Ein Gedi/The Dead Sea/And Some Nuns

My friends and I wanted to visit a spot at the dead sea that was picturesque and absolutely covered over by calcified salt, like this:

Photo from this amazing photographer: http://www.pbase.com/doronnissim/image/109347085

Everyone said the place to see that was at Ein Gedi, which was only about 45 minutes from Masada. Turns out we were two weeks too early, or a season minus two weeks too late. This happens at the Dead sea when the seasons change. Did you know that? I only learned it from a local massage therapist who saw me walking along the Dead Sea as my friends were swimming, struck up a conversation with me and then proposed marriage to me. I politely declined. He then proceeded to try to get me to meet him at the same spot in 5 years so we could get married. I wonder how many blonde women over the years he's made a similar proposal to? Can't you just picture it? On his list of daily goals (I decided he has one of those): Take a walk at the Dead Sea. Find a blonde woman. Propose marriage. Repeat next day. Should pan out in about five years.

Who knows, maybe one of these days it'll work out for him.

The closest thing to all of that lovely, white saltiness I could find was this one, solitary salt-crusted rock:

It is suprisingly difficult to find a place to bathe in the Dead Sea in Israel. Seriously. On the Jordanian side, there are day-use resorts in abundance that are very nice. But in Israel, there really are not. We found one cluster of high-rise hotels in one spot. Nearer to Ein Gedi there was a day spa, and a pay-for-use parking lot with a locker room, showers and "beach" access. (There was no beach, BTW. Just a rocky area after a very, very slippery hill you must somehow slip down and a metal railing that will leave red rust marks all over your hands if you touch because the salt in the air has corroded it.) If you want a proper beach day at the Dead Sea, go to Jordan. Or go for a full spa day at Ein Gedi spa. We didn't really care to spend our money or time there, so we skipped it.

 And just because it's so cool, here is a picture of some nuns bathing in the Dead Sea:

The Details:
For a quick dip in the Dead Sea in Israel, find the public pay-per-use parking lot and pay facilities at Ein Gedi.

DO NOT: Get the water in your eyes.
Do not: Shave anything within a day of going into the Dead Sea. The salt will burn every cut, scrape and nick you've got.

Do: Hydrate. This area will literally suck the moisture right out of you. Hydrate often.
Do: Shower off after your dip in the Dead Sea.
 

Masada

Eventually, after much driving around in circles, a few extra hours on the road, and a bit of scrambling, my friends and I actually made it to Masada. It was well worth the effort. Masada is easily one of Israel's most fascinating sites. Today it stands as a point of national pride. Soldiers make the trek up to Masada each year and schoolchildren and teenagers are brought here to learn about Israeli history and heritage.

History (From Wikipedia)

Almost all historical information about Masada comes from the 1st-century Jewish Roman historian Josephus. The site was first fortified by Alexander Jannaeus in the first century BCE.^[2] Herod the Great captured it in the power-struggle that followed the death of father Antipater.^[2] It survived the siege of the Parthian king Antigonus.^[2] In 66 CE, a group of Jewish rebels, the Sicarii, overcame the Roman garrison of Masada with the aid of a ruse.^[2] After the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, additional members of the Sicarii fled Jerusalem and settled on the mountaintop.^[2] According to Josephus, the Sicarii were an extremist Jewish splinter group antagonistic to a larger grouping of Jews referred to as the Zealots, who carried the main burden of the rebellion. According to Josephus, the Sicarii based at Masada raided nearby Jewish villages including Ein Gedi, where they massacred 700 women and children.^[2]
In 73 CE, the Roman governor of Iudaea Lucius Flavius Silva headed the Roman legion X Fretensis and laid siege to Masada.^[2] The Roman legion surrounded Masada, and built a circumvallation wall and then a siege embankment against the western face of the plateau.^[2]
According to Dan Gill,^[3] geological investigations in the early 1990s confirmed earlier observations that the 375-foot (114 m) high assault ramp consisted mostly of a natural spur of bedrock. The ramp was complete in the spring of 73, after probably two to three months of siege, allowing the Romans to finally breach the wall of the fortress with a battering ram on April 16.^[4] Romans took the X Legion and a number of auxiliary units and Jewish prisoner of war, totaling some 15.000 troops in order to crush Jewish resistance at Masada. A giant siege tower with a battering ram was constructed and moved laboriously up the completed ramp. The walls of the fortress were breached in 73 CE,^[5] According to Josephus, when Roman troops entered the fortress, they discovered that its 960 inhabitants had set all the buildings but the food storerooms ablaze and committed mass suicide/killed each other. Josephus wrote of two stirring speeches that the Sicari leader had made to convince his fellows to kill themselves.^[2] Only two women and five children were found alive.^[2]
The year of the siege of Masada may have been 73 or 74 CE.^[6]
Masada was last occupied during the Byzantine period, when a small church was established at the site.^[7]

View of the Dead Sea at sunrise from Masada Youth Hostel.

