Final evening

Ugh. Sometimes I really wonder about my sanity, or my ability to pay attention to the smallest details. How am I possibly a PhD student? I have planned all week to make sure I get to the airport by 9 in the evening for my midnight flight. And everything worked out (in the end). Here I am, it's 9:29 pm, and I can't even check my luggage because my midnight flight actually leaves at 4:50 am! How did this happen! I'm stuck here in this dumb little cafe for the next 3 hours! Ugh.

So, with that time, I'll be updating the old blog. Probably for the last time, or penultimate time, perhaps.

Today has been a surprisingly rewarding and full day! It started last night when I consciously made the decision to attempt a friendly gesture to my roommate for the night. She was friendly in return, and we ended up going up to the bar for a drink. Yes, I, Amber Taylor, have joined regular young adult culture in enjoying an evening drink with a friend. But, no, I did not require alcohol to make the conversation flow easier. I enjoyed a nice orange juice. This, of course, brought up the question of my religion, and we talked about it, but it didn't dominate the conversation. Much.

I invited her to join me this morning for the City of David tour I had planned, and she did. She really is a very nice girl. Her name is Suzanna, from Germany, but speaks with a delightful and perfect English accent. Her mother is English and she went to American schools in Munich. At 9 in the morning we walked down to the City of David tour site, and it quickly became apparent that my choice of sandals was a poor one. I have been so impressed with these Palestinian sandals I bought (they have been very comfortable in my short distance walks over the last few days), that I just decided to wear them all over the city today. I suspect I'll be paying for that breach of reason for the next few days!

The tour was good - and about what I expected in terms of archaeology mixed with indoctrination. Both Suzanna and I noticed and discussed it in length later. After the tour, we opted to walk up the recently excavated drainage tunnel back to the tour center. Except somehow we managed to continue on in the tunnel, past the turn off to the center, and up all the way to the Temple Mount! As we began to encounter Herodian stone, notable for its 2-inch lip around the edges, I pointed it out. And then, when we came out, we found ourselves surrounded by temple ruins. But we didn't realize our mistake for another several minutes - and what a fortunate mistake it was! We would have had to pay extra to get to those ruins and walk through that part of the tunnel otherwise. It was an honest mistake, and the guy in the tunnel who was supposed to point us to City of David tour site didn't steer us in the right direction either! So we had fun looking around at the ruins and taking some pictures.

We then decided to go grab some lunch. I knew I would regret that decision as soon as I made it to Neveen's birthday party at 4 (it was already almost 2). Neveen is Abed's daughter with whom we formed a friendship, and she had invited me to her party for my last evening. Well, I was good an hungry by then, and could not help but eat all my big plate of noodles. And yep, I did regret it! Ah well. Suzanna and I had a nice conversation, exchanged info, and I headed on my way. We both agreed we were glad to have broken our general rule of shyness and became friends.

I continued to rue my choice of shoes as I walked back down to Abed's house in Silwan (yes, only about 100 feet away from the  City of David tour we had been at earlier). When I arrived, about 8 women were seated around a coffee table eating from an enormous platter of food - grape leaf wraps, stuffed zucchini and lamb (I believe). They handed me a fork and told me to eat! I tried - truly I did. But I was so full. All I could get down were two grape leaves and one bite of meat. It was so fun, though, to be there in the midst of them. They are a hoot! Jabbering and joking, shoving food at me, laughing and trying to communicate with me with one or two English words, and altogether a very friendly lot.

Afterward, the dancing began. I sat back, content to watch - these girls and even the older women could move! But soon I was pulled up into the group, and I desperately tried to remember my belly-dancing lessons. To no avail - I could not move my hips, arms or chest like these girls! But we had a wonderful time. Later they had a whole big assortment of cakes and goodies, and we sang Happy Birthday to Neveen. And I do mean Happy Birthday - first in a sort of English, then Arabic (both to a semblance of the familiar tune), and finally some chant I couldn't begin to understand. And she blew her 3 candles out.

Then, more dancing. I recorded some for your viewing pleasure - and so you can see just how pathetic my attempts were. But they loved watching me try! I was super self-conscious of my stench. I had been walking and hiking up and down those hills all day, and my backpack, with its straps full of my dry armpit sweat, was no help. Every once in a while I would catch a whiff of myself, and it was pretty rank. I could only hope that bad body odor is more acceptable in such a hot country.

Abed, Neveen's father, was going to take me back to Abraham hostel so I could catch my sharut (shared taxi) here to Ben Gurion airport for my flight. This meant I would walk with a few of the girls through the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane (traditional site, with a church) to meet Abed. The girls walked hopelessly slow, and I was getting nervous about arriving in time. As we reached about the halfway point, I realized I had left my wallet, complete with my passport, in their house. REALLY!? I ran back, sore feet and all, grabbed the wallet, and ran back - tired and sweaty. Abed picked us up, and I prayed all the way to the hostel that the sharut wouldn't leave me. Right as I arrived, the sharut did - and I got on it. All is well. Except that I'm stuck here for the next 5 hours! Major sigh.

Anyway, I said about all I have to say about leaving last night. But it was sure a wonderful way to end my time in Jerusalem, to walk through the Kidron Valley at dusk, past Zedekiah's Tomb and Absalom's Tomb, gazing up at the Mount of Olives with the ancient Jewish cemetery and churches. It was lovely, despite my stress about time.

And so it ends. I'm so grateful for a truly meaningful trip filled with good people, new friends, and affirmations.

Below are a few fun pics from today. Enjoy. See y'all soon!

Well, looks like this airport internet is not jiving with my phone, so I'll have to upload those pics later and post 'em. Heck, it gives you something to look forward to.

OK, now I am adding the pics (only 2 weeks later!).

The view from the City of David, looking south over Silwan and over to Mt. Zion. Notice how steep the hill is leading down from the City of David. Part of that is natural (the reason the site was chosen anciently) and part of it built by David himself to better fortify the city.

Inside one of the tunnels of the City of David, leading to access to the water source at the Gihon Spring.

Another (dry) tunnel. I opted out of Hezekiah's Tunnel this time (since I had already had my own,  private tour. Archaeologists aren't sure what these smaller tunnels were used for, but they suspect they might have been some sore of irrigation system, allowing water to flow out of the Spring to the fields outside the city. It is thought perhaps David and his men entered the city through these tunnels to drive out the Jebusites.

Arriving at the Temple Mount after hiking up through the approximately mile-long drainage tunnel. That hike, by the way, is not for the claustrophobic!

Robinson's Arch - or what is left of it. This arch held up a massive staircase leading to Temple Mount. You can see that about where the arch ends, so does the larger Herodian stone. The stones above that are more recent, from the Muslim and Crusader era. What you see is actually the ENORMOUS retaining wall that Herod built to provide the large, flat surface for Temple Mount that exists still today. As large as this wall seems, it still goes down (under the rubble you see) for about 50 feet, and to the left (where the Western "Wailing" Wall is found, and beyond) about 300 more yards.

 This site has a little bit of history on Jerusalem and the Temple Mount, including a picture of Robinson's Arch to give you an idea of how large the structure actually was. http://www.epilgrim.org/patriarch.htm

 

A view of the rubble of the destroyed Temple.

An idea of how large these stones are, and a good view of the lip or edging around them that make them so distinctive. (Yes, I'm making a point of touching ancient stone.)

Suzanna and myself sitting atop some of the rubble.

On my walk back down to Abed's house in Silwan, I came across a tree whose leaves looked oddly familiar. Can you guess what they are?

And, of course, the ever-prevalent olive tree.

Neveen's sister and a friend. They don't seem too put off by the stench.

And the video - should you feel the urge to experience some awesome Arab dancing.

Thoughts on leaving

I wish I had kept a better record or journal 13 years ago when I came. I probably did keep some kind of journal. Perhaps I just need to go dig it out of the piles of personal things I still have stored in my parents' basement. But I find myself wishing I could read it. Sometimes I like to get a glimpse into my self of younger years. Sometimes it's inspiring to see how I've grown; sometimes it's disheartening to see the same weaknesses and irritating traits continue to bare their ugly head. But I do like to review my journey.

