The journey starts

Monday, January 5, 2013

Binghamton, NY – We’re on the road again! This morning we fired up the motorhome, cleaned off the car, loaded our bags and stuff in the RV and hitched up the Honda FIT to the RV in pretty cold conditions. The electrical spray we use to ensure a good connection between vehicles had actually frozen in the storage pocket of the RV, so we had to take the can inside to warm up before we could get it to work! But we finally did get it all set, and we were on the road by about 9:30 with sunshine on our faces and 40s music playing away on the satellite radio.

Those first few miles are always a bit tense, as one scans one’s memory for anything that might have been left behind, or some task we might have forgotten to do. Sure enough, I realized I’d left behind my hair dryer, so we’ll be doing some shopping at some point along the way. At least the hotels we’ll be using the first few days will be equipped.

The other thing we ransacked the house to find, without success, was the Tracfone, the cheap cell phone we bought last year for use in the US to avoid the roaming charges we got dinged with when we used the Blackberry on our Arizona trip the year before last. It was so well stowed away that we couldn’t find it. We are still hoping it might turn up somewhere in the RV, though we combed it pretty thoroughly as well. Anyway, as soon as we get connected cell-wise, we’ll let you know.

The roads were nice and clear all the way, and aside from a bit of cloud cover for the middle part of the day, we had blue skies as well. The New York landscape looked much like Canada, with snow-covered fields and naked trees lifting their branches skyward. We didn’t see much in the way of animal life, except for a few horses (wearing coats!) and cows.

It was good to find our way to the same hotel we stayed at last year in Binghamton, and to head out for supper at a familiar restaurant with good food. We are looking forward to the adventures that await as we head south! Hopefully the milder temperatures that we are headed for will take care of the thick cap of snow on the roof of the RV before too long. It will make the engine’s work easier without the extra weight too. (Today's picture is actually from January 2012 just as we prepared to head south. Looks much like it did this morning, except no snow cap!)

A Poem on the Occasion of our Farewell Dinner

November 7-19, 2012

How swiftly thirteen days have flown,
While seeing sites we’ve always known
From Bible stories often read,
And pictured vaguely in our head.

We’ve sailed the Sea of Galilee,
And seen a real acacia tree,
We’ve tasted many a hot falafel,
Which, by the seventh time, was awful.

The rainy weather seemed quite serious
As we drove out to see Tiberius,
But as the days at length progressed,
By sunshine we were also blessed.

Our learned leader, Gila Yudnik,
Taught us words like “tel” and “nudnik”.
To 38 she daily counted
When on the bus we all were mounted.

Who can forget “eh, OK folks”
Or her delightful tales and jokes?
And, while great facts she was conveying,
She often quipped “do you know what I’m saying?”

And how we valued our Rafik,
Who drove us through some tight traffique,
Around sharp corners took the bus,
And never once let out a cuss!

Our visits to the holy places
Put us through our Bible paces,
From Gilead to Jericho
There’s so much more that we now know!

Our thanks to Heather, Peter too,
Who kept track of our motley crew,
No detail was to them too small
We really loved our wake-up call.

So Gila, Rafik, Peter, Heather,
Who soldiered on in any weather,
Thanks for all the work and fun
And may God bless you every one.

On Canadian soil!

Monday, November 19, 2012

Ottawa -- We are home! Our watches are telling us that, from the Jerusalem hotel this morning to our easy chairs in our family room at home, we’ve been on the go for 23 hours. Sleep is unlikely for a while, so I thought I’d post today's adventures, for adventures we have had.

A regimented assembly of suitcases sat outside the hotel in Jerusalem this morning as we gathered one last time to board our bus for Ben Gurion Airport. Except for two couples who had other travel plans, the Craig Tour group boarded the bus, once Gila untangled a jam of tour buses clogging the hotel entryway and got ours to the front. Then, with our capable driver Rafik at the wheel, we worked our way through morning traffic in Jerusalem and out toward Tel Aviv.

It was about an hour's drive, and we had plenty of time before our flight, but as usual, our guide Gila made sure things would go as smoothly as possible. She told us what to expect at the airport security -- someone would be selected from the group to answer questions about our travels in the country and what items we might be taking away with us. Wouldn't you know, Val was the chosen one! He had a friendly interview with the security guard and then rejoined the group. Then, once again, he was chosen, as were some others, to have their bags more closely inspected before checking in at the airline counter.

