We began our day at the Mount of Olives. Ironically, there are hardly any olive trees in this location at all, due to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. There is, however, a Muslim cemetery that is built over the location where the gate to the Temple is thought to be located. This gate is referenced in scripture re: where Elijah will enter the city and where Christ will make will make His triumphant return. According to Ruti, the cemetery was built by the Muslims in this exact location for a very specific reason…so Christ is unable to come back. This is another reason for turmoil in Jerusalem. Ruti is light-hearted about it though. She thinks Israel should excavate anyway. Just up from the Muslim cemetery is a Jewish cemetery. FYI: it costs $5,000 to be buried in this place because these will be the first to resurrect upon Christ’s return. Not bad we thought…
We visited a small church called Dominos Flavia that is on the top of Mt. Olives. It was built in 1957, shaped like an upside down tear drop. Looking down on this sad site and all the turmoil that goes on in this land, it’s easy to see why Jesus wept.
We followed the path that Jesus took during His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Luke 9) down Palm Road into the Garden of Gethsemane. Pastor Dave shared yet another amazing devotional. He asked if we had ever suffered. Being humans, we all shook our heads in agreement. He told us of a righteous Man he knew that once suffered in this very spot. He retold the story of how Jesus had prayed without ceasing for the Lord to answer His prayer. He encouraged us to always do the same. We found a quiet corner in the garden and shared our hearts. It was another moment we will always remember.
Our next stop was nearby at the Pool of Bethesda. Ruti was in the middle of reminding us that Jesus healed a lame man here (John 5) when, of course, her cell phone rang. The powerful moment of stepping back in time was quickly ruined when she began cursing someone out in Hebrew. We can only assume it was the person/relative/co-worker/smoking buddy/shop keep who was supposed to provide lunch, because she was MAD! But more on lunch after this…
LINCEE: Now that the moment was gone at the Pool, we were herded into St. Anne’s Church. Known for its amazing acoustics, Ruti promised to lead our group in song. What she didn’t know was that Pastor Dave had asked Nancy Jane to sing “Ave Maria.” I, the proud roomie, positioned myself on the front row, ready with the camera. Not only did she sing the entire thing in Italian, but she moved most of the audience to tears with her voice. Afterwards, Ruti led us in her “special” rendition of “How Great Thou Art.” We all felt extremely inadequate following NJ. Filing out of the church, I put on my PR hat and refused to let people get near MY ROOMIE and made all autograph requests come through me first.
Ruti scared Nancy Jane’s admirers away because we had to drive across town to eat lunch. It was a holy day, Shabbat, and typically, shops are not open. LUCKILY, Ruti was able to “pull a few strings” and have a friend of hers open up his store and treat us to lunch. Which is literally what happened. We went to a gift shop and were served falafel sandwiches that we’re pretty positive were either leftovers from this guy’s business meeting the day before or he had make all 20 from ingredients scrounged up from the kitchenette in the back of the store. Because anything can be called falafel and everything can be stuffed into a pita pocket in this country. Nice.
Fortunately, we were able to do our best shopping here. A lady from the other church (HI KITTY) bought us both a “Shalom Y’all” sign for our kitchens. While everyone else was stocking up on more camels carved out of olive wood, Nancy Jane scored a sweet deal on a wall hanging of St. George. Lincee bought a cross necklace and the disappointment of YET ANOTHER FALAFEL was quickly forgotten. Between our two purchases, we paid for the next three groups’ lunches. But who cares, right? Lincee is loving her cross and NJ is loving her saint.
Our next stop was the Israeli National Museum which houses the Dead Sea scrolls. Being that it was an emotional day, coupled with the fact that neither of us are museum lovers, we gave ourselves permission to mentally check out. We had an awesome conversation about conies while Ruti talked for 30 minutes in the blistering heat as she pointed out historical sites on a large scale model of Jerusalem. Believe us when we say that we were just as enriched with our conversation as we would have been with Ruti’s!
Our final destination was a two-in-one stop on Mt. Moriah. Our guide showed us Golgotha, a cliff in the shape of a skull, which is the location of where Christ was crucified on the cross. We are 90 percent sure on this one, due to the fact that a tomb in a garden is within walking distance. The Bible tells us that Joseph of Arimathaea offered his burial tomb for Jesus’ body. When you enter the tomb, the slab for the owner has been extended into the rock, making one assume that whomever was buried there was not the original owner. A sign, “HE IS RISEN” adorns the wall as you exit this tiny cave and head to the sitting area. Pastor Dave led us in communion and we sang “In the Garden” before prayer. I think the Kleenex count is up to four for day 10. Absolutely precious time.
Feeling as if it was midnight, we headed back to the hotel for dinner. Unfortunately, since it was Shabbat, we were unable to have anything cooked in a machine or warmed up. It was a Mustgo dinner. You know…everything and anything “must go” from the refrigerator. They didn’t even have pita! Just cucumber, tongue (what?) and kosher green apples. Luckily, Bonnie also has the appetite of a fourth grader and we ate Pop Tarts in her room before going down to Israeli Dance Party 2008. A missionary couple who is friends with one of the ladies at the other church, came to our hotel to teach us how to sing and dance Israeli style. Lincee turned a lot of circles and “whoo hoo’d” a bunch while NJO had drinks in the hotel bar…she says she just couldn’t handle the dancing and shouting. An hour later, we were drained from learning an Israeli line dance, teaching our new friends the Electric Slide, and discovering all the many uses of Ouzo #7. We both left knowing that we had done Shabbat up right!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
DAY NINE: In the words of Ruti, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem...Lift up your voice & sing"
“Shalom Shabbat” from Jerusalem!
Today is Friday which marks our second Sabbath in the Holy Land! We’re veritable experts now.
Today was anything but a day of rest, though. Ruti had half of our group up at the crack of dawn to visit the Wailing Wall (fortunately we bloggirls were in the alphabetical group that didn’t leave until 8:45 a.m.) and we were off with a vengeance to visit the City of Jerusalem. As Ruti said, “Turing wit me es like turing from sunrise to sunset…or until jour soul leafs your body.”
We started out by picking up our group and our fearless leader, who has a new wardrobe addition…a whistle. That’s right folks, a gym coach-type whistle, which she blew directly into the microphone on the bus to demonstrate how she would call when she needed us to come running from one gift shop to the next. Apparently yelling “TEX-ASS” just isn’t enough.
Our first stop was King David’s tomb, which isn’t really King David’s tomb. It is just a representation…kinda like Nazareth Village was just a representation of Jesus’ hometown. Two years ago, the “Penguins” (Ruti’s incredibly PC term for Orthodox Jews in traditional dress of white tops, black pants, and long black coats) took over the site, which apparently moves around quite a bit. Because it is now under Orthodox holdings and considered a hallowed site, men and women use separate entrances, each view half of the “tomb,” and “holy wear” is required. For those of you who aren’t in the know, “holy wear” means that women must have arms and legs fully covered (Shawls provided for the tawdry lasses who dare to bare their arms) and men are required to wear yamikas (also provided for the Gentile Boys).
The “tomb” (that wasn’t) was nothing more than a big rock with a purple velvet blanket tossed over it. We basically got to see half of something that is not anything. The guys said their half wasn’t much better, but we’ve included a picture below of the girls’ half for posterity’s sake.
We also discussed the Star of David, Israel’s national symbol for the past 300 years. It just so happens that this isn’t really David’s star. In fact, it wasn’t even invented until many hundreds of years after his death. Ruti thinks the truest representation of Israel would be something symbolizing the country’s solidarity…we think something symbolizing a gift shop would be very fitting too! Maybe an incorporation of the Israeli National Animal…the coney!
We next traveled on to Diasphora Yeshma, or the Upper Room, on Mt. Zion, which isn’t really Mount Zion. In 70 AD, Jerusalem was destroyed and the Crusader Church built over the place of the Last Supper was also destroyed. (Interesting note: Jerusalem has been rebuilt 18 times).
This spot is also known as the spot where the Last Supper took place. Only, this isn’t really the site of the Last Supper, but a representation of where the dinner is thought to have taken place. Ruti said the actual Passover dinner didn’t look anything like how old Leo DeVinci painted it either… “What? Do jew tink the dee-sigh-pulls got two-gedder and sayed, ‘Let’s pose for a picture?’ I don’t tink so TEX-ASS!”
Since we were running a little late this morning (the bus was leaving at 8:30 and we arrived at 8:35) we had to grab breakfast on the go. Nancy Jane had one cup of coffee and Lincee had a Special K bar. Just as we entered the 500-year-old Jewish Quarter, Ruti spotted a Muslim bakery, grabbed six pita pizzas without paying and began handing them out to our group. It was a welcome treat since we were starving. The Muslims didn’t seem to mind. We think they were afraid of Ruti. Who isn’t? In fact, all food vendors seemed anxious when Ruti’s voice or brightly colored flowery umbrella was in the near vicinity. Not only did she steal pizzas, but she scored a handful of peanuts and a falafel, promising each shop that we would be back to visit them for lunch.
Our group split up again and the bloggirls went to the Wohl Archeological Museum which is ten feet below modern day Jewish Quarter. Stepping into this museum transports the visitor back 2,000 years to the Herodian period where the city looks exactly like it did in Jesus’ time. This is the real deal folks! The highlight of the visit to the museum was the opportunity to enjoy the High Priest’s “home” which was a 60 room palace. Ruti took us through the living room where Christ was questioned by the High Priest after His arrest on Passover and the open courtyard where Peter denied Christ three times. It was the first time we both felt truly in awe to be standing where Christ walked and the fact that we are in Israel slowly began to sink in.
We stepped out the door of the Museum and heard the voice of Ruti, “On the double TEX-ASS! Get over here!” She wanted us to see the huge golden menorah that will eventually be used when the third temple is built, according to Ruti and our guides.
Our next stop was the Temple Institute—a non-profit organization that exists to raise money, awareness and promotes scholarship of the world’s role in building the third temple.
Interesting note: The third temple can not be built until the Arab mosque (which has been on the site of the holy of holies since the fifth century) is “removed”. That’s a euphemism for “destroyed,” folks.
Inside the Institute, our guides Gabriella and Rabbi Glick showed us many of the “vessels” that have already been crafted for use in the third temple. These included: the big gold menorah we have already seen outside, the altar used for sacrifice, oil lamps fashioned out of pure silver and High Priest robes on a creepy looking mannequin that we are pretty certain was female. Gabriella, whose personality can best be described as that of wet paper bag, was informative and full of interesting facts about the temple. Even with a little over five hours sleep, our most yet, it was a struggle to stay awake while she imparted her extensive knowledge of ethical ways to kill animals for sacrifice, Titus and his thieving of the temple goods, the Levite musicians and how incense was burned in the temple because it engaged the sense of smell—the most holy sense because it the least physical. We forced ourselves to take a seat on the front row in hopes to prevent falling sleep.
Our tour of the Temple Institute concluded with a spiel by Rabbi Glick about how important it is for people of all faiths to donate money so the temple can be rebuilt. In keeping with national tradition, he answered his cell phone in the middle of his presentation, and after hanging up commented that he ALWAYS answers his phone—at any day or hour—because it could be someone calling to give him permission to begin rebuilding. “You all would have to help me carry the vessels out of here!” If you are interested in this non-profit, their website is: http://www.templeinstitute.org/.
No visit to Israel would be complete without visiting the site where our Lord was born. The only catch is that Bethlehem is smack dab in the middle of Palestinian territory, the West Bank (keep reading moms…it’s okay.) Because she is Israeli, Ruti was not allowed to accompany us to the other side, and she loved being a martyr about it. “Hussein, on of jour tur gides…he es crasy. A leetle bit. But he’s okay.”
After having pre-conceived notions about what goes on in the West Bank, we were a little concerned about crossing the border without our Ruti or armed guard. But this particular trip was funded by the gift shop we visited the first day in Jerusalem, so we were committed. Despite the fact that we didn’t buy rugs or jewelry.
On our way to the Herodian palace, our b-string and completely sane tour guide Walid, took us past a church (and wait for it folks) where Mary is said to have rested on the way to Bethlehem before Christ’s birth. We arrived at the Herodian palace and Walid asked us to step off the bus, reminding us of the importance of our hats and water. Naturally, we had neither.
The climb was not water worthy. We stopped along the way for pictures, scenery and to read a sign memorializing an Israeli parks and recreation employee who had been murdered there ten years prior by Palestinian terrorists. Oh great. The conspiracy theory has started to come together. This is where they send the bad souvenir shoppers.
What was interesting about this spot is the fact that they’ve done excavation of it and are 80 percent sure this is Herod’s grave. We saw the ritual bath (mique), steam room, synagogue and Bonnie’s underwear. The high winds coupled with her choice of wardrobe (skirt) equaled something that EVERYONE at the Herodian Palace was observing. It took a team effort for our group to assist Bonnie in tying her skirt between her legs. Good times and fun memories.
After we corrected the wardrobe malfunction, we headed to Shepherd’s Field where it is hypothesized the shepherds saw the star over Bethlehem when Christ was born. We sang, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” in a cave that is thought to be where the shepherds tended their flocks at night. There were plastic stars and little white twinkle lights hanging all around. This reminded Nancy Jane of Pi Phi pref night at Ole Miss.
Our group was lead to a meeting area high on top of Shepherd’s Field where Pastor Dave offered one of his most beautiful devotionals of the trip. He delivered a message on Psalm 23 that was quite unlike what we’ve ever heard. He focused on verse two, “He MAKES (emphasis added) me lie down in green pastures.” Our head honcho alluded to the fact that sometimes when we are not following God’s way for us and life become too busy and we are not resting in the knowledge or peace of Christ, He MAKES us lie down. When sheep wandered off the path one too many times, the shepherd was forced to break the sheep’s leg and then carry him during the journey. Once healed, the sheep was allowed to walk and always stayed close to the shepherd. When we stray from the path, we are corrected and inevitably brought closer and learn to rest in The Great Shepherd.
Being a holy day, we had to race across the border to get to our Shabbat dinner, thwarted only by the threat of arrest since some of our group chose to take pictures at the gate, surrounded by armed guards and miles and miles of barbed wire. We were able to cross and after a horrible dinner of nothing that could be mechanically cooked or warmed (rules of Shabbat) we took comfort in lukewarm Macabee beer in the hotel bar.
We finished out our evening with a rousing game of “Two Lies/One Truth.” We can’t elaborate on what was exposed among our group. What happens in Jerusalem stays in Jerusalem.
We would have posted this blog earlier, however, everything in this hotel is governed by a Shabbat clock. We found ourselves blogging at midnight when all the lights suddenly went out. At first, we thought we had blown a fuse, but realized by the simple flip of a Shabbat switch, we could turn our room from Shabbat-worthy to unclean (aka: we turned the Shabbat clock off.)
We’d like to end this blog with a blessing that Rabbi Glick gave to us as we left the Temple Institute:
“From the City of Jerusalem, God’s holy chosen city, I wish you light to accompany you in every step of your life. A candle, a flame or spark, may you impart this light to your family, friends, neighbors and colleagues, turning this world into a better place to live. God bless you.”
Today is Friday which marks our second Sabbath in the Holy Land! We’re veritable experts now.
Today was anything but a day of rest, though. Ruti had half of our group up at the crack of dawn to visit the Wailing Wall (fortunately we bloggirls were in the alphabetical group that didn’t leave until 8:45 a.m.) and we were off with a vengeance to visit the City of Jerusalem. As Ruti said, “Turing wit me es like turing from sunrise to sunset…or until jour soul leafs your body.”
We started out by picking up our group and our fearless leader, who has a new wardrobe addition…a whistle. That’s right folks, a gym coach-type whistle, which she blew directly into the microphone on the bus to demonstrate how she would call when she needed us to come running from one gift shop to the next. Apparently yelling “TEX-ASS” just isn’t enough.
Our first stop was King David’s tomb, which isn’t really King David’s tomb. It is just a representation…kinda like Nazareth Village was just a representation of Jesus’ hometown. Two years ago, the “Penguins” (Ruti’s incredibly PC term for Orthodox Jews in traditional dress of white tops, black pants, and long black coats) took over the site, which apparently moves around quite a bit. Because it is now under Orthodox holdings and considered a hallowed site, men and women use separate entrances, each view half of the “tomb,” and “holy wear” is required. For those of you who aren’t in the know, “holy wear” means that women must have arms and legs fully covered (Shawls provided for the tawdry lasses who dare to bare their arms) and men are required to wear yamikas (also provided for the Gentile Boys).
The “tomb” (that wasn’t) was nothing more than a big rock with a purple velvet blanket tossed over it. We basically got to see half of something that is not anything. The guys said their half wasn’t much better, but we’ve included a picture below of the girls’ half for posterity’s sake.
We also discussed the Star of David, Israel’s national symbol for the past 300 years. It just so happens that this isn’t really David’s star. In fact, it wasn’t even invented until many hundreds of years after his death. Ruti thinks the truest representation of Israel would be something symbolizing the country’s solidarity…we think something symbolizing a gift shop would be very fitting too! Maybe an incorporation of the Israeli National Animal…the coney!
We next traveled on to Diasphora Yeshma, or the Upper Room, on Mt. Zion, which isn’t really Mount Zion. In 70 AD, Jerusalem was destroyed and the Crusader Church built over the place of the Last Supper was also destroyed. (Interesting note: Jerusalem has been rebuilt 18 times).
This spot is also known as the spot where the Last Supper took place. Only, this isn’t really the site of the Last Supper, but a representation of where the dinner is thought to have taken place. Ruti said the actual Passover dinner didn’t look anything like how old Leo DeVinci painted it either… “What? Do jew tink the dee-sigh-pulls got two-gedder and sayed, ‘Let’s pose for a picture?’ I don’t tink so TEX-ASS!”
Since we were running a little late this morning (the bus was leaving at 8:30 and we arrived at 8:35) we had to grab breakfast on the go. Nancy Jane had one cup of coffee and Lincee had a Special K bar. Just as we entered the 500-year-old Jewish Quarter, Ruti spotted a Muslim bakery, grabbed six pita pizzas without paying and began handing them out to our group. It was a welcome treat since we were starving. The Muslims didn’t seem to mind. We think they were afraid of Ruti. Who isn’t? In fact, all food vendors seemed anxious when Ruti’s voice or brightly colored flowery umbrella was in the near vicinity. Not only did she steal pizzas, but she scored a handful of peanuts and a falafel, promising each shop that we would be back to visit them for lunch.