This has been a good experience for me. As all good adventures, it has been so very different from the way I expected it to be. I feel that I have come face to face with Israel on its own terms in ways I haven't been able to in the past. It's hard to explain what I mean by that, but I'll try.

I think this is what fascinates me most about Israel: its central place in the imagination of so very many people. By people I mean peoples, as in large cultures, as well as smaller groups, such as churches, and progressively smaller groups, such as local regions, families, and then individuals. Most people in the world have some kind of relationship with this place. We have what we imagine it to be, what our religion tells us it is. And there are all kinds of things in Israel to play to those imagined realities. But it is a living, breathing place. People live their lives here. So many people. So many different kinds of people. The diversity and breadth of the spectrum is stunning. This is not some magical, imagined place they read about. This is their life.

Some live here to live and walk where Jesus walked, or where their ancestors fought and lived and recorded scripture. Others just live here because generations before them lived here. Others still live here because nowhere else in the world are they welcomed or independent. And still others yearn to live here, angry and resentful of the loss of their land more than 60 years ago.

I think my feelings this morning upon leaving Nazareth (yes, I write from the Abraham hostel in Jerusalem, again) encompass it well. I walked through the tiny streets down to the main artery through town where I would pick up the bus to Jerusalem. The small roads (where one doesn't drive) are cobblestoned, with the ubiquitous creamy white limestone - it is the color of most buildings and all the walkways. I have no idea how old these stones are, but they seem ancient. They are polished smooth from millions of footsteps over the years, and when car tires pass over them, they squeal slightly.

I thought as I walked how many Christians come there each year, walk over those stones and find great meaning in walking "where Jesus walked." I, of course, have no idea if Jesus walked there, on those particular stones. Certainly not on the paved road! Perhaps the passageways were the same 2000 years ago, but likely the stone wasn't. But that city holds the significance of being Jesus' hometown. Hundreds of thousands of people visit it each year, and the city pulsates with their presence. Tourist shops line the market streets and churches named after Mary and Joseph dot the hillside. Now various hostels are growing up to accomodate visitors with a smaller budget and large backpack.

Never once, aside for the few moments of the door-pounding and yelling of the video production, did I ever feel unsafe there. No one cat-called at me as I walked past. (OK, in full disclosure, as I walked through the deserted streets on Sunday afternoon, two young men asked me where I was from. I replied Boston, and the second of them said, "My friend here need a girlfriend." I answered that I was not available. He said, "Your loss." I told him I agreed.) Even when I was clearly lost yesterday evening and was wandering around residential neighborhoods, obviously not a local, no one really looked at me strangely or bothered me. They nodded to me and smiled. Children ran in the streets. Today as I sat at the bus station, three little Arab boys attempted to ask me which bus I was waiting for - they were waiting for one as well. They didn't want to heckle me for being an outsider. I was there on the same terms as them. I haven't felt that everywhere in the world, but I feel that here. And I don't feel unsafe.

I appreciated the city of Nazareth, not for its value as the hometown of Jesus (although, of course it is special for this reason), but for the people who were kind to me there. They wanted nothing of me, except perhaps for me to buy their wares. But they helped me get the car out of an impossible tight spot (as you know, that is not figurative language!), and find a spot to park - and did so good-naturedly; over and over, they showed me how to get to the Fauzi Azar Inn; they welcomed me, treated me respectfully always. The streets are pretty much always dirty - if I could avoid it, I didn't set my backpack down on them. I am sure that the economy could develop much more quickly if people did more than sit all day at their shops, selling something perhaps once an hour. But THIS was Nazareth to me.

This has been Israel to me. Not a bunch of destinations on a tour bus. Real roads that are rather fun to drive. Beautiful agricultural areas, dense, often dirty cities and vibrant people. This is what I needed. To connect what I experienced 13 years ago, and what I have read in books and articles in the last few years, to a tangible reality.

I don't know if that makes any sense, but it is the best I can do.

I may post again, or I may not. I don't know. But in any case, I'm grateful for how the Lord has cared for me, directed my path, and made this a worthwhile endeavor.

Now, just for kicks and giggles, as I was leaving this morning, film shooting was getting under way again, and I snapped a couple of furtive pictures. The girl in these pictures has apparently progressed to the bloody stage (remember, it's some kind of horror movie). Hee hee.

One of the main characters, lying on the hammock, with blood all over her nightgown and down her legs.

Madness in the streets of Nazareth

Exciting goings on around here! I was sitting on my bed, trying to ignore the smell of pigeon (they are much to friendly downstairs), peacefully working on a few things on my computer, when, suddenly, someone pounded on the big door outside the hostel and was yelling something in English. He sounded panicked. Then I heard some Arab voices, and wondered if some crazy American had tried to steal some souvenirs and was being apprehended. I couldn't fathom what might be going on!

It calmed down a bit, then it happened again, and some guy was yelling to someone named Rachel. Then all of a sudden a girl was also yelling. Now I was up ready to duck for cover. It calmed down again.

Then it happened again. And I realized they must be filming something here. I can see how the narrow, picturesque streets would be an ideal spot. And I remembered that this morning I had seen a bunch of camera equipment. It was coming together. Now they're on their 4th or 5th shot. I went out and talked to one of the crew, found out that it's an independent film about a couple of girls who come to Israel on vacation and get into some trouble. Sounds like my mom's imagination come to life! The funny thing is, it's really quiet here. Even in the main market, filled with all kinds of wares, and especially souvenirs, the owners don't holler and try to get you to come in and buy. The yelling of the actors is really a huge contrast to the quiet, peaceful ambience here. Clearly movies do NOT represent reality.

I have had quite the day! It's been lovely. I woke up a little early, enough to get going on a hike I wanted to do. I arrived after about 45 minutes on top of Mt. Precipice, where, traditionally, the Jews tried to stone Jesus by throwing him off the steep ledges. It was a good incline, but not too long. My body's cooling system is back and better than ever - I was drenched by the time I reached the top. But what a view! And those dumb little blisters (that appear on my arms when I'm hot) came back in full force as well! What the heck are those? I'll include some pics and a video I took.

I made my way back to Nazareth again, hopped on a bus to Cana, and went to inspect the Wedding Church (the traditional site where Jesus turned water to wine). It's a nice little place, but I was finished seeing everything I wanted to see after 20 minutes. So, I grabbed an ice cream, then got on a bus, and headed back. I stopped at a little restaurant here in Nazareth, stuffed myself with pita and hummus (my favorite thing, I've decided), and came back to the hostel for a half hour nap.

After my nap I went back out to meet up with Sister Mazzawi, whom I had met at church on Saturday. She works in a very nice advertising office - well, she and her husband own it. I think they are quite wealthy, from the looks of things. We had a nice little chat. I really chuckled when she told me that when I bore my testimony, she had a strong feeling that I would be someone that people remember, like Hillary Clinton. I hope not like that! She said I'm very charismatic and will do something great one day. That was a little surprising to hear, but nice. I do hope to do some good in this world.

***I have to update and tell you that, as I was sitting here writing this, I was recruited to be an extra in the little film going on downstairs. So, now you may see me in such important films as Species (yes, at at 15 I was an extra in that. Never saw it) and now some independent Israeli film. Not sure what it's called. (Sigh) The life of the rich and famous.

Saw this as I was walking down the street this morning, on the way to climb Mt. Precipice. Really? Friends? Made me laugh. (The clip below this shows the view from atop the mountain.)

Wedding Church in Cana - the traditional site where Jesus turned the water into wine. (The clip below shows a service going on at the church when I walked in.)

Ruins of the ancient church.

The ruins have become quite the money pit! Sylvia, here's what to do with all that small change!

Pics of the last couple of days

Boy, it appears readership has totally dropped off! Life is either a lot more interesting in the States, or since my friends have left, it's a lot more boring over here. But that's OK - my time here is winding down, and this blog's life is winding down with it, I suppose.

Today was a lot of traveling, not much interesting. I successfully made my way to Cana, without GPS (since it had no idea where that was), but once there I couldn't find the wedding church that is the main place to see. I didn't look too awfully hard - all the Christian sites apparently close at 12, to reopen at 2 (siesta?), and it was nearing 12. So, I decided to head back to Tiberias to drop off my car and take the bus back.

