23 MARCH, 2019 

Friday, and we are closing in on this part of or holiday, a tour of Israel and Palestinian Territories. We have arrived in Tel Aviv and bunkered down in Hotel Metropolitan. It is a festival day of some sort and there is singing and dancing from the street below, and people are dressed in weird costumes – gladiators, cowboys and odd combinations of coloured dress up clothes. It is a chance to think back on the past few days, and in particular our time in Jerusalem.

We were flying Ethiopian Airlines, and we did have a passing thought about the wisdom of this, following the air disaster the previous week. Our planes were to be the Boeing 737-800, so a different version to the Maxx that there had been problems with. Johannesburg Airport (OR Tambo) was a model of efficiency and soon we were being bussed over to the plane.  There seemed to be an endless queue of people boarding, and when things settled down, another bus load arrived, and the crew got out the shoehorns to squeeze the last passengers in. The chap next to me was a very large African, who man-spread to ensure he had maximum room available. Because of his size, I did not figure it wise to argue, and the flight to Addis Ababa was only 4 hours, but I did gain some sympathy for tinned sardines. The flight from Addis to Tel Aviv was only half full so we had plenty of room to spread ourselves and get comfortable.

It was dark by the time we reached the Red Sea and the plane took a left to follow this body of water and then track north, following the Gulf of Aqaba. It was easy to follow the course as it was a very clear night and the lights of the ports and cities along the way gave a pretty good idea of where we were.

We did a couple of loops of Tel Aviv and finally touched down, on time. We joined the very long queues at the Immigration Control. This was very disorganised and people just made their own line, and as there seemed to be many tour parties arriving at the same time, the lines kept multiplying before channelling into about four for the available immigration officers. Jen got the idea pretty smartly, and formed a new line at the head of a new queue when a new officer opened up a cubicle.

Our transfer was there to greet us and whisk us to Jerusalem for our stay at Legacy Hotel, which is only a five-minute walk to the Jerusalem Old City and the Damascus Gate. As we were not to see our tour party till 6.00pm the following day, we had close to a full day to unpack, wash a few clothes, and explore.

On Sunday morning we strolled down to Damascus Gate. It was quite cold and with a light rain beginning to fall, it looked a bit dismal for walking. However once inside, it is easy to keep dry by staying under the awning of the bazaar – called souq. It was a thriving market with the most luscious fruits, spices, foods, coffees, as well as the sweaty aroma of thousands of people pressing in, jostling, presented an amazing olfactory experience. So we hustled and jostled along with the throng, making our way down to the Via Dolorosa, then up to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Here there was a solid mass of humanity, pilgrims all seeking to enter the church..

We conceded defeat, though we did not really intend to go to any significant sites today, to find a coffee or maybe a light snack. I think Achmed saw us coming from way off, and invited us in to his little café.  I admit I should have asked the price first for the two espresso and a small cake. While we sitting enjoying our espresso, an American lady came in and ordered a small treat. Achmed asked for 120 shekels upon which the American beat a retreat with Achmed in hot pursuit, yelling what we imagined was some imaginative Arabic abuse. When he returned we asked for the bill and Achmed said 80 shekels. This being our first day and not entirely confident with currency, handed it over. When I checked, I discovered I had paid over $AU30.

So the first lesson learnt is – get the price first. And we have done this since then. I think we were just unlucky as most traders seemed to be friendly and fair.

At 6.00pm, we gathered with the rest of the tour group, to meet our guide, Sam, and get briefed on what to expect. There are just ten of us, and a lovely group they have turned out to be. Two couples are from Sydney, another couple from Calgary in Canada, a single lady from Edmonton in Canada, and one youngish man from Sussex in England.

Monday was our first full day. We set off in the morning to walk down to the Old City, heading for the Western side to Lion Gate. Sam is a great guide, with an excellent knowledge of the history, culture, geography and demography of the city as well as the political landscape which he presents in a very even-handed way. He brings the Bible stories to life as he recounts the stories, parables and traditions surrounding Jesus.

The churches have a propensity to construct buildings on anything remotely connected to the life of Jesus. Thus, St Anne’s church (Roman Catholic) at the start of the Via Dolorosa, is adjacent to what is thought to be the site of the Pool of Bethesda where Jesus healed the paralysed man. The pool is several metres below the current landscape. The church building is set in a pleasant courtyard, and inside it has wonderful acoustics, which prompts groups of people to spontaneously start singing hymns. Some tourists started singing acapella with a beautiful rendition of How Great Thou Art. It was really lovely.