Our group split up again and the bloggirls went to the Wohl Archeological Museum which is ten feet below modern day Jewish Quarter. Stepping into this museum transports the visitor back 2,000 years to the Herodian period where the city looks exactly like it did in Jesus’ time. This is the real deal folks! The highlight of the visit to the museum was the opportunity to enjoy the High Priest’s “home” which was a 60 room palace. Ruti took us through the living room where Christ was questioned by the High Priest after His arrest on Passover and the open courtyard where Peter denied Christ three times. It was the first time we both felt truly in awe to be standing where Christ walked and the fact that we are in Israel slowly began to sink in.
We stepped out the door of the Museum and heard the voice of Ruti, “On the double TEX-ASS! Get over here!” She wanted us to see the huge golden menorah that will eventually be used when the third temple is built, according to Ruti and our guides.
Our next stop was the Temple Institute—a non-profit organization that exists to raise money, awareness and promotes scholarship of the world’s role in building the third temple.
Interesting note: The third temple can not be built until the Arab mosque (which has been on the site of the holy of holies since the fifth century) is “removed”. That’s a euphemism for “destroyed,” folks.
Inside the Institute, our guides Gabriella and Rabbi Glick showed us many of the “vessels” that have already been crafted for use in the third temple. These included: the big gold menorah we have already seen outside, the altar used for sacrifice, oil lamps fashioned out of pure silver and High Priest robes on a creepy looking mannequin that we are pretty certain was female. Gabriella, whose personality can best be described as that of wet paper bag, was informative and full of interesting facts about the temple. Even with a little over five hours sleep, our most yet, it was a struggle to stay awake while she imparted her extensive knowledge of ethical ways to kill animals for sacrifice, Titus and his thieving of the temple goods, the Levite musicians and how incense was burned in the temple because it engaged the sense of smell—the most holy sense because it the least physical. We forced ourselves to take a seat on the front row in hopes to prevent falling sleep.
Our tour of the Temple Institute concluded with a spiel by Rabbi Glick about how important it is for people of all faiths to donate money so the temple can be rebuilt. In keeping with national tradition, he answered his cell phone in the middle of his presentation, and after hanging up commented that he ALWAYS answers his phone—at any day or hour—because it could be someone calling to give him permission to begin rebuilding. “You all would have to help me carry the vessels out of here!” If you are interested in this non-profit, their website is: http://www.templeinstitute.org/.
No visit to Israel would be complete without visiting the site where our Lord was born. The only catch is that Bethlehem is smack dab in the middle of Palestinian territory, the West Bank (keep reading moms…it’s okay.) Because she is Israeli, Ruti was not allowed to accompany us to the other side, and she loved being a martyr about it. “Hussein, on of jour tur gides…he es crasy. A leetle bit. But he’s okay.”
After having pre-conceived notions about what goes on in the West Bank, we were a little concerned about crossing the border without our Ruti or armed guard. But this particular trip was funded by the gift shop we visited the first day in Jerusalem, so we were committed. Despite the fact that we didn’t buy rugs or jewelry.
On our way to the Herodian palace, our b-string and completely sane tour guide Walid, took us past a church (and wait for it folks) where Mary is said to have rested on the way to Bethlehem before Christ’s birth. We arrived at the Herodian palace and Walid asked us to step off the bus, reminding us of the importance of our hats and water. Naturally, we had neither.
The climb was not water worthy. We stopped along the way for pictures, scenery and to read a sign memorializing an Israeli parks and recreation employee who had been murdered there ten years prior by Palestinian terrorists. Oh great. The conspiracy theory has started to come together. This is where they send the bad souvenir shoppers.
What was interesting about this spot is the fact that they’ve done excavation of it and are 80 percent sure this is Herod’s grave. We saw the ritual bath (mique), steam room, synagogue and Bonnie’s underwear. The high winds coupled with her choice of wardrobe (skirt) equaled something that EVERYONE at the Herodian Palace was observing. It took a team effort for our group to assist Bonnie in tying her skirt between her legs. Good times and fun memories.
After we corrected the wardrobe malfunction, we headed to Shepherd’s Field where it is hypothesized the shepherds saw the star over Bethlehem when Christ was born. We sang, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” in a cave that is thought to be where the shepherds tended their flocks at night. There were plastic stars and little white twinkle lights hanging all around. This reminded Nancy Jane of Pi Phi pref night at Ole Miss.
Our group was lead to a meeting area high on top of Shepherd’s Field where Pastor Dave offered one of his most beautiful devotionals of the trip. He delivered a message on Psalm 23 that was quite unlike what we’ve ever heard. He focused on verse two, “He MAKES (emphasis added) me lie down in green pastures.” Our head honcho alluded to the fact that sometimes when we are not following God’s way for us and life become too busy and we are not resting in the knowledge or peace of Christ, He MAKES us lie down. When sheep wandered off the path one too many times, the shepherd was forced to break the sheep’s leg and then carry him during the journey. Once healed, the sheep was allowed to walk and always stayed close to the shepherd. When we stray from the path, we are corrected and inevitably brought closer and learn to rest in The Great Shepherd.
Being a holy day, we had to race across the border to get to our Shabbat dinner, thwarted only by the threat of arrest since some of our group chose to take pictures at the gate, surrounded by armed guards and miles and miles of barbed wire. We were able to cross and after a horrible dinner of nothing that could be mechanically cooked or warmed (rules of Shabbat) we took comfort in lukewarm Macabee beer in the hotel bar.
We finished out our evening with a rousing game of “Two Lies/One Truth.” We can’t elaborate on what was exposed among our group. What happens in Jerusalem stays in Jerusalem.
We would have posted this blog earlier, however, everything in this hotel is governed by a Shabbat clock. We found ourselves blogging at midnight when all the lights suddenly went out. At first, we thought we had blown a fuse, but realized by the simple flip of a Shabbat switch, we could turn our room from Shabbat-worthy to unclean (aka: we turned the Shabbat clock off.)
We’d like to end this blog with a blessing that Rabbi Glick gave to us as we left the Temple Institute:
“From the City of Jerusalem, God’s holy chosen city, I wish you light to accompany you in every step of your life. A candle, a flame or spark, may you impart this light to your family, friends, neighbors and colleagues, turning this world into a better place to live. God bless you.”
Friday, June 6, 2008
DAY EIGHT: In the words of Madonna, “Borderline, feels like I’m going to lose my mind!”
JUST POSTED DAY SEVEN TONIGHT AS WELL. PLEASE SCROLL DOWN AND READ THAT ONE FIRST BEFORE THIS ONE!
Ma’a Salaama to Jordan & Naiheim!
Shalom to Israel and Ruti!
A majority of this day’s adventures (aka 10.5 hours) was centered around bus activities en route from Petra to Jerusalem. That’s right folks, ten and a half hours on the road…despite the fact that the two cities are less than a normal 3 hour drive apart. Of course, being back with Ruti, we stopped at every roadside tourist trap and gas-station lunch stop between the Jordan River and the Holiest City on Earth. Not to mention that it took us 3 hours to cross the border between having all our bags x-rayed and Brandon volunteering to bribe the border police with duty-free cigarettes in exchange for expedient passage (Beverly, you’ve raised quite a gentleman!).
Unfortunately, they were out of King Hussein Double Tipped Reds, so we were forced to sit on the bus for 2 hours. We passed the time, as we did the road miles previously, with another good old-fashioned sing-along.
We started with hymns and praise and worship music and somehow moved to gospel renditions of “Swing Low” and Naiheim belting out “How Great Thou Art” (“Ha Gray-tute Dow Aaart”). Good times, good times.
We had to cut what could have possibly been a Grammy-award winning performance of Kum-Bay-Yah (think: “WE ARE THE WORLD, circa 1982) short due to the 12 year old border police with an uzi responding to a disturbance of the peace call..in our van.
Being the responsible and resourceful social chairwomen of Israeli Invasion ’08, we pulled an oldie but a goodie. Nancy Jane harkened back to her days of Kamp closing to a “List What You Love About Your Fellow Bus-Mate” love fest. All 17 members of our bus group, Naiheim included, received a torn out piece of spiral journal paper with everyone’s handwritten comments about what made them lovable and traits that had been recognized during the past week of travel and getting to know one another.
The girls immediately loved the idea and started digging around in back packs for pens; we had to wake the boys up and they tried to act like they weren’t into it. But let me tell you…there was not a dry eye on the bus after love fest was over. And, thankfully, the minute we were done with the exercise, it was time to enter Israel and yet another security check-point.
Like Joshua and the Israelites into the Promised Land, we were led to Reunion Land with our dear Ruti. She was, folks, ECSTATIC to see us! She laughed, hugged, kissed, joked, hugged a little more and excitedly told us of how we were going to be visiting her town now…on our way to Jerusalem, one of the world’s five oldest (at a fair 7,000 years old) cities and the birthplace of Islam, Christianity and Judaism.
As we neared the place that Ruti calls “home sweet home,” our head honcho leader talked about the spiritual and topographical significance of this barren area. He referenced instances where Christ talks about his people being “like sheep without a shepherd.” Prior to visiting this spot, we’d have thought… “Wow, the sheep are totally lost.” True, but after seeing the conditions that “sheep without a shepherd” would have to endure, it has totally new meaning. Those animals, without their shepherd, would be toast. It’s broiling, no shade or water in sight, long distances give way to longer more desolate distances, wild carnivorous animals abound, and the desert is never-ending. Just like the sheep, we without our Shepherd are toast. Totally.
We stopped for lunch at Rosaline’s, which was Ruti’s second cousin twice-removed’s new Desert Stuckeys. It had a sunglass hut (where Nancy Jane purchased a styling new pair of sunglasses), a Dead Sea mud store (where Lincee had her hands re-conditioned four times as the “Mud Model”) and diners feasted on pita bread filled with cut up hot dogs. All of this ajoining a local filling station…our girl sure knows how to pick ‘em.
The one diversion from the Stuckey’s ambiance was the fact that a group of Israeli soldiers were having their McPitas when we arrived. And folks, these Israeli soldiers are worth writing home to the Mama Readers about…so that’s just what we’re doing. Prilly, Linea, Bev and Pam: Lincee was getting her hands re-conditioned for the second time in the air-conditioned Dead Sea mud store when she turned around and saw Nancy Jane giving her the look…you know the one: Cute boy at ten o’clock.
Lincee agreed. We immediately sought out Ruti’s advice regarding whether or not it was “kosher” to approach armed Israeli guards in the middle of their McBaklava to request a picture. Ruti, game for anything that highlights the beauty of her country, was thrilled to approach one soldier in particular to ask for a close up of his eyes…see below.
After the photo shoot, the bus moved on toward Jerusalem where it detoured onto Jericho Road. This is a Palestinian occupied territory, so armed Israeli guard escorts were necessary to complete this stop. Because the group had been told there would be no hiking involved in our bus-trip day, Nancy Jane wore her most stylish and uncomfortable pair of corked wedge sandals and was grounded…no hiking for her, but that meant plenty of quality time with the rest of the inappropriate footwear folks AND another photo opportunity with the Israeli armed forces. Lincee, who wore appropriate footwear, was quite jealous that she did not get her picture taken with a soldier. There’s always tomorrow, Linc! Maybe she’ll score a Hassidic Jew at the Wailing Wall. Good times, good times.
Another turn of the mountain and our bus arrived near the gates of Jerusalem. We passed through a tunnel at the entrance of the Holy City of Old Jerusalem and out of nowhere, Ruti busted out into song:
“Je-rrrru-salem, Je-rrrru-salem
Leafed up ydour boys ant seeng…”
Nightingale, not so much. And her voice is in fact, lower than the Dead Sea with a nice tamber of smoker’s cough on the high c’s. At the end of her solo, the bus went wild with Islamic Calls to Worship…ALA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. See DAY FIVE for instructions on how you too can incorporate this Call into your repertoire.
Our last stop, just prior to the hotel, was believe it or not a gift shop. And this one was a little different from gift shops in the past, because Ruti actually bargained on behalf of the shop keeps. We noted she received free coffee and kissed each of the workers upon entrance…we think these may be her nephews trained by her sons, or neighborhood friends. This could also be the internship site for the school Ruti runs to teach entrepreneurial skills to young Israeli men.
Either way, it was a HIGH-END Galveston Strand souvenir shop. Olive wood nativities ranging from $300-1,400, “Hand-woven” silk rugs for $3-7,000 or your typical Jerusalem Gate chatchies ranging between $1.25 and $15.00 after the 20% discount Ruti’s tourists receive from the nephews.
This store could have been sitting in the middle of Willowbrook Mall and called Lifeway for Jews. Everything that even had a SMALL tie to Jerusalem or Israel was included in this store. We were supposed to go to a traditional Israeli market, however, security concerns prohibit that. So, this was our one stop to collect unnecessary Jewish objects…a Woolworth’s of the Holy Land stop, if you will. But, folks bought and all of our loyal readers included in the “friends and family” category can expect at least one olive wood cross or “hand-carved” camel upon our return…we bought in bulk!
Heavy laden with packages, we arrived at our hotel…barely moving. After dinner and our evening re-cap, we didn’t even discuss meeting up for social time, but rather waved “Shalom” and headed to bed. Believe it or not, these bloggirls are off to bed at a very decent hour.
Shalom and stay tuned for news of our visit to the Wailing Wall, St. Anne’s Church & other Jerusalem sites.
Ma’a Salaama to Jordan & Naiheim!
Shalom to Israel and Ruti!
A majority of this day’s adventures (aka 10.5 hours) was centered around bus activities en route from Petra to Jerusalem. That’s right folks, ten and a half hours on the road…despite the fact that the two cities are less than a normal 3 hour drive apart. Of course, being back with Ruti, we stopped at every roadside tourist trap and gas-station lunch stop between the Jordan River and the Holiest City on Earth. Not to mention that it took us 3 hours to cross the border between having all our bags x-rayed and Brandon volunteering to bribe the border police with duty-free cigarettes in exchange for expedient passage (Beverly, you’ve raised quite a gentleman!).
Unfortunately, they were out of King Hussein Double Tipped Reds, so we were forced to sit on the bus for 2 hours. We passed the time, as we did the road miles previously, with another good old-fashioned sing-along.
We started with hymns and praise and worship music and somehow moved to gospel renditions of “Swing Low” and Naiheim belting out “How Great Thou Art” (“Ha Gray-tute Dow Aaart”). Good times, good times.
We had to cut what could have possibly been a Grammy-award winning performance of Kum-Bay-Yah (think: “WE ARE THE WORLD, circa 1982) short due to the 12 year old border police with an uzi responding to a disturbance of the peace call..in our van.
Being the responsible and resourceful social chairwomen of Israeli Invasion ’08, we pulled an oldie but a goodie. Nancy Jane harkened back to her days of Kamp closing to a “List What You Love About Your Fellow Bus-Mate” love fest. All 17 members of our bus group, Naiheim included, received a torn out piece of spiral journal paper with everyone’s handwritten comments about what made them lovable and traits that had been recognized during the past week of travel and getting to know one another.
The girls immediately loved the idea and started digging around in back packs for pens; we had to wake the boys up and they tried to act like they weren’t into it. But let me tell you…there was not a dry eye on the bus after love fest was over. And, thankfully, the minute we were done with the exercise, it was time to enter Israel and yet another security check-point.
Like Joshua and the Israelites into the Promised Land, we were led to Reunion Land with our dear Ruti. She was, folks, ECSTATIC to see us! She laughed, hugged, kissed, joked, hugged a little more and excitedly told us of how we were going to be visiting her town now…on our way to Jerusalem, one of the world’s five oldest (at a fair 7,000 years old) cities and the birthplace of Islam, Christianity and Judaism.
As we neared the place that Ruti calls “home sweet home,” our head honcho leader talked about the spiritual and topographical significance of this barren area. He referenced instances where Christ talks about his people being “like sheep without a shepherd.” Prior to visiting this spot, we’d have thought… “Wow, the sheep are totally lost.” True, but after seeing the conditions that “sheep without a shepherd” would have to endure, it has totally new meaning. Those animals, without their shepherd, would be toast. It’s broiling, no shade or water in sight, long distances give way to longer more desolate distances, wild carnivorous animals abound, and the desert is never-ending. Just like the sheep, we without our Shepherd are toast. Totally.
We stopped for lunch at Rosaline’s, which was Ruti’s second cousin twice-removed’s new Desert Stuckeys. It had a sunglass hut (where Nancy Jane purchased a styling new pair of sunglasses), a Dead Sea mud store (where Lincee had her hands re-conditioned four times as the “Mud Model”) and diners feasted on pita bread filled with cut up hot dogs. All of this ajoining a local filling station…our girl sure knows how to pick ‘em.
The one diversion from the Stuckey’s ambiance was the fact that a group of Israeli soldiers were having their McPitas when we arrived. And folks, these Israeli soldiers are worth writing home to the Mama Readers about…so that’s just what we’re doing. Prilly, Linea, Bev and Pam: Lincee was getting her hands re-conditioned for the second time in the air-conditioned Dead Sea mud store when she turned around and saw Nancy Jane giving her the look…you know the one: Cute boy at ten o’clock.
Lincee agreed. We immediately sought out Ruti’s advice regarding whether or not it was “kosher” to approach armed Israeli guards in the middle of their McBaklava to request a picture. Ruti, game for anything that highlights the beauty of her country, was thrilled to approach one soldier in particular to ask for a close up of his eyes…see below.
After the photo shoot, the bus moved on toward Jerusalem where it detoured onto Jericho Road. This is a Palestinian occupied territory, so armed Israeli guard escorts were necessary to complete this stop. Because the group had been told there would be no hiking involved in our bus-trip day, Nancy Jane wore her most stylish and uncomfortable pair of corked wedge sandals and was grounded…no hiking for her, but that meant plenty of quality time with the rest of the inappropriate footwear folks AND another photo opportunity with the Israeli armed forces. Lincee, who wore appropriate footwear, was quite jealous that she did not get her picture taken with a soldier. There’s always tomorrow, Linc! Maybe she’ll score a Hassidic Jew at the Wailing Wall. Good times, good times.