Having said our farewells to Rafik and Gila, we headed through to the gate and watched the clock tick well past the appointed hour for boarding – even the new time for boarding, as the flight departure time was delayed from 12:45 to 1:30. Finally, we all filed on to the plane, got settled into our seats (Val and I were next to each other this time!) and waited for takeoff. And waited. And waited. Then the captain came on the PA system to tell us that Ben Gurion Airport had been closed! It would be at least an hour before we could take off.

We were unsettled by this news, to say the least, but a few minutes later we were told that the delay had nothing to do with the unrest in the country. We didn’t believe that for a minute, but it calmed some of the more anxious passengers! The staff came around and gave us pretzels and water and we sat on the tarmac.

It was almost a quarter past three before we got the go-ahead, and I must say it was quite a relief when I heard the wheels fold up into the plane’s belly and saw the troubled city of Tel Aviv drop away below us. I was also really glad we’d picked up a sandwich to munch on before we boarded.

Our flight took us over Greece, Italy, northeastern Europe, the British Isles, the North Atlantic, passing Iceland and northern Labrador and finally to Toronto. It really seemed to go on forever! In the course of our 12-hour flight, we were served dinner, then a sandwich and then, just when we were thinking about breakfast, we got dinner again.

With grateful hearts, we heard the captain welcome us to Canada as we descended to Pearson Airport in Toronto. The five-hour wait we expected between our arrival there and our departure for Ottawa had shrunk to less than two with our delays at the start of the day, so it didn’t seem long before we boarded for the last leg of the journey.

What a pleasure it was to land in Ottawa, find our bags, file out to the taxi stand and, finally put the key in the lock of our lovely home in beautiful, peaceful Canada! It was an unforgettable trip, and we are so grateful for the experience. It is also really, really good to be home.

Prayers for peace

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Jerusalem – For the first time since our arrival, we had no wake-up call and no rendez-vous with the bus this morning. We were on our own! And wouldn’t you know, I woke up wide-eyed at 6:05 am anyway.

We had a leisurely breakfast in the dining room and then met up with the Anglicans of the group to walk over to St. George’s Cathedral, just across the way from the hotel. An Arabic service was wrapping up as we arrived in the courtyard, so we waited a few minutes before going in to take a seat.

As we looked about and settled ourselves, the rector came down the aisle looking for a woman to read one of the lessons, so I volunteered. It was an honour to participate in this way, but I wished they had provided a step-stool when I got up to the lectern; I doubt anyone could see my face! However, there was a mike that seemed to pick up my voice all right, which was a good thing because it was the reading from Hebrews that went on at some length. Fortunately, I had been given the sheet of paper ahead of time so I could hold it at my eye level instead of straining to read it from a book that would have been placed too high.

Having seen, in so many places around Jerusalem and beyond, ruins of historic sites, not to mention the ominous news reports of new hostilities, the Gospel reading resonated greatly, when Jesus said not one stone would remain on another, and that there would be wars and rumours of wars in the time of tribulation. Then again, almost everything in the service resonated, as we worshiped in the Holy City of Jerusalem and sang of places we’d only just visited in previous days.

After the service, we went back to change and caught the free hotel shuttle bus to the Jaffa Gate. Sunday is a regular business day in Jerusalem, so everything was bustling as normal in the Old City. At the Jaffa Gate is the Tower of King David Museum, which we decided to tour with another couple from our group. It also had a small café, so we had a bite of lunch before having a look around.

In imaginative and entertaining ways, the museum designers brought us through the continuum of time from the city’s earliest days to the present. It was amazing to see how many iterations the city and its sacred places had had over the centuries. The Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantine Christians, the Muslims, the Crusaders, the Muslims again, the Europeans and the British and now the citizens of Israel – all had claimed the city as their own and established themselves for periods of time – and how many of those periods saw one stone thrown down from another and then rebuilt?

One of the comments about the current hostilities that we heard was that it took a lot of nerve, last week, to send a rocket in the direction of Jerusalem (it landed harmlessly outside the city). As a holy shrine for the world’s three major faiths, no one would believe that any group in this part of the world would dare to attack it, lest they desecrate their own sacred places.

