'Twas a Decade…Yet a blink of an eye

Yesterday morning was the ten year anniversary of my dear grandmother, Paula's soul slipping from her body, to be reunited with her husband and son, who preceded her.

My sister and I thought about that briefly, but didn't put any flowers out as it's preferable to celebrate births, marriages, and happier dates, rather than the date one is taken from us. There will be plenty of other dates for flowers.

It's hard to believe it's been ten years now. Feels like just a blink of an eye, and in the scheme of things it probably is.

For Believers there is the promise of being reunited after you have also left the Corporeal World. As for non-believers? I task you with this.

Ten years, one day and a little over seven hours ago, I was laying in my bed upstairs when all of a sudden I heard my grandmother, loud as day, scream urgently "CLARIE!!!" (She confused me a lot with my father and grandfather after hip surgery clouded her mind). Not stopping to think about it, I answered "I'm coming!" and rushed downstairs.

Of course she was still laying there in utter silence --- as she had for the previous 11 days she'd been in a coma. My sister had been sleeping in a chair across the room. Surely she would have heard it too. But, hadn't woken up. I felt her pulse. It was there, albeit weak. I woke my sister, and a short 10 minutes later it was all over but the crying.

The strange thing is that there was no crying; at least not immediately. It was early in the morning. There were birds chirping outside and the early morning Sun was warm to the face when I went outside. And I was experiencing a feeling of peace and calm all over. (It had been a VERY long two years since she broke her hip).

Most assuredly she had NOT vocally cried out. She couldn't have even had she wanted to. I believe she was in the process of passing and wanted to comfort my sister and I with knowing we were there with her when it happened and that she was now alright.

If there is no existence after Death, surely there would have been no chance of that event happening.

Have a good Sunday everyone and make sure to call your grandparents when you have a chance. I wish I still had that luxury.

Remembrances of the Holy Land (Dead Sea)

PHOTO: Dave Kim

Today we were to leave our second home away from home on this trip. While I still think I enjoyed living in the Galilee more, the hustle and bustle of Jerusalem had grown on me. There were just so many sites left unseen.

Morning came. Breakfast was a bit on the spartan side. Gone was the sumptuous international buffet with all sorts of offerings. With Passover starting this evening, the hotel had been cleaned from top to bottom to get rid of any non-kosher or leavened items.

Also gone today was Adi, and the big blue fish bus. Instead, we had a golden-colored bus which was a bit older, and not nearly as posh-looking. It took a little while to get used to it. Don't remember the driver's name.

We cut through an Hasidic neighborhood to the north before catching Highway 1. I tried catching some photos from the bus, but it was a wasted effort with the replacement camera smearing most anything that was just across the street.

As we climbed up over that last ridge, and the Old City passed from view, I started thinking about how most of our trip was behind us. One of the things that I was looking forward to was the next day's visit to Petra. However, it was still bittersweet to be leaving. Most Christians, and a fair amount of Jews, never set foot in the Holy Land, let alone Jerusalem. We'd been blessed with that experience.

Jerusalem is actually in the hills, as compared to most of Israel. In the Bible, it was traditional to say, "…going UP to Jerusalem" and we now found out why. We started losing altitude noticeably, passing through mostly rocky terrain, interrupted on occasion by the West Bank Barrier and new-looking settlements atop the hills.

Though we had entered the Jordan River Valley, it looked nothing like what we'd seen during our first few days. The area was very arid reminding me a lot of the western Mojave.

We came to a crossroads and headed South into the Dead Sea region. It's funny to think that we were now driving through the lowest point on Earth.

Being this close to the West Bank territories, the Israeli Army had set up checkpoints with huge stone blocks, alternating between lanes. This forced traffic to slow to a crawl before slowly snaking through the chicane, or possibly waved to a stop for inspection.

We finally got our first view of the Dead Sea. The aqua blue of the water absolutely glowed when compared to the pale yellow dirt and salt formations.

This area was pretty empty, lest for the occasional building. Then we came upon a concentration of nice-looking buildings on our right. This is the Qumran National Park Visitor's Center.

Qumran is where a boy, during a search for his wayward goat, discovered a bunch of clay jars inside caves. The clay jars turned out to hold part of what we now know as the Dead Sea Scrolls and this cave complex, as a whole, has turned out to be one of the most important findings for biblical era schools ever found.

We walked into the Visitor's Center, which looked extremely new. We wound through the museum looking at examples of the Scrolls, and Essenian life, before being ushered into a small theater where you leaned against the wall or railings for a relatively short video presentation.

Suddenly, a set of doors opened to our left, exposing us to harsh daylight with no warning. It is sooooo bright out. Bright blue sky with zero clouds. A dry wind whipping off the Dead Sea. Even with my glasses having two layers of tinting were not helping to fight the migraine that was coming on.

Besides the building there was a cactus with Hebrew graffiti carved into. It. Thinking it was cool-looking, I grabbed a few shots. PD shook his head, chastising the graffiti artist, or perhaps it was more of my wanting to take the pictures? Not exactly sure which it was.

A local interpretive guide took us on a reasonably long walk through the Qumran ruins. We weren't able to actually get close to any of the caves, as they were in the hills, and eroding badly.

I think the neatest things were the huge mikva'ot. Even in such an arid environment the priests went all out to build huge ritual baths, when in other circumstances they were no bigger than a microwave oven.

We spent some time in front of the Scriptorium where the guide explained about the hard life of the Essenes, as well as some alternative theories that Qumran really wasn't a community of scholars and priests. At this point, none of them really stick in my mind.

Doron told us this would be our last chance to buy any souvenirs in Israel, and highly recommended the Ahava cosmetic products that were World renowned. I really hadn't bought anything on the trip and figured I'd make a conscious effort to do so.

For my sister and a high school friend, I bought each some mud products and bath soaps. For myself, I chose a small bottle of Date Wine (A specialty of the region) and a replica Dead Sea Scroll jar.

Someone commented that this was the first time they actually saw me buy anything on the trip, and, for the most part, they were probably right.