Another turn of the mountain and our bus arrived near the gates of Jerusalem. We passed through a tunnel at the entrance of the Holy City of Old Jerusalem and out of nowhere, Ruti busted out into song:
“Je-rrrru-salem, Je-rrrru-salem
Leafed up ydour boys ant seeng…”
Nightingale, not so much. And her voice is in fact, lower than the Dead Sea with a nice tamber of smoker’s cough on the high c’s. At the end of her solo, the bus went wild with Islamic Calls to Worship…ALA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. See DAY FIVE for instructions on how you too can incorporate this Call into your repertoire.
Our last stop, just prior to the hotel, was believe it or not a gift shop. And this one was a little different from gift shops in the past, because Ruti actually bargained on behalf of the shop keeps. We noted she received free coffee and kissed each of the workers upon entrance…we think these may be her nephews trained by her sons, or neighborhood friends. This could also be the internship site for the school Ruti runs to teach entrepreneurial skills to young Israeli men.
Either way, it was a HIGH-END Galveston Strand souvenir shop. Olive wood nativities ranging from $300-1,400, “Hand-woven” silk rugs for $3-7,000 or your typical Jerusalem Gate chatchies ranging between $1.25 and $15.00 after the 20% discount Ruti’s tourists receive from the nephews.
This store could have been sitting in the middle of Willowbrook Mall and called Lifeway for Jews. Everything that even had a SMALL tie to Jerusalem or Israel was included in this store. We were supposed to go to a traditional Israeli market, however, security concerns prohibit that. So, this was our one stop to collect unnecessary Jewish objects…a Woolworth’s of the Holy Land stop, if you will. But, folks bought and all of our loyal readers included in the “friends and family” category can expect at least one olive wood cross or “hand-carved” camel upon our return…we bought in bulk!
Heavy laden with packages, we arrived at our hotel…barely moving. After dinner and our evening re-cap, we didn’t even discuss meeting up for social time, but rather waved “Shalom” and headed to bed. Believe it or not, these bloggirls are off to bed at a very decent hour.
Shalom and stay tuned for news of our visit to the Wailing Wall, St. Anne’s Church & other Jerusalem sites.
DAY SEVEN: In the words of "The Sound of Music’s Mother Superior": “Climb Every Mountain”
Masaa Al-Khayr (“Good Evening” in Arabic) from Petra!
After waking from a restful night of three times the amount of sleep we’ve received in the last three days (AKA seven hours) we were raring to experience Petra—one of the Eight Wonders of the World (Please note, citing eight wonders is not a mistake…All of our readers should note that we are obliged to acknowledge the Astrodome as one of these impressive wonders).
We were told to wear comfortable shoes and a hat and drink plenty of water, because the entire day was dedicated to exploring this amazing area. We were also told to wear comfortable riding pants, as we would be riding horses, donkeys and camels. A true Jordanian experience.
We walked 100 meters from the back exit of our hotel to the front entrance of the Petran gates. Hewn from towering rock walls of multi-colored sandstone,Petra’s temples, tombs, and now gift shops are a true testament to the vision and entrepreneurial spirit of the desert tribes who sculpted them. The Nabateans—Arabs who dominated the region in pre-Roman times—chose this as their capital, because it was concealed from the outside world. They fashioned it into one of the Middle East’s most remarkable cities…a true wonder of the world. During Roman occupation, Petra became one of the regions busiest and most well-known trade routes.
Our initial Petran impression is at the first main entrance…it’s an Indiana Jones Gift Shop, probably owned by one of Ruti’s Jordanian relatives. Naiheim and Tony Balogna led us further down the path where many of our group members chose to ride horses down to the second main entrance. We both walked due to the fact that most of the horse guides were 12 years-old AND we’re both East Texas girls and wouldn’t want to show up any of our city slicker comrades on the backs of these fine Petran stallions (read: Both of us have been bucked off in recent memory and would really rather not have to blog about broken tail bones in a 3rd world country!)
We congregated together again at the third main entrance and our guides would walk a few hundred yards and point out a fissure in the rocks, then another few hundred yards to an interestingly colored sandstone to the high left or the recently-discovered (5 years ago) aqueduct to the bottom right. Another few hundred yards would yield interesting vegetation (olive trees and oleanders). The deeper and deeper we walked into Petra, the mountains just seemed to rise up like giant oak trees around us. This type of towering sandstone structure is referred to as a “siq” (pronounced “seek”) and Petra’s is about 1.2 kilometers long to walk at the bottom. It was like walking in the bottom of the Grand Canyon…kind of.
Well, truthfully…neither of us have ever been to the Grand Canyon before, but we’d bet it is similar, aside from the fact that the GC probably doesn’t have kids selling $5 camel bone necklaces, donkey drivers wearing shirts with “I’m with Stupid” written on them, and recklessly-driven donkey carts zig-zagging between tourists to go and pick up the next bunch of lazy Americans who can’t seem to make it all the way to the Treasury. It just didn’t scream “Bedouin” to us!
We followed the siq to the dead-end into a carved façade that …wait for it…is in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The community’s Treasury, all Hollywood aside, is truly the finest site we experienced all day.
Though nobody is really sure how old the Treasury is, it is certain that it’s carved out of the sandstone mountain and was originally intended to serve as a tomb for the Nabitean King Artus III. It gets its name, however, from the story that Artus hid his treasure in an urn on the second level while pursuing the Israelites. You can actually see pock-marks in the solid-rock urn, indicating vain attempts by the locals at breaking this treasure chest open.
We pressed on past the Treasury with promises from Tony & Naiheim of spectacular visions … and CAMEL RIDES!! We hiked up a small cliff to the site of a Byzantine temple carved out of the side of the mountain. The 10,000 ft2 room had naturally colorful interiors and great acoustics. Aside from the kids, still peddling their $5 camel bone necklaces, it felt as if we’d been transported back through time.
Our head honcho leader delivered a message in this temple/cave focusing on the premise that drawing near to God results in His drawing near to us. It was a very meaningful devotional, despite the fact that Naiheim’s cell phone kept going off. Only this time, the cave we were in had fantastic acoustics and whatever he was saying to answer his wife, brother or Cousin Abdulla in Arabic, we are almost positive translated to “Can you hear me now?” “Can you hear me now?” “Can you hear me now?” Who knew that Byzantine Temple ruins had such great reception?
To drown out Naiheim’s conversation with his wife about what was for dinner and whether or not he could pick her up a Camel Tooth necklace, our group sang a few songs and in the words of our former guide Ruti (We love you, Big R!) we sounded “like nightingales.” It was one of the most beautiful parts of the day.
We headed on to our lunch spot a bit down the mountain, appropriately named THE BASIN, and dined on (believe it or not) hummus, cous cous, olives, and an unidentifiable fluorescent orange dessert. Bedouin rumor has it that Barbara WaWa visited this spot several years ago for her in-depth interview with Harrison Ford. There is no church erected on the site to commemorate this occasion.
Following lunch, our group split up. There were those in our group who chose to massacre themselves and walk 10 feet south of the sun to reach the Monastery pinnacle, among these was Lincee. There were others who chose to get back to Jordanian civilization, have a beer, take a dip in the pool, and reflect on the 17 camel bone necklaces they had purchased. Among these, NJO.
NJO’s experience: It was a no-brainer that I’d take the camel back to the Treasury (about a 2 mile walk from THE BASIN). I bartered Solomon, my camel guide, down from $15 USD to $10 USD and he immediately arranged for me to ride atop Elian, Petra’s most disgruntled, overworked and underpaid camel. I should have known better. I was no less than fifteen feet away and already Elian was hissing, spitting, and screaming at Solomon, who was, I’m sure, cursing at him in Arabic.
I kept asking Solomon, “Are you sure Elian is a nice camel?” To which Solly replied, “Oh yes, princess, he is a wonderful camel and loves American women, just like I do.” Translation: “You get what you pay for you, cheapskate!”
A bit nervous, albeit excited, about riding a camel, I swung my leg around the saddle horn, held on with a death grip (the blister is just now subsiding) and Solomon coaxed Elian up from his “at ease” position, again cursing him for attempting to bite the leg of a fellow camel rider right next to me.
At this point, faithful readers, I was freaking out. And I do mean AUDIBLY freaking out. I had every Bedouin camel guide in the city of Petra thinking I was being sacrificed at the Virgin Altar I was screaming so loud. Solly wasn’t quite sure what to think of me at this point and I think was ready to start paying me denari just to shut up…this was not good for his reputation as a camel guide. My fellow camel rider comrades just stared at me in disbelief. I had bragged all morning about growing up around horses and here I was, not even riding the thing yet.
I calmed down once Elian got all the way up to his feet (about 10 feet high) and aside from the intermittent glances back to try and nip my legs, we were friends now. Until he decided he was going to be the Mario Andretti of the Petran camels.
As luck would have it, Elian is a young camel. He’s a camel who is not afraid to show his prowess. He was also not afraid to run a bit and I think even quite enjoyed hearing Solomon chasing after us cursing in Arabic, my nervous, “Um sir, sir SIRRRRRR,” tourist groups stopping all over to snap pictures of the afflicted camel rider, and Petran necklace-peddling kids laughing and pointing as I raced past them in a camel-like blur (okay, so it wasn’t THAT fast, but I’m telling you that camel ride is not the smoothest ride in town!).
By the time Solomon finally caught up with us, Elian was ready to compromise and be a good camel. The rest of the 45-minute ride was quite uneventful, excepting the moment when he finally did get a good little nip at me when I tried to pet him. Too petrified to ask for pictures to be taken, to even speak really, I don’t have anything to commemorate my camel experience. I suppose I could ask around, as I’m sure my rendezvous with Elian is on You Tube somewhere out there!
Returning to the hotel for a little R&R, was just what the sheik ordered. I also got a little “real work” done and awaited hearing back from my roomie re: her afternoon adventures.
Lincee’s Experience: Earlier in the day, Naiheim mentioned to me that I must make the trek up to the Monastery after lunch, because it would change my life forever. Built in third century BC as a Nabatean tomb, the Monastery gets its name from the crosses carved on the inside walls, suggesting it was once used as a church.
I congregated with others from our group at the base of the mountain and began the journey at an aggressive pace. Probably a little TOO aggressive for a climb that takes 40 minutes and boasts more than 800 steps that wind around in a zig zag up high inclines.
Pretty much immediately, the slight throbbing pain in my right knee (two ACL surgeries) told me to take my time. I convinced myself that I was just going to “enjoy the view” as the other people my age passed me left and right. The first ten minutes wasn’t that bad. The second ten minutes? No so much. I started doing that fake, “Oh look at that rock!” or “Check out this view!” as I leaned over, huffing and puffing, convinced that my right lung was about to explode in my chest. I’d ask my fellow climbers, one an 80-year-old man who is currently on the waiting list for a kidney, to take my picture at every curve we rounded. These were precious seconds that allowed me to catch my breath and chug down ridiculous amounts of water. I figure there were around 43 photos of me on the way up that mountain, which were all immediately deleted. Bless my heart, no one needs to the pained look on my face as I fake a smile.
Reaching the 30 minute mark, I almost decided to take up residency with the Bedouins who peddled camel tooth necklaces every 100 yards. I was resting against a rock in the blistering heat, when a nice lady offered me shade under her tent. I hoisted myself up to her blankets and sat down. She offered me tea and even let me bounce her baby (who was absolutely precious) for a few minutes before I returned to the mountain that knows no mercy. Another 1oo yards at the next Bedouin tent, a little boy tried to force, you guessed it, a camel tooth necklace on my arm. After graciously declining, he said, “That’s okay miss. Only five more minutes left. You come see me when you are done!”
If I could have felt my arms, I would have picked that little eight-year-old up and carried him on my shoulders to the Promised Land. This information gave me a new sense of strength! I readjusted my backpack, daintily dabbed the sweat from my brow and trudged on. The next Bedouin tent resident was an old lady smoking the largest joint in existence. I bet she had a few offers for it, but that’s neither here nor there:
Bedouin: “Miss? Miss? Something to take home?”
Lincee: “No thank you. I’m just going to the top of the Monastery. I hear it’s going to change my life.”
Bedouin: “Okay. Only five more minutes.”
HOLD THE PHONE! FIVE MINUTES WAS THREE MINUTES AGO!
Calculating the jumping distance on what it would take for me to fling myself off the cobbled steps into the death valley below, I am rescued by the sweetest angel this side of the evil mountain.
His name was Christian and he was the husband of sweet Heather from the other church in our group. I assume he sensed my internal struggle and clearly recognized my physical incapability to press on. He offered, nay, insisted that he carry my backpack the remaining five minutes.
I can’t tell you what a huge weight was literally lifted off of my shoulders due to the fact that my laptop, camera, 32 pound Bible and 17 Bedouin necklaces were weighing me down. I skipped along to the end of the path, light on my feet and sipping my water bottle with glee, while encouraging Christian to the top. I probably would have serenaded him with “Hero” by Mariah Carey if I had not been in awe and speechless at what stood before me.
Fifty meters wide and 45 meters high, it took my angel Christian and another jock dude from Faith Church to hoist (lots of that going on today) me up into this beautiful building to take a closer look. Sadly, it smelled like urine inside, so I opted to enjoy the majesty from a nearby rock outside.
A few minutes later, our fearless leader (who just had a hip replacement) and Henry (the gentleman waiting for a kidney transplant) walked past and invite me to come with them just beyond the Monastery to see Aaron’s tomb. Promising it would only take five more minutes, I was clearly either on crack or a high from the climb and joined them.
The view was breath taking and it was something I will remember forever.
I joined Bonnie and Robert for the walk back down the mountain. Obviously this task was easier on the lungs, but much more strenuous on the ACL knee that was pleading me to rest, ice, compress and elevate. Bonnie and I talked about how riding a camel never sounded so good and we were relieved to find a herd waiting for us at THE BASIN exit.
Our three camels were tethered together in a group. Bonnie led the way and I brought up the rear on a black camel named ZaZa. Being that I’ve ridden a camel before at FCA camp in high school, I felt like a pro. Our guide Ferris said that she was the best camel in Petra and was considered a matriarch of the herd. She was also impatient. ZaZa insisted on being first in line and would annoyingly pass Robert’s camel Jack and try to make her way to the front of the line. Being tethered together, this made for some awkward maneuvering among our group. Robert’s legs would become wedged against his camel and mine, Jack would spit and hiss at ZaZa for not staying in line and I would often have to swing my legs from one side to the other as not to knock over Bedouin displays of Petra magnets and oil lamps.
We reached the Treasury and bid Ferris farewell. All-in-all, it was an amazing day at Petra and there was a moment in my quite time on the mountain that I will treasure forever. It was a true experience of a lifetime.
Together again: Once we’d showered and de-camelized ourselves, we joined our group downstairs for dinner and debriefing of the day’s events. Nancy Jane failed to bring up her camel-riding experience and Lincee was mum on her finish-out with the other 80 year olds in the group. No need to bring up anything that could find itself on the world wide web, right?
We closed out the evening with cocktails in the Jordanian-inspired hooka smoking room (no loyal readers, we did not partake) while Ali and his guitar assistant Mohammed played a repertoire of exactly three songs: “The Girl from Ipanema,” “God Bless the USA,” and “Every Step you Take.” Conversation was light due to the fact that we were all nursing broken tail bones, camel horn blisters, swollen knees, sunburns, donkey rot and the inability to complete sentences due to a high from the secondary hooka smoke. All the girls looked really fabulous, however, in their camel tooth necklaces.
Truly, all in all, Petra was THE highlight of the trip thus far. Words cannot express and pictures will never do justice to the wonderment we experienced today. It is truly amazing to think that ancient civilizations came up with and carried out such intricate detail to architecture and city planning in the side of sandstone mountains. We are also completely overjoyed to experience the hospitality and kindness of the Jordanian people. They are just wonderful. Regardless of whether or not we ride a camel or hike the Monastery again, we will definitely find our ways back to Petra.
Side note: It’s 3:47 a.m. and we are currently listening to an Islamic call to worship ringing through the streets. Not joking.
After waking from a restful night of three times the amount of sleep we’ve received in the last three days (AKA seven hours) we were raring to experience Petra—one of the Eight Wonders of the World (Please note, citing eight wonders is not a mistake…All of our readers should note that we are obliged to acknowledge the Astrodome as one of these impressive wonders).
We were told to wear comfortable shoes and a hat and drink plenty of water, because the entire day was dedicated to exploring this amazing area. We were also told to wear comfortable riding pants, as we would be riding horses, donkeys and camels. A true Jordanian experience.
We walked 100 meters from the back exit of our hotel to the front entrance of the Petran gates. Hewn from towering rock walls of multi-colored sandstone,Petra’s temples, tombs, and now gift shops are a true testament to the vision and entrepreneurial spirit of the desert tribes who sculpted them. The Nabateans—Arabs who dominated the region in pre-Roman times—chose this as their capital, because it was concealed from the outside world. They fashioned it into one of the Middle East’s most remarkable cities…a true wonder of the world. During Roman occupation, Petra became one of the regions busiest and most well-known trade routes.
Our initial Petran impression is at the first main entrance…it’s an Indiana Jones Gift Shop, probably owned by one of Ruti’s Jordanian relatives. Naiheim and Tony Balogna led us further down the path where many of our group members chose to ride horses down to the second main entrance. We both walked due to the fact that most of the horse guides were 12 years-old AND we’re both East Texas girls and wouldn’t want to show up any of our city slicker comrades on the backs of these fine Petran stallions (read: Both of us have been bucked off in recent memory and would really rather not have to blog about broken tail bones in a 3rd world country!)
We congregated together again at the third main entrance and our guides would walk a few hundred yards and point out a fissure in the rocks, then another few hundred yards to an interestingly colored sandstone to the high left or the recently-discovered (5 years ago) aqueduct to the bottom right. Another few hundred yards would yield interesting vegetation (olive trees and oleanders). The deeper and deeper we walked into Petra, the mountains just seemed to rise up like giant oak trees around us. This type of towering sandstone structure is referred to as a “siq” (pronounced “seek”) and Petra’s is about 1.2 kilometers long to walk at the bottom. It was like walking in the bottom of the Grand Canyon…kind of.
Well, truthfully…neither of us have ever been to the Grand Canyon before, but we’d bet it is similar, aside from the fact that the GC probably doesn’t have kids selling $5 camel bone necklaces, donkey drivers wearing shirts with “I’m with Stupid” written on them, and recklessly-driven donkey carts zig-zagging between tourists to go and pick up the next bunch of lazy Americans who can’t seem to make it all the way to the Treasury. It just didn’t scream “Bedouin” to us!
