway up the road and we'll be higher - on the observation deck. On the way, we pass a few pilgrims who greet us warmly and comfort us. After arriving, we did not find the shadow we wanted, the sun stopped at its zenith. We decided to enter the grotto immediately through a very narrow crevice in the rock. The short 10-meter corridor was completely dark. We were lit by the flashes of cameras and telephones. A few meters away, another flash of the camera and we saw a small staircase leading down a meter and a half. To our surprise, we saw a small altar with a painting of St. Anthony. Strict, modest, he perfectly suited the story told by the monk about the life of St. Anthony in asceticism. A magical, peaceful place. Our hike up was irrelevant anymore. We pulled out our cards in silence, each pressed their own into the slot of the arrowhead, as our predecessors had done. We spent a few more minutes in concentration and silence in the grotto before we decided to go back the same way. It was a challenge for all of us.  

Until today, following the example of St. Anthony, there are several monks in the mountains. They visit the monastery once a week to take part in the Sunday liturgy and take their groceries with them.  

Satisfied, we gather the group and set off to the next monastery. We have 60 kilometers to cover. Along the way, we meet pilgrims from the Netherlands who, with a Bedouin guide, decided to walk the mountains - about 14 kilometers to the next monastery of St. Paul. We wish you good luck and talk about the fact that the 1153 or maybe 1152 stairs are just a small part of the road that the Dutch have to overcome. On the way, we stop at a large parking lot where there are several restaurants. We eat lunch in a hurry, we only have two and a half hours to visit the next monastery. It is open to visitors until 4.30 PM.

After I arrive, I ask about my friend's father. We quickly find him in the pilgrim's house, where after a few minutes we drink a cold neck and wear long dresses. The father asks about friends, the purpose of our visit, and after a few minutes in the shadow of the walls of the monastery of St. Paweł, we listen to the history of the place. The monastery is more austere, authentic, with clear traces of the history of the place. The mill, wooden boats in which the monks were fishing with camels to the Red Sea (14 kilometers) for 60 years more, have clear signs of use. Listened to the amazing story about St. Paul, we go down to the next grotto, where, like St. Antonia, St. Paweł has spent most of his life. Beautiful frescoes from several centuries ago show the story of St. Paul. The paintings linking cultures and religions also catch our eyes. The way my father leads us through the streets of the convent and tells about the monks' lives in the past and today touches my friends and me once again. He conducts a dialogue with us, full of curiosity and curiosity, we talk about tradition, religion, rituals, palm trees, the Christmas tree and dishes on the Easter table. There is a lot of laughter. Father shows us pictures taken 100 years ago by a famous American photographer who documented the life of monks. We can see places there, now intended for visitors and in the past, places of everyday use - a dining room, a fortress, a spring flowing from the rocks. The monks in the photos are dressed like contemporaries - in black cassocks and hoods with crosses on their heads. This element remained unchanged.

We head towards the olive garden. To this day, the fathers make preserves. However, our eye is caught by a palm tree with three branches. It looks like a cross. We immediately ask my father about her. She replies that she has been in the garden for 30 years and that its branches symbolize the Holy Trinity.

We take some photos and go back to the pilgrim's house to rest. The girls take off their dresses, we say goodbye to our guide, thank you for the refreshments and oils we received as a gift and we set off on our way back to Hurghada.

Only now do we have time to talk about the trip and exchange comments. I can see contentment and weariness on my friends' faces. They are impressed. They did not think that there are such beautiful places in Egypt - peaceful, without thousands of tourists, where no one accosts anyone, does not try to sell their goods and take a few dollars out of their pockets.

History and amazing landscapes will surely remain in their memory for a long time. And I'm sure I'll be back there again. as usual with curiosity and new questions to the monks.

text: Ewelina Siwek, Egypt Exclusive