On the bus I was rather horrified to find out that bus 431, which I had taken three times previously from Tiberias to Nazareth, was only going to Nazareth Ilit (upper Nazareth, and about 2 miles from where I wanted to be). I was about to get off the bus and figure something else out, when the guy behind me explained that I could take that bus, then catch a local bus down to the Old City. Thank goodness for him! He sat by me and we talked all the way (despite my growing motion sickness - it still gets to me!). And already we're friends on Facebook. My mom thinks I'm a social butterfly because I keep meeting people here. If only she knew! But I'm glad to be making friends, and I've been truly blessed with the people the Lord has put in my path.

So, here I am, back in the Fauzi Azar. I opted out of dinner, since everything here is shut down (they actually keep the Sabbath, Sunday, here! Amazing! Rather inconvenient for me, but amazing!). I had a piece of cake from upstairs, and will go to bed early to go on a nice little hike early in the morning. Hopefully be back for breakfast. I should be.

So, here are the pics from the last couple of days. One of the places I hadn't known about previously is a charming little Greek Orthodox monastery a little further up from Tabgha and the Church of St. Peter's Primacy. I don't know what specific event it celebrates, but it has quite the history. Apparently, a church existed there anciently (around the 3rd or 4th century), but was destroyed in an earthquake in the 10th century. After that, it remained in ruins until the 20th century. After excavations determined it was, in fact, an ancient church, a monk began rebuilding it in the 1960s. Now it is a nice little church right on the shores of the Galilee. It has free-range chickens, geese, turkeys and ducks in abundance. But what was really fun were the peacocks! The others are in a large, fenced in garden area, but the peacocks roam free and don't seem much bothered by people.

So, enjoy the photos!

The view from the balcony of the church in Tiberias. The view of the Sea of Galilee continues to the right, covering the whole Sea.

The hymns.

The Greek Orthodox Church on the shore.

Inside the Church of St. Peter's Primacy; I suppose this is the rock where he obtained his name, "Peter." (Matt 16:18)

The view from the church at the Mt. of Beatitudes.

View through a side gate that I found fascinating.

The church at the Mt. of Beatitudes.

Peacock at the Greek Orthodox Church (sorry - it's out of order; I visited again this morning).

Another peacock.

It seems every plant here is thorny! This lovely bush of flowers has secret little thorns waiting to get you. See them?

Gluttony

Oh, the luxury! The sinful pleasure! I fell asleep around 9 last night and slept in until almost 7 this morning. And here I sit, casually writing my blog, without any time constraints, nestled in my cozy bed in my air conditioned room. I really feel as though I should feel guilty, but I refuse. I'm just going to smile and enjoy it. For at least another hour. And then I'll get serious.

Yesterday was a delightful day. I slept in then a little too. Then I got up and got ready for church. It took a little bit of investigative research to find the exact house-converted-to-church, but I found it, of course by watching for Mormon-looking people going in. It's a good thing I was watching close! Only 8 were there! It was the smallest branch, by far, that I have ever attended.

I sat down near a lovely Arab woman from Nazareth. Her husband was in the district presidency, and was presiding, since apparently the branch president was at another branch translating into Spanish. He spoke very good English, and repeated everything he said in Hebrew and Spanish. Astounding! One of the families in the branch is from Uruguay, and they translate everything! On the wall, the hymns are listed in English, Spanish, what I think might be Russian (anyone able to confirm or correct?) and Hebrew. The Sacrament was blessed by the one young man there, and he blessed it in Hebrew! I was rather surprised, but so delighted.

And then it was time for bearing testimonies. Already a special spirit was in the room, but as testimony meeting began, I was overcome with how powerful the Holy Ghost was, and my own emotions. Almost everyone in the room shared their testimony – and it still didn't take the whole time. I also shared mine, and became rather emotional (I never cry in a testimony! I pride myself on this fact. But, alas, I was forced to find a tissue).

After the meeting I had the opportunity to speak with Sister Susan Mazawwi, the woman I had sat next to. The story of her husband's and her conversion to the Church is rather remarkable. They didn't have very much time to tell it, but essentially, they had noticed the light in some members' eyes (remember, we as members can't share or speak of our faith here, other than to acknowledge that we are members of the Church). When they were in America some time later, they asked about it, and upon returning, went to Cyprus to receive the lessons. They were baptized in the Mediterranean Sea in Cyprus almost two years ago. This last year they traveled to Switzerland to receive their Temple Endowment and be sealed as a family. I got her email address, and I'll be going to see her while I'm Nazareth this week.

After the church meetings were over, I got talking to Sister Hansen. She teaches at a local college here, but is still working on her dissertation. (Her son is the one that blessed the Sacrament.) When she found out I was at Brandeis, she asked about someone who had written their MA thesis on President Benson and the State of Israel. I gasped, “That was me!” I could hardly believe someone here knew about that! She also asked if I knew Jason Olsen, which, of course, I did. She asked what I thought of him, and I said Jason and I don't see eye to eye on a few things. She was glad to hear it, and proceeded to tell me all about it. I won't go into it now, but she helped me feel much better about many of the frustrations I have experienced over the last year. And she wants to collaborate with me on writing a history of the Church in the Holy Land! That sounds like a great idea to me!

I asked about places to eat on Shabbat, and they directed me to an Arab restaurant in Golani (Sylvia and Anny – remember that? It's where we started our hiking). So, after making a trip to some of the local Christian sites, I made my way over there to eat. And eat I did! The waiter was very attentive, and I managed the whole thing in Hebrew! I got pita and hummus, with a cucumber-tomato salad and pickled cucumbers and olives to start. Then the main course was called shishlik, which is skewered chicken cooked over the grill. Delicious! After that he brought me coffee and some sort of small, gelatin-like dessert with cinnamon sprinkled on top, and smothered in a bright pink sweet sauce that tasted ever-so-slightly like cough-syrup. But it was very good. I decided that while I'm here, I might as well fully partake in the local customs, so I took a sip of the coffee. It was dark, rich and bitter. Just kidding! Of course I didn't drink the coffee! But it did smell dark, rich and bitter! Instead, I drank my fill of fresh lemonade with fresh mint. Just when I thought I was finished (my tummy was so entirely full!), the waiter brought out two little bit-size pastries, both with pistachios in the middle. They were delicious, even if I could barely squeeze them in.

And that was that. I suppose I should get myself ready and get to some of the other sites I need to see today. The internet is insufferable at this place – the one drawback. So, I'll upload the pictures I took yesterday of the view from the church, and of some of the Christian sites, tomorrow. If I remember correctly, Fauzi Azar has good internet. 

Arrival in Tiberias

I wrote the following on the bus to En Gedi:
I find I become very fond of people and things with whom I share certain experiences. I am, for example, very fond of my BYU Jerusalem backpack and wore it as much as possible after returning. Now I am very fond of this green, Northface backpack that I shoved full to its utmost and carried with me 30 or so miles in the Jesus Trail. I'm fond of my shoes that carried me, and with minimal pain. And, of course, I'm especially fond of the friends who walked it with me, who endured the heat with me, sang with me on the trail.

I likewise feel very tender about my mission companions with whom I experienced such great challenges and sorrows, triumphs and joys. Something about experiencing joy and/or sorrow together truly binds people together. One day I'll tell you my thoughts on this regarding the early Mormon saints and the strength their deep trials gave them, binding them together in a unity that nothing else could create. But that is not for today.

Speaking of joys and sorrows, I am very dearly attached to my family. I waited many years with my parents for my brothers to join us, and I have endured much with them, because of them and for them. And I love them all the more for it. I have grown close to my  mom through this as well, as we have talked and cried together, I have tried to give her comfort and strength, courage to continue on and keep hope and faith for better days. In many ways, those better days have come.

The same principle applies to my scriptures. Certain passages, stories and figures are precious to me. They have given me strength, perspective and peace. They have taught me of my Savior and how to be like Him, as well as how to grow closer to Him. I have felt His voice through them to me. Have have been with me, sometimes more intimately than any one person, through some of my most challenging and heartbreaking moments.

I realize, of course, the foolishness, even futility, of my fondness for objects that go with me on my adventures. They will not be with me eternally. I suppose a part of me even mourns that fact. But I rejoice in the certainty of my eternal relations. I know that I am sealed to my dear family. I don't know exactly what eternity will be like, really, but I know I will be with them. And I sincerely hope my relations with others will also remain. It always pains me so to lose them. In any case, these are my ponderings.