We followed the siq to the dead-end into a carved façade that …wait for it…is in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The community’s Treasury, all Hollywood aside, is truly the finest site we experienced all day.
Though nobody is really sure how old the Treasury is, it is certain that it’s carved out of the sandstone mountain and was originally intended to serve as a tomb for the Nabitean King Artus III. It gets its name, however, from the story that Artus hid his treasure in an urn on the second level while pursuing the Israelites. You can actually see pock-marks in the solid-rock urn, indicating vain attempts by the locals at breaking this treasure chest open.
We pressed on past the Treasury with promises from Tony & Naiheim of spectacular visions … and CAMEL RIDES!! We hiked up a small cliff to the site of a Byzantine temple carved out of the side of the mountain. The 10,000 ft2 room had naturally colorful interiors and great acoustics. Aside from the kids, still peddling their $5 camel bone necklaces, it felt as if we’d been transported back through time.
Our head honcho leader delivered a message in this temple/cave focusing on the premise that drawing near to God results in His drawing near to us. It was a very meaningful devotional, despite the fact that Naiheim’s cell phone kept going off. Only this time, the cave we were in had fantastic acoustics and whatever he was saying to answer his wife, brother or Cousin Abdulla in Arabic, we are almost positive translated to “Can you hear me now?” “Can you hear me now?” “Can you hear me now?” Who knew that Byzantine Temple ruins had such great reception?
To drown out Naiheim’s conversation with his wife about what was for dinner and whether or not he could pick her up a Camel Tooth necklace, our group sang a few songs and in the words of our former guide Ruti (We love you, Big R!) we sounded “like nightingales.” It was one of the most beautiful parts of the day.
We headed on to our lunch spot a bit down the mountain, appropriately named THE BASIN, and dined on (believe it or not) hummus, cous cous, olives, and an unidentifiable fluorescent orange dessert. Bedouin rumor has it that Barbara WaWa visited this spot several years ago for her in-depth interview with Harrison Ford. There is no church erected on the site to commemorate this occasion.
Following lunch, our group split up. There were those in our group who chose to massacre themselves and walk 10 feet south of the sun to reach the Monastery pinnacle, among these was Lincee. There were others who chose to get back to Jordanian civilization, have a beer, take a dip in the pool, and reflect on the 17 camel bone necklaces they had purchased. Among these, NJO.
NJO’s experience: It was a no-brainer that I’d take the camel back to the Treasury (about a 2 mile walk from THE BASIN). I bartered Solomon, my camel guide, down from $15 USD to $10 USD and he immediately arranged for me to ride atop Elian, Petra’s most disgruntled, overworked and underpaid camel. I should have known better. I was no less than fifteen feet away and already Elian was hissing, spitting, and screaming at Solomon, who was, I’m sure, cursing at him in Arabic.
I kept asking Solomon, “Are you sure Elian is a nice camel?” To which Solly replied, “Oh yes, princess, he is a wonderful camel and loves American women, just like I do.” Translation: “You get what you pay for you, cheapskate!”
A bit nervous, albeit excited, about riding a camel, I swung my leg around the saddle horn, held on with a death grip (the blister is just now subsiding) and Solomon coaxed Elian up from his “at ease” position, again cursing him for attempting to bite the leg of a fellow camel rider right next to me.
At this point, faithful readers, I was freaking out. And I do mean AUDIBLY freaking out. I had every Bedouin camel guide in the city of Petra thinking I was being sacrificed at the Virgin Altar I was screaming so loud. Solly wasn’t quite sure what to think of me at this point and I think was ready to start paying me denari just to shut up…this was not good for his reputation as a camel guide. My fellow camel rider comrades just stared at me in disbelief. I had bragged all morning about growing up around horses and here I was, not even riding the thing yet.
I calmed down once Elian got all the way up to his feet (about 10 feet high) and aside from the intermittent glances back to try and nip my legs, we were friends now. Until he decided he was going to be the Mario Andretti of the Petran camels.
As luck would have it, Elian is a young camel. He’s a camel who is not afraid to show his prowess. He was also not afraid to run a bit and I think even quite enjoyed hearing Solomon chasing after us cursing in Arabic, my nervous, “Um sir, sir SIRRRRRR,” tourist groups stopping all over to snap pictures of the afflicted camel rider, and Petran necklace-peddling kids laughing and pointing as I raced past them in a camel-like blur (okay, so it wasn’t THAT fast, but I’m telling you that camel ride is not the smoothest ride in town!).
By the time Solomon finally caught up with us, Elian was ready to compromise and be a good camel. The rest of the 45-minute ride was quite uneventful, excepting the moment when he finally did get a good little nip at me when I tried to pet him. Too petrified to ask for pictures to be taken, to even speak really, I don’t have anything to commemorate my camel experience. I suppose I could ask around, as I’m sure my rendezvous with Elian is on You Tube somewhere out there!
Returning to the hotel for a little R&R, was just what the sheik ordered. I also got a little “real work” done and awaited hearing back from my roomie re: her afternoon adventures.
Lincee’s Experience: Earlier in the day, Naiheim mentioned to me that I must make the trek up to the Monastery after lunch, because it would change my life forever. Built in third century BC as a Nabatean tomb, the Monastery gets its name from the crosses carved on the inside walls, suggesting it was once used as a church.
I congregated with others from our group at the base of the mountain and began the journey at an aggressive pace. Probably a little TOO aggressive for a climb that takes 40 minutes and boasts more than 800 steps that wind around in a zig zag up high inclines.
Pretty much immediately, the slight throbbing pain in my right knee (two ACL surgeries) told me to take my time. I convinced myself that I was just going to “enjoy the view” as the other people my age passed me left and right. The first ten minutes wasn’t that bad. The second ten minutes? No so much. I started doing that fake, “Oh look at that rock!” or “Check out this view!” as I leaned over, huffing and puffing, convinced that my right lung was about to explode in my chest. I’d ask my fellow climbers, one an 80-year-old man who is currently on the waiting list for a kidney, to take my picture at every curve we rounded. These were precious seconds that allowed me to catch my breath and chug down ridiculous amounts of water. I figure there were around 43 photos of me on the way up that mountain, which were all immediately deleted. Bless my heart, no one needs to the pained look on my face as I fake a smile.
Reaching the 30 minute mark, I almost decided to take up residency with the Bedouins who peddled camel tooth necklaces every 100 yards. I was resting against a rock in the blistering heat, when a nice lady offered me shade under her tent. I hoisted myself up to her blankets and sat down. She offered me tea and even let me bounce her baby (who was absolutely precious) for a few minutes before I returned to the mountain that knows no mercy. Another 1oo yards at the next Bedouin tent, a little boy tried to force, you guessed it, a camel tooth necklace on my arm. After graciously declining, he said, “That’s okay miss. Only five more minutes left. You come see me when you are done!”
If I could have felt my arms, I would have picked that little eight-year-old up and carried him on my shoulders to the Promised Land. This information gave me a new sense of strength! I readjusted my backpack, daintily dabbed the sweat from my brow and trudged on. The next Bedouin tent resident was an old lady smoking the largest joint in existence. I bet she had a few offers for it, but that’s neither here nor there:
Bedouin: “Miss? Miss? Something to take home?”
Lincee: “No thank you. I’m just going to the top of the Monastery. I hear it’s going to change my life.”
Bedouin: “Okay. Only five more minutes.”
HOLD THE PHONE! FIVE MINUTES WAS THREE MINUTES AGO!
Calculating the jumping distance on what it would take for me to fling myself off the cobbled steps into the death valley below, I am rescued by the sweetest angel this side of the evil mountain.
His name was Christian and he was the husband of sweet Heather from the other church in our group. I assume he sensed my internal struggle and clearly recognized my physical incapability to press on. He offered, nay, insisted that he carry my backpack the remaining five minutes.
I can’t tell you what a huge weight was literally lifted off of my shoulders due to the fact that my laptop, camera, 32 pound Bible and 17 Bedouin necklaces were weighing me down. I skipped along to the end of the path, light on my feet and sipping my water bottle with glee, while encouraging Christian to the top. I probably would have serenaded him with “Hero” by Mariah Carey if I had not been in awe and speechless at what stood before me.
Fifty meters wide and 45 meters high, it took my angel Christian and another jock dude from Faith Church to hoist (lots of that going on today) me up into this beautiful building to take a closer look. Sadly, it smelled like urine inside, so I opted to enjoy the majesty from a nearby rock outside.
A few minutes later, our fearless leader (who just had a hip replacement) and Henry (the gentleman waiting for a kidney transplant) walked past and invite me to come with them just beyond the Monastery to see Aaron’s tomb. Promising it would only take five more minutes, I was clearly either on crack or a high from the climb and joined them.
The view was breath taking and it was something I will remember forever.
I joined Bonnie and Robert for the walk back down the mountain. Obviously this task was easier on the lungs, but much more strenuous on the ACL knee that was pleading me to rest, ice, compress and elevate. Bonnie and I talked about how riding a camel never sounded so good and we were relieved to find a herd waiting for us at THE BASIN exit.
Our three camels were tethered together in a group. Bonnie led the way and I brought up the rear on a black camel named ZaZa. Being that I’ve ridden a camel before at FCA camp in high school, I felt like a pro. Our guide Ferris said that she was the best camel in Petra and was considered a matriarch of the herd. She was also impatient. ZaZa insisted on being first in line and would annoyingly pass Robert’s camel Jack and try to make her way to the front of the line. Being tethered together, this made for some awkward maneuvering among our group. Robert’s legs would become wedged against his camel and mine, Jack would spit and hiss at ZaZa for not staying in line and I would often have to swing my legs from one side to the other as not to knock over Bedouin displays of Petra magnets and oil lamps.
We reached the Treasury and bid Ferris farewell. All-in-all, it was an amazing day at Petra and there was a moment in my quite time on the mountain that I will treasure forever. It was a true experience of a lifetime.
Together again: Once we’d showered and de-camelized ourselves, we joined our group downstairs for dinner and debriefing of the day’s events. Nancy Jane failed to bring up her camel-riding experience and Lincee was mum on her finish-out with the other 80 year olds in the group. No need to bring up anything that could find itself on the world wide web, right?
We closed out the evening with cocktails in the Jordanian-inspired hooka smoking room (no loyal readers, we did not partake) while Ali and his guitar assistant Mohammed played a repertoire of exactly three songs: “The Girl from Ipanema,” “God Bless the USA,” and “Every Step you Take.” Conversation was light due to the fact that we were all nursing broken tail bones, camel horn blisters, swollen knees, sunburns, donkey rot and the inability to complete sentences due to a high from the secondary hooka smoke. All the girls looked really fabulous, however, in their camel tooth necklaces.
Truly, all in all, Petra was THE highlight of the trip thus far. Words cannot express and pictures will never do justice to the wonderment we experienced today. It is truly amazing to think that ancient civilizations came up with and carried out such intricate detail to architecture and city planning in the side of sandstone mountains. We are also completely overjoyed to experience the hospitality and kindness of the Jordanian people. They are just wonderful. Regardless of whether or not we ride a camel or hike the Monastery again, we will definitely find our ways back to Petra.
Side note: It’s 3:47 a.m. and we are currently listening to an Islamic call to worship ringing through the streets. Not joking.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
DAY SIX: In the words of Willie Nelson: “On the Road Again”
Despite our good intentions, sleep deprivation set in yesterday. We can no longer serve two masters…sleep will win every time. With only what can be described as a two hour cat nap the night before, and most of the day riding on a tiny busy, we were beyond thrilled to reach the Movenpick Hotel in Petra. Arriving around 9:00 that night, we ate a quick dinner and rushed upstairs to find a spacious room. There may not have been air conditioning or hot water, but there WERE two comfy beds and they were calling our names. In Arabic.
NJO won the denari toss (she called camel, Lincee called oil lamp) and showered first, while Lincee attempted to gain Internet access for blogging. By the time NJO was done, we were still NOT online. It was at that moment that we made an executive decision to opt out of the recap. The world will just have to wait. We were so happy, we almost cried. When Lincee returned from her shower, Nancy Jane was on her bed with Arabic sub-titled Seinfeld playing. However, she was not only dead to the world, but also contorted in the most UNCOMFORTABLE sleeping position known to man. Oh well! Lights out.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
Day six started extremely early. Groggy from our power nap, we headed to the bus and made our way to the Jordanian border, passing by the West Bank. It was at this point that Ruti presented her manifesto on Arabic politics. We believe the words out of her mouth were, “There are plenty of Arab countries. They should just go back to one of those.”
On a serious note, it really brings it home how personally affected these people are by the constant conflict that has been raging for years in one form or another. It’s easy to spout off our opinions of how peace accords should be handled, but fact of the matter is that the situation is extremely complex and there appears to be no easy answer to the problem.
Stopping at the Jordanian border, we realized we were leaving Ruti for the next 48 hours. Since she is an Israeli tour guide, she is prohibited by law to work in Jordan, but assured us that the gentlemen we were being passed on to were the best Jordan had to offer, but asked us to keep in mind that they were Arabs and she is Ruti. She discouraged us from spending any money in Jordan, noting that the more money we spend in Israel, the more F15’s her country can buy from the USA.
Nearing the Jordanian border was like closing ceremonies at camp. We were devastated to leave Ruti, our favorite camp counselor, and a little nervous that the first Jordanians we saw were two 16-year-olds with machine guns. To commemorate this most auspicious occasion, we serenaded Ruti with a “Happy Trails” sendoff. She obliged us and even acted like she knew the words of the song. Ruti really DOES know everything. I’m sure the sight of two Texas girls swaying in unison with an Israeli tour guide in the middle of the Tourist Police office was a high hit blog for some Arab guy’s website http://www.ihatestupidamericans.com/.
Much to our pleasant surprise, was the fact that our Jordanian tour guide, Naiheim (pronounced Nah-heem) had a sense of humor, was quite knowledgeable and LOVED our group. He said that getting lunch was first priority which was music to our ears since the last thing we’d consumed was a saltwater and “mud” cocktail from the Dead Sea. The bus stopped in the middle of a rural village right outside the border. In sharp contrast to our previous tour guide, we’re pretty sure Naiheim is not related to the shop keep and has no stock holdings in the village gift shop.
Directly outside the door of our bus was the most interesting sight of the day so far. Sweet little goats were walking around in front of the carniceria, tethered to a nearby tree. Looking beyond the sweet little goats were more goats. These were sweet little goat carcasses hanging in the shop window available for purchase.
We were hoping goat tartar was not on the menu.
Thankfully, Naiheim returned with the motherlode of Jordanian fruit production. A bushel of bananas (without the blue bags), peaches, hot pita bread and goat cheese we think is from the sweet little goats. The best meal we’ve had so far.
Our first stop with Naiheim was Mt. Nebo where Moses viewed the Holy Land just prior to his death. It was absolutely surreal to look out into what we know was the Holy Land. (Deuteronomy 34:1-4) It truly was The Promised Land, exactly as God promised, the only green spot in the middle of the desert. It’s amazing to see the fulfillment of God’s promises even thousands of years later.
It was also amazing to see that the physical manifestation of the law that says, “All tour guides must answer their cell phones during prayers and/or devotionals.” Naiheim must have received a call from his wife, brother and Cousin Abdula at least six times during our prayer on Mt. Nebo.
While Naiheim’s family might not have owned the village lunch stop, they did own the mosaic tile shop we were forced to tour. Great concept—total waste of time. They were charging thousands of dollars for mosaic beer coasters and Apostolic table tops. Nancy Jane had to sneak out of the store to avoid purchasing the Jericho Tree of Life from the owner. All she did was say, “That’s nice” and there were four salesmen on her like white on rice (Israeli on hummus) negotiating down from $2,000 to $1,800. Nancy Jane faked a phone call from her imaginary husband and told the salesmen that he would kill her if she brought home one more mosaic. NO MORE WALL SPACE!
We went from the frying pan into the fire of tourist obligations when we stopped in Madaba, which is supposedly the home of Ruth. It’s more like a Jordanian Navasota, complete with low rider cars, hoodlum kids and more than likely a sub-par football (soccer) team. We didn’t see a Sonic. We filed into a construction trailer with 7,000 chairs and four couches in order to better educate ourselves on the intricate workings of the first map of the Holy Land, which just so happens to be a mosaic. Ironically, Nancy Jane owns an exact replica of this piece de resistance. It hangs in her fake River Oaks mansion and her imaginary husband despises it.
The next place we visited is referenced in Mark 6 as the palace of Herod of Antipas where John the Baptist was imprisoned and beheaded. In order to see the palace and prison, however, we had a 78 mile walk up 867 steps at a 97 degree incline in 197 degree weather. We failed to bring our water. Halfway up the mountain, a nice couple from the other church offered us their water. We must have really looked like sweet little goat carcasses hanging in a window. We thankfully took their gift and in return, Nancy Jane offered to name her first born child after Kimberly…the Goddess of Water.
We arrived at the apex of the mountain to be rewarded by a Vegas-style show, performed by our fearless head honcho leader. He proceeded to re-enact the belly dance performed by Herodias’ daughter that inevitably enticed Herod to behead John the Baptist. A video was confiscated by the Jordanian Police.
While we might have wanted to stay and dance the night away, we had a three hour drive to Petra ahead of us. Naiheim kept us enthralled the first hour with statistics about his country. Jordan is 85% Muslim and 95% of these Muslims are Sunni. Fifteen percent are Christian. According to Naiheim, it is a crime to be an atheist, punishable by life in prison. A person must be a member of one of the faiths mentioned in the Holy Book: Judaism, Islam or Christianity.
Speaking of the Holy Book, we’ve both been convicted, yet again by our tour guides’ knowledge of our Bible. They believe it is a wonderful story, yet have committed the entire book to memory. We are taking this as a call to action and will be holding each other accountable to the understanding and memorization of Scripture. This is not from a legalistic viewpoint, but of a true desire to know and understand the Word.
Naiheim graciously gave us permission to sleep for the next two hours. But instead, we had a good old fashioned American Band Stand. What started out as Lincee dj’ing from her i-Pod, ended up as an all out sing-a-long. Scott busted out his guitar. Judy busted out the praise and worship requests. Angela busted out the camera. And we both raised the roof with a rendition of Kum-Bah-Yah, complete with the creation of spontaneous verses harkening back to our days at Nazareth Village. Think: “There’s a coney, Lord…kum-bah-yah…”
As we ended our sing-a-long, Naiheim welcomed us to Petra and our luxurious five-star-hotel where we passed our luggage through XRAY machines, walked through metal detectors, were greeted by teenagers with machine guns, selected for mandatory retinal scans, fingerprinted, and sent to the side of the dining hall where unclean/unshowered Gentiles must sit. We were allowed to eat for 17 minutes and then ushered up to our rooms by armed guards singing, “Hail King Hussein of Jordan.”
