The Sinai (part 2)

The Sinai is Bedouin country. One account I read stated that only about ten percent of Bedouins are fully nomadic any more because, as the world changes, life changes—for Bedouins and for all of us. Still, in Sinai, we glimpsed the people and the culture rendered so intriguing, mystic, and romantic through stories spun over the centuries for purposes political, social, wayfaring, or simply for entertainment. To four western women, as in us, Bedouins are physically attractive people: Fine featured, lean-limbed, “Arabic” in coloring, . . . except for the profusion of bad teeth—rather ruinous for an otherwise dazzling smile and blatant evidence of the lack of dental care. Traditional Bedouin renown includes “remarkable kindness and hospitality” to the stranger in their midst. Although we had no interaction with any women, the Bedouin men and boys we encountered fully embodied that reputation.

A visual of Bedouins in the mind’s eye easily accommodates the addition of a camel—or camels—and it should!

Outside the walls of St. Catherine’s Monastery, at the foot of Mt. Sinai, Bedouins with camels conducted a thriving rent-a-camel business with tourists who preferred not to make the two to three hour pilgrimage to the top of Mt. Sinai totally by foot. (The final 700 “steps” to the summit had to be climbed sans camels--foot traffic only.)

Tammy and Jennell did commission camels for the ascent, and Jennell graciously allowed me a bit of time to enjoy the camel experience on the journey. Mostly I hiked, though—right along with Colleen who did the entire trek by foot.

Jennell and Tammy are safely mounted and ready to begin the ascent.

 Me commencing the trek up Mt. Sinai.

Colleen in the background, then me, then Sala (our Bedouin guide for the mountain trek), and Jennell on her camel.  (Tammy took this photo from her camel; she was in the lead.)

 Here is our "camel boy" for the ascent along with Jennell's hired camel.

My time on Jennell's hired camel.

 
 

Colleen and me at the top of Mt. Sinai. 

The Sinai (part 1)

Just before daybreak of our first morning in Eilat, a tour bus picked us up at our hotel and transported us to the Taba Border Crossing between Israel and Egypt. Our Israelis escort briefed us on border protocol and procedures, commencing his spiel with, “Any weapons? Any ammunition?” With our stunned silence as his only response, he added, “Anyone want to buy?” May I just clarify here: the attitudes and antics associated with crossing the border can be over-the-top, particularly on the Israelis side, and there are guns in evidence everywhere, carried by official-looking types and not-so-official-looking types. But no one merely crossing the border from one side to the other better be carrying a weapon of any kind!

Finally, after successfully navigating first the Israelis portion of buildings, lines, and counters pertaining to border crossing followed by the Egyptian portion of the same, we connected with our tour van, driver and guide—all Egyptian now. In our tour van there were six tourists—the four of us and a Japanese couple. At all the checkpoints in the Sinai, our driver would report that he was carrying a “muli-national” group; it saved time, money, and hassle because, apparently, American, British, and Israelis tour groups require an armed guard on the van as well. (Interesting, huh!)

Our tour began. Raphael, our Egyptian guide, would talk anything with us—history, culture, religion, politics, whatever; he was knowledgeable and respectful and not afraid to discuss controversial topics. I loved his candor and admired his grace—an enviable consummation of honesty, kindness, and humor. The four of us became his “four wives” for the day, and he took excellent care of us.

This is Raphael at St. Catherine's Monastery.

As Raphael talked, Sinai unfurled before us.

A sector of the planet stripped of feathers, fur, and pancake makeup, Sinai bares Earth’s casing: Sand dunes in wrinkled folds give way to glimpses of skeletal structure beneath an expanse of a skin now tautly stretched. Sinai is a landscape of nakedness.

Sunset at St. Catherine's Monastery as we complete our descent from Mt. Sinai.

Israel: A Second Time in a Lifetime (part 2)

Galilee is my favorite place in Israel.  It was the first time I visited and it was this time, but you should also know that Galilee was my favorite before I ever journeyed to Israel at all.  Although truly lovely, there is nothing particularly spectacular about the landscape and nothing particularly unique about the cities and sights.  Yet Galilee bends the mind, touches the heart, and moves the soul. 

Sunrise over the Sea of Galilee (Nof Ginosar Kibbutz)

View over the Sea of Galilee from the Mount of Beattitudes.