It is now 7:23 a.m. and I am in my hotel room in Tiberias. It is such an oasis from the 6-people dorm of Abraham Hostel. I am certainly not complaining about the Abraham - it is a great experience at a great price. But, as we have established, sometimes I am overwhelmed by too many people I don't know. So, I was just enduring. But now, in my quiet, airconditioned room (boy, is it nice and cool - just the way I like it!), having slept comfortably, with minimal noise, through the night, I'm nice and fresh for this Sabbath.

Yesterday was a day of miracles. I got up at 5 a.m. to do my laundry before I packed it away and drove up here; and I also got up early to go to battle with the airline. I have been trying to get an earlier flight home. I am desperate to try to see my friend Karina who is very ill in the hospital with cancer, and my brother Cisco, whose graduation I had to miss, has a football game that only the best players in the state are asked to participate it, and I want to go. (Why, you ask, didn't I simply purchase my ticket with that in mind? I didn't know the date that early in advance.)

My mom had been told the day before that the "discount" ticket I had purchased would not allow me to change the ticket under any circumstances. I just couldn't accept that - plus, I had purchased flight insurance, for crying out loud! What good was the flight insurance if there existed no circumstance under which I could use it?

With great determination, and a number of sincere prayers, I called, yet again, the airline (I can only call with the internet, since my phone is turned off for calling purposes while I'm here; and, as we have well established, the internet is anything but reliable - my calls kept getting disconnected). I had to talk to various people, and the whole conversation lasted a little over an hour, during which time the call never got disconnected (miracle? oh yes!), but I got it! And it didn't cost too terribly much - just over $300. That is astounding! They never once said anything about my ticket being unchangeable "under any circumstances." Either that lady that talked to my mom was simply out to get people with cheap tickets, or she was delusional. I don't care. I was very pleased, and so grateful.

I set off down Jaffa St. to the car rental place, and from there to Tel Aviv. Yes, I braved the insanity of Tel Aviv. I was supposed to meet up with a friend, but she didn't get back to me in time with the address (I think something came up for her), so I grabbed lunch, then drove up to a little town called Binyamina, south of Haifa. It was a lovely drive - rolling hills and even some more flat areas (all around Jerusalem there is not a single flat area - it is either sharply up or down - thus, the song, "Far, Far Away on Judea's Plain" is very much a misnomer), mostly agricultural.

In Binyamina I met Maoz Inon, the man responsible for creating the Fauzi Azar and helping to create the Jesus Trail. He was there with his family, and his two rambunctious boys made our conversation rather choppy. But they were adorable. He's a very kind, down to earth guy. He gave me some fresh watermelon and we talked about how this whole Jesus Trail thing came together, as well as the Fauzi Azar. I also discussed with him my ideas for creating a scholarship fund for Palestinian students. He had some wise counsel. At the end, he offered me a gift of a bottle of wine, which I declined as politely as possible, citing my Mormon faith. Then, with a kiss on each cheek (which was how we greeted as well), I was off.

When I got back in the car, I realized I had left the GPS in its holder on the front window, and it had been baking in the heat. The light on the side said it was on, but the screen wouldn't show anything. I thought I was finished - not only would I have to pay to replace it, but I had no idea how to get to Tiberias, or my hotel, from there.

I spent several minutes trying to cool it down (it was even burning my hands), finally with the air conditioning blasting on it. That worked. I somehow figured out how to turn it off, cooled it some more, waited about 5 minutes (during which time I prayed most sincerely again), and restarted it. Worked like a charm. So many blessings!

I had another charming drive up to Tiberias. I passed through wooded, I kid you not, wooded hills/mountains, and more agricultural areas. The last leg carried me through some of the parts of the Jesus Trail, and I gazed around reminiscently (was that only just a week and a half ago?). Then I decided I wanted to drive around the Sea of Galilee. So I turned off the GPS and did it. Lovely, again. I found the Mount of Beatitudes and stopped to catch the hours. And then I made my way, without the GPS still (I like to roam a little sometimes), into Tiberias. Then I allowed the GPS to guide me to the hotel. And here I am!

The final word in this very long (I know) posting is about the dinner. By the time arrived yesterday (at 6) I was really starving. I had eaten my lunch at 12, and it was only a small salad, as I still had hope of getting together with my friend. That with the watermelon at Maoz's was all I had had. And my tummy was not pleased. The hotel has a restaurant/dining room, but it didn't open until 7. Well, right at 7 I went right on down to the dining area, and sure enough, I splendid, colorful array of food awaited me. The guy who runs the dining room guided me to a table - and I had the entire place to myself. He and another guy watched me fill my plate with all kinds of salads and cold foods, twice, and then with hot foods. I felt rather awkward, of course, eating all alone in the big room, with them having nothing else to do but watch me, but I also felt rather like royalty! When I asked where everyone was, they said they would come after synagogue. Ah yes, Shabbat. Anyway, I will share with you as many of the dishes as I can remember - it really was quite the spread! And the herbs used in the foods was such a contrast to what I'm used to. I had to try as much as I could possibly squeeze in! This made for a very full belly.

Among the salads and cold options was a type of cabbage salad with vinegar and dill (this was my favorite!), as well as some sort of baked squash with a creamy sauced on top; baked eggplant with some sort of tomato sauce (I didn't care for this as much); a more familiar lettuce salad with sprouts in it, with three dressing options; there was a log of some kind of pressed...something (I don't know what, but I think it may have contained fish, among other things - also not my favorite); beets; some sort of salad of shredded carrots and cilantro. That was all for the cold. There was also a garbanzo bean soup, and various other cold items I didn't get to try. In the hot section, I got roast beef, legs of chicken, roasted potatoes, and some sort of fish steak baked in a tomato sauce. Oh, and the desserts - three kinds of pastry-like cakes/loaves. I tried 2.

In addition, I got talking with the other guy (who wasn't the maitre d'), and in the conversation it came out that I'm Mormon. Turns out he knew all about the Mormons! Even when polygamy ended. Kind of fun.

And that, my friends, is that. I didn't manage any pictures for the day, but I hope you enjoy picturing my dinner in your minds. Now I'm going to see what breakfast brings!

Oh, the heat.

I decided my Jerusalem experience just wouldn't be complete without a trip to En Gedi. It certainly has biblical significance, the most interesting of which, I think, is that it is (traditionally) the place where David was hiding out from Saul (1 Sam 24), and when brought an army against him there, David cut off the hem of Saul's skirt, as he slept in the cave. It is now a nature preserve in the middle of the Judean Desert, about 500 yards from the Dead Sea. It has quite a little spring of water, so it is an oasis in the hot desert - it's still very hot, but water and life come springing from it.

So, with this background, I'll tell my story. I went to Christ Church in the Old City first thing this morning, but they didn't have anyone who could talk to me - hopefully I'll be more successful on my way back on Tuesday. But it allowed me to catch the tram up to the Central bus station, and from there, take a bus to En Gedi. While fiddling through my backpack to find my book, I had some thoughts that I'll share at the end. 

Having arrived at my destination, around 11:45, I went and changed into my swim suit (under my clothes), bought a sandwich for lunch, and headed up the trail. It was good and hot - I checked - 110 (wow! That explains things!). The main trail is very nice - paved and everything. There are 4 or 5 small waterfalls, complete with pools, that one can wade in and cool down in, or sunbathe next to, as one's desire may be.

At one point I misread a sign and scrambled up the side of the mountain that I was not supposed to (the sign was NOT clear), until it became apparent I might die. People below were taking pictures of me, and I decided I better start getting back down - praying all the way. As you can see, I made it. That was stupid decision number one on that hike. But I got some good pictures. And I really don't think it's entirely my fault - there were stairs cut into the mountain for the first while, and everything!

There were some fun things - a kind of tunnel of thick reeds that I walked through, some crystal clear little pools of water, and such things. After about a half hour, tiny blisters began appearing on my right arm - on the forearm and up higher toward my shoulder. It wasn't sunburn - those blisters always appear later, and my arms aren't burned now. I don't know what it was - but maybe just plain reaction to the heat. I didn't wade in the pools past my knees - I figured I'd do that on the way down, so the wet shorts didn't rub my skin too much.

