The Eternal and the Holy
Over twenty years ago, two voyages would influence my life in ways I could not imagine. One was a trip to Rome, the other to both Jerusalem and Egypt. These transformative journeys have remained etched in my memory, returning to me repeatedly with reminiscent longing.
The eternal city enchanted me with its classical art, architectural marvels and gastronomic delights. I roamed around this cultural mecca on foot, begging to chance upon secret alleys and labyrinthine pathways guiding me to splendid piazzas. The wafting aroma of rich espresso, freshly baked cornetti and basil and garlic tantalised my tastebuds, while the iconic architecture transported me in time with its historic churches and colossal columns still standing as proud and strong as their gladiatorial past, seamlessly blending the old and new. These scents, sights and sounds had plans for me far beyond my holiday, unaware that they would rise and force my hand to pen a trilogy set in Rome, spanning countries, cities and centuries.
“Rome greeted them with the gentle smile of the afternoon sun. Christiano parked the car, and they walked along a street alive with the sounds of life, in the antiquated city which never seems to tire. Cars hooted, mopeds rumbled by, and people laughed and called out – natives and tourists alike, each day wandering through a metropolis of ancient structures ingeniously built to withstand the millennia.” ~ The Priest of Santa Maria
Alex on a trip to Rome. Many years later, this was to be the inspiration for The Priest of Santa Maria
My escapade to Jerusalem and Egypt, so long ago, is vague in memory, except for a few key moments that have remained with me—dormant and waiting for the right time for me to take notice. I was unaware of the profound effect this pilgrimage would have on me or that its elements and experiences would eventually find their way into a book I had yet to realise I would write.
I remember very little about the trip, just snippets of images that have come to me, like wandering the narrow cobblestone alleyways of Jerusalem and trying to imagine what it must have been like in biblical times. To picture life back then, I wondered if, indeed, a Messiah named Jesus had walked the same streets. Desperately, I wanted to feel the souls of yesterday and picture them in their daily business. For hours, I could lose myself to this sensation. I like to imagine we leave a faint trace of ourselves wherever we go. The roads were dusty, some barely modern, while structures of ancient stone bore witness to the presence of past prophets and pilgrims. I recall children with runny noses and curious expressions as they watched us walk by. I remember standing on a rooftop and looking across at the Dome of the Rock, fascinated by the gold and how it reflected in the sunlight.
The second part of the trip left an indelible mark on my memory. When we reached Egypt, we travelled by Jeep across an endless desert to reach Mount Sinai beneath the light of a full moon. To ascend the mountain by moonlight without artificial light gave the climb an old-world feel. Also, our group was alone on the mountain. There was no sign of anyone above or below us on what was usually a very busy climb. My most memorable moment was walking up the seven hundred and fifty steps of Elijah Hollow, which led us to the peak. Immersed in ethereal clouds, it was like climbing a floating flight of steps in the sky. There was nothing else. No thoughts, walls, boundaries, or time. Just the presence of the moment. We slept in sleeping bags on the summit and awoke at dawn to see the sunrise. I recollect its magnitude as if I could reach my hand out and touch it.
After our descent, we visited a Bedouin camp and filled our hungry stomachs with authentic Bedouin food. At the camp was a plunge pool – something that seemed so bizarre to me. In the heat of the desert, the crystalline water was as cold as winter—a welcome break from the scorching heat.
I wrote The Priest of Santa Maria with these places and experiences subtly whispering to me, reminding me to include elements and hints of their influence throughout the trilogy. My characters have breathed life into these places and adventures in my memory. I have found another purpose for them. Or have they found another purpose for me?
A Catholic priest fresh out of the seminary.
A mysterious woman running from a dangerous past.
A secret they must protect at all costs
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