Once upon a time, the Dead Sea was much bigger. Imagine the water stretching nearly to the base of the mountain in the foreground. 

Below: dry valleys and terrain is what remains of the dead sea in the area
surrounding the body of saline water now.

Israeli school children, families, soldiers and tourists alike make the crazy-steep 
climb to the ruins of the ancient hilltop city.

If you're not into hiking you can take the tram. It takes under five minutes. (And trust me, unless you're really into hiking or REALLY want to hike this mountain, don't do it! I love to hike and this was crazy. Even the hike down is grueling.)

A model of Herod's palace (bottom) and a portion of the city walls (top) built on Masada.

The path leading around the backside of the mountain to Herod's Palace. I don't think Herod suffered from Vertigo or it would have been impossible for him to hang out in his palace at Masada. 

 The square is the outline of one of the Roman encampments from the siege of Masada.

The ruins of Herod's palace. Stunning view.

The Breakdown

Get there: Ideally, rent a car or go with a tour. If you have time and patience, take a public bus from Jerusalem. It is not recommended that you try the bus route in the summer as you'll likely spend long hours in the sun/heat waiting for the bus, which will not run "on time."

Allow: Half day if taking the tram both ways. Full day if hiking either way. And you ought to stay in the Youth Hostel at Masada as it is the only accommodations within 30-45 minutes.

Stay: Israel Youth Hostel. Good prices, nice rooms, GREAT buffet breakfast with western and eastern options, as well as the option to pack a sandwich lunch to take with you for your trip to Masada. (NB: Foam mattresses are a bit thin, but the building and facilities are nearly brand new.)

Book online, or try your luck at last-minute reservations like my group did (We were very lucky, it was the off-season, during a war and there was availability. However, we were overcharged by the gentleman at the front desk, who charged us each the single rate for a triple-share room... Unintentionally?)

Cost: If memory servers correctly, you pay only to ride the tram, 35NIS each way (70 return) (around $17US).

Bring: WATER. And plenty of it. There is a fountain and restrooms on top of the mountain, but the terrain is dry, dusty and salty. You'll be doing a lot of walking. Bring water. Bring Lunch. Bring Lunch.

Not very helpful official Website: http://masada.org.il/masada-national-park

Driving Through an Active War Zone

A serendipitous moment at the pizza joint at Caesaria led my happy group of travelers to meet a gentleman and his two kids, who also had a hankering for some pizza pie. As we sat, eating the cheesy goodness (Cheese was the only available variation of said pizza at said pizza joint), we all chatted and we found out that the British man had actually fallen in love with, and married an Israeli woman, after which he became an Israeli citizen and served his mandatory two years' military service. Ahhh, amore! The couple now lives in Britain, but were traveling in Israel for their holiday. Good ol' Dad had opted to tour the kids around Caesaria that day (lucky us) while his wife attended to a pressing family matter.

Meeting fun people is half of the greatness of travel. We played with the kids, chatting about food and their experiences with Camels and gelatto, related as only six-year-olds can do, with an untainted and wholly fresh attitude. And then we mentioned that we had no plans and no place to stay that night (This being the second night we ought to have spent in Tsafed/Safed/Tzvat, which is NOT near Masada, which is why we left early) and asked if the man could recommend anything in the area.

The closest city to us was Tel Aviv, merely 45 minutes by car. But we immediately agreed, as a no-brainer, not to stay in Tel Aviv, which was being bombed by Hamas at that very moment.

"We stayed at a Camel Ranch in Negev last night. It was lovely. Cheap prices, lovely meals and Camel rides."

A CAMEL RANCH? We all gawked, and immediately accessed the website using our rented ipad. Lovely! Sold! Exciting!

And then the gentleman *may* have mentioned that we would be driving along the Palestinian partition wall for a bit, but with the impending cease-fire (scheduled for that very night at 9pm), that freeway corridor should have calmed down and we'd be fine. And then he  *might have* told us a story involving a helicopter and a car that may have been blown up two days prior on the freeway, but really, nothing to be concerned about... right? Right.