What a day. What a night. What an adventure.
Salaam ‘Alaykum.
Peace be upon you.
CLIFF NOTES VERSION: cat napping, border crossing, good bye saying, Happy Trails singing, mountain climbing, sweating, water drinking, child naming, belly dancing, not mosaic buying, imaginary husband creating, kum-bah-yahing, arriving, contorting, crashing
THE RUTI RECAP: Aside from our historical education and getting her to say, “My voice is lower than the Dead Sea” yet again, our time with Ruti was trunicated. Therefore, you will have to stay tuned for the next 48 hours. We don’t feel it is in our best interest or a wish of the Israeli procurement department, to allow our allegiances to be anywhere else but with Ruti. Thus will not do the Naiheim Newsflash. It is JerUSAlem.
BABY UPDATE: Campbell Jane, the world's most darling child, is doing fantastic. Already I'm told she's asking for her Doodie. Mother and baby are doing great, and my sweet brother has said this has changed his life. While I'm having a fantastic time in the Holy Land, I can't wait to Shalom Shabot my neice.
NJO won the denari toss (she called camel, Lincee called oil lamp) and showered first, while Lincee attempted to gain Internet access for blogging. By the time NJO was done, we were still NOT online. It was at that moment that we made an executive decision to opt out of the recap. The world will just have to wait. We were so happy, we almost cried. When Lincee returned from her shower, Nancy Jane was on her bed with Arabic sub-titled Seinfeld playing. However, she was not only dead to the world, but also contorted in the most UNCOMFORTABLE sleeping position known to man. Oh well! Lights out.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
Day six started extremely early. Groggy from our power nap, we headed to the bus and made our way to the Jordanian border, passing by the West Bank. It was at this point that Ruti presented her manifesto on Arabic politics. We believe the words out of her mouth were, “There are plenty of Arab countries. They should just go back to one of those.”
On a serious note, it really brings it home how personally affected these people are by the constant conflict that has been raging for years in one form or another. It’s easy to spout off our opinions of how peace accords should be handled, but fact of the matter is that the situation is extremely complex and there appears to be no easy answer to the problem.
Stopping at the Jordanian border, we realized we were leaving Ruti for the next 48 hours. Since she is an Israeli tour guide, she is prohibited by law to work in Jordan, but assured us that the gentlemen we were being passed on to were the best Jordan had to offer, but asked us to keep in mind that they were Arabs and she is Ruti. She discouraged us from spending any money in Jordan, noting that the more money we spend in Israel, the more F15’s her country can buy from the USA.
Nearing the Jordanian border was like closing ceremonies at camp. We were devastated to leave Ruti, our favorite camp counselor, and a little nervous that the first Jordanians we saw were two 16-year-olds with machine guns. To commemorate this most auspicious occasion, we serenaded Ruti with a “Happy Trails” sendoff. She obliged us and even acted like she knew the words of the song. Ruti really DOES know everything. I’m sure the sight of two Texas girls swaying in unison with an Israeli tour guide in the middle of the Tourist Police office was a high hit blog for some Arab guy’s website http://www.ihatestupidamericans.com/.
Much to our pleasant surprise, was the fact that our Jordanian tour guide, Naiheim (pronounced Nah-heem) had a sense of humor, was quite knowledgeable and LOVED our group. He said that getting lunch was first priority which was music to our ears since the last thing we’d consumed was a saltwater and “mud” cocktail from the Dead Sea. The bus stopped in the middle of a rural village right outside the border. In sharp contrast to our previous tour guide, we’re pretty sure Naiheim is not related to the shop keep and has no stock holdings in the village gift shop.
Directly outside the door of our bus was the most interesting sight of the day so far. Sweet little goats were walking around in front of the carniceria, tethered to a nearby tree. Looking beyond the sweet little goats were more goats. These were sweet little goat carcasses hanging in the shop window available for purchase.
We were hoping goat tartar was not on the menu.
Thankfully, Naiheim returned with the motherlode of Jordanian fruit production. A bushel of bananas (without the blue bags), peaches, hot pita bread and goat cheese we think is from the sweet little goats. The best meal we’ve had so far.
Our first stop with Naiheim was Mt. Nebo where Moses viewed the Holy Land just prior to his death. It was absolutely surreal to look out into what we know was the Holy Land. (Deuteronomy 34:1-4) It truly was The Promised Land, exactly as God promised, the only green spot in the middle of the desert. It’s amazing to see the fulfillment of God’s promises even thousands of years later.
It was also amazing to see that the physical manifestation of the law that says, “All tour guides must answer their cell phones during prayers and/or devotionals.” Naiheim must have received a call from his wife, brother and Cousin Abdula at least six times during our prayer on Mt. Nebo.
While Naiheim’s family might not have owned the village lunch stop, they did own the mosaic tile shop we were forced to tour. Great concept—total waste of time. They were charging thousands of dollars for mosaic beer coasters and Apostolic table tops. Nancy Jane had to sneak out of the store to avoid purchasing the Jericho Tree of Life from the owner. All she did was say, “That’s nice” and there were four salesmen on her like white on rice (Israeli on hummus) negotiating down from $2,000 to $1,800. Nancy Jane faked a phone call from her imaginary husband and told the salesmen that he would kill her if she brought home one more mosaic. NO MORE WALL SPACE!
We went from the frying pan into the fire of tourist obligations when we stopped in Madaba, which is supposedly the home of Ruth. It’s more like a Jordanian Navasota, complete with low rider cars, hoodlum kids and more than likely a sub-par football (soccer) team. We didn’t see a Sonic. We filed into a construction trailer with 7,000 chairs and four couches in order to better educate ourselves on the intricate workings of the first map of the Holy Land, which just so happens to be a mosaic. Ironically, Nancy Jane owns an exact replica of this piece de resistance. It hangs in her fake River Oaks mansion and her imaginary husband despises it.
The next place we visited is referenced in Mark 6 as the palace of Herod of Antipas where John the Baptist was imprisoned and beheaded. In order to see the palace and prison, however, we had a 78 mile walk up 867 steps at a 97 degree incline in 197 degree weather. We failed to bring our water. Halfway up the mountain, a nice couple from the other church offered us their water. We must have really looked like sweet little goat carcasses hanging in a window. We thankfully took their gift and in return, Nancy Jane offered to name her first born child after Kimberly…the Goddess of Water.
We arrived at the apex of the mountain to be rewarded by a Vegas-style show, performed by our fearless head honcho leader. He proceeded to re-enact the belly dance performed by Herodias’ daughter that inevitably enticed Herod to behead John the Baptist. A video was confiscated by the Jordanian Police.
While we might have wanted to stay and dance the night away, we had a three hour drive to Petra ahead of us. Naiheim kept us enthralled the first hour with statistics about his country. Jordan is 85% Muslim and 95% of these Muslims are Sunni. Fifteen percent are Christian. According to Naiheim, it is a crime to be an atheist, punishable by life in prison. A person must be a member of one of the faiths mentioned in the Holy Book: Judaism, Islam or Christianity.
Speaking of the Holy Book, we’ve both been convicted, yet again by our tour guides’ knowledge of our Bible. They believe it is a wonderful story, yet have committed the entire book to memory. We are taking this as a call to action and will be holding each other accountable to the understanding and memorization of Scripture. This is not from a legalistic viewpoint, but of a true desire to know and understand the Word.
Naiheim graciously gave us permission to sleep for the next two hours. But instead, we had a good old fashioned American Band Stand. What started out as Lincee dj’ing from her i-Pod, ended up as an all out sing-a-long. Scott busted out his guitar. Judy busted out the praise and worship requests. Angela busted out the camera. And we both raised the roof with a rendition of Kum-Bah-Yah, complete with the creation of spontaneous verses harkening back to our days at Nazareth Village. Think: “There’s a coney, Lord…kum-bah-yah…”
As we ended our sing-a-long, Naiheim welcomed us to Petra and our luxurious five-star-hotel where we passed our luggage through XRAY machines, walked through metal detectors, were greeted by teenagers with machine guns, selected for mandatory retinal scans, fingerprinted, and sent to the side of the dining hall where unclean/unshowered Gentiles must sit. We were allowed to eat for 17 minutes and then ushered up to our rooms by armed guards singing, “Hail King Hussein of Jordan.”
What a day. What a night. What an adventure.
Salaam ‘Alaykum.
Peace be upon you.
CLIFF NOTES VERSION: cat napping, border crossing, good bye saying, Happy Trails singing, mountain climbing, sweating, water drinking, child naming, belly dancing, not mosaic buying, imaginary husband creating, kum-bah-yahing, arriving, contorting, crashing
THE RUTI RECAP: Aside from our historical education and getting her to say, “My voice is lower than the Dead Sea” yet again, our time with Ruti was trunicated. Therefore, you will have to stay tuned for the next 48 hours. We don’t feel it is in our best interest or a wish of the Israeli procurement department, to allow our allegiances to be anywhere else but with Ruti. Thus will not do the Naiheim Newsflash. It is JerUSAlem.
BABY UPDATE: Campbell Jane, the world's most darling child, is doing fantastic. Already I'm told she's asking for her Doodie. Mother and baby are doing great, and my sweet brother has said this has changed his life. While I'm having a fantastic time in the Holy Land, I can't wait to Shalom Shabot my neice.
Monday, June 2, 2008
DAY FIVE: In the words of Nelly, “It’s Getting Hot in Here”
Sonny and Cher
Peanut butter and jelly
Captain Smith and PocahontasBonnie and Clyde
Ruti and Brandon
Fannie Whitenack Libbey and Inez Smith Soule
And now…www.ihategreenbeans.com and shalomshalomyall.blogspot.com.
That’s right folks. A matrimony of sorts has occurred for a few reasons:
1. There’s only one computer
2. Internet access comes at 62 shekels an hour and we want to save our shekels for Ruti roadside souvenirs
3. The authors are exhausted, but dedicated to you our readers and want you to stay abreast of our travels in the Holy Land. SHALOM!
Once again, we stayed up “past our bedtime” blogging and awoke very early to pack, board the bus and leave our home-away-from-home in Tiberius over the past three days.
Our first stop along the route was the region of Beit Shean, city of Skeetopolis. (Pronounced Ski Topless.) This typical Roman city was built on an ancient sea route and has several outstanding characteristics that separate it from every other ruin in the countryside: Saul was beheaded and impaled on the city walls, The Greatest Story Ever Told (cross scene) was filmed here and its total destruction by an earthquake in 65 AD did not hinder the remarkable excavation of the past 20 years. The city is almost completely intact.
Ruti pointed out that there are similarities in all of these spots. Apparently, every Roman city that respects itself has an amphitheater, theater, bath house, shrines and a cat about to give birth.
We stopped in to the amphitheater where we’re sure Ruti would have loved to have karaoked, however as she reminded us again today, her voice is lower than the Dead Sea. I guess we will have to wait until St. Anne’s.
Two girls from our group did a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace to showcase the acoustics of these ancient facilities. We were sitting on rows XI and XII thinking we would have chosen something that screamed a little more Tex-ass! "All Night Long" by Lionel Ritchie.
Speaking of, we headed back to the bus where Lincee arranged her iPod speakers to blare our theme song for Israeli Invasion ’08. Ruti lead the "All Night Long" mambo down the center aisle, raising the roof a few eight counts before snapping the microphone up, shooting a glance at Lincee to sit down and telling David the bus driver, “Let’s rock and row-ell!”
Our rocking and rolling took us on a drive through the Gaza Strip. We weren’t able to see anything or get out and explore because it is still quite dangerous territory….apparently. Ruti told us the history, but we’re going to be honest here. We did not learn anything because we were cat napping. We were up until 3:00 a.m. writing our individual blogs— pre merger, remember?
We were awakened by the Islamic call to worship (see below) as we passed by Jericho (NJ gives a shout out to William, Margaret, the Rugs and the Battle that Joshua fit.) It is a Palestinian territory, one of the five most ancient cities in the world and the lowest spot on Earth. It is also located near the sight where Christ was tempted by Satan to turn a rock into bread among other temptations (Matthew 4). Further down the road, Ruti had David stop the bus to point out more Israeli wildlife (no conies) and the gold dome church which, although a military zone and not visitable, is thought to be the place where Christ was actually baptized on the Jordan River. Ruti had a great “ism” here: “You can not see it. But I’ve been there.”
Next on the Ruti “rowed” trip is Qumeran, the site of the discovery of the Dead Sea scrolls. Every book of the Old Testament was discovered here, except Ruth. Or Esther. We take separate notes during our adventures and as with any merger, there are sure to be a few glitches in the system, including passage and accuracy of information. But we do have 20 corporate shekels riding on this one. We’re really looking forward to the company car and expense account.
We believe Ruti had planned on taking us on a hike into the caverns that held the Dead Sea scrolls, but several members of the other group had a bathroom emergency. Ruti proceeded to yell into the microphone as David was navigating the bus between two drop-off cliffs, “Emergency Tex-ass to ease yourself.” At that point, Brandon piped up, equally as loud, “Hey ya’ll…play ‘Easy Like Sunday Morning.’”
It’s lunch time on day five which means yet again we are bussed to one of Ruti’s many familial establishments. This one, in particular, we shall refer to as Stuckey’s…Israel-style. Shaking things up, we ENTERED through the gift shop this time. We were near the back of the crowd, which gave us plenty of time to peruse the chatchies, including:
1. AHAVA body products from the Dead Sea priced three times more than what we pay at the Urban Retreat
2. Life size falafel and challah postcards (extra postage required)
3. Camel scarves
4. Winnie the Pooh snow globes
5. Punjab pants
6. Kosher boxers
This is encouraging! If the last two items can co-exist in an 800 square foot former beauty shop / Druize produce stand, then SURELY these two countries can learn to get along.
After lunch, we journeyed to Masada. This mighty fortress was the last stronghold and stand of the Jewish zealots against Rome, on the edge of the barren Negev Desert. Masada is a symbol of courage and perseverance for the Jewish people, where 960 Jewish defenders organized their last resistance to the “Rowmun” conquerors. Essentially, we are talking about a 950 BC Alamo. But the majority of our group (NJ and LR not included) was more interested in some dude, AKA Saint Francis of Assissi, feeding a bird crackers out of the palm of his hand, than of the historical and political significance of this site.
After we walked the second Herodian Palace, we made our way to the bath house. Plainly stated in the words of our fearless leader Ruti, “Ze bath howse saowna (sauna) had but one purhpose. All jew have to do in here es seet and sweat.”
Mission accomplished Ruti. We were sweating from every pore imaginable and places we didn’t even know we had sweat glands. Did I mention we were in the desert?
We were all ready to take a refreshing “flowte” in the Dead Sea, which is 29% salt, at this point. We did, however, have several rules we had to follow before Ruti would let us off the bus.
1. NO DIVING! Apparently, the suction that is created between your lungs and the water when you dive causes an almost instantaneous death.
2. “Your body is a ‘bowte’ and your hands are the ‘rowers’”, meaning, DON’T SPLASH!
3. You will discover all cuts once you get into the Sea.
4. Don’t dunk your hair, because it will run down into your eyes and BURN!
We rushed upstairs to change into our bathing suits. Being Texas girls, we were expecting a refreshing dip in the Sea. Instead, we waded in to find that not only were our feet were going to be massacred by the salt blocks, but the day’s theme of sweating was still being carried out. It was more like a Masada bath house/sauna. We quickly acclimated to the warm waters and joined our comrades in the slathering of Dead Sea salts and exfoliating our bodies. Guys included.
Comments Overheard at the Dead Sea
1. Dr. Chia: “Do you blink or wink to keep the salt out of your eyes?”
2. Elder Henkel, Babs McQueen, JenHen and Bon Bon: “Look [fill in the blank name] is walking on WATER! Who has a camera?”
3. The Kennedy’s (not John John and Caroline Bessett, but Scott and Kimberly): “I KNEW we shouldn’t have shaved our legs this morning.”
4. Brandon: “I’ve never exfoliated my chest hair before, or been this in touch with my feminine side.”
We finished up our Dead Sea experience with what Carol was convinced to be a mud bath. However, the rest of us are positive, based on the sign that said “DANGER…DO NOT ENTER” and “STEEP CLIFF” as well as the putrid smell and gurgling, bubbly waters that we were in a sewage treatment facility. We half expected six Israeli kids to jump out from behind the jetty and steal our cameras.
Nevertheless, we considered it part of our Dead Sea experience and rubbed the “mud” all over our bodies.
Following a detox bath, we joined our group for dinner and later capped out the evening with bar room games, cocktails and serenading from an Israeli Jamaican Neil Diamond. (He was the bar’s evening entertainment.)
PICTORIAL DIARY
NOTE TO READER: Please return later today to see these GREAT pictures. We are having Internet issues.
RUTI RECAP:
Ruti, ever the PC tour guide, instructed us this afternoon on how to perform the Islamic “Call to Worship” (she’s a Croatian/Israeli Jew). We’ve included two easy steps below so you, our readers at home, can feel a part.
STEP ONE: Leader asks a question like “Are hugh ready to rowell?”; “Do hugh hear me, Tex-ass?” “Do hugh want to stop for some falafel at my sea-ster’s store?”
STEP TWO: If in agreement, congregants should partially open their mouths, as if to accept a strawberry. The tongue titillates between the teeth and upper lip and the sound “A LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA” should be uttered in a C# major chord in the tambour the congregant is most comfortable with.
Cliff’s Notes Version: never sleeping, packing, blogging, performing, Gaza stripping, Dead Sea scrolling, boxer buying, sweating, sweating, sweating, slathering, exfoliating, detoxing, retoxing, botoxing, toasting
BABY UPDATE
Campbell JANE Otto was born around 4:45 p.m. Houston time. That’s 1:00 a.m. Israeli time. She’s the most beautiful baby this side of the Jordan, or anywhere else in the world and Aunt Nancy JANE can’t wait to meet her half namesake! We are including a picture below for your viewing pleasure.
State of the Union Update
Okay, so, well…our plan didn’t work. The main reason for combining forces was to consolidate our efforts, increase productivity and decrease sleep deprivation. It is now 4:04 a.m.