Probably, the best purchase made by anyone in our group was CM's Shofar. Being a musician, it was a fitting purchase. It must've been somewhere around three feet long, and glistened in the light. The gift shop was set up to ship items, such as that, so the purchaser wouldn't have to drag it around on their trip.

Back on the road, we headed south. Sometimes the road was relatively close to the Dead Sea shoreline. Other times higher up on the ridge, allowing a commanding view for anyone sitting on the left side of the bus. What I found fascinating were the huge multi-colored circles along the shoreline.

These were mineral pools which will eventually lead to sinkholes, accentuated by the continued over dependence on Jordan River water for irrigation and the growing population. No wonder there were plenty of warning signs.

Sadly, the oasis at Ein Gedi was not on our itinerary. TS had talked it up in pre-trip meetings, but we were crunched for time due to our being on the cusp of Passover.

One of the things I'd noticed was that there was pretty much no industry along the Dead Sea. There's a land bridge which slices the basin into two water sections. Located around this shallow area are the unmistakable reddish brown evaporation ponds, along with machinery and buildings made decrepit looking before their time by the harsh saline environment.

Despite my disappointment of not seeing Ein Gedi, I was eagerly anticipating our next stop as we now pulled onto a side road to Masada, where nearly 1000 Jewish rebels killed themselves, rather than become enslaved by the 10th Roman Legion.

My first introduction with Masada was not from any history book or documentary. Rather, it was the 1981 ABC miniseries, staring Peter O'Toole.

Spending zero time at the newly built Masada Museum, we saw a short video on the siege before heading up the three minute cable car ride to the top. As the cable car climbed, you could look below and see those poor souls that decided to save US$11 so they could spend 90 minutes slogging up the Snake Path, used for nearly 2000 years.

We were deposited just below the summit. Off to the left was a metal walkway, suspended from the side of the cliff. The feet echoed as we walked across the open grid decking. Once through a building, the visitor is treated to the summit, which is essentially flat, with a slight slope to the east.

From the western rim you could look down and see the outlines of where some of the Roman Legion encamped while building their siege ramp. One could also easily make out the dirt ramp, which  people can use as an alternative access to the summit.

We saw one of the huge cisterns that collected water for the inhabitants. Without those, Masada wouldn't have been habitable. There was an overlook which allowed a view of Herod's 3-tiered fortress which sits on the north side like a like a captain's command console on a ship.

Some of us wanted to take the Palace Trail to get a better look. However, Doron said it would take too long (and it was a moot point as the area was going through renovation).

We started looping back through some of the buildings which have been stabilized for interpretive displays. The spa was pretty cool as you could see the under flooring where the heating elements were.

As we cut through a ruin we noticed a small flock of black birds perched on the rock work. The apparently sit around waiting for tourists to give them food. SeL and CH had some type of bread or chips and when they offered it up, the birds hopped on their outstretched hand with no hesitation at all.

Most people spend several hours to see Masada. It seemed like we were there for about an hour, at most.

While visiting the summit there was barely a breeze. But, as we neared the exit to catch the cable car a breeze kicked up, causing the Israeli flag to flap proudly in the wind. I was able to grab a great shot with the Dead Sea in the background.

When we got to the ramp RP asked me if I'd like him to take my picture. I hadn't really had my picture taken anywhere so told him yes. I wish I could say it was a good photo. However, my hair was all over the place, and my sunglasses were pitch black. Still, it was better than nothing, and I appreciated his asking.

WC and DK tried to talk Doron and TS into letting them run down the Snake Trail. But, that wasn't going to happen, so everyone took the cable car. At the bottom the driver pointed out a group of Ibex on top of a stone wall. I really missed my good camera and zoom as the 10x digital zoom on the Fuji camera turned out pretty anemic.

It was now time for a cliché - floating in the Dead Sea!

Because the water is so concentrated with salt, about the only thing you can do is float. The more you try to go under water, the faster your body bobs up to the surface, like a wine cork. And whatever you do DON'T open your eyes.

We stopped at the seaside resort of Ein Bokek. The resort is nothing more than a handful of hotels and shops which cater to the people who flock to the area to soak in the salty water, lounge under umbrellas on the shore, rinse and repeat.

Tour bus riders were allowed to use the changing rooms in one of the swim suit stores.

A lifeguard sat high up on a pole with a bunch of that white anti-burn paste on his nose, a sailors hat (like what Gilligan wore) and swim trunks. He skin was well tanned from being exposed, and I wondered how many days he could actually do that without earning himself an acute case of skin cancer.

All you had to do was walked into the water and when it was deep enough just lean back. No need to tread water, or even try to swim. It was as if you were laying on one of those soft foam mattresses where your body sinks in a bit and the foam conforms to your body.

The only swimming, if there was any, was all in slow motion. Signs on shore warned people against splashing. I guess DK got a little too active for the life guard's taste, and he started yelling at him loudly.

This was probably the hottest day of the entire trip. The air was thick with oxygen and the sun beat down on you.  Because of the No Splash rule, it was absolutely quiet, which magnified the desolation even more.

While standing, I reached down and grabbed a handful of the sea bottom assuming it was very white sand. It was salt…nothing but salt! No wonder the water was so clear.

Adjacent to where we were floating was an area marked off with big warning signs and floating buoys. As RP and I got closer we noticed a rotten egg smell and a slight bubbling. It must have been some type of underwater sulphur spring.

We could only stand it for 10-15 minutes before the salt started drying our skin out. Coming out of the water, there was an outside shower with three nozzles where people could rinse themselves off.

Once finished, we headed back to the changing room. Unbeknownst to us, the clerk had moved our belongings to a different changing room, and we were greeted with a shriek from a couple of 50-something Israeli women. We apologized and beat a hasty retreat. Only then did the clerk tell us where our belongings were.

After changing we had some time to walk around the little mini-mall. I guessed this place had a lot of Soviet Jews because there were quite a bit of signs in Cyrillic. I feebly tried talking with someone in Russian, but all I accomplished was a bit of embarrassment.