Jerusalem certainly ranks as one of the world’s amazing cities.  What a magnificent mingling of cultures, religions, histories, politics, and art have become entangled and entrenched there, especially as visible in Old Jerusalem—the portion still  encompassed by a city wall.  Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have all created and destroyed, painted and stripped, lit and shadowed, pieces and dimensions of the ever evolving masterpiece Jerusalem symbolizes.  For me this time, though, the place in Jerusalem that felt the most holy and sacred, was the Temple Mount—currently the plaza area around the Dome of the Rock.  (No longer can non-Muslims actually enter the mosque, although we could fourteen years ago.)  The crowds and clamor of the Via Dolorosa and Wailing Wall gave way to a stillness, an aura of reverence, as soon as I passed over the threshold of Moghrabi Gate.   

Bethlehem, though, became the setting for a second time in a lifetime of the most memorable people to people moments.  When I first glimpsed the wall separating Jerusalem from Bethlehem, my heart broke.  And then I could never quite end the sporadic flash back sequences to the Berlin Wall for the rest of our visit there.  No longer can tourists just drive to Bethlehem (6 km from Jerusalem) like we did last time; we had to go with a tour.  The Israelis Jew who booked our tour for us is not even allowed to go to Bethlehem at all.  And the checkpoint checked; we had to show our passports!

Before touring the churches built over the traditional site of Christ’s birth, we lunched—deliciously, may I add—in a little street café just off of manger square…owned by cousins of our tour operator, of course. At two tables near us sat a group of American Seminary students studying in Rome—priests-in-the-making—who catalyzed some interesting and thoughtful conversation. If the Catholic Church has more classy young men like those headed into the priesthood, they may be able to steer through current turmoil!

And then we talked with the restaurant’s brother owners—hopes and despair, triumphs and losses. We are all so human.

Every Palestinian we talked to on this trip had at least one relative in the USA.  [Of Palestinians who are able to immigrate, the largest percentage (22%) go to Jordan, and the second largest percentage (20%) go to the USA.]  When we asked if they had ever visited the USA, every single one of them said that these days visas were next to impossible to obtain.

Looking toward Manger Square from the street where we lunched.

Judaean Hills today

Judaean shepherd(ess)

Galilee is my favorite place in Israel.  It was the first time I visited and it was this time, too, but you should also know that Galilee was my favorite before I ever journeyed to Israel at all.  Although truly lovely, there is nothing particularly spectacular about the landscape and nothing particularly unique about the cities and sights.  Yet Galilee bends the mind, touches the heart, and moves the soul.

Israel: A Second Time in a Lifetime (part 1)

When people ask where I traveled during the Christmas break and I tell them Israel, they often respond with something along the lines of “Oh, what a wonderful once-in-a lifetime thing to do!” Well, the reality is, of course, that this was my second trip to Israel. I first ventured to the Holy Land during my Christmas break of 1996, and, truthfully, I never have considered that experience a one-time thing. In fact, I have discussed possible return trips with various friends multiple times over the past fourteen years. And then, in December of 2010, with Tammy, Colleen, and Jennell, I did return.

Although we retraced parts of that original journey of mine, the overall experience unfolded in new ways for me. I am fourteen years distant from that person who visited Israel in 1996: life experience and a little more study have had a measurable impact on my perceptions and interpretations. Then, too, the world is dynamic itself, so Israel and its people have continued to change and evolve as well. Where we all intersected in 2010 has subsequently established its own distinct set of history, memories, and accompanying emotions.

So, what events and images and impressions keep leaping onto the foreground of the canvas of recollection?

Food. Okay, let’s be clear; food always ranks as a worthy topic of discussion for any travel experience! And food in Israel—in many ways decidedly Middle Eastern in content and style—garners multiple stars from me! Lots of fresh fruit and vegetables. An awesome array of cheeses, particularly soft varieties (cousins of feta, no doubt). Flat bread, in addition to more European styles. And, in the meat department, chicken and lamb prevail. Then, quite often, there is that Kosher thing in the mix, which keeps options, combinations, and presentation ever interesting.

Falafel was a go-to food on my first trip to Israel, and although we had some excellent falafel on various occasions this time, for this trip our go-to food became hummus with flat bread…officially even! On day one—by consensus—we mandated that hummus would be consumed at least once a day while in Israel. And boy-howdy did we savor our hummus moments…everyday, too…except one…a travel day that didn’t quite unfold as anticipated, and McDonalds—even in Israel—does not offer hummus. (TRIVIA FACT: In Israel there are Kosher McDonalds and non-Kosher McDonalds!)

Our last portion of hummus consumed in Israel--New Year's Eve, no less--at LaLa Land, a restaurant on the beach in Tel Aviv.

For breakfast—all of our accommodations included a breakfast buffet—I became an avid convert to scrambled eggs (yep, the egg skeptic succumbed) with salad and Bulgarian cheese (soft, salty, and tangy) on the side. Each morning I would dish up a variety of fresh salad greens and a generous portion of Bulgarian cheese cubes before heading to the “warm food” counter for scrambled eggs. YUM!