We can hope this remains the case, but history tells us otherwise. Hence the ongoing refrain, “pray for the peace of Jerusalem”. Amen.

Tonight is our closing banquet, and then we will be packing our bags and heading home. It’s been a fabulous visit, and undoubtedly we have some adventures ahead of us as we head for the airport in the morning. We know we will never forget all the places we’ve seen and friends we’ve made. Stay tuned for the final chapter!

The lowest point on earth

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Jerusalem – Today we went from one of the highest vantage points in the region, Masada, to the Dead Sea, at the lowest elevation in the world. Our bus left Jerusalem and descended through huge barren tracts of dry, rocky wilderness to a point, at the end of our day, that was 1,373 feet below sea level.

Our first destination was the furthest – Masada, at the south end of the Dead Sea, where Herod had built himself a palace on a high plateau. The mountain he picked stood alone, so that on all sides it would be a very difficult climb for an invading army. The invading tourists have an easier time of it, at least since 1998, when a cable car was built to carry visitors to the top. Brave souls could hike up the zigzag Snake Path, but we preferred the three-minute rise, even if it meant squeezing into the cable car like sardines.

A brisk wind whipped at us at the top, but it wasn’t chilly at all. There was enough flat land on top – 18 acres – for a small village, and we saw the storehouses, baths and other parts of the ruins that Herod built a century before Christ. The better-known Masada story took place in 72 AD when the last Jewish rebels took refuge from the Roman armies there and endured a long siege, sustained by water in great cisterns and food stores they brought in or cultivated.

When the Romans built a ramp up one side, Elazar Ben-Yair, the leader of the Jews, exhorted everyone to commit suicide rather than be enslaved. The men killed their wives and children, and then drew lots to choose 10 who would kill the other men. The final lottery selected one to kill the 10 and then fall on his own sword. Small clay shards with the names of the 10 were found in the ruins. We know the story because during the mass suicide two women and five children hid in one of the cisterns.

The view from the top was fantastic. We could see the hills of Moab (now Jordan) on the far side of the Dead Sea as well as a few oases providing spots of green in a vast and barren landscape. Israeli irrigation projects have allowed large groves of date palms and table grapes to flourish in the area, which have become a good source of revenue.

One of the oases, Ein Gedi, was our next stop. We were treated to a small parade of native ibex just after we got off the bus – nine of them, including a male with magnificent curved horns, trotted past against the tan background that matched their hides exactly. On their legs they sported white and black markings that looked like socks. Just a bit further along the path, we spotted the small native rodent-like animal, the hyrax, sunning itself on a rock. Both these animals are named in the Bible, and Gila read the passages out to us.

Down the way we could hear the wonderful splashing sound of fresh water– so unexpected in the dry rocky surroundings! And there, in the midst of a great desert area, was a rushing waterfall coming out of the rock, and in the pool below there were tall reeds and green shrubs. Butterflies danced above the reeds, birds dipped their beaks in the water and a lone ibex worked its way down the bank to have a drink. It was a magical sight.

Another short bus ride, always working our way closer to Jerusalem, brought us to Qumran, the site where the treasured Dead Sea scrolls were discovered just over 60 years ago. We could see Cave 4, the one where the greatest number of scrolls was found. In all, there were 26 caves that archeologists explored, and they found scrolls or fragments of scrolls in 11 of them.

Qumran is also the site of an ancient community of Essenes, a Jewish monastic sect. We could see the ruins of their refectory, baths and cisterns, dating from the second century BC. Some scholars believe it was the Essenes who copied and hid the scrolls in the surrounding caves.

We beat the crowds at the restaurant and gift shop at Qumran so we had time not only to eat, but also to check out the post cards, books and wide range of beauty products made with minerals from the Dead Sea.

About a dozen of us wanted to float on the Dead Sea, so our next stop was at Kalia Beach where we filed into the changing rooms to get on our swim gear. The beach was sandy, but not long after wading into the water we discovered thick, slippery bands of clay underfoot, which many bathers were scooping up and smearing on their skin. Some then left the water to let the clay dry and perform its beautifying magic.

We continued deeper, and when we were able to sit, we just sat. On the water! It held us up without any effort, and we could just lie back and float! When I ran my hand down my arm, it felt like I was covered in oil. We lazed in the water for some time, and then worked our way back to shore.