Arriving back at the bus, we found out that DK has managed to cut the sole of his foot somehow. My suggestion that he go stick it in the anti-septic salt water of the Dead Sea didn't go over well. But then judging by the way my clean shaven neck felt when submersed, I could understand.

Sadly, it was time for one of our little family to leave us. ED was staying longer in Israel to visit with a friend she knew from back in the USA. We waited as long as we could. However, she was going to have to wait a couple more hours for a bus going back the other direction.

For the next 2.5+ hours everyone was pretty quiet. The roadway had long left any indication of a waterway, spent the first part of that time following dry wadis, never really gaining much altitude.

The farther south we drove, it started to straighten out as the terrain flattened into a large plain, with the mountains of Jordan coming closer. More and more blocky parcels of palm tree groves popped up, the manicured looking ones with netting to keep birds out.

At some point you could start to make out truck traffic on Jordan's Dead Sea Highway. It seemed funny to have two highways paralleling each other so closely. Sort of like Highway 99 and Interstate 5 through California's Central Valley.

As we neared the end of our time in Israel, Doron got on the intercom. He gave a little speech about how much he'd really enjoyed guiding our group. Once he finished with the group announcement he went person by person to give us all a personal good-bye.

Sitting in the last row of the bus, I was the last person he came to. With a firm shake of his hand, he told me how much I "inspired" him. I'm not exactly sure what I did that caused the inspiration, but I was really honored hearing him say that.

We now reached the Wadi Araba Border Crossing; the southernmost between Israel and Jordan. The driver pulled into a parking lot at the end of the road, and quickly unloaded our baggage. Doron told everyone they were going to immediately leave so the bus driver could get back to his family by sundown. Not only was this Sabbath, it was Passover.

Unlike the first border crossing which was a short walk, this one must've been nearly 200 yards. At least that's what it felt like since the wheels on my big suitcase were all trashed, and the cloth handle kept slipping off its fasteners.

At the Jordanian side we were once again greeted by the a big smiling photo of King Abdullah II which seemed to grace most governmental buildings. There were two guard stations. I decided to try saying "Salam O Alaikum" to the first inspector. Maybe it was my pronunciation or the fact it was twilight, but he looked at me funny and just said, "Hi."

Moving on to the second guard I just said, "Salam" which seemed to be accepted. It was here that our luggage would be searched yet again, and it seemed like it took forever.

While we were waiting for our bags to be prodded through, there  were a couple of garish gift shops to occupy our time. Some of the girls were enamored with some Arabic pop song playing loudly from one of the open front shops. I noticed a little all-white kitten that was extremely friendly. He kept trying to jump on my luggage as is to say, "Don't you want to take me home with you?" (Not sure what Jake and Sally would have thought about another house guest).

Inspections finally finished, we threw our luggage on a bus and headed into Aqaba. Even though Eilat, Israel was a much bigger city, we were staying on the  Jordan side of the border.

TS said the biggest reason being that accommodations would have cost five times as much in Israel. Certainly an added benefit was that it put the border crossing delays behind us as the next day was going to be a long one, with visiting Petra before driving all the way to Amman.

Our motel for the night was the Aqaba Gulf Hotel. I wish I could say that it was very memorable. However, I really can't. That is, unless you count the information sheet in the bathroom which was printed in something like five or six different languages. I'd never seen German on them before. They did have a Rum Bar. However, it had limited hours, and wasn't open when we checked in.

We had no formal plans for the evening in Aqaba. StL and I decided to take a walk a over by the beach area. I expected to walk up and dip my toes in the Gulf waters on an quiet beach. It couldn't have been further from the truth!

Despite it being far into the evening, the beach was absolutely packed with families. Women and girls were modestly attired in Hijab and Abaya. Had they been wearing normal swimwear, you might have confused it for Mexico.

A long paved walkway paralleled the beach and was loaded with stands selling food and souvenirs. We walked for awhile until there was a break in the vendors, with allowed access to another walkway.

StL decided to head back. I kept walking to see just how far it went. A slightly uneasy feeling came over me a couple minutes later when I realized I was without anyone else in the group. But, it quickly diminished. The place was like a busy Saturday night back home and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, too busy to worry about the American walking alone.

I finally came to the end of the walk. There was a guy with one of those portable backpacks that serve hot coffee. I wanted to take a photo, but couldn't work up the nerve to. (Photographing people is not my favorite subject).

Three others from the trip happened to end up here too and we walked back through the closest streets of the city where there were shops open even at this time of night.

Next to our hotel was a large souvenir shop. It might have been affiliated. Not sure. They had traditional Arabic clothing, instruments and those curved Janbiya daggers you see in movies.

RV was in negotiation with the clerk over one of those traditional Bedouin sashes which have the metal disks that make noise when they dance. (don't know the name). I left her to try and work him down from whatever high price he tried to get for it. (She ended going without).

I ran into a couple others. However, it seemed like nobody was going to go out for a walk again, so I decided to call it a night. Walking past the hotel's Rum Bar, I momentarily thought about grabbing a drink. But, changed my mind.

As it turned out, a big group went over to the water front. Had I known, I would have tagged along.

I, honestly, wouldn't mind visiting Aqaba again. With the exception of the brief concern I felt when first alone, it had a wonderful festive atmosphere. Just families enjoying themselves.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Remembrances of the Holy Land (The Kotel)

PHOTO: Dave Kim

Today would mark our last full day in Jerusalem. On the elevator ride down an older couple made eye contact with me. Rather than saying "Good Morning" it was "Guten Tag" which reminded me how much this was an International hotel. I nodded acknowledgement as they kept softly speaking in German.

When we reached the lobby I wished I'd tried my very limited German by asking them from where they came and telling them my grandmother was from Klagenfurt, in southern Austria.

We started out by going to the Western Wall (The Kotel in Hebrew), the most holiest site in all of Judaism. Gone were the long lines to get through the two inspection points we experienced two days earlier.

The main courtyard area is divided into four parts. There are two main prayer areas immediately in front of the Wall, separated by men and women. A common area runs the full length behind the prayer areas, separated by a three foot high way. Finally, there's the museum area below several arches to the far left, also cordoned off by a small wall.