While our efforts were somewhat thwarted by the birth of Nancy Jane’s niece, this “combining of the efforts” really just produces double the reflection, triple the fun and we think we may have come down with a case of holy laughter, or it could just be brain rot from the feces we rubbed on our faces.
We are committed to this merger, however, and believe in what it will do for the cause of Holy Land blogging. So, stick with us! We promise it will be worth the ride.
Peanut butter and jelly
Captain Smith and PocahontasBonnie and Clyde
Ruti and Brandon
Fannie Whitenack Libbey and Inez Smith Soule
And now…www.ihategreenbeans.com and shalomshalomyall.blogspot.com.
That’s right folks. A matrimony of sorts has occurred for a few reasons:
1. There’s only one computer
2. Internet access comes at 62 shekels an hour and we want to save our shekels for Ruti roadside souvenirs
3. The authors are exhausted, but dedicated to you our readers and want you to stay abreast of our travels in the Holy Land. SHALOM!
Once again, we stayed up “past our bedtime” blogging and awoke very early to pack, board the bus and leave our home-away-from-home in Tiberius over the past three days.
Our first stop along the route was the region of Beit Shean, city of Skeetopolis. (Pronounced Ski Topless.) This typical Roman city was built on an ancient sea route and has several outstanding characteristics that separate it from every other ruin in the countryside: Saul was beheaded and impaled on the city walls, The Greatest Story Ever Told (cross scene) was filmed here and its total destruction by an earthquake in 65 AD did not hinder the remarkable excavation of the past 20 years. The city is almost completely intact.
Ruti pointed out that there are similarities in all of these spots. Apparently, every Roman city that respects itself has an amphitheater, theater, bath house, shrines and a cat about to give birth.
We stopped in to the amphitheater where we’re sure Ruti would have loved to have karaoked, however as she reminded us again today, her voice is lower than the Dead Sea. I guess we will have to wait until St. Anne’s.
Two girls from our group did a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace to showcase the acoustics of these ancient facilities. We were sitting on rows XI and XII thinking we would have chosen something that screamed a little more Tex-ass! "All Night Long" by Lionel Ritchie.
Speaking of, we headed back to the bus where Lincee arranged her iPod speakers to blare our theme song for Israeli Invasion ’08. Ruti lead the "All Night Long" mambo down the center aisle, raising the roof a few eight counts before snapping the microphone up, shooting a glance at Lincee to sit down and telling David the bus driver, “Let’s rock and row-ell!”
Our rocking and rolling took us on a drive through the Gaza Strip. We weren’t able to see anything or get out and explore because it is still quite dangerous territory….apparently. Ruti told us the history, but we’re going to be honest here. We did not learn anything because we were cat napping. We were up until 3:00 a.m. writing our individual blogs— pre merger, remember?
We were awakened by the Islamic call to worship (see below) as we passed by Jericho (NJ gives a shout out to William, Margaret, the Rugs and the Battle that Joshua fit.) It is a Palestinian territory, one of the five most ancient cities in the world and the lowest spot on Earth. It is also located near the sight where Christ was tempted by Satan to turn a rock into bread among other temptations (Matthew 4). Further down the road, Ruti had David stop the bus to point out more Israeli wildlife (no conies) and the gold dome church which, although a military zone and not visitable, is thought to be the place where Christ was actually baptized on the Jordan River. Ruti had a great “ism” here: “You can not see it. But I’ve been there.”
Next on the Ruti “rowed” trip is Qumeran, the site of the discovery of the Dead Sea scrolls. Every book of the Old Testament was discovered here, except Ruth. Or Esther. We take separate notes during our adventures and as with any merger, there are sure to be a few glitches in the system, including passage and accuracy of information. But we do have 20 corporate shekels riding on this one. We’re really looking forward to the company car and expense account.
We believe Ruti had planned on taking us on a hike into the caverns that held the Dead Sea scrolls, but several members of the other group had a bathroom emergency. Ruti proceeded to yell into the microphone as David was navigating the bus between two drop-off cliffs, “Emergency Tex-ass to ease yourself.” At that point, Brandon piped up, equally as loud, “Hey ya’ll…play ‘Easy Like Sunday Morning.’”
It’s lunch time on day five which means yet again we are bussed to one of Ruti’s many familial establishments. This one, in particular, we shall refer to as Stuckey’s…Israel-style. Shaking things up, we ENTERED through the gift shop this time. We were near the back of the crowd, which gave us plenty of time to peruse the chatchies, including:
1. AHAVA body products from the Dead Sea priced three times more than what we pay at the Urban Retreat
2. Life size falafel and challah postcards (extra postage required)
3. Camel scarves
4. Winnie the Pooh snow globes
5. Punjab pants
6. Kosher boxers
This is encouraging! If the last two items can co-exist in an 800 square foot former beauty shop / Druize produce stand, then SURELY these two countries can learn to get along.
After lunch, we journeyed to Masada. This mighty fortress was the last stronghold and stand of the Jewish zealots against Rome, on the edge of the barren Negev Desert. Masada is a symbol of courage and perseverance for the Jewish people, where 960 Jewish defenders organized their last resistance to the “Rowmun” conquerors. Essentially, we are talking about a 950 BC Alamo. But the majority of our group (NJ and LR not included) was more interested in some dude, AKA Saint Francis of Assissi, feeding a bird crackers out of the palm of his hand, than of the historical and political significance of this site.
After we walked the second Herodian Palace, we made our way to the bath house. Plainly stated in the words of our fearless leader Ruti, “Ze bath howse saowna (sauna) had but one purhpose. All jew have to do in here es seet and sweat.”
Mission accomplished Ruti. We were sweating from every pore imaginable and places we didn’t even know we had sweat glands. Did I mention we were in the desert?
We were all ready to take a refreshing “flowte” in the Dead Sea, which is 29% salt, at this point. We did, however, have several rules we had to follow before Ruti would let us off the bus.
1. NO DIVING! Apparently, the suction that is created between your lungs and the water when you dive causes an almost instantaneous death.
2. “Your body is a ‘bowte’ and your hands are the ‘rowers’”, meaning, DON’T SPLASH!
3. You will discover all cuts once you get into the Sea.
4. Don’t dunk your hair, because it will run down into your eyes and BURN!
We rushed upstairs to change into our bathing suits. Being Texas girls, we were expecting a refreshing dip in the Sea. Instead, we waded in to find that not only were our feet were going to be massacred by the salt blocks, but the day’s theme of sweating was still being carried out. It was more like a Masada bath house/sauna. We quickly acclimated to the warm waters and joined our comrades in the slathering of Dead Sea salts and exfoliating our bodies. Guys included.
Comments Overheard at the Dead Sea
1. Dr. Chia: “Do you blink or wink to keep the salt out of your eyes?”
2. Elder Henkel, Babs McQueen, JenHen and Bon Bon: “Look [fill in the blank name] is walking on WATER! Who has a camera?”
3. The Kennedy’s (not John John and Caroline Bessett, but Scott and Kimberly): “I KNEW we shouldn’t have shaved our legs this morning.”
4. Brandon: “I’ve never exfoliated my chest hair before, or been this in touch with my feminine side.”
We finished up our Dead Sea experience with what Carol was convinced to be a mud bath. However, the rest of us are positive, based on the sign that said “DANGER…DO NOT ENTER” and “STEEP CLIFF” as well as the putrid smell and gurgling, bubbly waters that we were in a sewage treatment facility. We half expected six Israeli kids to jump out from behind the jetty and steal our cameras.
Nevertheless, we considered it part of our Dead Sea experience and rubbed the “mud” all over our bodies.
Following a detox bath, we joined our group for dinner and later capped out the evening with bar room games, cocktails and serenading from an Israeli Jamaican Neil Diamond. (He was the bar’s evening entertainment.)
PICTORIAL DIARY
NOTE TO READER: Please return later today to see these GREAT pictures. We are having Internet issues.
RUTI RECAP:
Ruti, ever the PC tour guide, instructed us this afternoon on how to perform the Islamic “Call to Worship” (she’s a Croatian/Israeli Jew). We’ve included two easy steps below so you, our readers at home, can feel a part.
STEP ONE: Leader asks a question like “Are hugh ready to rowell?”; “Do hugh hear me, Tex-ass?” “Do hugh want to stop for some falafel at my sea-ster’s store?”
STEP TWO: If in agreement, congregants should partially open their mouths, as if to accept a strawberry. The tongue titillates between the teeth and upper lip and the sound “A LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA” should be uttered in a C# major chord in the tambour the congregant is most comfortable with.
Cliff’s Notes Version: never sleeping, packing, blogging, performing, Gaza stripping, Dead Sea scrolling, boxer buying, sweating, sweating, sweating, slathering, exfoliating, detoxing, retoxing, botoxing, toasting
BABY UPDATE
Campbell JANE Otto was born around 4:45 p.m. Houston time. That’s 1:00 a.m. Israeli time. She’s the most beautiful baby this side of the Jordan, or anywhere else in the world and Aunt Nancy JANE can’t wait to meet her half namesake! We are including a picture below for your viewing pleasure.
State of the Union Update
Okay, so, well…our plan didn’t work. The main reason for combining forces was to consolidate our efforts, increase productivity and decrease sleep deprivation. It is now 4:04 a.m.
While our efforts were somewhat thwarted by the birth of Nancy Jane’s niece, this “combining of the efforts” really just produces double the reflection, triple the fun and we think we may have come down with a case of holy laughter, or it could just be brain rot from the feces we rubbed on our faces.
We are committed to this merger, however, and believe in what it will do for the cause of Holy Land blogging. So, stick with us! We promise it will be worth the ride.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
DAY FOUR: In the words of Johnny Cash, "I've Been Everywhere"
Shalom from our last day on the Sea of Galilee!
In order to best organize my manifesto this evening, I thought it best to compile a list of the “TOP LESSONS I LEARNED TODAY.” In no particular order, they are:
1. Conies do exist.
Despite the Doubting Thomases and Snipe Naysayers in our group, Ruti pulled through. “O ye Tex-Annes of little faith.” She had carefully arranged for not one, but TWO, Nazareth Village conies to be present on the “row-ad” to Caesarea Phillipi. There they were, the mechanical conies, perched and sunning atop some rocks near where, we heard for the third time, Christ is thought to have taught the disciples to pray the Lord’s prayer. In addition to finally SEEING these fabled creatures, our group also learned that they eat ju-ju bees, are quite vicious (one actually bit Ruti’s finger several years ago), and like snipes, they usually come out at night when you’re running around beating a paper bag and yelling, “Here conie, conie, conie!”
2. Everything in Israel is built on top of something else.
It’s true. Every village, souvenir shop, church and restaurant we visit is built on top of at least three other cities, Peter’s mother-in-law’s house, and some sort of artifact waiting to be discovered. We visited the Tel Dan Nature Reserve which features the beautiful fauna & flora of Israel. The real treat, however, is the excavation site of the ancient city of Dan. We hiked up a winding rocky path which led to the site of a temple dating back to the time of Jeroboam. Jerry led the people’s revolt against the heavy taxes levied by Rehoboam, son of Solomon and was the first “king” of the northern tribes of Israel. (He’s mentioned in 1 Kings11 & 12). This is the guy who created the golden calves and encouraged his people to worship them, as opposed to going “all the way” to Jerusalem to do what was commanded of them. Terrible ending for him and the city, as now all that’s left are a few artifacts and a really great view of Syria.
3. My life is very different from the lives of the Israeli people.
Today, we visited the Golan Heights and the site of what Ruti says has the best Coffee in Israel (her daughter is the Head Barista in Charge). Turns out, we were on a plateau that overlooks the Syrian border. We toured a bomb shelter and a bunker (had some coffee and meandered among the weird yard art) on this site of 1967’s Six Day War and 1973’s Yom Kippur War. It was eerie walking through the bunker and thinking about lives that were no-doubt lost and a war that will probably always go on over land and water rights. Ruti pointed out the historic and political significance of the area in maybe the best explanation I’ve ever heard. Down below, there were homes…down the roads there were villages and cities that have been destroyed by bomb-shellings and mass exodus. As we were leaving, a group of Israeli high school students was coming to tour and had an armed guard escort, which is apparently law anytime Israeli kids go near a border or an area with any probability for danger.
Not to pull the ethnocentricity card AGAIN, but I feel SO fortunate to live in the good ol’ US of A with the freedoms and safety I have!
4. My parents are very different people.
A conversation I had with Daddy this afternoon (at $3/minute) went like this:
Daddy: “Hello.”
NJ: “DADDY! Hey! How are you!”
Daddy: “Hi”
NJ: “Daddy, it’s me…Your daughter. You know, your only daughter. I’ve been in Israel since last week.”
Daddy: “Yeah. How are you?”
NJ: “Great! We’re having the best time. We just got done going right to the border of Syria, there were bomb shells, land mines, tanks, UN soldiers, old bunkers, and you could almost smell the Hezbollah.”
Daddy: “Sounds like ya’ll are having a great time. Listen, I’ve got to run to church now. Call me and mom later. Love you.”
A similar conversation a few hours later with Mama went like this:
Mama: “NANNY GOAT!”
NJ: “Hey Mama. How are you?”Mama: “Great. Daddy and I just got done with church and I’m on my way home to fix a little lunch. How’s your trip? Are you having fun? How is Lincee? I saw your blog. Loved the pictures. What a good-looking group ya’ll have!”
NJ: “It is just great. We saw so many wonderful things today (omitting the war-torn countryside comments).”
Mama: “Well, I’m so glad. I have been praying for you. I hope you are being careful. Promise me one thing…Please don’t go anywhere by yourself and don’t leave your hotel room after dark. Also, did you remember to bring the pepper spray I gave you? And honey, please don’t talk to any strangers. I know how you can be sometimes. Please be careful. You’re the only daughter I have.”
So, despite their differences, I love them both SO much and miss them. Shalom, Mama & Daddy!
5. Kids are the same everywhere.
At the Nature Reserve today, a group of 269 Israeli school kids were just leaving as our tour bus was pulling in. They had 2 teachers, one guy/one girl, to all 269 kids. The teachers, who were flirting with one another and probably shooting up behind the gift shop, paid no attention to the students running through the parking lot and sneaking ice cream cones at 10 a.m. As we passed by them, we noticed they were playing skip rope, jacks, and several ran up to us to practice their English:
“Hello. How are you? The hot is very weather outside today, thank you!” It took me back to my days as a Navasota Junior High School Fang Flag Corp member field tripping to Washington-on-the-Brazos State Park & practicing my Spanish to anyone who remotely looked like they MIGHT speak the language.
This lesson was reiterated later in the day when Linc and I went down to dip a toe in the Sea of Galilee. We could have gone with several members of our group to the beach, which was a 15 minute walk from the hotel, but to be honest, I was all about taking the easy way out after 10 hours of Ruti-style touring. We spotted a jetty off the Sea where several frolickers appeared to be having a wonderful time. We gathered our sheckels, towels, cameras, and room keys and were off to swim.
We walked down the boardwalk to where the jetty was supposed to begin and looming before us was a 15 foot chain link fence with a “DO NOT ENTER” sign and barbed wire to ensure that we could not. Reminded us both of the Syrian border we had seen earlier. These people frolicking, though…how in the WORLD did they get on the jetty? I approached a rather unfriendly looking woman whose family was on the other side of the Berlin Wall and asked her. After several attempts at performing sign language, pointing, and making the universal sign for “We want to fish and swim” she said: “You climb. Follow me.”
In four-inch heels and a skirt with what had to be a Benson and Hedges menthol dangling from one hand, Mama Israel swung her body around the barbed wire post and hiked her leg up over a 5 foot wall. She effortlessly floated to the other side of the Jetty. SHE was in the Promised Land.
I followed suit, as did Lincee and there we were…just 15 feet up from the Sea of Galilee where Jesus once walked on water. As we began to descend the rock wall that separated us from the shallow Galilean waters below, a greasy Arab man on a jet ski built for two pulled up to our landing spot and in broken English asked ME if I wanted to take a ride and go swimming with him. Lincee, through her hysterical laughter, told him no & I politely refused, remembering my mother’s parting words to me & not wanting to be on the front page of Mondee’s Tiberian paper.
He slowly idled. I’m guessing he was sort of hoping I would change my mind, but probably really to see if Lincee’s hysterical laughter was going to cause her to fall down the cliff into the shallow waters of the Sea of Galilee. Sweet Justice!
We sauntered over to the other side of the jetty and as we began to descend these rocks I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and into the smiling faces of 6 school-aged kids. Speaking Heblish (Hebrew & English), we learned that they all had uncles in either LA or New Jersey, wanted to take pictures with us, teach us about the history and geography of the land (Rudi plants, I wondered?), teach us Hebrew phrases (which we are convinced were dirty phrases because they’d laugh hysterically at each suggestion), and thought we were beautiful (Man, I LOVE dis country!).
We escaped from this game of “Let’s practice our English” when Lincee suggested she take a picture of each of them diving off the rock wall. As we walked up to our hotel, we could see our new Israeli friends waving and shouting “SHALOM, SHALOM!”
6. Jokes are always funnier to the person who is telling them.
I have to admit, we got Ruti started on a lesser known genre of jokes…those about Russians. I figure they are akin to our Aggie jokes. I’m not sure if the punch lines were lost in translation, or my brain was just that fried, but I didn’t get any of them. And ask my dad, who is the king of all joke genres, I usually don’t. The courtesy laughs throughout the bus for Ruti’s jokes, however, got her going and in turn the head honcho leader got to telling jokes in the Biblical humor genre. It turned out to be quite the Sonny & Cher Variety Hour! Ruti and Daddy would be great friends!
7. You don’t get the product without the process.
In our de-briefing tonight, the head honcho talked about one of the goals of the Christian life as seeking to become more like Christ. And, he added, we can’t become like Christ, unless we go through the process of becoming more like him, which includes suffering. Dave referenced Philippians 3:10, which says, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.” Not only does suffering place me in the middle of that process, but it becomes my greatest platform for ministry to others. Such an important lesson!
8. Israel is a veritable biosphere.
In our almost two-hour bus ride today from Golan Heights to our hotel, we learned about storks, wolves, eagles, horses, gazelles, sheep, lizards, a breed of Israeli man that Ruti says is “for the dogs,” & of course, the Coney. I won’t mention, since we’ve heard it about 14 times, that bananas are everywhere in Iz-Rye-El and the stalks are wrapped in blue plastic to make the bananas grow bigger in less time.