[By the way, for a more accurate visualization of breakfast fare, consider that no meat of any kind was ever offered (think KOSHER!); breakfast included breads (pastries and cake, too), cereals, fruits, vegetables, eggs, and all things dairy.]

In Israel I discovered what certainly must be the nectar of the gods: freshly squeezed pomegranate juice! Talk about divine! I indulged frequently and said beverage never failed to transport me into a drink-generated nirvana!

Jennell and I are ready to sip the "nectar of the gods" in Nazareth.

Geography.  One could drive—at sedate speeds, too, like 50-65mph—the full length of Israel in seven hours or so, depending on traffic and the situation at check points.  The width?  Well, its widest girth might require two to three hours of “sedate” driving, but such a scenario also necessitates factoring in the issue of entering territory under the jurisdiction of the Palestinian Authority vs. the Israelis Authority, and that could easily skew time estimations developed on distance only!  Still, the point remains, Israel is a small country.  At various times during the trip, we were within spitting distance of Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt!  Despite proximity in geographical space, a disconcerting distance remains in philosophical and political space.  Access into them from Israel remains tricky…if not downright impossible at the moment—like maybe Lebanon.  Border crossing points do exist between Israel and Jordan and between Israel and Egypt.  Not so sure about Lebanon.  We actually crossed into Egypt (Sinai) for a day.  Leaving Israel proved to be fairly simple; returning was definitely more complicated—lots of questions and careful examinations of backpack contents.

Akko, a Crusader city--Lebanon was merely 12 km away...but Tammy said NO!

We were driving south on Highway 90 along the Jordan River, the border between Jordan and Israel; that is Jordan in the background.

The marina in Eilat, the city at Israel's southern most point and Israel's only access to the Red Sea; Aqaba, Jordan, is in the distance on the left of the photo, and Egypt (Sinai) would be within "spitting distance" to the right.

This is the border crossing (near Eilat) we walked across into Egypt, where we were met by our tour van and guide for the day trip to Mt. Sinai.

Commencing 2011 . . .

Assuming I would awaken with the noise of midnight festivities ushering in a new year, I fell asleep just before eleven.  Apparently—at least in Tel Aviv—a cacophony of firecrackers, honking, and the clamor of crowds are NOT part of an Israelis welcoming tradition because I did not wake up again until almost five.  Around seven on New Year’s morning, I headed out for one last run in Israel, this time along a Tel Aviv beach in the direction Jaffa.  A changeable sky and sporadic rain showers showcased light and color:

By that evening I was ensconced across three seats on a plane headed to Hong Kong, the first leg of the journey back to Korea. From that second-in-a lifetime amazing adventure in Israel, I returned to Seoul in the winter evening darkness of January 2. Just before the plane touched down, I realized that four to five inches of snow blanketed the spaces between the runways. That snow fell, I learned later, one day between Christmas and New Year’s. Almost three weeks later, remnants of that snow remain even still!

So, let’s talk SEOUL.

Temperatures are bitter! This past week, everyday’s low fell into single digits. Most of the highs reached barely into the twenties. Twice since my return temperatures flirted with the low thirties, and both times the “warmth” generated snow before the day ended: beautiful fluffy flakes in just enough quantity to create white magic moments and slick up the roads. Then temperatures would plummet again, a cycle which successfully maintains a goodly amount of old, crunchy snow in the shadows and treacherous patches of ice in walkways.

Sojourning within my coldest winter in at least two decades, I am grateful for a toasty abode; indeed, I am never cold in my apartment. For existing among the elements, I have renewed my acquaintance with turtle-neck tops (my stockpile had decreased to three—two, of which I only used for skiing—before I purchased three more) and I have nearly mastered the use of scarves for muffler-fashion warmth and, on occasion, perhaps for some aesthetic style points as well! I have even ventured a few commutes to school by foot again now that I better understand the code for comfort in cold: coat, hat, gloves, and scarf—always; boots are interchangeable with good shoes, depending on the wet quotient.

On one of my walks home last week, I spied this scooter outside a restaurant the block before my house. Of course, I live in Korea!

Cold tends to catalyze the hunker-down/get cozy mode in humans.  Friday night I curled up with a blanket on the couch and wept  my way through the last four episodes and then the finale of Lost.  (Sigh—but I really became invested in these characters!)  Granted, I had a slight headache before I removed myself to my bed just before 1:00am, but I also felt satisfied with the ending, something not all viewers achieved, I guess.  And, you know, as silly and banal as it might truly be, I think I could watch all six seasons again sometime.  Meanwhile, I have another season of House up next on my Neflix queue!