We would be visiting the underground tunnels first because groups needed to schedule by reservation. While waiting for our time we had to opportunity to use the restrooms and freshen up.

As we gathered by the entry doors the museum person checked his reservation list. However, he said there was another group booked for our time. Needless to say Doron wasn't very pleased as it had been booked months before.

After they sorted things out they allowed us in. Upon entering there was a long passage way heading off to the right below the arches which were visible from the outside. Nearing the end of the corridor Doron stopped to make sure everyone was with our group. Where was SH?

Apparently not everyone heard the call for our group, but nobody noticed until we' entered the tunnels. Doron told us to wait here while he went to check, saying they'd had people get lost wandering the tunnels.

All accounted for, we continued further into the tunnels to a model of the Temple. An elevated gallery provided seating while Doron gave us a tour of what the old temple may have looked like. It was really cool because he could change the look of the model with a flick of some switches so that specific parts were highlighted.

We next stopped at a huge stone. Doron had me go to the far right side and indicate with my hand where the seam was. He then had RV do so on the far left side, so the group could see just how big it really was (44 feet long, weighing 570 tons).

After walking along the Wall we made a small zigzag, only to be surprised by the sight of several older women praying against the Wall. Doron said that the women had permission to come and go to this point, and some consider it the best place to pray as it was the closest you could get to the inner sanctum of the sanctuary.

Part of me would have loved to have taken photos of the women in prayer because it was such a unique sight. However, it's one of those things I would have thought about because I wouldn't want to intrude on the moment.

Continuing on, we stopped by Warren's Shaft, which had a glass plate, a person could look down. It basically revealed older stones from the collapsed parts of the Wall, knocked down by the Romans.

Doron told the men we had to wait here, taking the women down and around a corner.

After they came back I asked CG what was going on down there? Apparently, it was a women's gallery, close to the Western Wall. What was strange is it was blocked off from the men's section with glass, though she said you could see the men in prayer.

We now wandered through the narrow tunnels that were dug next to the Wall. Wooden scaffolding was above and to our left, holding back dirt to allow for this walkway. I felt sorry for anyone even a small bit claustrophobic.

Part of old Herodian Road was uncovered during the excavations, including a couple tall columns. Doron pointed out this would definitely have been one of the roads at the time of Jesus.

The last part of our underground experience came as we wandered through an old aqueduct, before finishing up at the Struthion Pool once again.

Rather than retrace our steps underground, we now wandered through the Old City, taking the Via Dolorosa and other alleyways. At one corner there was an older Arabic women with boxes and boxes of fresh vegetables. Sure wish my camera had been working at that point.

One of the funnier sites were a group of Arabic women, in their full black Abaya, having an animated conversation while looking at a vendor selling women's lingerie. They didn't sound like they were upset about it. It was more along the lines of how impressed they were. Really funny.

After several alleyways, vacant except for Palestinian graffiti, we came to the security station we'd seen when coming off the Temple Mount. Passing through deposited us back in the Western Wall courtyard.

TS said we would have ten minutes if any of us wanted to say a prayer at the Wall. We went to our respective side of the prayer courtyard. Despite having over two-thirds of the space, the men's side was fairly spartan of prayer goers when we were there.

Some men were standing by the Wall with those small leather boxes tied to their heads and/or long leather straps wound around their forearms. These are called Phylacteries and the boxes contain little papers inscribed with Torah verses. For some, finely ordained yarmulke coverings on the crown of their head were not enough. They also employed prayer shawls. Some had their face's visible. Some completely draped over.

With a leather bound Torah in front of them, they'd sway side to side quickly, or bow back and forth, while facing the Wall. Supposedly this blurs everything else around them so as to be more one with God.

Other men had set up chairs with huge copies of the Torah on lecterns, obviously planning on staying for quite awhile.

My search for a San Jose Sharks' yarmulke defeated, I had to dawn one of the one-size fits all paper ones the Western Heritage Foundation made available for people needing head covering. It didn't fit very wall, but served its purpose, though it blew off once, sending me scurrying to cover my naked head.

Several of us placed our hands on the Wall while saying prayers. Additionally, I had written a small note to tuck in the Wall. It was amazing to see how much paper was folded or wadded up and stuck in the cracks despite young rabbis being in the process of cleaning it out every year for the next week's Passover. (The notes are buried rather than simply incinerated).

Later on CB would say the women's side are fairly packed, and what was funny was that some of the women praying took a moment to grab chairs to put up against the dividing wall so they could peek over at the men's section. There were no men doing the same from our side. (Case of Forbidden Fruit again?)

Here, in the USA, we joke about the Fashion Police. There, in Israel, they are very real.

When visiting the Western Wall, women are to wear long pants or dresses which don't expose the knees, Shoulders and biceps should be covered, be it by shirt or scarf, and the head is kept covered at all times. ED and GC found out just how real the Fashion Police were as a short squat women, in military-like uniform, came over insisting they cover their shoulders.

They both adjusted their scarves. However, GC apparently didn't do a good enough job for this woman's taste, who felt it was her job to actually start grabbing GC's scarf and adjust it for her, all the while being very verbally tenacious.

Understandably, GC got annoyed by all this pawing. The crazy thing is we were all standing in the common area far away from the actual courtyard prayer sections. We left before the woman could return and chastise anyone else.

(Ironically, in 2009  a woman was arrested when she went to pray at the Wall wearing a traditional prayer shawl, and reading from the Torah, actions forbidden to women by ultra ultraorthodox Jews, especially in Israel.)

On a way back to the bus I had another whimsical observation. I'm sure most people are aware that military service is compulsory for all Jewish Israelis once they turn 18, no matter whether they're men or women. (Muslims and Christian Arabs are exempt). There was a squad of girls, probably not more than 18-years-old, standing by.