After I reached the main waterfall and took some pictures, I was feeling particularly adventurous. A trail marker pointed to a higher trail leading to a cave. Another sign said that the trail was for fit hikers only. Well, if that wasn't a challenge I couldn't ignore! So, I began up this much steeper, much more difficult path. And I learned so many things:

1. Fit is such a relative term. I am more fit than others, less fit than some. But, I learned I am fit enough. I also, however, that they truly meant that the trail is only for fit hikers. I was good and tired, and blazing hot. I think i may have had some heat stroke.
2. I did not bring enough water.
3. There is no shade, no escape from the heat on this insanely hot trail.
4. It goes up and up (mostly stairs cut into the mountain) for about 1/2 a mile, without mercy, and then continues up and down - some still rather steep - for about 1.5 miles. Remember, it was 110, and I felt it.
5. God is merciful - just at the point where I was starting to worry about myself (either I had stopped sweating - really bad sign - or it was just evaporating so fast I couldn't feel it anymore - in either case, my face was really, truly hot like a fever), I came across a natural water spring. I splashed water all over me, rested a minute, and with a small breeze to cool me down a bit, was OK.
6. I should have taken the hint and just gone back down at that point. But it is not in my nature to quite part-way through. I'll do it, by golly!
7. I should have taken the hint and simply realized that no one else was on this trail for a reason. (Yes, Mom, I thought even in my delirium how you would not like to hear about me hiking this rather dangerous trail alone, bordering on heat stroke - but here it is.)
8. When one is alone on a trail, suffering and in need of encouragement, one talks to oneself. Doesn't one? Well, this one does. A lot.
9. The rocks around a water hole are slippery - one skinned elbow and wet shorts are evidence of that.
10. When about 16 oz. of water (even if it is hot enough for hot cocoa) is all that is keeping you from a what would certainly be a hot, painful death, you really should be more careful with it. This lesson came from my dropping the water bottle, with the lid popping off, and about 2/3 of the water quickly gushing down to join its sister waters in the pool. Ah! What now! Keep going.
11. The cave is really not as cool as it sounded. That could be the heat talking, but it was rather a disappointment - such a hard hike fot that!?
12. Despite the heat, and desire to swim in a crystal clear pool, I have a rather irrational fear of the little crabs I could see running around the bottom. Thus, I only got in up to my hips.
13. It you keep your shirt and hair covering (my camp towel used to keep the sun off a bit - didn't think to bring a hat, and couldn't justify purchasing a hat I don't even like at such ridiculous prices) good and wet at springs as you pass them, you can survive.
14. Maybe I'm not in as good of shape as I like to tell myself I am. My legs were trembling jello when I got down.
15. But still, I repeat, we can do hard things. I am here alive to tell the tale.

So, that was the hike. Thanks to all who have been praying for me - I think today they were very much with me. I ran into a friend that I met up in Nazareth (Mary, from Georgia, with whom we shared a room in Nazareth, and who rode into Tiberias with Anny and me to drop off the car) and rode back on the bus with her. Apparently we're meant to be friends.

I think I'll save my ponderings for tomorrow night. I'm pretty tired and have to get up super early to do laundry and get ready to head back up to Nazareth tomorrow morning. So, I'm calling it a night. I think I deserve the rest.

This is the view from my little (illegal) perch. Dead Sea in the distance.

Looking down on one of the pools - a guy lying on sunbathing on a rock in the center (still from my illegal vantage point).

This is a picture of the sign that confused me. See, there are stairs, and it says escape route (which I thought referred to David escaping Saul. On the way down, I observed the small red sign indicating one should not go that direction, and I think it must be referring to an escape from a flash flood or something).

View of the Dead Sea in the distance.

Small section of one of the trails, where I walked in lovely shade/tunnel.

This is called Nahal David, or David's waterfall.

And the view from atop the second, scorching hike. The view was pretty cool, even if the destination wasn't.

The benefits of solo adventuring.

Don't worry - my mother chastised me sufficiently for not writing yesterday. I mean, of course everyone noticed, not just my mother.

I did have a good day yesterday, but also a frustrating one. Long story short, I did a "free" (tip-based) tour of the Old City, which I should have done so long ago! It was great! I'm learning so much from being a "tourist" - next time I'll be a much better guide. Then I met up with a friend from Boston who is living here now, had lunch, and went to the Israel Museum. It was all great - the museum is quite fantastic. I took a good long look at the Dead Sea Scrolls, King Herod's Final Journey (a temporary exhibit - the story of the excavation of his tomb is quite the story, in which the archaeologist who had spent his life looking for it and found it, later died in 2010 from a fall at the site!), and some of the ancient artifacts, of which there are plenty! I always get a sore back from walking slowly around museums, so after 3 hours, I had to go.

I found out from a good friend of mine that in order to do interviews and surveys as I was planning for my research on the Jesus Trail, I have to get prior approval from the Office of Research Administration at Brandeis, which I didn't have a clue about, so didn't obtain. I was rather frustrated, as you can imagine, so I just came home, ate a little bit of my favorite yogurt, took a shower, and slept. I tell you, with my earplugs, I sleep like...well, like there's no bus stop 20 feet from me!

But I have regrouped on the research and decided to just talk to as many people as possible and contact the Christian organizations in Israel to see what I can find out. I ain't finished yet!

That's how today began - I contacted all kinds of organizations around here, and made plans to visit a couple. Thus, at 12:47 exactly, I purchased a ticket for the tram going to west Jerusalem, hopped on around 12:54, and around 1:15 I knocked on the door of the Interfaith Encounter Association. But wait, this is a good story. I wasn't exactly sure how to find it - I had seen it on google maps, and the instructions said, and I quote, "12 Ha’arazim Street, Entrance 34  (Beit Hakerem Neighborhood, Jerusalem).  Walk towards entrance 36 and immediately go down the stairs on the right hand side.  At the end of the stairs make a left and take the first entrance.  We are on the top floor." Encounter (directly copied and pasted from the site.) I got off on the stop I thought it was (which turned out to be one stop too soon, but I'm a good walker, as we have well proved!) and walked down a road that had little apartments with a long stone fence blocking any entry, for a good 1/4 mile. No street to the right or left, and I began to think this wasn't going to work out at all. I decided to walk to the next tram stop and see about just going straight up to Mount Herzl (which was my final destination for the day, after the visit), when, to my utter delight, I happened upon the very street I needed - Ha'arazim. I went down it, completely unsure what "entrance 34" or "36" meant, but hoping to figure it out. Turns out, it has to do with the group of apartments in that block.

OK, this is getting long. I found, after some real detective work, entrance 34, climbed my way up to the top floor (8 floors), and knocked on the door. A woman in a hijab (Muslim head covering) answered the door, rather surprised. I asked her in Hebrew if she spoke English, and she looked at me even more strangely and answered, in Hebrew, yes. I told her who I was (in English), that I had emailed earlier, and was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and become acquainted. She was clearly shocked, and I was wondering if I had been too presumptuous (probably - I don't know how one does these things!), but invited me in. She was having a meeting with the director, so she showed me to a seat in the tiny apartment, where I sat for about 10 minutes while they finished up, and he left for a meeting (but not without saying hello).

They had gotten my email, but hadn't really had time to respond - not that I expected them to. But I am leaving next week and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to meet them. I had quite a few minutes to look very carefully at this little apartment they worked out of. Quite a different space than most non-profit offices, I would guess. But maybe not - maybe that's the nature of non-profit - wherever you can get a space! The apartment was clearly quite old and very tiny. Probably 35x35 ft. total. From my seat in the kitchen/dining room/living room, I could see two windows - one small one next to the sink (which was just a small, farmhouse style sink, rather low, like it was made for an 8-year-old) with a very dingy old lace curtain, and another one closer to me that was open for air flow. Next to the table where I was seated was an old couch, with red, yellow and black lettering saying random words in English ("stop" being the most frequent, for some reason), and accented with 2 periwinkle pillows. One small room was behind me - I couldn't really see it - and one was to the side, which served as the office from which they worked.

