Google & Israel: A Love Letter

"Google hates Israel." The innkeeper woman in front of me declared in an exasperated, authoritarian tone. "Didn't you ever watch the film Masada?" She then demanded, aghast at the lack of knowledge (stupidity) about Israel's geography displayed by me and my friends. "It's on the Dead Sea!" She exclaimed. "The Romans needed water! How could you miss that?"
We returned her queries with blank stares. We were trying to negotiate our way out of paying for a second night at her inn as our plans had just been screwed up and we needed to change them.

My recent trip to Israel went off with exactly one hitch. {and one threat of impending war and death, but, you know, that's another story altogether} And it was somewhat of a doozy of a hitch, or rather it would have been had my group not been so ready to just go with the flow and move on.

Earlier that day we'd been in Jerusalem. Earlier that day we'd rented a car and taken just about every wrong turn possible trying to leave the city, finally letting the member of our group with an uncanny sense of direction shut off the iPad GPS and DIY our driving experience. So after an hour of driving around the suburbs of Jerusalem, and, quite frankly, some of the most unexpectedly lovely scenery in the open land around the city, we hit the open road and headed North. North to the Sea of Galilee. North to Tiberias and eventually a tiny artist's colony called Tsafed. Or Tzvat. Or Safed. Or Tzfad. Everyone spells it differently. No matter the spelling, we were going there, and from there we would travel slightly south to Masada fortress and then drive three hours south to Caesaria before returning to Jerusalem.

Except, Google hates Israel. Apparently.

You see, prior to leaving the United States, as any responsible travelers would do, my friends and I combed Google maps for routes and timetables and ideas for our trip. And we decided that we could, in one three-day side journey from Jerusalem, cover the North of Israel, including Galilee, Masada and Caesaria. (Slightly north of Tel Aviv.)

The marked spot is where Google deems Masada to be. Just below the Sea of Galilee. Supposedly about thirty minutes driving from Safed/Tzfat/etc.

Except Masada is not in the North of Israel. 
Not even close. 
Google Maps fail.
True story.

One of the main problems here is that the spelling of names can be very creative in Israel. That's what happens, I suppose, when you translate from Arabic and Hebrew to English, aka, from squiggles to proper letters. (That's humor right there, BTW.)

"MESEDA. It's M-e-s-e-d-a. Not M-a-s-a-d-a. Google has it wrong. Masada is south. Meseda is in the north," Decried the innkeeper woman! "Meseda is a colony of..." the woman waved her hand next to her head "very religious people. A cult. They are very patriotic, they serve proudly in the army. But they are very secretive about their lives and religion."

Meseda was definitely not the Masada we'd intended to visit. Masasda: the amazing ruins of a Roman city fortress atop a massive hill, and site of a mass suicide that inspires the Jewish people to this day. It's kind of a big deal, Masada. Meseda, not so much.

Masada is located adjacent to the Dead Sea in the SOUTH of Israel. (FYI, you'll have better luck finding it with Google maps if you search for Masada Fortress, and not just Masada. It's around thirty minutes south of Ein Gedi.)

The "A" on this map is where the actual Masada is.

Open plans, insert monkey wrench.

You may want to get that case of spelling confusion in Israel looked at, Google.

In case you were wondering, the innkeeper didn't let us out of our second night's reservation (which we didn't use), but she did only charge us half price.

Post Christmas

Somehow it's Wednesday. And it's the day after Christmas? Was that just the fastest Christmas break in the history of Christmas breaks, ever, or what?

Back to the grind today, but yesterday! Oh, yesterday, you were so fun!

Last Christmas was spent in Southern California in the company of great friends and a gorgeous beach. This year, the draw of my sister's now-6-mo-old twins and my nearly-three year old nephew were too great and I spent the day in their company. And about a million other relatives on my bro-in-law's side. And it was great!

The sister and I got together on Monday morning and made a zillion gooey cinnamon rolls. (Well, we made them to the point of being completely prepped and not baked... we baked them Christmas morning). And because cinnamon rolls from scratch require several hours and several "rest" periods, (while the scalded milk cools and dough rises, etc), the sis and I made a morning of it, complete with a trip to target for baking supplies and a delicious breakfast at a local breakfast joint called Katy's Creek. (Seriously, if ever you are in Walnut Creek, CA, go to Katy's Creek! Yum!)

What else can I say? Christmas this year was magical. The kind of warm, squishy gooey Christmas that seeps into your clothes and hair and melts your soul as you listen to the same Christmas songs on the radio for the millionth time in a month, and you don't mind. It's all much better than the auto-tuned garbage they play on teeny-bopper radio stations anyhow.

I might just keep listening to Christmas music. Or I might go back to Classical. (When did I turn into my father? And I thought I was supposed to turn into my mother?)

In case you haven't seen the fun family photos I took of my sis and her gaggle, here they are:

 This was the picture the Sis used for her family's Christmas card this year. (above) Hilarious!