They were dressed in full military combat uniforms, carrying pistols and on their hips, or with Galil assault rifles slung over backs. If you took the military hardware away, and dressed them normally, you couldn't tell them from any normal high school cheerleaders, purely based on all the makeup they were wearing.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Remembrances of the Holy Land (J-Town II)

PHOTO: Dave Kim

We arrived in the hotel foyer this morning, only to be greeted by signs indicating the main ballroom was still closed, and pointing us to a different alternate location for breakfast.

Before heading over I peeked in the main room wondering why it would still be closed hours later. It was an absolute disaster area. Tables all over the place. Garbage bins brimming with full green plastic trash bags. Some busted stuff on the floor. (So this was the aftermath of a traditional Jewish wedding? Wow!!).

The layout of the new alternate place leaved a lot to be desired. Lines snaked amongst round tables, and moved at a snail's pace. As it was a buffet you were allowed to go back for as much as you wanted. But, with the lines as bad as they were, it would just burn a lot of time to do so.

Additionally, they labeled the soda machines with a sign saying, "Do not fill your water bottles." Strange considering I hadn't seen many people doing that previously, nor were they running out any time soon.

Breakfast complete we headed to our first stop (Mount Zion) to visit the site commemorating where Jesus held the Last Supper with his Disciples. Doron pointed out that we really don't know where it actually took place as all of these buildings were built long after the time of Christ.

Located nearby, was the Abbey of the Dormition. It was paid for by Kaiser Wilhelm II, and reminds me of pictures of the big abbeys that are in the Rhine River country.

Doron lead us to a spot on the roof with a gorgeous view of the church and parts of Jerusalem. Doron surprised us with little wooden Communion cups carved from olive wood, which we could all keep as souvenirs from our very own private celebration of Communion.

TS's sermon lasted quite some time, delving into Communion, and it's meaning. Throughout it all we basically had the roof top to ourselves. a small family came up, but when they noticed us taking Communion they were nice enough to leave the roof to us.

From Mount Zion we walked down along the Old City Wall passing ruins from the time of the Second Temple  destruction. You could actually still see black burn marks on the stones from all the fires.

Doron pointed out some vinous plants growing from the cracks between the blocks making up the city walls. He suggested these might have been the same material used for Jesus' crown of thorns.

We continued to drop into the Kidron Valley until we stopped in front of the Tomb of Absalom, one of three recognizable large tombs below the huge Mount of Olives Jewish. From here we could look further down into the lower part of the Kidron Valley. TS spoke about Jesus and walking through the Kidron Valley.

As TS was giving his talk, the tide was turned on our group, as a handful of Palestinian youngsters were watching us from a short distance. Once they noticed we'd noticed, they beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of their neighborhood.

I found it interesting how where we stood was pretty much rural-looking, with the major tombs and nearby olive groves, yet a bit to the south was a huge Arabic neighborhood in the Kidron Valley.

When I asked about actually walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, Doron said that wasn't in the plan.

(It's funny, but now every time I hear this son in church, I have visions of standing in front of Absalom's Tomb.)

Next we headed for the Garden of Gethsemane, an area of ancient olive trees surrounded by a huge rock wall and locked iron gate. We needed to wait a few minutes while someone found the key to unlock the gate.

Finding a quiet corner of the Garden, TS gave us a sermon about Jesus' last night. Mediterranean Olive Trees are some of the oldest living things on Earth, and some Arborists have suggested that many of these trees were likely around at the time of Jesus. I pondered which one he might have sat under his final night as Roman soldiers came to arrest him.

I also took an opportunity to look around at my fellow travelers. Some of them had almost a mesmerizing look to them. Perhaps they were also taking in the location, and what it meant?

We went next door to the Church of All Nations. In the courtyard there were remnants of an exceptionally ancient olive tree. The doors in front of the church are especially cool, being rot iron shapes of olive trees. There was some type of Roman Catholic service going on so we sat and listened.

On the way back to the bus we passed a stand selling leather goods. Though I was only morbidly curious I asked them about a camel skin belt. The vendor quoted a relatively cheap amount, but couldn't find the right length.

Next to him was a stand selling bottled water. I paid the guy for a 1 liter bottle because I needed something cold at this point. He dug in and found one deep in the ice saying, "Here's one for you." I didn't try to drink out of it till getting back on the bus, only then noticing the seal was broken.

I should have been concerned. But, the coolness of that bottle was fogging my judgment. Taking a big swig, it was readily apparent t This was a bottle that had been refilled with normal everyday tap water. Certainly OK to drink, but not filtered to clean up the taste.

Some people suggested going back to complain, but I told them it was too late since I'd already drank a third of it. Fortunately, I didn't get sick from it. I was one of several people drinking tap water since since the Galilee.

Just as the bus was about to pull off, the camel belt vendor came running up to the bus. He found the right length belt. I hadn't been that interested to begin with, and had lost any interest by this point, so politely told him, "Thank You, no." He wanted to continue to haggling, but gave him a firmer "No."

We finally pulled off with him still standing there, camel belt in hand.

From here we drove around the city and back to the heights of Mount Zion, and the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu, reportedly the location of Chief Priest Caiaphas' House, and the prison where they kept Jesus.

In the strict sense of the word, this prison was nothing more than a pit carved into the bedrock. It could hold about 30-40 people at most. We had to wait our turn as there was a group of Italian pilgrims already down there. They were singing something, though I can't remember what now.

From above, there is a keyhole cut that allows you to view into the bottom.

Once the Italians cleared it was our turn. We climbed the stairs that have been put in to allow access for pilgrims. These were not present at the time of Jesus, and prisoners were lowered into the pit. Even the slightest bit of talking produced somewhat of an echo.

Another group showed up above us and so we made our way out of the pit. Unfortunately, the newer chapel part of the Ethiopian Church was not open for visitation. It was supposed to be absolutely stunning.

Going outside, we branched around the church and down some severally uneven and weathered steps. LL nearly fell, but I was at the right place at the right time to catch her. I'd nearly fallen as well, catching the toe of my shoe. Just in case, I offered a hand to those behind me. Fortunately, everyone traversed the steps without incident.