So, off we set, right past the Wall that stretched for miles. It was a quiet drive, and many of the other cars on the freeway with us were military vehicles and transports, which wasn't intimidating at all... And then we saw a sight that made our jaws drop. Military helicopters, fully loaded with missiles, flying over us. A wave of "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" flashed briefly through my body. I'm tellin' you what, that doesn't sound like a real feeling, that "WhatTheHeckAreWeDoing?" but IT IS, I can assure you.

And then, being the driver, I had the passenger snap a photo from her window:

We arrived at the Negev Camel Ranch just in time for sunset. The lovely family who ran the camp had no other guests that night, so they graciously offered to accommodate us. One of the hostesses' best selling points was this: "No bombs here." Great! But as we hadn't booked in advance, there wasn't any dinner, and we were hungry!

 View from the Camel Ranch, just in time for sunset.

A military blimp, floating directly over the Camel Ranch. 

Another, impromptu round of "Interpret that sign" 

NB: a friend recently asked me why there was a symbol for ovaries on that sign... 

As we were walking back to the car to go for dinner, one of our group, who has serious allergies, began to wheeze and cough - the desert dust was just too much for her. So a few miles down the highway from the Camel ranch, at a diner, we decided to revise our non-itinerary once more. We'd drive the additional two hours (in the dark, along the dead sea, which I'd already driven once and was not thrilled to do at night) to Masada and try for a room at the Masada hostel.

Caesaria

In hindsight, if I could have spent one more night anyplace in Israel, I would have given myself an overnight at Caesaria, and one full day in the park.

Easily my favorite stop of the trip, Caesaria, or as all of the signs spell it along the freeways: Quasaryya (the locals pronounce it KWaysaar-ya, don't forget to roll the "r".)

But we all know that I have an affinity for ancient Roman towns. And oh, Caesaria is such a lovely example of a quintessentially Roman town!

From the amphiteater overlooking the sea to hippodrome and public baths with their AMAZING mosaic floors, this place is truly a wonder.

 One of the first sights from the entrance gate, the Amphitheater

 Shows are staged today in this restored amphitheater. Gorgeous view and a show! 

One of the restored mosaics, and pools at the Palace.

 Public Bathhouse

 One of the amazing mosaics at the PUBLIC Bathhouse. The detail!!

 The long, flat stretch is called the Hippodrome. It's where chariot races were held.

FAQs:
Get there: By renting a car. It's located 45 minutes (driving) north of Tel Aviv. (Two buses, 76 and 77 also run to Caesaria.)
Cost: Normal, adult admission: 36 NIS (Around $9 US)
Bring: Sunscreen, plenty of water (You'll do a lot of walking)
Allow: 1 full day if you're an explorer. For just the general gist, allow 3-4 hours.
Misc: There are restaurants of many varieties near the medieval section of the city, most are quite pricey. For a less expensive option, try the pizza/gelatto shop. Yum!

Caesaria's official Website

Mount of Beatitudes + A Game of 'Interpret That Sign!'

Most of Israel's highways and landmarks are incredibly well marked by signs in English, Arabic and Hebrew. It is nearly impossible to drive more than fifteen minutes without seeing a sign for some famous landmark, a biblical site or place of historic significance.

So after our somewhat out-of-the-way stop at Tsafed, near the Sea Lake of Galilee, we spotted a sign for the Mount of Beatitudes and decided a quick stop was in order, after all, how often is one in Israel? So we pulled off at the turn and found ourselves staring at... not exactly what we'd envisioned the place the Sermon on the Mount was delivered to look like.

We were at a convent.

There was a church, a gift shop with a cafe and espresso stop, a big nunnery, a series of immaculately groomed lawns, a great view of the Sea of Galilee, some of the weirdest looking gardens I've ever seen, a CACTUS TREE and one of the best, easy to misinterpret "Do Not" signs in the history of the human race.

A photo essay:

The Sea of Galilee. The hills around the "sea" are mostly covered in food crops now, including a LOT of banana trees.

 The Church

 One of the strange little garden areas... this fountain totally looks like something that belongs in the movie, The Goonies, at least to me.

 CACTUS.TREE. Tree on bottom. Cactus on top. Seriously. Mind. Blown.

The best "Do Not..." sign ever. No Doberman Pincers. No short pants and socks without shoes. Always whisper seductively. No cutting martini glasses with forks and knives. No guns. No Smoking.

On Pins and Needles

I've had little luck in getting rid of the series of colds/sinus infections/bronchitis/nastiness that has plagued me for the past several months (since November!), so I decided to try something a little different: Acupuncture!