After finishing up her meeting, Fathiey, who is Palestinian (working in a very Jewish neighborhood - go her!) sat and talked with me for about an hour and a half. The purpose of the organization is to bring together Muslims, Jews, and Christians to create bonds based on faith, not despite faith. They learn about each others' traditions and beliefs, and have even visited some of the holy sites together. It sounds like it is taking some time to really gain momentum, but cool things are happening. I also mentioned my idea to begin a scholarship fund for Palestinian students who want to go to college after high school, but don't have the means. We're going to continue working toward that.

By the time I left, we had become friends and I am very excited to continue working with her and Yehudah (the director). And glad I didn't retreat when I thought perhaps my barging in wasn't such a good idea. I think this could be a positive thing. I'll do more contacting organizations tomorrow.

I found my way to the tram stop again, but it was delayed, and time was now running short. So I just walked about another 1/2 mile up to Mount Herzl and looked around. You know, I've never been there. It is quite lovely. On the entrance side, it doesn't seem like much of a mountain - just a gentle incline up the road leading to it. But on the other side, it's definitely a mountain - and it's beautiful! I gazed over the trees to other hills and cities west of Jerusalem. It's a great view. Of course, I'm quite certain more than half of the trees on the mountain (no sign of desert there!) are not native to Israel or Jerusalem, but no matter.

I also wandered over the Holocaust Memorial/Museum Yad Vashem. It's nothing like I remember it - and even when I looked specifically for the one place I do remember clearly, I couldn't find it. Who knows what goes on in my head! Or perhaps they have changed it. The complex is huge, with all kinds of monuments to "The Righteous," "The Heroic," and, of course, the lost. I finally found the history part of the museum, but by this time only had about 45 minutes to see it. I briskly moved through familiar history, a bit sad I had to skip some of the video testimonials they had running at different locations. I have seen most of it before, but one particular little video clip stopped my heart. Of course, the images of the Holocaust are never pleasant, and I have seen the starving bodies, the pits filled with the dead, and such. But I caught the end of a video in which a bulldozer is just bulldozing dead bodies, through the dirt, for several feet until they are dumped into a pit. Just bulldozing them like rocks. It was a heartless display I hadn't witness, and the horror of it stopped me. I continue to be baffled by this moment of inhumanity.

I met up with my new German roommates there - they happened to be visiting as well. And we got back on the (stiflingly crowded) tram to come home. I stopped at the market again and got some fresh veggies and fruits for dinner. I'm ready to sleep (already - it's only almost 8!), but I promised I'd go to my friend's house for a little bit.

Eat your Mediterranean heart out! Watermelon, hummus, cucumber, tomatoes, pita and a nectarine. Life is good.

*****Well, as it turned out, my friend never showed at the place where I was supposed to meet her. As I waited for her, I'm pretty sure I got hit on. A guy stopped in his car and asked for directions, which of course I was in no position to give. Then he asked if I was alone, and mentioned something about him being alone. I'm not sure what all else he said, but I just said, "I'm fine, thanks," and walked away. That's one solo adventure I'm not up for.

Living in a scrapbook

For the few days I've been staying here, my mind has unconsciously been trying to figure out the "style" of the Abraham hostel. Well, today, while doing my business in the main restroom downstairs, it came upon me (I was gazing absently at the wallpaper).  The place gives you the feel of a scrapbook. Small, colorful and busy patterns that follow a color scheme decorate a few doors, walls, etc.; the font is a sort of bubble-type seriffed look; quotes are stenciled on the wall in bright colors that follow the theme of Abraham as the first solo travler. The whole of it together has the essence of living in a scrapbook all about backpacking and traveling, living the scrapbooked memory. It makes the memory for you. Tours offered are part of that experience. Hip music, meeting place for all kinds of people, making connections, on a journey meeting people from all over the world. This would be such a great addition to my BYU pop culture class! Hyper-realism if ever I saw it. I've never been really fond of scrapbooking - but living in it is something else entirely!

As it turns out, the bulk of the Abraham Hostel family descends on the kitchen around 5:30 or 6. I was one of them. Excited to eat another of my delicious avocados, I walked into a dining area bursting with energy and smells. The first thing I noticed was that something was burning - and in a major way. It was clearly coming from the kitchen area, and when I walked over to get a plate and some utensils, I saw what it was: eggplant. Yep, about 8 eggplants placed directly on hot burners, cooking, I could only surmise.  The large island in the center of the kitchen was surrounded like a surgery patient in Grey's Anatomy, with people busily chopping and juicing and otherwise preparing some kind of food. Apparently there is some kind of communal meal going on that I wasn't aware of. I probably wouldn't have gone anyway - too much talking expectation. But I don't know, I might have worked up the people-energy and confident smile enough to pull it off.

Speaking of juicing, I have to confess that I've fallen in love. I have seen the object of my affection a few other places around Jerusalem, but when I spotted it tonight, a rekindling of the fire fanned in my heart - or rather, on my tastebuds. They have these juicers here - I don't know why they don't seem to exist in the States. It's a contraption that allows you to put a sliced orange/lemon/grapefruit (or other citrus fruit, I suppose) in between a press that then, when pressed together through a lever that pulls the top part down squeezes the juice down through a funnel into your choice of container below. Fresh juice, hello! Tonight they were squeezing lemons. In a matter of maybe 5 minutes, they had a half gallon or so of lemon juice - for the meal, I assumed.

Then my next heart-flutter appeared. Wandering around the scene, I couldn't help but notice, was a tall well-built guy with long brown hair (have I ever mentioned that, although I try to talk myself out of it, I have a thing for guys with long hair?) and a camera. He seemed to be the designated photographer for the culinary event. At some point he procured a shot glass, dipped it into the lemon juice, and drank it straight down, without a single wince of the eyes. Astounding!

But this meal wasn't the only one in the makes. On a table kitty-corner from me was an Asian lady busily chopping onions, then slicing an enormous roast into thin slices. I have no idea what she was preparing. To the right of me on the table was a group, perhaps a family, drinking beers together and playing some sort of game that looked like Scattergories, and to the left of me, on the other side of the long table, was a lonely soul like myself, eating something and drinking herbal tea contentedly. I considered going to talk with her, but if she were indeed like me, our conversation might be forced and awkward.

Am I lame because I would rather sit and watch people than actually go up and talk to them?

But my roommate David never lacks for something to say! I have deduced through my amazing sleuthing skills (which amount to just half-listening to his jabber) that he is an internet Christian minister, an anti-government activist, and whole foods health nut. In all of these, he is a constant preacher, which preaching he breaks up with random riddles and "quizzes" that no one can figure out, but that appear (consciously or not) to be power plays intended to keep me (or whoever is the lucky recipient) off balance and at his mercy, waiting for the answer, and feeling less than intelligent.

I find myself struggling with this situation a little. I moved from one chattering know-it-all, older man, to another - both of whom are quite friendly, but in a way that lets you know quite clearly that they are, of course, right. I feel dominated, which I'm sure is the, perhaps unintended, intent, which causes me to just pull in and shut up, when I really want to question some of this self-proclaimed truth he is spouting, but don't want to engage in a debate, because I inevitably fail at those - I don't think fast enough, nor are we coming at it with equal advantage. He preaches this stuff for a living, and my role is as the listener, grateful receiver of truth.

I also struggle because I want to share back, and I feel like what I 'm really doing is giving off some weak image of Mormons - that I don't have enough confidence in my faith to openly talk about it. This, of course, isn't true, and I have shared my faith with various individuals on this trip; but feeling dominated as I do, I don't wish to engage in a power play.

But I'll be gone most of tomorrow (today I was stuck here finishing up a paper - but it's finished and turned in! Hurray!), as well as Thursday, so perhaps things are looking up. And despite the awkwardness of the fact that we are sharing this living space together (a 65-year-old or so man and me), he doesn't snore, and he does go to bed early and sleep in later than myself. In that regard, I'm grateful.

As I sit here (it's just after 7) an eerie alarm is sounding outside, all over the city. You can hear the various alarms in different places - some going up in their wail as other go down. It is a drill - a paper posted at the front desk warned us of it some days in advance. But the experience is quite unnerving. Even when it happened earlier today as well (so this is the second drill today). I guess that's part of the Israel experience.