Now it was back into the Old City through the Zion Gate. We wandered past a couple of Yeshiva. On the way, I noticed a popsicle stand. When we got down to the main street level Doron and TS stopped our group for a second. ED and I asked if we could take a moment to some popsicles. Like giddy school children we hurried back upstairs.They were soooo good in the hot Jerusalem sun. Our lips were briefly stained orange, but we didn't care. They were cold.

We were given an hour to wonder around the Jewish Quarter. Doron suggested we keep together in small groups, and to be careful if we wander into the bazaar of shops because it was easy to get turned around and not find your way out. Adding he didn't want to waste time looking for us.

Some people chose to eat lunch at a falafel stand located near by. Some chose ice cream! Despite Doron's suggestion I ended up by myself, wandering through the bazaar of shops. I could see how someone could get lost.

The area had two or three parallel alleyways, with a perpendicular one allowing access to any of them. It was dark and smelled from the myriad of spice shops. I admired the shops from afar because I'd heard that once they sucker you in with an offer of free tea, you're there forever.

As I wandered farther, there were some shops baking pita on fiery ovens, using long handled paddles to pull them out. There's nothing like the aroma of fresh pita baking.

I kept to a plan of staying on the same path so that when it came time to go back I could easily trace my steps. At least that was the plan.

I walked for what seemed like forever, until the walkway came to an end and I had to either go left or right. I chose right and noticed the decidedly different flavor of the area. Then I saw a whole bunch of Arabic graffiti!! My walk had taken me all the way into the Muslim Quarter.

After my heart came back down out of my throat, I started retracing my steps. However, I cut to my left too soon, only to end up on an unfamiliar street.

Adlibbing, I took a right because I knew that's the way I'd have to end up eventually. This turned out to the the Cardo, one of the Roman roads which was uncovered during excavation.

This area was different. Gone were the rustic-looking shops of the bazaar, replaced with art displays and more expensive touristy kiosks. Abruptly I came to the end of the cleared part of the Cardo. Now what?!?!?!

I took another left to end up on a large walkway that had paralleled the Cardo. This was the right choice. A little further down I passed by DB, DE and RV, who were heading back towards the Cardo. I told them what I'd seen, but warned them how far I'd went without paying much attention.

With much happiness, I finally reached the group, who had been congregating at the falafel and ice cream stands.

After our leisure time, we wandered through the Old City, including along the Via Dolorosa. It was interesting to get the flavor of the city, even though this was pretty much from Crusader days, and more recent times.

We exited the Old City by way of the Damascus Gate. Damascus Gate is much more than an entry/exit point for the Old City. There were tons of shops set up within the walkway, and you have to take a round about circuit to get out.

While we were walking through the area, deep within the Muslim Quarter, I happened to notice that RP was wearing his yamaka today. Honestly, don't know whether he'd been wearing it all day, or not, but I mentioned to him we were in the Muslim Quarter now and how there weren't too many other people wearing a yamaka in that neck of the woods.

He thought about it, thanked me for mentioning it, and tucked it away for safe keeping.

At the Damascus Gate, Doron took us over to the entry to Zedekiah's Cave, an underground limestone quarry area that lays between the Damascus and Herod Gates. For whatever reason the gate was locked today with nobody in sight.

City traffic in Jerusalem is crazy when even compared to most major American cities. Doron's best advice was to follow mob mentality and cross together in one batch. It was slightly scary but it worked.

Safely across we continued down the Nablus Road eventually taking a right turn down a somewhat narrow street.

Here lain the Garden Tomb, a site some people believe to be the final resting spot of Jesus Christ after the crucifixion.

As opposed to a dusty old church, this area is planted with all sorts of gorgeous greenery. One of the caretakers greeted us and took us over to an area overlooking the local bus terminal parking. Overlooking the busy traffic was a rock they suggested was Golgotha, the rock that looks like a skull, and the biggest piece of evidence they're using to support this as being the tomb.

While the current rock formation certainly resembled a skull, it's unlikely it would have survived the elements intact for 2000 years.

The caretaker explains about the history of the Garden, and the association that oversees it. We had been used to Middle Eastern and Italian sounding people giving tours and lecturing. This guy is an older British gentleman with bright white hair and a very noticeable British accent.

Interestingly, he made the point that the Garden association does NOT say unequivocally that this IS the place where Jesus was laid to rest.

At this time I'm having my last, and worst, headache of the trip. If I could've plucked my eyeballs out and soaked them to get rid of the pain I would have done so gladly.

One the caretaker finished we went over to the actual tomb. It's a typical bench tomb of the era hewn out of stone. There was the famous "He Has Risen" sign we've all seen in pictures.

It was now time to catch up with Adi, and the beautiful blue Fish bus, to ride back to the hotel. With plenty of light still TS suggested that if anyone wanted to be let out along the way back the would do so, and we could make our way back on our own. PD and WC were let off by Ben Yehuda Street in search of a coffee house to hang out in. I thought about joining them, but decided to stay with the bus.

This evening would be the final full night in Jerusalem so people decide it might be nice to go out and eat as a group, in stead of eating the same international fare at the hotel. Someone came up with three suggestions.

Most of the younger crowd ended up back down on Ben Yehuda to take SH out for pizza being that is was his birthday.

Some of us head over to another place. However, it turned out it was either out of business, or we had the wrong address.

Unfortunately BP and I had let our taxi go already as we walked around trying to find the missing restaurant. ED and someone else pulled pulled up in a different taxi. We caught them before they could face the same fate of being taxi-less. I called TS on the phone and he mentioned his group was headed over to another place.

BP and I pile into the other cab and we took a long ride over to 10 Agrippa Street. After being dropped off, I'd started to question just where this other place was when we see some TS, and he mentions it was down a side alley.

Frommers rated Arcadia Restaurant as the best restaurant all of Jerusalem. Honestly, I'd wanted to eat Middle Eastern cuisine, not French. However, I was tired with all the chasing around, and didn't feel like creating an option four from thin air.