It was actually quite hard to get out, because my feet kept sinking into the clay and I had to use my hands to pull them out again! When we finally got out, we made for the shower station to wash off the salt and oily residue.

By the time we got back to Jerusalem, the sun had set on our last day of organized touring. We’re on our own tomorrow, except for a wrap-up dinner en groupe, and then it will be time to pack our bags for home.

Tombs, tears and tensions

Friday, November 16, 2012

Jerusalem – Moments ago, when we were leaving our last stop on the day’s itinerary and lining up for the bus, howling sirens echoed over our heads. Back at our hotel room, we saw on the BBC TV report that a rocket had landed near Jerusalem. The target, the TV says, was the Israeli Knesset, the seat of the country’s government – which happens to be close to the neighbourhood of our guide, Gila. It is not close to our hotel, but we are rattled.

This morning as we were setting out, Rafik, our driver, had to change his route because the street he was headed for had a police roadblock. Fortunately, despite all these unusual events, we are still able to follow the Craig Tour activities in safety and comfort.

We went into the Old City to start the day, visiting the Upper Room where the Last Supper took place. History suggests this was also the place where tongues of fire appeared over the heads of the assembled group on the day of Pentecost, after Christ’s resurrection. It became a Crusader church and a Muslim place of worship in different eras, so there are Corinthean columns and ceramic plaques and windows with words from the Koran – a true jumble of cultures.

Our next stop was the tomb of David. The tomb, a large stone box with a peaked cover, draped in purple cloth embroidered with a harp and Hebrew inscriptions, is housed in a very small synagogue. It has not been authenticated, and I would have thought it might have a grander home. As it was, the women were on one side of a black curtain, seeing half the tomb, and the men were on the other seeing the other half. The room was no bigger than a spacious living room. Cardboard yamulkas were in a basket at the door so the men could cover their heads.

Still in the Old City, we stopped at a place called the Burnt House, where an excellent multi-media presentation told the story of the family that lived in the house when Jerusalem was sacked and burned by the Romans in 70 AD. We sat in front of the excavated ruins of the house, where clay water jars and other pottery was found, as well as evidence of charred wood and a Roman spear.

Three overlapping movie screens presented the drama with actors portraying the Jewish priest, his wife and children and their housemaid and how they reacted to the Roman occupation. It really helped us imagine how it might have been.

There was a holiday feeling as we walked through the Old City streets in the Jewish Quarter, since the Sabbath begins at sundown on Fridays and many Jewish families take the day off. We saw a number of Orthodox Jewish families walking by, the men dressed in black and the little ones scampering about under their mothers’ watchful eyes.

We boarded the bus outside the Jaffa Gate and headed for Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial museum in the western suburbs of modern Jerusalem. It’s an amazing site where one could spend several hours, but we didn’t stay that long. The long building has a zigzag path through it, bringing visitors to different rooms.

The displays are an excellent blend of factual historical artifacts and texts, and chilling human stories of Holocaust victims, depicted in videos of people telling their personal experiences, as well as poignant displays of personal items like a child’s doll, a pile of ragged shoes, or yellow six-point stars from people’s coats. We gathered at our rendez-vous point in the courtyard afterward, but no one was inclined to chat. We had many things to ponder in our own hearts.

After lunch at a kibbutz hotel, we made our last stop at the Garden Tomb. This place was established in the 1880s by a British general, Charles Gordon, whose Jerusalem home overlooked a stone hillside with skull-like features in the rock. It was outside the Damascus Gate, near a garden that had clearly belonged to a rich man, and it had a large burial room cut into the rock with a trough where a round stone could roll in front to seal it. He bought the land and established it as a place for visitors who wanted to remember the place of Christ’s crucifixion and burial as it might have been.

Heather, our tour leader, conducted a short communion service for us in the garden, serving the grape juice in tiny olive wood cups that we were allowed to keep afterward as a gift.

The sirens that wailed at us on our departure broke the spell somewhat, although most of us weren’t exactly sure what they signified. Some of us wondered if it was a normal thing at sundown on Friday to tell the faithful that the Sabbath had officially begun. The TV news back at the hotel told us otherwise.

Our itinerary for tomorrow is a trip to the Dead Sea, Masada and Qumran, all away from the city, so that will be a good thing.