We continued our journey all the way past all the Stations of the Cross, to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where according to one tradition, is built around the locations of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. Clearly many pilgrims want to believe this and are filled with raw emotion and weeping as they lie on the ground to touch and kiss the stone slab upon which Jesus was placed. I did feel compelled to kneel down and touch the stone (more about that later!)

The queue to visit the “actual” site of the tomb was several hours wait, (dominated by nuns and priests as this was the Roman Catholic site), so we visited an alternative site maintained by the Coptic church which was devoid of queues. It was quite plain, and simple, and to our minds, a bit more authentic.

We continued our little pilgrimage through the City through the Christian and Jewish Quarters, then down to the Western Wall where people of the Faith come to pray. The large courtyard is filled with Jewish pilgrims as well young boys, dressed in pure white, who have come to celebrate their Bar Mitzvah at the Wall in a very special way. I was amused to see a group of rabbis with a group of followers. One of the followers seemed overly keen to get the attention of the leader, firing off questions, only to be met with a dismissive wave of the elder’s hand.

The rest of the day was free time, so we wandered back through the souq, buying some fruit, and just taking our time to absorb the sights, sounds and smells of this amazing place. One of the delights was to get some freshly squeezed orange juice. It was deliciously sweet and in my long history of tasting orange juice, the absolute best I have encountered.

Tuesday saw us piling into a small bus for the trip East through the Judean desert and down to the Dead Sea.

Our first stop was the desert fortress of Masada. The Masada is essentially a mountain, 400 metres high, steep-sided with a fairly flat plateau. It is a perfect defensive place with its steep sides presenting an impenetrable wall to any invaders. Herod the Great built a great palace and fortress, with much of the elements still in existence. The engineering and manpower to construct this is astonishing. We spent a couple of hours at the top, exploring the wonderful architecture and engineering to collect and store water, and provide a defensive structure. Fortunately we were able to use a cable car to make our assault on the fort.

We then drove north, to the northern edge of the Dead Sea, firstly to visit the archaeological site of the Essene community, an ancient Jewish sect, that scribed and hid scrolls of Hebrew manuscripts in the Qumran caves. I don’t think I have the superlatives to do justice to a description of this site. The desert sands have preserved remnants of the community buildings, and of course the caves that held and preserved so many manuscripts, are just a short goats’ climb away.

Our Dead Sea experience would not be complete without a visit to the waters of the lake, some 430 metres below sea level. We drove the sort distance to Kalia Beach on the north western edge of the Dead Sea. It is a bit like a resort, though without accommodation. There are baths, changing rooms, beach chairs and umbrellas – all the trappings of a beach – except there is no sand. But there is mud! We had come prepared for a swim, though “swimming” is practically impossible. The density of the water with its extremely high salt levels, gives amazing buoyancy, and you are flipped on your back. It is impossible to tread water. People were lathering their bodies with the mud from the shores, as this is supposed to have cosmetic and healing properties.

At some point I became aware that the soreness and swelling in my knee had vanished. At Christmas time I did some sort of damage to my right knee and it has been swollen and sore ever since I have been seeing my doctor and a physio since Christmas, and they have provided neither healing or hope. It could have been when I touched the stone on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or when I stepped into the waters of the Dead Sea – who knows – I only know that the swelling and pain has gone.

I took a walking stick away with me, and I do find this helpful for climbing down stairs. I also imagined it would be a helpful aid when encountering people who could, for example, step aside to let me pass, or at least not barge straight into me as I must be invisible. In this regard it is about as helpful as wearing odd socks, as tourists are singularly focussed on getting to their next destination and oblivious to us of weaker limbs.

It is about an hour’s drive back to Jerusalem. The barren and desolate hills of the Judean desert are not totally devoid of life, as there occasional Bedouin camps, herds of goats and sheep, and as your near Jerusalem, the more elegant features of illegal Jewish Settlements along the ridges.

This piece has gone way too long, so next blog will be a bit of a summary of our last few days in this wonderful, diverse, complex and fraught land.

Thank you for reading thus far.

Shalom.