We were greeted with a locked iron gate as they didn't actually open until 7p. After awhile someone showed up to let us in. Since we had 8-10 people in our group they pulled several tables together right inside the front door.

Groups were offered a Prix Fixe menu. Something like US$87. Though that was more than I cared to spend on one meal it was the last night we would eat out as a group in Jerusalem, and it's not like I'd been spending a lot of money on stuff anyways.

Can't honestly remember everything of what we had. It was a multi-course meal over several hours. I do remember we killed their entire supply of 2005 Yarden Cabernet Sauvignon, an absolutely astounding wine. We moved onto something else after that, which paled in comparison. (When we got back to the USA, I was able to score a case of that very same wine for someone in our group, and it was less than what we paid in Israel!!)

The taxi ride back to the hotel went pretty quick compared to the roundabout way we got there earlier, and three of us go away with paying a total of 20NIS.

Once back at the hotel, I decided to check out the mall again. Down an escalator from the lobby, Just as with previous nights, it was extremely busy.

I noticed an exit door I hadn't seen the night before. Turns out this was only a small part of the mall, with most of it in an adjacent building. Walking over to it, I experienced something new compared to American Malls, security guards with metal detectors, X-ray machines and assault rifles at arm's length.

This section reminded me of any of the typical malls built in the Bay Area during the 1970s or 1980s. It even had a cineplex showing titles which had been out in the USA for a few months already.

I was looking for a camera store. About two-thirds of the way to the end, there was one. Unfortunately, it was a typical mall camera store selling point-click cameras and supplies for the consumer.

Disappointed, I headed back, pondering what it might be like to catching one of the late shows at the cineplex (in Hebrew no doubt). As I wandered back, I passed by a couple of yarmulke stands. They were like those kiosk/carts you see in the middle of the mall walkways. Not full-blown stores, with one particular themed item for sale.

A quick once-over revealed a New York Rangers yarmulke!! It was cool. It was hockey-related. It was out of the ordinary. But the Rangers?!? I asked the guy if he had any San Jose Sharks ones, but he didn't.

I left the stand and headed back towards the hotel. Here I was greeted with another security guard going back into the hotel basement mall. It was a pain having to have him go through everything, but I understood.

Near the interior escalator I decided to go back and look at the yarmulke stands again in the bigger mall. I found a different one with all sorts of sports-related yarmulke; mostly European soccer franchises. Then I spotted a Dallas Cowboys one, followed by one from the Oakland Raiders!!!

I sat there contemplating it for several minutes. It wasn't a Sharks' one, but it was the Raiders. How cool would that be in Oakland? But, then I thought about it for too long.

It'd be great for visiting the Western Wall, but would I wear it ever again? Doubtful. as it's not like I've ever been to an Oakland synagogue, nor invited to any events at one. I gave up and called it a night.

At the other security station I started putting things down for inspection, but he just waived me as if so say, "You're fine. Go ahead." I guess he remembered me from only a few minutes earlier.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Remembrances of the Holy Land (Bethlehem)

PHOTO: Dave Kim

Energized after decompressing over lunch, it was time to get in the Way back Machine again, this time to see Bethlehem.

We now encountered the Separation Wall, which Israelis have built to separate the West Bank from Israel. At this point, it's around 30 feet tall, and made of concrete with viewing towers at the top. Nice colorful photos and writing adorns the wall, giving it a comfortable appearance.

(The Israelis have said the Wall was built to combat suicide bombers from getting into Israel. Ignoring the charged politics of the situation, the raw numbers suggest "that goal" has been achieved, dropping from a high of 202 in 2002 to only a single incident by the time we visited in 2008.)

Adi pulled the bus up to some Israeli inspectors. He was asked to back us up into a location further from where we were. All of a sudden he left the bus. Doron followed and had a rather heated discussion with the soldiers.

After a few more exchanges Doron, not Adi, got back on the bus and hopped behind the wheel. Without saying anything he moved the bus up to the original spot we'd stopped. We all looked at each other and said, "Doron is driving the bus??" No explanation was shared as to what the reason for Adi having to leave the bus was.

Rules forbid Israeli citizens from crossing into the territories of the Palestinian National Authority so we could not use Doron's services as guide. We walked through the checkpoint to a bus that was awaiting us, along with a Palestinian guide.

As opposed to the other side of the almost anti-septic western Israeli side of the Wall, the Palestinian side was scrawled with graffiti, reminding me of pictures of the Berlin Wall in places. Further down from the entrance it was plastered with huge unflattering black and white posters of Jewish men and women, probably over 10 feet tall.

They looked like they were taken with some type of wide angle lens that accentuated the size of their noses. And if that wasn't bad enough, some where pointing towards their noses to remind visitors of the stereotypes typically used to put Jews down as a race.

As we departed from the Wall zone, we found ourselves going through the business districts of Bethlehem. There was definitely a different look and feel compared to the other side.

Whereas everything in Jerusalem was relatively clean, with a brightness to the colors. Here, in Bethlehem, things were muted with a general dustiness.

We passed through Bethlehem to a rural area outside the city to the Shepherds' Field are located. This is where the Angel of the Lord brought the wondrous news of Jesus' birth to the lonely shepherds tending nearby flocks. (Some people question the December timing as it's unlikely they'd have their flocks out in the heart of Winter).

Here, there were several grottos set up for visitors to go into. For whatever reason the caretakers felt the need to decorate in a Christmas-like theme year-round. The ceiling of the cave was painting a light blue, with white stars scattered throughout. There were also lights set up inside.

Our group was small enough that we could sit on ledges hewn into the rock along the edges. TS gave us a sermon about the night Jesus was born, and we then proceeded into CM leading us in worship.

I've never been one to sing in public. Call it shyness. Call it not being confident in one's voice. It's just not something I like to do. However, in this close proximity with others who were all doing so, it was easier to do than stick out like a sore thumb. GC who was sitting to my immediate right, made it easier by sharing a song book with me without my asking.

On our return to Bethlehem, we went to the Church of the Nativity, which most people agree is the likely birthplace of Jesus Christ, no matter what time of year it actually occurred.