Through the Old City

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Jerusalem – A clear, sunny sky greeted us this morning as we headed across the Kidron Valley to the Mount of Olives. We squinted into the morning sun for our group photograph, with the Old City as our backdrop, before heading down on foot along the Palm Sunday road, traditionally the one Christ followed on a donkey’s back into the city a week before his crucifixion.

The road was steep and narrow, but it didn’t stop cars or trucks from driving up or down it while the many tour groups pressed against the stone walls on either side to let them pass. We made a short stop at the church called Dominus Plevit, or “the Lord wept”, marking the moment when Jesus wept at the prospect of the destruction of Jerusalem, as he looked across the Kidron Valley. We couldn’t enter because a service was in progress, so we continued on down the steep hill to the Garden of Gethsemane.

Gnarled, twisted trunks of eight ancient olive trees caught our attention immediately as we entered the garden. Botanists say these trees would certainly have been there at the time of Christ, and possibly long before that – and only a few days ago, the latest olives were harvested from them.

The beautiful Church of all Nations (or Basilica of the Agony) stands next to the garden, with the altar placed over the rock where Christ prayed there alone on the night of his betrayal and arrest.

Rafik, our bus driver, picked us up and drove us to the Damascus Gate of the Old City of Jerusalem, so we could walk along the traditional way of the Cross, the Via Dolorosa.

As soon as we got through the gate, we were plunged into a busy, crowded market place with trinkets, leather bags, spices, golden baklava in heaped trays, embroidered gowns and shawls, kitchen gadgets, T-shirts with saucy slogans, cellphone cases, liturgical garments, sandals, mountains of pomegranates and oranges, dates and chestnuts, jewelry and icons and tons of other items, being sold from narrow stalls while strains of Arabic music flowed out from ghetto blasters and pilgrims jostled with merchants and passers by. It was a challenge to a) keep together as a group and b) keep Gila in our sights as we worked our way toward the first Station of the Cross.

Our pilgrimage continued along the ancient stones and through the busy market stalls as we went from one station to another. Finally, we reached the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, built over the traditional place where the crucifixion took place.

Quite near the large entrance is a flat slab of stone where Christ’s body was laid after being taken down from the cross. It has been polished smooth by the hands and foreheads of thousands of pilgrims who kneel down to touch the holy place. In another corner of the church, up a steep staircase, is a small chapel, with an altar built over the hole in the ground where the cross was planted. Near the altar is an exposed section of stone with a large crack through it, split by the earthquake that occurred after Christ breathed his last. A tightly packed column of pilgrims shuffled slowly past this spot where, one by one, each had a special moment before moving on.

We were close to the Jaffa Gate of the Old City by this time, and headed for a modern shopping mall just outside for lunch. It was the first time on the whole trip we actually sat at restaurant tables and ordered a meal from a menu! We split into three groups so we didn’t overwhelm a single shop by arriving en masse, so we managed to get fed and pay our bills within the allotted hour.

Our afternoon visit was to the hospital – not because anyone was sick, but to see the Chagall windows that decorate the synagogue attached to the Hadassah Hospital. The facility is the largest in the Middle East, and a fair distance to the south and west of the Old City. It’s a huge complex and a major medical center which has developed a medical tourism program that brings patients from many Arab countries for special care. The hotel, shopping centre and synagogue attached to the hospital make life more comfortable for relatives who accompany those patients, not to mention locals and staff.

When it was being built in 1959, hospital planners invited the artist Marc Chagall to design the stained glass windows of the synagogue, and he did so for free. With the men of our group suitably covered with yamulkas if they lacked hats, we entered the synagogue and listened to a recorded description of each of the twelve large, brightly-coloured panels that symbolize the sons of Israel, as characterized by their father on his deathbed in Genesis 49.

The windows were really beautiful, but we weren’t allowed to photograph them, and we didn’t see any post card stands with pictures to take away, so you will have to take our word for it.

As we headed back toward the hotel, we saw several flatbed trucks heading in the other direction, loaded with large army tanks. The TV news back in our room with stories of escalating hostilities near Gaza confirmed for us the reason for this military manoeuver. So far, we are only seeing media reports. We remain hopeful that that is all we will see between now and our trip home.