9. Our GBC group is fantastic.
Allow me to wax sentimental here at the end of the blog and give a quick shout-out to the folks responsible for making this such an incredible trip. I can’t even tell you readers what an incredible group of folks I have from my church here in the Holy Land. I was just thinking tonight, as we sat in the lobby and played “Killer & Detective,” how fortunate I am to experience this place with these people. SHA-LOM!
PICTORIAL DIARY:
In order to best organize my manifesto this evening, I thought it best to compile a list of the “TOP LESSONS I LEARNED TODAY.” In no particular order, they are:
1. Conies do exist.
Despite the Doubting Thomases and Snipe Naysayers in our group, Ruti pulled through. “O ye Tex-Annes of little faith.” She had carefully arranged for not one, but TWO, Nazareth Village conies to be present on the “row-ad” to Caesarea Phillipi. There they were, the mechanical conies, perched and sunning atop some rocks near where, we heard for the third time, Christ is thought to have taught the disciples to pray the Lord’s prayer. In addition to finally SEEING these fabled creatures, our group also learned that they eat ju-ju bees, are quite vicious (one actually bit Ruti’s finger several years ago), and like snipes, they usually come out at night when you’re running around beating a paper bag and yelling, “Here conie, conie, conie!”
2. Everything in Israel is built on top of something else.
It’s true. Every village, souvenir shop, church and restaurant we visit is built on top of at least three other cities, Peter’s mother-in-law’s house, and some sort of artifact waiting to be discovered. We visited the Tel Dan Nature Reserve which features the beautiful fauna & flora of Israel. The real treat, however, is the excavation site of the ancient city of Dan. We hiked up a winding rocky path which led to the site of a temple dating back to the time of Jeroboam. Jerry led the people’s revolt against the heavy taxes levied by Rehoboam, son of Solomon and was the first “king” of the northern tribes of Israel. (He’s mentioned in 1 Kings11 & 12). This is the guy who created the golden calves and encouraged his people to worship them, as opposed to going “all the way” to Jerusalem to do what was commanded of them. Terrible ending for him and the city, as now all that’s left are a few artifacts and a really great view of Syria.
3. My life is very different from the lives of the Israeli people.
Today, we visited the Golan Heights and the site of what Ruti says has the best Coffee in Israel (her daughter is the Head Barista in Charge). Turns out, we were on a plateau that overlooks the Syrian border. We toured a bomb shelter and a bunker (had some coffee and meandered among the weird yard art) on this site of 1967’s Six Day War and 1973’s Yom Kippur War. It was eerie walking through the bunker and thinking about lives that were no-doubt lost and a war that will probably always go on over land and water rights. Ruti pointed out the historic and political significance of the area in maybe the best explanation I’ve ever heard. Down below, there were homes…down the roads there were villages and cities that have been destroyed by bomb-shellings and mass exodus. As we were leaving, a group of Israeli high school students was coming to tour and had an armed guard escort, which is apparently law anytime Israeli kids go near a border or an area with any probability for danger.
Not to pull the ethnocentricity card AGAIN, but I feel SO fortunate to live in the good ol’ US of A with the freedoms and safety I have!
4. My parents are very different people.
A conversation I had with Daddy this afternoon (at $3/minute) went like this:
Daddy: “Hello.”
NJ: “DADDY! Hey! How are you!”
Daddy: “Hi”
NJ: “Daddy, it’s me…Your daughter. You know, your only daughter. I’ve been in Israel since last week.”
Daddy: “Yeah. How are you?”
NJ: “Great! We’re having the best time. We just got done going right to the border of Syria, there were bomb shells, land mines, tanks, UN soldiers, old bunkers, and you could almost smell the Hezbollah.”
Daddy: “Sounds like ya’ll are having a great time. Listen, I’ve got to run to church now. Call me and mom later. Love you.”
A similar conversation a few hours later with Mama went like this:
Mama: “NANNY GOAT!”
NJ: “Hey Mama. How are you?”Mama: “Great. Daddy and I just got done with church and I’m on my way home to fix a little lunch. How’s your trip? Are you having fun? How is Lincee? I saw your blog. Loved the pictures. What a good-looking group ya’ll have!”
NJ: “It is just great. We saw so many wonderful things today (omitting the war-torn countryside comments).”
Mama: “Well, I’m so glad. I have been praying for you. I hope you are being careful. Promise me one thing…Please don’t go anywhere by yourself and don’t leave your hotel room after dark. Also, did you remember to bring the pepper spray I gave you? And honey, please don’t talk to any strangers. I know how you can be sometimes. Please be careful. You’re the only daughter I have.”
So, despite their differences, I love them both SO much and miss them. Shalom, Mama & Daddy!
5. Kids are the same everywhere.
At the Nature Reserve today, a group of 269 Israeli school kids were just leaving as our tour bus was pulling in. They had 2 teachers, one guy/one girl, to all 269 kids. The teachers, who were flirting with one another and probably shooting up behind the gift shop, paid no attention to the students running through the parking lot and sneaking ice cream cones at 10 a.m. As we passed by them, we noticed they were playing skip rope, jacks, and several ran up to us to practice their English:
“Hello. How are you? The hot is very weather outside today, thank you!” It took me back to my days as a Navasota Junior High School Fang Flag Corp member field tripping to Washington-on-the-Brazos State Park & practicing my Spanish to anyone who remotely looked like they MIGHT speak the language.
This lesson was reiterated later in the day when Linc and I went down to dip a toe in the Sea of Galilee. We could have gone with several members of our group to the beach, which was a 15 minute walk from the hotel, but to be honest, I was all about taking the easy way out after 10 hours of Ruti-style touring. We spotted a jetty off the Sea where several frolickers appeared to be having a wonderful time. We gathered our sheckels, towels, cameras, and room keys and were off to swim.
We walked down the boardwalk to where the jetty was supposed to begin and looming before us was a 15 foot chain link fence with a “DO NOT ENTER” sign and barbed wire to ensure that we could not. Reminded us both of the Syrian border we had seen earlier. These people frolicking, though…how in the WORLD did they get on the jetty? I approached a rather unfriendly looking woman whose family was on the other side of the Berlin Wall and asked her. After several attempts at performing sign language, pointing, and making the universal sign for “We want to fish and swim” she said: “You climb. Follow me.”
In four-inch heels and a skirt with what had to be a Benson and Hedges menthol dangling from one hand, Mama Israel swung her body around the barbed wire post and hiked her leg up over a 5 foot wall. She effortlessly floated to the other side of the Jetty. SHE was in the Promised Land.
I followed suit, as did Lincee and there we were…just 15 feet up from the Sea of Galilee where Jesus once walked on water. As we began to descend the rock wall that separated us from the shallow Galilean waters below, a greasy Arab man on a jet ski built for two pulled up to our landing spot and in broken English asked ME if I wanted to take a ride and go swimming with him. Lincee, through her hysterical laughter, told him no & I politely refused, remembering my mother’s parting words to me & not wanting to be on the front page of Mondee’s Tiberian paper.
He slowly idled. I’m guessing he was sort of hoping I would change my mind, but probably really to see if Lincee’s hysterical laughter was going to cause her to fall down the cliff into the shallow waters of the Sea of Galilee. Sweet Justice!
We sauntered over to the other side of the jetty and as we began to descend these rocks I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and into the smiling faces of 6 school-aged kids. Speaking Heblish (Hebrew & English), we learned that they all had uncles in either LA or New Jersey, wanted to take pictures with us, teach us about the history and geography of the land (Rudi plants, I wondered?), teach us Hebrew phrases (which we are convinced were dirty phrases because they’d laugh hysterically at each suggestion), and thought we were beautiful (Man, I LOVE dis country!).
We escaped from this game of “Let’s practice our English” when Lincee suggested she take a picture of each of them diving off the rock wall. As we walked up to our hotel, we could see our new Israeli friends waving and shouting “SHALOM, SHALOM!”
6. Jokes are always funnier to the person who is telling them.
I have to admit, we got Ruti started on a lesser known genre of jokes…those about Russians. I figure they are akin to our Aggie jokes. I’m not sure if the punch lines were lost in translation, or my brain was just that fried, but I didn’t get any of them. And ask my dad, who is the king of all joke genres, I usually don’t. The courtesy laughs throughout the bus for Ruti’s jokes, however, got her going and in turn the head honcho leader got to telling jokes in the Biblical humor genre. It turned out to be quite the Sonny & Cher Variety Hour! Ruti and Daddy would be great friends!
7. You don’t get the product without the process.
In our de-briefing tonight, the head honcho talked about one of the goals of the Christian life as seeking to become more like Christ. And, he added, we can’t become like Christ, unless we go through the process of becoming more like him, which includes suffering. Dave referenced Philippians 3:10, which says, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.” Not only does suffering place me in the middle of that process, but it becomes my greatest platform for ministry to others. Such an important lesson!
8. Israel is a veritable biosphere.
In our almost two-hour bus ride today from Golan Heights to our hotel, we learned about storks, wolves, eagles, horses, gazelles, sheep, lizards, a breed of Israeli man that Ruti says is “for the dogs,” & of course, the Coney. I won’t mention, since we’ve heard it about 14 times, that bananas are everywhere in Iz-Rye-El and the stalks are wrapped in blue plastic to make the bananas grow bigger in less time.
9. Our GBC group is fantastic.
Allow me to wax sentimental here at the end of the blog and give a quick shout-out to the folks responsible for making this such an incredible trip. I can’t even tell you readers what an incredible group of folks I have from my church here in the Holy Land. I was just thinking tonight, as we sat in the lobby and played “Killer & Detective,” how fortunate I am to experience this place with these people. SHA-LOM!
PICTORIAL DIARY:
A view into the Golan Heights. Beyond the green patches, you can see Syria.
A view into one of the Israeli bunkers at the Golan Heights spot
Members of our group in Tel Dan at the temple entrance where it is thought the Golden Calf statue may have stood
A picture taken at the Sea of Galilee. The ocean is not in the picture, but if you look closely, youc can see the ocean reflected in our sunglasses. 
Sneaking into our swimming spot
The Sea of Galilee Boys
Lincee dealing the cards at our midnight card game in the Lobby in Tiberius
BABY UPDATE: None. I can’t even get my brother to return my text messages. Supposedly, they’re being induced tomorrow a.m. Pray for safe delivery and happy, healthy baby! I’m maybe, probably going to be an aunt in less than 24 hours!!!
CLIFF NOTES VERSION:
Late eating, late boarding, sweating, walking, touring, interpreting, Transfiguring, warring, coffee drinking, hyssop eating, Sea of Galilieeing, meeting, eating, Maccabbee drinking, Killing, Copping, CHEATING, Shaloming, blogging, FINALLY sleeping!
THE RUTI RECAP:
Ruti on Marriage:
From the migratory patterns of the conies in Northwest Israel, to the owner of the remote roadside Druize unleavened bread/fruit stand spot where we stopped for lunch Ruti has a little bit to offer on everything and everyone. Including marriage advice at dinner tonight for me:
R: “Vat do yooou do fer a liffing?”
NJ: “I’m in residential real estate.”
R: “O no. I hear de mahkket in Tex-ass es crashing.” NJ: “Well, not in my areas of focus” (I’m skipping all the details and statistics I had to give her to convince her that I’m not on my free birthright trip to Israel and destitute for lunch monies)
R: “Well, are hugh marriet? Do hugh haff keets? Do you want keets? How oh-ld are hugh?”
NJ: “No, no, yes and I just turned 32 last week”
R: “Well, hugh are not young. But I will tell you the secret to marriage win it hoppens fer hugh. I marriet a historical archeologist, because the older I get, the more interesting I am to him. Try to find yourself an archeologist.”
Note to self…skip the bedroom community Jewish sugar daddies and start hanging out at the digs.
CLIFF NOTES VERSION:
Late eating, late boarding, sweating, walking, touring, interpreting, Transfiguring, warring, coffee drinking, hyssop eating, Sea of Galilieeing, meeting, eating, Maccabbee drinking, Killing, Copping, CHEATING, Shaloming, blogging, FINALLY sleeping!
THE RUTI RECAP:
Ruti on Marriage:
From the migratory patterns of the conies in Northwest Israel, to the owner of the remote roadside Druize unleavened bread/fruit stand spot where we stopped for lunch Ruti has a little bit to offer on everything and everyone. Including marriage advice at dinner tonight for me:
R: “Vat do yooou do fer a liffing?”
NJ: “I’m in residential real estate.”
R: “O no. I hear de mahkket in Tex-ass es crashing.” NJ: “Well, not in my areas of focus” (I’m skipping all the details and statistics I had to give her to convince her that I’m not on my free birthright trip to Israel and destitute for lunch monies)
R: “Well, are hugh marriet? Do hugh haff keets? Do you want keets? How oh-ld are hugh?”
NJ: “No, no, yes and I just turned 32 last week”
R: “Well, hugh are not young. But I will tell you the secret to marriage win it hoppens fer hugh. I marriet a historical archeologist, because the older I get, the more interesting I am to him. Try to find yourself an archeologist.”
Note to self…skip the bedroom community Jewish sugar daddies and start hanging out at the digs.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
DAY THREE: In the words of Allison Krauss "Let's go down to the river"
Today was a dichotomy of emotions and occurrences!
On one hand, I want to write to you all and share the hilarity of the day and on the other I have a desire to tell you about the components that made today one of those that forever changes someone. So, here goes…bear with me.
Our day started at 6:30, which was quite early for me considering that I was up until 3 a.m. blogging. However, I had a fresh spirit as we boarded the USS Almagor (or IS Almagor, more appropriately) for our morning cruise from Tiberius to the Jesus Boat museum off an island.
We “sailed” the Sea of Galilee on a boat that was just like the one Jesus and the disciples may have been on, except it had a motor, a full-service crew, microphones, piped in gospel music, and RUTI!
Sistah Ruti was “on” this morning, corralling the crew into raising the US flag (which we weren’t sure was a fantastic idea, but nevertheless, it was neat) and playing the Star Spangled Banner. She gave us all sorts of great information about the Sea of Galilee, including the basics: It is 14 miles long, 8 miles wide, and 150 ft deep. It was wild to think that we were on the very waters that Jesus calmed so many years ago.
Of course, every meaningful experience is followed by a museum and gift shop and this was no exception. We went to the Jesus boat museum next where we were able to see the actual boat excavated by Shelly Waxman and his assistant Kurt in the 80’s that experts think Jesus and his disciples may have actually cruised/fished in. It was like a CSI lab …the boat was excavated over a 10-year period, including the treatment and preservation and set up with laser identifiers and alarms. Very Horatio. This boat, being over 2,000 years old, was in remarkable condition. Second only in highlights to the chach-key gift shop was that Ruti kicked out a handful of Japanese tourists, cameras in tow, because they weren’t apart of our group. Talk about solidarity!
We left the gift shop (I made some incredibly special purchases…get ready friends and family!) and journeyed on via bus to the site that is thought to be the Mount of Beatitudes, where Christ gave the Sermon on the Mount. The phrases “Blessed are/Blessed is” are mentioned in this sermon 9 times (8 times according to the Roman Catholics) and this place is certainly blessed! Several of us made the observation that there were tourists from every tribe and nation…this must be what heaven will be like! We had Russian Orthodox congregants singing “Blessed Assurance”, Catholics from somewhere in Latin America chanting “Hail Marys,” Nigerian Baptists doing praise and worship dances, and Penecostals from San Antonio smoking in the women’s room.
I noticed in the parking lot that this is also where tour buses go to die. There must have been 30 buses in the parking lot, including the one driven by our very own David who was eager to get us to the next gift shop/museum stop.
We learned from GBC’s own leader that early in the reign of Constantine, his mother traveled to every spot considered holy and built a church (and gift shop?). Curses to her! I have never been to so many tourist traps in one day in my entire life (unless you consider the times I worked at a camp in Branson, MO and went to Dollywood every time I had a day off!) and I am now convinced, though I love her dearly, that Ruti profits finely from bringing us to these places. You know its bad when the souvenir peddlers high five her and call her by her nickname, “Rootie Tootie Fresh & Fruity!”
We went from the Mt. of Beatitudes to the spot where Christ was thought to have fed the 5,000. Ruti showed us the exact location. It was amazing to think that more than 10,000 congregated in this valley. The natural acoustics this particular valley provides are the #1 reason it is thought to be the spot. That and Ruti says so!
We traveled to Capernaum, which was another gift shop along the way, but it had special significance to our group because it is the spot where Christ had the headquarters for his ministry. We visited St. Peter’s home (actually his mother-in-law’s home) and the ruins of the synagogue just steps from the home where Christ is thought to have walked.
No day with Ruti would be complete without a stop at a restaurant where she receives free meals. For us, however, soda water: $5, Hebrew Salad Bar: $9, Fried “Sea of Galilee” fish (complete with head, fins, and eyes): $19. Eating at Tiberias’ only "Oriental Lebanese Restaurant" that doubles as a Gas Station: PRICELESS! Lincee and I sat with a delightful couple from the Woodlands at lunch. They were passing the dessert and asked Lincee and I if we wanted any. "Do you like dates," they asked? Not realizing they were referring to the traditional Israeli fruit dessert, we both looked at each other and laughed, "Well, yes we like them...but it has been a really long time. I wouldn't know a date if it took me out on Friday night!"
Along the way, we learned of one of Israel’s mystery animals, the Coney. It supposedly looks like a rabbit with short ears, but none of us have seen one yet. I’m beginning to think that the Israeli Coney is in the same animal genus as the Navasota Snipe. When I questioned their existence, I received the “Leaf my co knees a-loahn!” response from her.
All kidding aside, the most incredible event of the day was the opportunity to be baptized at Yardenit, on the banks of the Jordan River, which I jumped at doing! This is where Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, marking the beginning of his public ministry. I was thrilled to don the white robe and be baptized by one of our group leaders.
We headed back to the hotel, had a debriefing with members of our group and I’m calling it a night relatively early! Again, while today was an incredible day, it was also very meaningful and I’m once again SO thankful for the opportunity to be here.
Shalom Ya’ll! OR Le Chaym! (pronounced “la-hi-um”) which means “GET EXCITED” tomorrow promises to be a day of tourist stores and Ruti-isms! Stay tuned and thanks for reading!
PICTORIAL DIARY:
Members of our group sing along to the "Star Spangled Banner" aboard the Jesus Boat.