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Going Back

Today I'm longing to be back in the holy land. Nevermind that I only left three weeks ago. And nevermind the fact that I was ready to leave. Now I ache to be woken by the call to prayer. To wander through the seemingly endless maze that is the Souk and smell the scent of fresh roasted Shwarma wafting through the spiced air. My body longs to leave my office chair and go back to hiking and walking all the day long!

So, my friends, let's all jump on a plane today and go to Israel! Let's celebrate Christmas in the land of Christ. Who is with me?

Okay, fine, let's spend the holidays with our families.

You can't blame a girl for trying.


 Where do you want to be today?

Jerusalem: The Western Wall

My first encounter with the Western Wall was completely unexpected. After a day of wandering around old Jerusalem, looking for a way into Temple Mount from the Muslim Quarter (don't try it), my travel companions and I happened upon a security checkpoint, which are not uncommon in the Middle East. We shrugged at each other, slipped our things through the xray and walked through metal detectors. Once through, *BAM* there we were. Seemingly the heart of traditional Judaism. The place hummed with vibrancy, spiritualism and anticipation. The wall itself is nothing especially exciting. It is a wall, a very old wall. Were it not for the circumstance, for the regard paid by onlookers and the big setup of partitions and crowds of people humming, singing and chanting, a visitor could pass by "THE WALL" entirely, not having a clue that this particular wall is the only remnant of the Temples of Solomon and David in Jerusalem.

Immediately after entering the square beneath Temple mount, a group of Israeli soldiers gathered, nearly under my nose and began to form up for a photo. I took the camera from an at first suspicious soldier, but then very friendly when he understood I meant to take the photo for him. Afterward, the soldiers were very accomodating and posed for several shots for me. After the photo, they all joined in a circle and began singing, dancing, and shouting. I was struck by the patriotism, the pride these soldiers had for their nation and traditions.

Visiting the wall itself seemed almost akward. Being surrounded by people who cherish this wall so much, it seemed almost as an intrusion to approach the wall, to touch it and to simply observe.

Did you know that Jews will not enter the Temple Mount? They regard it as holy and do not want to walk where the Holy of Holies once stood, according to their traditions. So you'll see Jewish people at the Western Wall, but never directly above it, on Temple Mount.

 Women touching the Western Wall. The slips of paper in the cracks are prayers. 

The wall is divided into two sections - one for men and one for women. 

 Washing before approaching the wall.

 Sunset at the Western Wall.

Old Jerusalem: A Confusing City to Navigate

Given that this was the view from our Convent rooftop, what do you suppose the first thing was we determined to visit? That's right. The Dome of the Rock. (You know, the giant golden dome in the not-too-far distance.)

So how, exactly would you go about getting to said dome? Walk down the street to the left and turn right, said I. Easy. Nothing to it.

Right. NOTHING in the Middle East is as easy as it ought to be. Unless you know what you're doing. And we didn't yet.

This is a basic map of Old City Jerusalem:

The two red stars mark where we started and where we wanted to go. (Upper star: Ecce Homo Convent, Lower right star, Dome of the Rock.)


 DAY 1:

This was our intended route. Upon finding the intended portal we were stopped by security. "It is closed." We were told. So we walked a couple more blocks and found another gate into the Temple Mount. Again: "It is closed." No further explanation given. So we thought it must be prayer time and we'd go back later. So we wandered around the Muslim quarter:

And then went back to the gates: "It is closed." Hot dog! We could see people walking around Temple mount. We could see WESTERNERS walking around inside Temple Mount. Were these guards just playing jokes on us?

Okay then. "How (in the heck) does one get into Temple Mount?" We asked a guard. He nonchalantly pointed to his left, shrugged and we started out again.

Now. It is impossible to tell by the map, but the entire middle section of the map is made of Souks (marketplaces, pronounced "SHook") with a zillion million alleyways and zillion little shops. It is not easy to navigate and it goes on, seemingly forever.

 Typical Souk street.

So this is (mostly) what we ended up doing on day one. Walking. And walking s'more. We never made it to Temple Mount. But we sure did have fun getting lost. And the next morning we were informed by the very kind ladies at the convent that the entrance to Temple Mount (for visitors) is actually the massive ramp just to the right of the Western Wall.



Day 2: This is the proper route to get to Temple Mount: Walk through the souk to the Western Wall and turn left up the ramp. Yah. That's it.

Original Map from here: http://www.bu.edu/mzank/Michael_Zank/Jerusalem/35.gif

A word to the wise, my friends, plan on getting gloriously lost in Jerusalem. And just go with it.

Postcards from Old Jerusalem: Street Scenes

Three postcard pictures from Old Jerusalem:

Tourists and locals alike wander daily through Lion Gate in the Muslim Quarter.

 Children play in the streets on trash day.

A typical day on Via Dolorosa, police and Army posted.

Flying Under the Weather

Not under THE weather, but under-the-weather, as in being ill.

There is no better way to set into stone the fact that you're going to become ill than to jump into 18 hours of flying while feeling *slightly* sick.