 The body's pressure points.

Photo from: http://www.yourmedicalstop.com/2013/01/09/safety-and-legal-issues-on-acupuncture/

I grew up in a Chiropractic household in Northern California. My father was a Chiropractor and my Mom, at one point, owned a health food store. We also had medical coverage. (I for one needed it, I was constantly breaking bones and needing stitches!) We were a fairly homeopathic household with natural tendencies. I favor the same lifestyle today. Western Medicine has it's uses and strengths, as does homeopathic. If possible, I'd much rather let my body heal on it's own, with the aid of natural remedies, than pump it full of antibiotics and other drugs. That said, I went to see my doctor a couple of weeks ago when I couldn't shake whatever it is that I have. She labeled it bronchitis and sent me away with two different types of mucinex, which really didn't do much. An unimpressive waste of nearly $200 in co-pays and pharmacy visits.

So last week I decided to try something that seemed a little "out there", even for me: Acupuncture.

After sitting down with my Acupuncturist and having a good little chat, she treated me with 8 pressure points, that's 8 needles in various spots in my hands, knees and feet. For the most part, I didn't even feel them. What I did feel, over the thirty minutes of treatment, was the congestion actually move, from my upper chest into my throat. It didn't leave completely, I'm still coughing a bit, but I literally felt the congestion move! And my coughing is markedly lessened. I'm not as tired and I actually am starting to feel better.

I've got a couple more appointments to get turned into a human pincushion, and I'm actually fairly excited to go and see if the next appointment can't rid my body of this plague completely.

Here's hoping!!

Have you tried Acupuncture? Tell me about your experience, good or bad!

Follow up, June 13, 2013:
I cannot even begin to tell you how much I love acupuncture! For three weeks I saw my acupuncturist three times per week. Then we took it down to once per week for four weeks, and now I see her every other week. Three weeks after begining acupuncture my congestion was completely clear and only occaisionally triggered by newly-developed allergies, which said acupuncturist treats using both points (needles) and traditional chinese herbs, which WORK like nothing I've ever seen. I went camping two weekends ago and had a horrific relapse in allergies. I went on claritin and benadryl for a week, until I was able to get in for treatment and herbs. The drugs don't even begin to touch the allergies the way the herbs do, and the herbs don't make me drowsy or lethargic. Go natural! 

On top of the sinus relief, the actual therapy is incredibly relaxing and restorative. I'm so much more mellow than I was prior to beginning treatment. I am completely converted to this medicine form!

If you live in the Walnut Creek, California area and are looking for an LaC (Licensed Acupuncturist) go see Hatice Poroy, LaC. She is amazingly wonderful, caring and incredibly knowledgeable. You'll feel like you've spent an hour with an old friend. (On top of getting better!) 

The Dead Sea/And the Radio

Twice in the holy land, my small group of travelers and dared to rent a car. Twice, we took our lives into our hands and faced middle-eastern drivers head-on (sometimes literally), venturing out of the bounds of Jerusalem. I was our driver.

And I'm rather proud of the fact that not one of the ridiculous amount of bumps, scratches, scrapes and other damage to our cars was caused by yours truly. Not bad for the girl who's boss said she was going to total her rental car while on a work assignment in NYC. (Not a scratch on that one either, thankyouverymuch!) In fact, I came to think of myself as a reincarnated Israeli driver, so suited was my own personal driving style to their crazy no-boundaries and no-personal-space-existsts way of driving.

I'm not sure I should be so proud. But I am.

Many of the more than 1,500 kilmeters I drove while in Israel were spent alongside the Dead Sea. Sometimes the highway was high and twisty, sometimes low and desert-ous. There were spots where you could see an older version of the same highway, now obsolete and growing back into the unforgiving terrain, sinking lower and lower into the salty, rich earth. There were segments covered in fields of Palm trees, being farmed for harvest and transplantation to other places in the region. The stretches of the sea furthest (NORTH?) are divided into slices by large mounds of salt. Long, white salt walls allow harvesting of minerals for nearby factories.

Israel is a place I would have LOVED to have XM radio. I WISH I'd had XM. Or Satellite. Or a stereo cord to plug my iPhone into the car stereo with. Because, my friends, driving 1500 miles with only local radio stations full of The Call to Prayer, Arabic news (possibly?), some kind of angry preaching in Arabic (again, ?), miles of static, and sometimes, a classical station. (Hallelujah! And boy oh boy am I ever grateful to my 6th grade teacher, Mr. LaRue for teaching me to love classical music!)