The actual Jesus boat, excavated over 10 years ago, and meticulously preserved.
This sign was commonplace at today's tourist stops!
A view while cruising the Sea of Galilee...
Chach-key shopping in the Jesus Boat's gift shop
The multitudes descend on Capernaum
Excavation thought to be Peter's mother-in-law's home.
Mosaic commemorating the feeding of the 5,000. The black stone toward the back of the picture is thought (by Constantine's Mama, I'm sure) to be the ACTUAL stone where Jesus stood to perform the miracle of multiplying the fishes and loaves.
Opportunities to Chachi shop were abundant.
Lunch...enough said!
The Oriental, Lebanese Gas Station Restaurant owned by Ruti & Sons! Think Stuckeys without the tooth-pick holders.
Lincee and I after being baptized by Dwight in the Jordan.
Our GBC Group following our baptism in the Jordan.
On one hand, I want to write to you all and share the hilarity of the day and on the other I have a desire to tell you about the components that made today one of those that forever changes someone. So, here goes…bear with me.
Our day started at 6:30, which was quite early for me considering that I was up until 3 a.m. blogging. However, I had a fresh spirit as we boarded the USS Almagor (or IS Almagor, more appropriately) for our morning cruise from Tiberius to the Jesus Boat museum off an island.
We “sailed” the Sea of Galilee on a boat that was just like the one Jesus and the disciples may have been on, except it had a motor, a full-service crew, microphones, piped in gospel music, and RUTI!
Sistah Ruti was “on” this morning, corralling the crew into raising the US flag (which we weren’t sure was a fantastic idea, but nevertheless, it was neat) and playing the Star Spangled Banner. She gave us all sorts of great information about the Sea of Galilee, including the basics: It is 14 miles long, 8 miles wide, and 150 ft deep. It was wild to think that we were on the very waters that Jesus calmed so many years ago.
Of course, every meaningful experience is followed by a museum and gift shop and this was no exception. We went to the Jesus boat museum next where we were able to see the actual boat excavated by Shelly Waxman and his assistant Kurt in the 80’s that experts think Jesus and his disciples may have actually cruised/fished in. It was like a CSI lab …the boat was excavated over a 10-year period, including the treatment and preservation and set up with laser identifiers and alarms. Very Horatio. This boat, being over 2,000 years old, was in remarkable condition. Second only in highlights to the chach-key gift shop was that Ruti kicked out a handful of Japanese tourists, cameras in tow, because they weren’t apart of our group. Talk about solidarity!
We left the gift shop (I made some incredibly special purchases…get ready friends and family!) and journeyed on via bus to the site that is thought to be the Mount of Beatitudes, where Christ gave the Sermon on the Mount. The phrases “Blessed are/Blessed is” are mentioned in this sermon 9 times (8 times according to the Roman Catholics) and this place is certainly blessed! Several of us made the observation that there were tourists from every tribe and nation…this must be what heaven will be like! We had Russian Orthodox congregants singing “Blessed Assurance”, Catholics from somewhere in Latin America chanting “Hail Marys,” Nigerian Baptists doing praise and worship dances, and Penecostals from San Antonio smoking in the women’s room.
I noticed in the parking lot that this is also where tour buses go to die. There must have been 30 buses in the parking lot, including the one driven by our very own David who was eager to get us to the next gift shop/museum stop.
We learned from GBC’s own leader that early in the reign of Constantine, his mother traveled to every spot considered holy and built a church (and gift shop?). Curses to her! I have never been to so many tourist traps in one day in my entire life (unless you consider the times I worked at a camp in Branson, MO and went to Dollywood every time I had a day off!) and I am now convinced, though I love her dearly, that Ruti profits finely from bringing us to these places. You know its bad when the souvenir peddlers high five her and call her by her nickname, “Rootie Tootie Fresh & Fruity!”
We went from the Mt. of Beatitudes to the spot where Christ was thought to have fed the 5,000. Ruti showed us the exact location. It was amazing to think that more than 10,000 congregated in this valley. The natural acoustics this particular valley provides are the #1 reason it is thought to be the spot. That and Ruti says so!
We traveled to Capernaum, which was another gift shop along the way, but it had special significance to our group because it is the spot where Christ had the headquarters for his ministry. We visited St. Peter’s home (actually his mother-in-law’s home) and the ruins of the synagogue just steps from the home where Christ is thought to have walked.
No day with Ruti would be complete without a stop at a restaurant where she receives free meals. For us, however, soda water: $5, Hebrew Salad Bar: $9, Fried “Sea of Galilee” fish (complete with head, fins, and eyes): $19. Eating at Tiberias’ only "Oriental Lebanese Restaurant" that doubles as a Gas Station: PRICELESS! Lincee and I sat with a delightful couple from the Woodlands at lunch. They were passing the dessert and asked Lincee and I if we wanted any. "Do you like dates," they asked? Not realizing they were referring to the traditional Israeli fruit dessert, we both looked at each other and laughed, "Well, yes we like them...but it has been a really long time. I wouldn't know a date if it took me out on Friday night!"
Along the way, we learned of one of Israel’s mystery animals, the Coney. It supposedly looks like a rabbit with short ears, but none of us have seen one yet. I’m beginning to think that the Israeli Coney is in the same animal genus as the Navasota Snipe. When I questioned their existence, I received the “Leaf my co knees a-loahn!” response from her.
All kidding aside, the most incredible event of the day was the opportunity to be baptized at Yardenit, on the banks of the Jordan River, which I jumped at doing! This is where Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, marking the beginning of his public ministry. I was thrilled to don the white robe and be baptized by one of our group leaders.
We headed back to the hotel, had a debriefing with members of our group and I’m calling it a night relatively early! Again, while today was an incredible day, it was also very meaningful and I’m once again SO thankful for the opportunity to be here.
Shalom Ya’ll! OR Le Chaym! (pronounced “la-hi-um”) which means “GET EXCITED” tomorrow promises to be a day of tourist stores and Ruti-isms! Stay tuned and thanks for reading!
PICTORIAL DIARY:
Members of our group sing along to the "Star Spangled Banner" aboard the Jesus Boat.
The actual Jesus boat, excavated over 10 years ago, and meticulously preserved.
This sign was commonplace at today's tourist stops!A view while cruising the Sea of Galilee...Chach-key shopping in the Jesus Boat's gift shopThe multitudes descend on Capernaum
Excavation thought to be Peter's mother-in-law's home.
Mosaic commemorating the feeding of the 5,000. The black stone toward the back of the picture is thought (by Constantine's Mama, I'm sure) to be the ACTUAL stone where Jesus stood to perform the miracle of multiplying the fishes and loaves.Opportunities to Chachi shop were abundant.
Lunch...enough said!
The Oriental, Lebanese Gas Station Restaurant owned by Ruti & Sons! Think Stuckeys without the tooth-pick holders.
Lincee and I after being baptized by Dwight in the Jordan.
Our GBC Group following our baptism in the Jordan.
The night's best find...a TEXAS SALOON downstairs from the lobby in our hotel. 
The beer of Israel. Maccabee's Beer. Delish. Literally translates to "the hammer"...which we weren't.
The beer of Israel. Maccabee's Beer. Delish. Literally translates to "the hammer"...which we weren't.
TODAY'S RUTI RECAP:
Best to come "straight from the horse's lips"
BABY UPDATE:
Still no kid, still not an aunt. Looks like Monday is the BIG DAY!
CLIFF'S NOTES VERSION:
Blogging, waking, cruising, museum-ing, tourist shopping, touring, kick back promoting, baptizing, lame blogging, crashing
Friday, May 30, 2008
DAY TWO: In the words of Dolly Parton, "Nine to Five"
This tourist stuff is a full-time job! Lincee and I woke up early (6:50 a.m.) to watch Channel 24's music videos. Apparently, the weenie bikini men have day jobs as Israeli pop singers. Lots of old people in tight outfits. God bless the USA!
We had a fantastic breakfast...Israeli coffee ("Cafe") is fantastic. We learned a few Hebrew phrases:
1. Bon Apetit: "bete-avon"
2. Thank you: "toda"
3. Where is the bathroom?: "eifo hashhirutim?"
4. Good Morning!: "boker tov"
5. Peace on the Sabbath.: "Shalom Shabbat"
After a carafe of the good stuff, we headed out to meet our other comrades, who flew in on a later flight. It was the first time I realized Mama's advice was right..."A little bit of lipstick and a smile and nobody will notice how tired you really are!" Turns out the rest of the group, many of whom we didn't know (they're from another church) are really incredible folks! (Thanks to Pam and Jill for "introducing" us!). Lincee & I noticed that we have sore throats. At first we were thinking, "Oh no, we're sick." Then we realized it was from all our Hebrew practice...there's a lot of "hoighght"-ing (think phglem sound) in producing those words we learned this a.m.!
First off, we met our tour guide Ruth, or "Ruti" (pronounced "root-ey,"). She's a trip...in fact, she's THE trip! We love her! She told Lincee and I today that we were "fun" which was almost like hearing "Well done, good and faithful servant!" She knows SO much about where we're going, Biblical history, the Scriptures, etc. She'll be such an asset (not to mention constant comedic relief) on the trip. I've decided to dedicate a section of the blog to her, the "Rudi Recap," which will recount a saying, tidbit, or joke straight from the lips of this fantastic woman!
Our first stop was in Caesarea. And what a great place to kick off our Israeli Invasion '08. This is the spot where Gentiles first heard the Gospel message and the location of the best Roman relics and ruins in the country. We waded in the ocean (this is becoming a theme) and took a ton of pictures. I could camp here for a while!
We left "by the sea" and cruised past a bedroom community, where Ruti told us many of Israel's wealthy "summer." Linc and I are going to sneak back later to try and find our Jewish sugar Daddies!
We stopped at a spot on Mount Carmel for falafel lunch (and I'm positive Ruti is getting something for taking us to these spots). Aside from the dog and cat who were on top of the tables and the restauranteurs taking our money and dishing out the pita bread, we were the only folks around. A few other tour buses pulled up as we were leaving, so I'm pretty sure we were at the McDonalds of falafel world!
Our busdriver, David, who is the world's best driver (although he told us he takes the sharp curves by simply closing his eyes) took us next to a monastery on Mount Carmel that is built on what is thought to be the spot where Elijah challenged and defeated the 450 Ba'al prophets. The monastery overlooks Megiddo, the prophecied location for Armaggedon. A very cool stop.
Last, and certainly least, was our stop in Nazareth. We went to Nazareth Village, which was supposed to be a recreation of what it might have looked like where Jesus may have walked. That was two hours of my life I will never get back...Have you seen the movie, "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" when PW is taking the Alamo tour?...Tina TOTALLY worked at Nazareth Village..."We are now in the adobe (hut) where Pedro & Maria (Joseph & Mary) are preparing tortillas (falafel) for dinner. Can you say that with me? TOR--TEEE--YAAS (FAAA- LAAAA- FULLL)" OY VEY! The only redeeming quality was that I got an adorable picture of an ass (donkey). Note to all you future Israeli tourists...skip Nazareth! Aside from Jesus, nothing good DOES come from the place.
Ruti debriefed us on our next day's journey and we arrived at the Tiberius Sheraton which is right on the Sea of Galilee and a far cry from the Pube Hotel. It is wonderful and the views are incredible! We had a nice dinner and then Lincee and I had the GBC Group up for a dance party and a bottle of California champagne toted all the way from the good ol 'USA(thanks, Annie!).
It was only after our Dance Party, that I wondered how our neighbors, the head honcho of the trip and on our other side five Hassidic Jewish men felt about ABBA's Dancing Queen at 9:30 on Shabbat (Holy Day)... I'm sure we'll try to keep it to a low roar tomorrow night.
RUTI RECAP:
In attempting a "get to know ya" session with Ruti this afternoon, we asked her what kind of stuff she liked to do. Being performers at heart, Lincee and I asked Ruti if she was a karaoke singer and she said, "Gawd no, my voice is lowuh than the Dead Sea." I am going to try to work this into conversation somehow tomorrow. "I need to eat, my blood sugar is lower than the Dead Sea." "My tolerance for Nazareth Village was lower than the Dead Sea."
BABY UPDATE:
No room in the inn...still! A manger, perhaps? Mom, Brother and Baby are doing fine, but I'm REALLY ready to be an aunt!
CLIFF'S NOTES VERSION:
Waking, caffeinating, enunciating, greeting, Caesarea touring, falafel eating, Ruti loving, Nazareth Village hating, Shalom Shabbating, dancing, blogging, sleeeeeeeepppppingg..zzzzzzz.
PICTORIAL UPDATE:
No words needed for Ruti, our fantastic Israeli hostess!
Caesarea by the sea's beach
An arch at the amphitheater in Caesarea
More of Caesarea...
A Roman-esque relic, commemorated here for our friend Jill and all other foot lovers out there!
The falafel bar at our lunch stop...never knew onions could glow so flourescent pink!; (see top center)
Megiddo ...the place of Armeggedon
The one good thing about Nazareth Village...Pedro & Maria's (Joseph & Mary's) Donkey. 
Our accommodations...twice the size of our Tel Avivian room and NO hair!
The view from our Tiberian room...so beautiful!
We had a fantastic breakfast...Israeli coffee ("Cafe") is fantastic. We learned a few Hebrew phrases:
1. Bon Apetit: "bete-avon"
2. Thank you: "toda"
3. Where is the bathroom?: "eifo hashhirutim?"
4. Good Morning!: "boker tov"
5. Peace on the Sabbath.: "Shalom Shabbat"
After a carafe of the good stuff, we headed out to meet our other comrades, who flew in on a later flight. It was the first time I realized Mama's advice was right..."A little bit of lipstick and a smile and nobody will notice how tired you really are!" Turns out the rest of the group, many of whom we didn't know (they're from another church) are really incredible folks! (Thanks to Pam and Jill for "introducing" us!). Lincee & I noticed that we have sore throats. At first we were thinking, "Oh no, we're sick." Then we realized it was from all our Hebrew practice...there's a lot of "hoighght"-ing (think phglem sound) in producing those words we learned this a.m.!
First off, we met our tour guide Ruth, or "Ruti" (pronounced "root-ey,"). She's a trip...in fact, she's THE trip! We love her! She told Lincee and I today that we were "fun" which was almost like hearing "Well done, good and faithful servant!" She knows SO much about where we're going, Biblical history, the Scriptures, etc. She'll be such an asset (not to mention constant comedic relief) on the trip. I've decided to dedicate a section of the blog to her, the "Rudi Recap," which will recount a saying, tidbit, or joke straight from the lips of this fantastic woman!
Our first stop was in Caesarea. And what a great place to kick off our Israeli Invasion '08. This is the spot where Gentiles first heard the Gospel message and the location of the best Roman relics and ruins in the country. We waded in the ocean (this is becoming a theme) and took a ton of pictures. I could camp here for a while!
We left "by the sea" and cruised past a bedroom community, where Ruti told us many of Israel's wealthy "summer." Linc and I are going to sneak back later to try and find our Jewish sugar Daddies!
We stopped at a spot on Mount Carmel for falafel lunch (and I'm positive Ruti is getting something for taking us to these spots). Aside from the dog and cat who were on top of the tables and the restauranteurs taking our money and dishing out the pita bread, we were the only folks around. A few other tour buses pulled up as we were leaving, so I'm pretty sure we were at the McDonalds of falafel world!
Our busdriver, David, who is the world's best driver (although he told us he takes the sharp curves by simply closing his eyes) took us next to a monastery on Mount Carmel that is built on what is thought to be the spot where Elijah challenged and defeated the 450 Ba'al prophets. The monastery overlooks Megiddo, the prophecied location for Armaggedon. A very cool stop.
Last, and certainly least, was our stop in Nazareth. We went to Nazareth Village, which was supposed to be a recreation of what it might have looked like where Jesus may have walked. That was two hours of my life I will never get back...Have you seen the movie, "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" when PW is taking the Alamo tour?...Tina TOTALLY worked at Nazareth Village..."We are now in the adobe (hut) where Pedro & Maria (Joseph & Mary) are preparing tortillas (falafel) for dinner. Can you say that with me? TOR--TEEE--YAAS (FAAA- LAAAA- FULLL)" OY VEY! The only redeeming quality was that I got an adorable picture of an ass (donkey). Note to all you future Israeli tourists...skip Nazareth! Aside from Jesus, nothing good DOES come from the place.
Ruti debriefed us on our next day's journey and we arrived at the Tiberius Sheraton which is right on the Sea of Galilee and a far cry from the Pube Hotel. It is wonderful and the views are incredible! We had a nice dinner and then Lincee and I had the GBC Group up for a dance party and a bottle of California champagne toted all the way from the good ol 'USA(thanks, Annie!).
It was only after our Dance Party, that I wondered how our neighbors, the head honcho of the trip and on our other side five Hassidic Jewish men felt about ABBA's Dancing Queen at 9:30 on Shabbat (Holy Day)... I'm sure we'll try to keep it to a low roar tomorrow night.
RUTI RECAP:
In attempting a "get to know ya" session with Ruti this afternoon, we asked her what kind of stuff she liked to do. Being performers at heart, Lincee and I asked Ruti if she was a karaoke singer and she said, "Gawd no, my voice is lowuh than the Dead Sea." I am going to try to work this into conversation somehow tomorrow. "I need to eat, my blood sugar is lower than the Dead Sea." "My tolerance for Nazareth Village was lower than the Dead Sea."
BABY UPDATE:
No room in the inn...still! A manger, perhaps? Mom, Brother and Baby are doing fine, but I'm REALLY ready to be an aunt!
CLIFF'S NOTES VERSION:
Waking, caffeinating, enunciating, greeting, Caesarea touring, falafel eating, Ruti loving, Nazareth Village hating, Shalom Shabbating, dancing, blogging, sleeeeeeeepppppingg..zzzzzzz.
PICTORIAL UPDATE:
No words needed for Ruti, our fantastic Israeli hostess!
Caesarea by the sea's beachAn arch at the amphitheater in CaesareaMore of Caesarea...A Roman-esque relic, commemorated here for our friend Jill and all other foot lovers out there!
The falafel bar at our lunch stop...never knew onions could glow so flourescent pink!; (see top center)Megiddo ...the place of ArmeggedonThe one good thing about Nazareth Village...Pedro & Maria's (Joseph & Mary's) Donkey. Our accommodations...twice the size of our Tel Avivian room and NO hair!The view from our Tiberian room...so beautiful!
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