Rest assured, (or don't) when you emerge from those horrific 18 hours those slight symptoms will have developed into a raging case of the bubonic plague. It's scientifically proven. Or something.

Flying makes everyone more susceptible to sickness. It's all the recycled air. The best thing you CAN do to prevent getting sick (if you're feeling well to begin with) is to point the air vent straight at yourself and turn it on as high as you can stand. Truly.

But if you are like me on my way to Israel a couple of weeks ago, you're doomed. Doomed, I say!

On the one hand, I knew I was getting sick. On the other hand, there was no way I wasn't going to Israel, unless of course the whole terrorist war thing got more out of hand than it already was.

So I stocked up on Kleenex. Packed Tylenol Cold & Flu, and boarded that flight.

And the first few days in Jerusalem were straight up misery. Fuzzy-headed, sore-throat-ed, nose-dripping, feverish misery. One stop at a small, local pharmacy just below Damascus gate with a heaven-sent woman working the counter who spoke English beautifully and understood better than I did what I needed for my cold. A packet of Pseudoeffedrine and some fruity, numbing throat lozenges later and I was in business! Ready to take on the world... well, at least ready to take on the streets of Jerusalem with my two very compassionate travel companions.

Jaw-dropping views and tons of walking and hiking and life-changing-ness ensued. And I will never forget that merciful, headscarf-clad angel of mercy at the pharmacy.

The moral of the story: Don't get sick on vacation. And if you do, be kind enough to yourself to have gone on vacation to a place where they sell REAL pseudoeffedrine, not the fakie stuff they sell anymore in the US because some crackheads were making meth out of the real stuff and ruined cold relief for the rest of the United States.

The End.
(Until I came home and got the cold again from my Nephew, AKA, the Carrier monkey in which the cold had mutated just enough to get me sick again this weekend... And this time I didn't have any real pseudoeffedrine... UGH.)


Oh. And here are some photos from our first venture outside of the convent walls into the old city:

 Mourning Dove

 Our convent was located in the Muslim quarter. The Moorish influence in some of the architecture is just incredible!

 Visiting the Pool of Bethesda along the Via Dolorosa. This is supposedly where Jesus healed a man who was unable to lower himself into the pool to access it's healing properties. I only say supposedly because I question the location, not the bible story.

 People from all over the world can be seen walking Via Dolorosa. In the photo above: Africans, Americans, Europeans and a Russian Orthodox priest.

 A franciscian friar, I think.

And then there were the Texans...

Get Thee To a Nunnery...

Let me just say, America needs more convents.
Well.
Convent guest houses.
Or maybe hostels.
Or maybe just cool places to stay with rich histories that aren't chain hotels and have some character and don't cost an arm and a leg...

Am I asking too much? Maybe.

...And not that there's anything wrong with Convents. I'm just not Catholic and being Mormon, I believe in marriage over cloistering. But anyway.

So I got me to a nunnery. And not just me. Two of my friends as well! And we, contrary to what one would think of those staying at a convent, lived.it.up, my friends! I mean, sure we had to be in by 11pm every night, but let's just face it, none of we three friends were the drinker/partier type and after long days of walking all over old Jerusalem, we were all in bed by 10pm most nights anyway.

Yah. Party like a nun. In old Jerusalem. Good times.

But let me just tell you how very amazingly cool our convent was/is.

It was the coolest. Amen.

It IS between the second and the third stations of the cross, and is supposedly the place where Pilot decreed "Behold the Man" (Ecce Homo) of Christ. (A point of contention is that recent archaeologists have decreed this to be impossible, but it is what it is, and most of the "You are HERE" sites in Jerusalem are all sites decreed to be such by someone in power, at some point in history, not necessarily the *real* site of whatever you're looking for.)

Other attractions of this fine traveler's haven: An ancient Roman cistern and ruins lay on the bottom level and can be explored.

Winding passages and dozens of ways around inside of the expanded-over-time and spans-multiple-streets complex, this convent is definitely the stuff that stories are made of. Also, arguably, there was a visitor on a top secret mission from the Vatican staying at the convent, which should be an attraction for all visitors of convents as it is all kinds of conspiracy-theory-entertaining.

And the view! Oh, the view. Arguably, the most beautiful views of the entire old city can be seen from the balconies at the convent. Stunning! Breathtaking! Amazing! *Insert Your Own Adjective Here!* Queue choirs of heavenly angels!

Israel: A Quick Photo Update

In pictures (and a few words), here are a few of things I've been up to lately in Israel, in no particular order:

Visiting the Western (Wailing Wall)

Climbing lots and lots of stairs to get to my room in the Convent I'm staying at... 

this place is huge and has many, many places to get lost in!

Exploring Temple Mount (and finding the proper way into Temple Mount... Oy Vey!)

Finding the "Chuck Norris Approved" places to drink fresh pomegranate juice. 

 Eating a very American Thanksgiving feast of Schwarma and Falafel... *snrk*

Waking up to this view of the Dead Sea from our hostel at the base of Masada.

Viewing the Garden Tomb. 

Visiting the Dead Sea.