Mahane Yehuda and so much more.

Sakit (emphasis on the -eet at the end). That's the new word obtained today in the Mahane Jehudah market. Betcha can't guess what it means. OK, probably you can. Just what it sounds like - a sack.  I feel like quite the native - I wandered around the market this evening, in search of some good fruit and bread for dinner, asking prices, learning new words, gawking at the spread of fruits, vegetables, nuts, breads, olives, spices, and everything else you can imagine, letting the ambience of the sellers hollering out prices sink in, and winding my way through the crowds. It was great. And I learned that the word for small sack is "sakit." I purchased three perfectly ripe avocados (if only they sold them that way in the States!), three peaches (still not as good as Abed's!) and some bread to eat with the avocados. Then I stopped in a store and purchased my new favorite yogurt - a strawberry flavored, rather runny variety that is absolutely heaven to me! Excellent dinner.

Just after this I ran into a guy I had talked with in the Fauzi Azar in Nazareth. He remembered me too, and I told him about the research I was doing. He offered to help and gave me his number so I could call him. The guy next to him at the bar said something about getting cute girls' numbers, and he replied that he saw me first, so he gets to have me. I giggled like a little school girl. It's been far too long since attractive, normal men argued over me. Well, that's a bold-faced lie. They never have. But he's a good-looking guy, for sure! Douwe from Holland (anyone know how to pronounce that name?).

That's about it for the day. I have switched rooms and am now in the basement, with a room that is cheaper, made for 6, but only houses David and me at the moment (open-eyed spooked face), and is directly next to the bus stop. David's a talker as well, so I haven't made a ton of progress on my paper. He's from Texas and loves to tell jokes about congressmen (What's the difference between a congressman and a federal criminal? The spelling.) and talk about his law suit against the City of Austin's judges and police force for malpractice (or something like that). I can't figure out what he's doing here, but he's been here for a while, just opened a bank account, and seems to be making a life here. He says he's waiting for a $200 apartment in Jerusalem. Good luck.

With all that, it could be a long night. But I'm nice and full, pleased with my exploits for the night, and looking forward to my earplugs.

In a funk.

I'm sitting on my bed (the lower bunk) in the Abraham Hostel as Anny packs up the last of her things. She's the last one to go - and then I'm here alone. I don't know what's the deal with me - I'm kind of in a funk about everyone leaving. I guess this has always been a weird thing with me - I get all emotional about getting left behind. On my mission it was always so much easier to be the companion leaving than the one staying. I don't really know why this is the case, but I suspect it has something to do with years of foster brothers and sisters coming and leaving.

So, I don't know if it's that, or looking into the next two weeks of all I have to do, and not really knowing how I'm going to do it - but something is bugging me. I'm just in a funk.

Yesterday, you probably noticed (I'll hear it from my mom tomorrow for sure!), I didn't write. I didn't feel like I had much to say, and plain didn't feel like it. I slept in a bit late (for me) and then lazed around and read a book I found in the Fauzi Azar collection of random books left by travelers (I found among the accumulation a collection of LDS hymns and some stuff by Madsen, interestingly), visited the Orthodox Basilica of the Annunciation, and then waited for Anny. We had to forego our trip to Haifa, since it was Friday and approaching Shabbat - no buses were running after 2.

And that was about it.

I've met some great people on my way. During our first days at the Abraham Hostel, I was convinced that this backpacker life the one for me. I loved talking to new people, the communal atmosphere, the adventurous feel to it all. And I still feel that way - but more from a distance now. I'm not sure what changed. I feel overwhelmed by all the people I don't know, and different from them, since I can't join them in a beer or something; and I guess I'm always a little plagued by my insecurities - I don't fit the bodily mold of a backpacker, I can't seem to keep up interesting conversation for more than a minute or two. In fact, I'm usually worried that the longer they talk to me, the greater risk I run of getting found out - for not being as cool or intelligent or something as the front I put on.  Now I'm rambling into my regular issues.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty melancholy this morning as I walked to church. But the two hours of church (only Sacrament and Relief Society, since all the BYU Jerusalem students are in Turkey) did my soul some real good. It felt good to be surrounded by my people, if that makes sense. And I truly felt my heart lightened by the Holy Spirit. I also took some time to just sit and reminisce about my time here 13 years ago. It changed my life, obviously, and I guess I wanted some reassurance that I had been following a real future, not just some nostalgic dream. I felt that reassurance.

I was supposed to meet Anny at Damascus Gate afterward, but waited for about 20 minutes and couldn't find her. So I went over to Jaffa Gate, thinking maybe she misunderstood, and then back to the hostel. No luck. After an hour and a half of waiting, even calling her on Google, I was just about to panic, when she knocked on the door. Somehow we missed one another, but luckily she got to see everything she wanted to see. I was glad for that.

And soon she'll be off (about a half hour now).

I want to end this post with a note about small miracles and answered prayers. You already know the story of the Nazareth driving disaster - and the people placed in our path to help us. Two days ago as we walked in the miserable heat of the day, I began to talk out loud to Heavenly Father, begging Him to send just a little breeze (it was as still as could be). He did, and I thanked Him, out loud again. I kept asking, and small breezes kept coming within seconds. It was very much appreciated. Then today, as I walked up to the BYU Jerusalem Center, I asked for peace in my heart, and it came. I am being truly blessed.

Now I just need some more help to make something positive happen with this research. I've already made some great contacts and will pursue those, but I think I'm going to make a small paper survey to hand out to people at some of the Christian holy sites. I've never done this sort of thing before, and it scares me a bit. But I think it will be the best approach to see how people from different Christian denominations approach and experience these holy sites - the traditions, the expectations, the feelings, etc. So, that's the plan. From here, the blog will likely be ponderings on this research. Please feel free to continue to read and enjoy. But there won't be as many pictures. (smiley face)

**** I must make an amendment to the earlier posting. Driven by hunger out to the streets around 7 (after Anny left), I wandered until I found a little pub/restaurant open. It took some searching. Jerusalem, in the Jewish section, is nigh unto a ghost-town on Shabbat. NOTHING was open, and the people on the streets were a) Orthodox Jews on their way to the synagogue; b) tourists like myself; c) what I can only assume are immigrant workers - some Philippinas and Africans (the Africans weren't Ethiopian Jews, I don't think - they weren't speaking Hebrew. But I could very well be wrong); d) homeless people.

But I knew I was close to hope when I heard a crowd around a corner, and sure enough, there was the pub. I ate some fish and chips while I read my book and people-watched, and then headed off to what I thought was the street I lived on. I got good and lost, but the city no longer resembled anything like a ghost-town. It was hopping! Shops had opened (it was fully dark now) and everyone was out for a night on the town! I was swarmed a couple of times with Birthright Tour kids (groups of Jewish post-high school age kids that come to connect with their homeland) looking for a good time, and twice passed the same street performer singing Greenday and CCR. I dropped a shekel in his case - he was pretty decent.

I decided it was time to ask someone for how to arrive at Jaffa Street, and popped in a little gelato place. Bad idea - or perhaps excellent idea, depending on your perspective. In any case, I said, "Shalom," and the girl said, "Hi." Rats - I can't escape my American-ness, can I? In English I said, "I'm that obvious, eh?" She replied that my "shalom" made her wonder, but I looked American. Well, at least my accent wasn't the issue. I got the most sinful, rich dark chocolate gelato with a scoop of some berry flavor, and directions to my street. All is well - and I'm ready to go out and conquer. For now, that means I'm going to bed. Assuming my roommate Jeff (the 74-year-old from Australia) doesn't decide to talk my ear off all night as he did last night. My other new roommate George, who apparently doesn't speak much English just came in. Oh boy - spending the night with two older men. Time to get the earplugs!

Just as I left the kid singing, "Don't go out tonight, It's bound to take your life; There's a bad moon on the rise," I looked up and saw the full moon. But for me, going out was just what I needed. Here's the view on the street tonight. 

Have you found Jesus? We have. Sylvia's eating dinner with him.

But that story is yet to come.

For now I begin with last night. Our little apartment was very nice, with a beautiful flowers, a grape-vine covered walkway, and lovely pool; but what I will remember is the food. Oh, yes, the food! First, I must admit it was rather expensive, but it was superb! I got St. Peter's Fish (in Hebrew it's just called oven fish - interesting to note), and it was perfectly flavored and pleasant.

