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.