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).

We can go the distance.

I purposely turned off the alarm on my phone last night, and I still woke up at 6. That was fine with me - I got plenty of sleep. And I got a few quiet minutes to write in my journal, read my scriptures - both the Book of Mormon and New Testament - and admire the fog as it rolled out. Yes, fog. Fog that re-soaked our shoes and clothes that we had set out to dry. Ah well. It was a lovely morning.

I forced Sylvia out of bed around 7:45, and we went down to eat around 8:15. I tell you, we ate well! Great dinner last night, and a great breakfast this morning. I suppose that is for the best - we haven't had much of anything else since then. Except lots and lots of water!

We began our journey already a bit lost. I tell you, we are struggling to find/follow the trail markers! But in the distance we could see the "Horns of Hattin" - twin hills that we knew marked a part of the path. So, we followed the road that seemed to lead to them, and it was the right decision. We made it there, and boy what a view!

Now, I hate to be didactic, but we couldn't help notice a life and Gospel lesson here. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this. We often get lost in the here and now, not sure what direction to take. But with a clear vision of where we want to be, we can make it there. I have often heard that there are many roads to God (or variations of this idea), and in many regards I agree. But there are certain roads and markers that we have to reach and pass.

As we discussed this little life lesson, Sylvia mentioned that sometimes we can't see our destination because it is blocked by trees or other obstacles in our vision (this was oddly out of context, since there was not a tree within 300 yards of us - and none between us and the horns we were trying to get to). I concurred, which led me to the next part of the analogy: in those moments, lacking a detailed map or intimate knowledge of the trail, you have to find a clearing from which you can get a good view of the goal, and your relation to it. I may be approaching dangerously close to  overly religious or sentimental territory here, but I do think this is true. Keeping a clear view of the goal and a self-assessment of how we are doing in getting there is absolutely crucial.

So, there you go. Our philosophy for the day. This became a recurring theme, as the trail markers were often hard to come by, and we had to rely on the distant goal for guidance. Often, we were not on the "correct" path at all, we realized later, but here we are in our comfortable guest house resting from the day's labors, quite satisfied with our success.

We made it up and around the horns, which wasn't too much of an ascent, but boy, was it a descent! And we seemed to lose the trail around the time of the descent. We followed a trail, but we think it was the wrong one - no trail markers, and it brought us to a cow farm (apparently not a dairy, however), where we had to trek through more awful thistles. And the trail coming down was rather encumbered by horrible thorn bushes, which I'm quite certain are the kind used 2,000 years ago to make a crown for Jesus (from the ones pointed out to me by my teachers when I was in the BYU Jerusalem Center). They were a pain! Literally!

From the stinky but charming little farm, made our way to a real road, where we found markers again. They led us to Nebi Shueib, where we were not allowed to enter the Druze shrine because, apparently, our long, well-past-the-knee shorts/capris were too short (the guide book said, and I quote, "pants past the knees"). But they did let us in to the parking lot where we rested under some shade and refilled our water bottles.

We then made our way down into the little town of Kfar Zeitim - which means, Olive Village - and again lost the trail markers. We are a little frustrated with this pattern - we are three relatively intelligent young women, with pretty good eye sight (when my contacts are in - and they are!).  How can this be so hard! But we asked a guy on the street - he was a local, and I talked to him all in Hebrew, and he understood perfectly, and I understood his response perfectly. Those moments are so very fun! He directed us toward the right way, although I don't think it was the actual trail. No matter - we were heading to the next major goal: the Cliff of Arbel. Is this starting to sound a little like Frodo and Sam's journey in the Lord of the Rings? It felt a little like it!

Suddenly, we found trail markers again, and they led us to the ruins of an ancient synagogue. It was quite remarkable. We then knew our guest house (accommodations for the night) was close. Good thing - Anny was fading fast (it was about 1:30, and it was really hot. She doesn't seem to be sweating very much, so her cooling system is not working; mine, on the other hand, is working outstandingly). We found the guest house, which is a small apartment with all the amenities, and it includes a nice little pool! Sylvia and I took advantage of that!

We made excellent time today, despite the pauses for rests and searching for the trail. It's been nice to rest here and get geared up for the final leg tomorrow - which will be the longest and possibly the hardest. But I'm really excited for it - we begin with the cliffs, which have an incredible history and afford a spectacular view; then basically walk along the shores of the Galilee for about 12 miles.

Can you tell I'm not so tired now (it's only 6:40, and I've been swimming/resting/catching up on the blog for about 4 hours)? I am writing a lot more. I'm thoroughly sunburned on my arms and legs, which I didn't cover in sunscreen. And I realize that in the future, I will bring either a hat or a kerchief to protect my head and stop the sweat from dripping into my eyes (turns out sweat mixed with sunscreen is rather painful to the eyes, and makes for some irritated eyelids too!). But We're all feeling great and raring to go!

The view of the fog from our balcony this morning.

Anny loved looking at the cows.

Walking along the "trail" - or at least the way we went before we got on the right trail. This is in the agricultural part of Kibbutz Lavi.

The Horns of Hattin in the distance.

View of the Cliffs of Arbel from the top of the Horns.

Amber and Sylvia at the top of the Horns.

Sylvia checking the map at the top, and reading the story of the  Crusader -  Muslim battle that took place here a thousand years ago.

The Israel National Trail marker, with the Jesus Trail dot next to it.

View from the top of the Horns.

More view from the top of the Horns.

The Cliffs of Arbel - from a distance. That's the goal!

Some of the scenery in Kfar Zeitim - it's a lovely little town!

Amber and Anny in Kfar Zeitim - notice Anny's red face. She was getting really hot!

The close up view of the Cliffs.

The ruins of the ancient synagogue of Arbel.