I woke up early again - which was good - we needed to get an earlier start because this day was going to be the longest yet. And breakfast was everything we could hope for. On the table waiting for us was an assortment of delicious fruits, several kinds of cheese, two kinds of jam/marmalade, bread and cream cheese, cut vegetables with a delicious creamy dip, olives, fresh yogurt with granola, mint tea, a fruit smoothie, and a an egg fried in a ramekin with some kind of tomato salsa. Amazing.

Fully stuffed, and completely slathered in sunscreen (we learned our lesson from yesterday in which we thought it a good idea to get some sun; Sylvia and I have paid a rather painful price for that), we departed and headed toward the Cliffs of Arbel. The cliff's edge provided a spectacular view of the Galilee and various towns. And the knowledge that we would soon be making our way down that cliff was thrilling.

And thrilling it was! The trail was mostly easy, but for about 200 yards, it was straight down the cliff's edge, with rubber-covered metal cables and metal foot/hand holds protruding. Sylvia thought it quite the satisfying adventure.

(Anny just commented, as I'm sitting here writing, "We are amazing! Every day walking more than most people travel in a car!" Indeed we are.)

These cliffs have quite the history. In the time of Herod the Great, the Galilean rebels hid out in these caves. Herod sent down soldiers in baskets, and they reached in and pulled out the rebels, throwing them down to their deaths. The rest they burned out. According to Josephus Flavius, hundreds died this way.

From the cliffs we marched on toward Wadi Hammam (Hamman means pigeon, apparently for the pigeon caves found therein), which is a small Bedouin village (the Bedouins in the south are still nomadic, but in the north, apparently they have settled into villages). We stayed on the path quite well today, and found our way to Kibbutz Ginosar - where the "Jesus Boat" is housed. This is quite a thing to see - a boat dug out of the mud on the shores of the Galilee, dating to the time of Jesus. We rested here for about 2 hours, then tromped out into the heat of the day.

It was sauna-like. Dry, all-encompassing heat radiating from every direction, up and down. It measured 95 degrees outside. This was the truly challenging part of our day - of the whole trail. We slogged on for two hours in that heat, stopping only 2 or 3 times when we found some decent shade (this was hard to come by for long stretches), and when Anny needed to relieve her bladder (she's rather proud that she learned to go outside, and did it a lot! Sylvia and I rarely had to do so, since we were sweating so profusely).

By 4 we made it to the long-awaited gas station that marked the point where we were close to our final destination. But there we ran into a taxi driver who is mentioned in the Jesus Trail guidebook, and who often picks people up. He told us we had better hurry, because Tabgha and Capernaum would close at 4:30 (not 5, as we had read). We still had 2 miles to go, and were fully exhausted from heat and distance. But we were also determined, so we hauled it up a rather steep hill and down into shores of the Galilee, where, at exactly 4:28 the guard let us slip in for a quick view of the church celebrating the miracle of the loaves and fishes (a famous mosaic resides there that is of ancient date, but we hardly had time to read the story). Afterward, however, as we were walking, rather briskly, out, we came to the closed gate (with several other perturbed tourists). We waited for a full 10 minutes (I was NOT a happy or patient waiter, I can tell you!) before some handy guys picked the lock, and we headed toward Capernaum.

We didn't make it to the Mount of Beatitudes, which was a bit further up the hill, and closed anyway, but Sylvia and I did take a dip in the Sea of Galilee. Oh, it was lovely! Not really cold at all, but refreshing. And, hey, we swam where Jesus walked.

On our way back up to the main road to catch the bus, we ran into a nice guy from Spain. Sylvia was elated to practice her Spanish, and I just kept getting more and more confused between Spanish, Hebrew, and English. Turns out, his name is Jesus - a fitting way to end our Jesus Trail adventure! We got lucky enough to have a taxi take us to Tiberias for the same price as the bus, and then another small sherut take us to Nazareth for the same price as the bus. Sylvia and Jesus went out for a shwarma dinner, and here we are.

I have had occasion to ponder several times over the last few years on our capacity as humans and children of God. I believe that we can do hard things, and that, in fact, we are made to do hard things, we need to do hard things. What those hard things are, of course, differs for each person; but we are made to grow and to stretch and to do things we may not have dreamed possible. Some of these things are ones we choose and long to do; others are thrust upon us. But I believe God wants us to strive and yearn, to grow and look back with satisfaction at what we have accomplished, and the person we have become. And I believe He helps us so much more than we can possibly know. I have done various things in the last 10 years that I never considered possible for me, and I do know, in at least some ways, that God has made them possible for me. I ran a half marathon, twice; I taught middle and high school and loved it; I was accepted into a Master's and then PhD program to study Israel (which had been the dream for so long); and various other things along the way. As we trekked on today, through incredibly difficult heat, I remembered this. I still believe it. Now, thoroughly exhausted and with some painful sores from my sandal rubbing, and some good old-fashioned sunburn (some of it a product of my own neglect), I am glad we did this hard thing.

Today as we sat in the Jesus Boat museum, we made a list of our favorite quotes/repeated phrases from the trip. The top 10 are as follows (I must warn those of you sensitive to talk of bodily functions - you just can't help talking about bodily functions where you're walking outside for 10-13 miles a day!):

10. Anny: Amber smack my bum gentle. Sylvia hurt!

9. Every time we arrive at a new archaeological site, Anny screams, "Yay!".

8. We had quite the argument over the fecal excretions of runners. I insisted that a decent portion of Americans have had to make do with leaves instead of toilet paper, since frequently when one is out running, one finds oneself in urgent need, and without such amenities (and yes, this conversation came up because it has happened to me). Sylvia insists that this is a rarity, while I think it is more common than she thinks. Without further research, I guess we'll never know.

7. Anny: Oh, look at the cows! So cute! (She thinks they are so cute; apparently Taiwan has no cows.)

6. Sylvia, upon coming out of the bathroom: Is it weird that I really like to poo?

5. Amber, in response to a small, accidental gas emission from Sylvia: I heard that! It was pathetic. Sylvia's response: a HUGE and very loud, very deliberate gas emission.

4. Amber, while climbing down the sheer cliffs: My mom would be cussing if she saw me now! Sylvia (sarcastically, because I am the non-cusser): Your mom cusses? That's where you get your potty mouth!

3. Sylvia, as Anny does her bladder relieving behind a bush: I am so jealous that you can pee so quickly!

2. Amber: I want to keep my snot. I'm fond of my snot.

1. Sylvia: The balls of my feet hurt. Amber: My balls are fine. (Sylvia makes a valiant effort not to laugh and reveal that her mind went directly to the gutter. She fails.)

The pictures here are a little out of order, but it will take so much time to reorder them, you're just going to have to deal. You know the order of things from the narrative above.

Amber's plate of St. Peter's Fish, fresh from the Sea of Galilee.

Anny's roasted lamb casserole.

Sylvia standing at the top of the right side of the Cliffs of Arbel we are about to climb down.

The view from the top.

Anny and Sylvia below me on the way down.

Some of the ancient caves.

Further down the trail - with the Galilee in the distant background.

Walking through the orange groves (we also walked through banana tree, mango tree and olive groves).

Banana trees!

Just in front of the altar, you can sort of see the mosaic of the loaves and fishes - this is in Tabgha.

Another ancient mosaic, picture shot on the run as we hurried back out of the church.

And, fittingly, just outside the church is a pond with lots of fishes.

The Sea of Galilee.

Our dirty legs upon finishing today's journey (the black marks are from having to walk through a completely charred field for several hundred yards).

Cooling off burned legs in the Sea of Galilee.

We were soon joined by some sort of large rodent, kind of like a rat only the size of a cat, and apparently no tail. Anyone know what this is?

The view of the cliffs from our hotel in Moshav Arbel, and the valley beyond that we would cross today.

Hee hee. Our shadows.

The view - yet again.

Looking up at what we had come down. Stunning.

Ancient boat.

Modern boats on the Galilee.

Swimming!

Coming back from a refreshing swim.

The Basilica on the traditional Mount of Beatitudes - from a distance (since we didn't quite make it).