Buses were parked away from the actual building, and you first walk into Manger Square, a stone paved area in front of the old church.

We entered through the Door of Humility, a 51" high door where a visitor is required to bend over to enter, more of a burden for people like TG, MG and myself, than others. As the story goes, it was an added benefit during Crusader times because a mounted rider would not be able to take his horse or camel through the small entrance.

Because of this being the second most important site in Christianity it's has been fought over by the different religious sects for centuries. An agreement was finally reached that the Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Armenian Apostolic churches would manage the administration of the building. They were the only groups occupying the church at the time.

(Yet, that agreement hasn't always keep the peace. A huge brawl started between Armenian and Orthodox priests in December 2011 when someone moved a ladder over too far to dust a chandelier that wasn't quite in their area of control!)

Walking in and passing through the small narthex, we find ourselves in the old basilica with its wide room filled with huge columns to support the roof. Continuing to the right, we entered a smaller section that was loaded with Greek Orthodox paintings and Iconographic art. The pungent aroma of incense thick in the air.

The actual access into the Grotto is by a small wedge shaped stair case. There was also a minor traffic jam to get in because the Silver Star marking the place of Jesus' birth (as was decided by Empress Helena's architects) is within a few feet of the bottom step. As pilgrims reach the site, many place their Holy Bible on the star, the idea doing so will bless the Book with even more spiritual power beyond the Word. Some even kneel down to kiss the glass lens.

Taking a moment, I placed my Blackberry (with the previously mentioned Bible software) on the spot. Our course, it really was really just a Verizon loaner, so someone somewhere else has been bestowed with that spiritual blessing, though the software was wiped before returning.

The Grotto was very crowded, with a lower than normal ceiling built for a time with shorter people. If you were to look from overhead it's actually shaped like a body with two outstretched arms. The star is at the head. Once we'd had our chance by the alter we headed farther back into the body section, and a small section cordoned off so TS can give us some thoughts to take away.

Originally, there was only one entry point, which meant you'd have a crowd of people trying to get in while others were trying to come out the same way. Eventually another exit was added to the left of the star.

Outside the Grotto we now entered the area claimed by the Armenian Apostolic Church. There was a group that someone said was from the Syriac Orthodox Church. They were deep in worship, rhythmically marching counter clockwise, reciting a melodic chant. I wish I'd been able to capture it on video, it was so mesmerizing. I guess CB made the mistake of briefly sitting on one of the chairs in the area and someone quickly chased her away.

Back in the Basilica there was an doorway that took us into the adjacent Church of St. Catherine. This modern basilica is managed by the Roman Catholic Church, and was built over the top of to Byzantine churches. Evidence of which is protected in the main basilica floor. Then there was a small hallway that took us down in the bottom where the grotto of St. Jerome is located.

After exiting the church there was a gorgeous courtyard full of greenery and statues decorating the exterior.

Boarding the bus, we were taken to a huge souvenir store across town. This one was owned by Christians so it was particularly happy to see our business. It had aisles and aisles of items made from carved olive wood. I saw a manger set that was really tempting.

The owners found out that CM and RC were musicians and asked if they would brighten the place up with some worship music. They did and other shoppers enjoyed the set.

TS and the guide herded us up towards the front counter to make any purchases. This took a lot longer than I would have expected from the length of the line.

Our bus was supposed to be waiting outside. We waited and waited and waited. Some started to worry that perhaps they'd actually forgotten us.

While we waited a street vender came buy selling traditional Arab Keffiyeh,  the checkered wraps we're used to seeing in photographs. He talked SeL and SH into buying.

At first SeL told the guy he didn't want to get it because he'd never remember how to fold it right. However, the salesman talked them into it by promising to show him how to do it right. SeL got the red one and SH got one reminiscent of Yasser Arafat.

Rather than leave after he'd made his sales, he stood around just to chat. He said he'd lived in the USA at one time, but decided to come back to the Middle East. He started talking about the politics of President George W. Bush, to which nobody wanted to take part in. Sensing the conversation was quieting he headed off for some new faces. (We'd been warned before the trip not to get involved with political discussions.)

Still waiting for our bus, I noticed CB talking with a 30-something Palestinian. He was dressed well in western-style clothing. He said something to her and she giggled. He apparently said something again and she smiled and moved away from him.

I asked her what that was about? At first she didn't say, but then whispering in my ear, "How many camels?!?!?!" I looked at her perplexed. Apparently, he wanted to know how many camels her husband would take in trade for her as a bride. A strange joke to say to someone, wouldn't you say?

With much rejoice we finally saw our bus show up. Quickly piling on, we headed back to the inspection point to reenter Jerusalem and headed for the hotel.

Upon walking into the hotel we're stopped in our tracks, and cannot get to the elevators. A Hasidic wedding party had contracted with the hotel for use of the main ballroom. We arrived as the bride and groom were leaving.

Men, dressed in all black black suits and fedora hats escort the bride and groom across the foyer to the elevators to the accompaniment of rhythmic clapping. The bride is dressed in a flowing white gown while her groom stands out with a grey suit with plain yarmulke. As the newly weds waive good-bye and step into the elevator car, a couple of the men grab a young boy and push him for the ride up to their room.

Since the main ball room isn't available, the hotel has set up the dinner buffet in an alternative location. It wasn't nearly as extensive as what they'd seen for breakfast, and is must more cramped.

Back in the comfy confines of my hotel room, I tried my luck at watching the Sharks' most recent playoff game. Internet wasn't free here in Jerusalem though. Many major hotels in this part of the World have figured out they can charge for the Internet. And they charge based on how much data you download. If you're going to do a lot of data, such as streaming video, you're basically forced to spend US$20 for 24 hours of connection. YIKES!!

The connection worked great. I was able to start watching the game, and I was excited to be catching a game. I laid down in bed while watching. BIG MISTAKE!

I think I got through the first part of the 1st Period, and then fell asleep. I woke up several hours later after missing most of what I'd recorded, and decided it wasn't worth trying to rewind it and watch the rest.

TO BE CONTINUED…