So amidst the long lengths of radio silence, mostly just along the Dead Sea, my mind created it's own soundtrack each of the four times we drove the length of that body of salt water. Every time that beautifully blue/green deathly saline oasis appeared, The Lumineers began to play their perfectly appropriately named song.

"Like the Dead Sea/You told me I was like the Dead Sea/You'll never sink when you are with me/Oh, Lord, like the Dead Sea
Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea/The finest words you ever said to me/Honey can't you see/I was born to be, be your Dead Sea"

Funny how songs can make certain memories really come alive.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Most people call us Mormons. When I set out to travel to Israel this year, I did so because I wanted to identify better with my Saviour, Jesus Christ. I wanted to see the Holy Land, to see the places where He walked and preached and taught, and come to understand better, for myself, what is taught in the Bible.

And while that journey is incredibly personal to me, I was not alone in my desires; I was one of thousands doing that exact thing in the Holy Land.

Visiting Jerusalem was indeed, a life-changing thing. It was affirming to be in a place where religion, be it Christian, Muslim or Judaism is forefront in the lives of everyone present. It was beyond touching to feel the sweet affirmation of the Spirit in certain places, and just as suddenly, nearly in the same breath, to know that another part of what I was seeing was not right. Jerusalem is a land of faith and of extremes. It's inhabitants live on a knife's edge, while trying to live their faith. It is not an easy balance.

It was all too easy for me to fall into feeling cynical at times, and I had to continually remind myself to not only to be open-minded and to show love to everyone, but also to be a traveler and not a tourist. Sometimes I succeeded, others, not so much.

One of my biggest struggles was with the Catholic idea of the Stations of the Cross. The Stations of the Cross are the points along the path that Jesus supposedly traveled while carrying the cross to His crucifixion. Stations 1-9 are scattered along Via Dolorosa, the way of agony, and some are quite difficult to find despite large metal plaques.

I love the idea of this walk, of saying "Hey, this is where such and such happened, take a look!" But in practice, the stations irked me because they aren't exactly what they claim to be, they are what A) Emperor Constantine's Mother decided they should be in 325 AD. Until then, the path was approximate. Or, B) What a Pope certified to be such at one point in time or another. But there was no actual marking of the path during Jesus' time that was handed down and preserved from that moment on.

Stations 10-14 are inside of Jerusalem's "most holy church," The Church of the Holy Sepulchre. (The Catholic/Christian version, at least. The Muslims claim Al Aqsa as their own version of the most holy sites in Jerusalem on Temple Mount, and the Jews have the Western Wall, which is the only lasting exposed part of the ancient Temple of Solomon .)

I didn't take a lot of photos inside of the church, in fact I didn't spend a lot of time inside of the church because the incense burning inside was enough to pickle one's insides and also, the same incense it gave me a blinding headache and made me angry. Yah. There was a lot going on in that church. Including several denominations all practicing their own rites in their own corners of the church simultaneously. And that was all kinds of impressive, that despite the denominational differences, all are welcome. So many different aspects of this world we live in ought to adopt a similar policy, and actually practice it.

In Jerusalem, we are all pilgrims. We all search, and ponder and look for our own peace with the path of Christ. Ultimately, I think the most important thing to remember in this journey is Christ, His sacrifice for us and His love.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre, from the outside, not much to look at.

Inside

Nuns worshiping in one of the many chapels

I had no clue when I snapped the photo of the really great wall art, but there's a station of the cross beneath the bar of lamps in the foreground. It's supposed to be Calvary, or Golgotha, where Christ was Crucified.

One of the services going on simultaneously in this sprawling church.

A very, very Byzantine church.

Great dome.

I'm pretty sure I studied this Triptych in art history. Just don't ask me which one it is/who painted it. No clue.

Another place to hold mass/services. One was beginning just as we arrived here, so we were escorted away from the area by the police who were doing crowd control. In a church.

This is, I believe, the last station of the cross, and one of the sites suggested for Christ's Tomb. All right inside the same church. Again with the police assistance.

I don't know what significance this chalice/candle thinger has, I just thought it was cool.

In Which I Take it All Back...

Or at least some of the last post.

You see, as it turns out, I was not well after that last post. In fact, my body went in for another round or two of whatever it is that I'm fighting, which turns out to be Bronchitis.

And it turns out that this could take another two to three weeks to properly get rid of. Which seems absurd to me, considering this has been going on since mid-November.

But I guess it is what it is, and what it is is kicking my bum.

Real blog posts coming soon, as soon as I can stop coughing long enough to think.

Christy